What's All The Fuss?

So THAT was a hurricane??  I suppose I should consider us fortunate that it wasn't worse.  Dad keeps saying "Don't worry- the season's just beginning."  All I know is that it was windy and rainy, and, when the power went out early in the evening that meant that the air conditioning went with it, which also meant that the windows would be opened!  I live to sit up on the back of the couch and look out the window, especially when it's opened and I can smell everything and take in every movement.
     The lights came back on the next afternoon (yesterday), flickered a few times, then stayed on for good.  Mom was ecstatic, especially since she was caught off guard by the much-sooner-than-anticipated power outage.  On went the computer, on went the lights, on went the air conditioner, and down went the windows!  "Shit!" I said to myself.  Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.  Things are pretty much back to normal now.  I see they put away the carrier.  Now I can relax.  

The Calm Before The Storm

Apparently, there's a storm heading our way.  All mom and dad are talking about is this hurricane thing that's coming.  It's supposed to be far enough away from us, so that all we'll get is maybe some wind and lots of rain, but they're starting to set some things in a pile, as if they're getting ready to go on a trip.  Among these things is my carrier, something I absolutely HATE being put in!  I don't mind the riding, but I do not like being stuck in that thing.
     When we first moved down here last year from Massachusetts I had to ride in that ridiculous thing, but after a while dad let me out.  I was nervous at first, but before long I relaxed a little, and started checking out different spots in dad's truck, my favorite being right on his lap.  Mom and dad knew it wasn't safe for me to be out of that carrier, but it made the long trip so much more tolerable, especially for an old fart like me.  I never thought I'd be able to master the art of peeing in my litterbox... in a moving vehicle!!  Other than a little swaying, I managed, though.  Every now and then they'd stop off the highway for a pee break, and they'd hook this silly harness and leash on me.  I'd check out bushes and stuff, but hated wearing that stupid thing.  Mostly I just plopped down right on the pavement, refusing to move.  I guess they got fed up after a while, and just carried me.
     Dad says he needs to get on now to check the weather, so I'm gonna grab a quick snack, then go see if mom wants to talk.  I can hear her snoring in their bedroom, so this is a perfect time to strike up a conversation.

I Hate It When They Comb Me... Down There

So I got the comb treatment, again.  Mom and dad feel the need to comb me about once a month.  They babble on about how it helps keep me from puking up hairballs, keeps my coat smooth and shiny, blah, blah, blah, etc., etc., etc.,  I guess I don't mind, for the most part.  Maybe I'm getting used to it.  Don't tell them, though.  Throughout the process I piss and moan, grumbling under my breath for dramatic effect, which they find amusing.  But when it comes time to comb my, umm, lower region, WATCH OUT!  I hate that!  I really do.  Dad makes fun of the white spot on my belly.  Mom grabs my tail and draws the comb from right above my butthole down to the tip.  What are they thinking?  How would they like it if I did this to them? 
     Dad makes fun of me now and then, asking if I'm part kangaroo, squeezing my sagging belly-skin and joking about my pouch.  Come on, I'm old, and besides, he has one, too!  Sometimes I find these two people irritating.  But I love them.  But they can be annoying.  But they take care of me.  Man, such a rollercoaster of emotions.  I'm tired, so I'm gonna go curl up next to the cat sarcophagus and nap.  More on that thing later.  Dad's nudging me, saying that he needs to get on here to work on his fabulous and explosive first novel (which he's been working on for more than a year!).  Riiight!  Procrastination is his middle name!  Oops- here he comes.  Bye.

The Scary Room

Wow, I pissed Dad off this morning!  I jumped up on the bed, making note of the large, glowing digital "3:46" on the alarm clock over Dad's head on the headboard.  I felt the need for conversation, but I don't think Dad and I were on the same page.  He shushed me once or twice, (like I listen) then rose up, grabbing me under the belly, and sort of tossed me off the side of the bed!  He can be such an A*@hole sometimes!

     Sorry- got sidetracked.  As the title suggests, there's a room in our home that I usually stay out of.  It's kind of scary because I had a bad experience in there a while ago.  Mom and Dad felt the need to give me a bath.  Now, don't get me wrong- I'm the most obsessive groomer I've ever known, so don't think I stink or anything.  As you can see from the photos, I've got a beautiful, shiny coat.  Anyway, they put some hot water in the big white thing at the back of this room, then had the balls to dunk me in it!  They know most of our ilk don't take well to water (right?), and you can imagine my reaction.  In more than eighteen years I've been just fine giving myself a bath, so what the hell was this all about?! 
     Dad had long sleeves on so I wouldn't scratch him, and Mom helped to lather me up.  The rinsing part was actually kind of relaxing, though.  I guess.  Never again.  Okay, it wasn't really THAT bad, but never again.

      So this room is sort of multipurpose, you could say.  Yesterday morning Dad went in there, and just pushed the door, leaving it open a few inches.  I needed an attention fix, so I stuck my head in the room, pushing the door open slightly, and walked in to find Dad sitting on the big white glass chair (the one with the water in it).  I like to rub up against anything I can find, so I brushed my back against the corner of the cabinet that holds up the round thing that catches water, the edge of the opened door, and then the crumpled pants around Dad's ankles.  Human people have some odd habits!  And they laugh and make fun of me when I pee.  Apparently it's funny to watch as I climb into my litterbox (it's one of those covered ones with the swinging door) and turn around with my head sticking out and holding up the door.  I don't get it.  Is that really funnier than you people sitting with your clothes piled around your legs on the floor?


  

Talk talk talk talk talk

Good thing Dad set his alarm for 4:30 instead of 5:00 this morning!  I felt the need to jump up on their bed at 4:30 on the nose and make my presence known.  Dad tried shushing me, which, of course, never works, and Mom followed my every command (even though she was mostly asleep); she turned automatically at the sound of my voice so that I could climb right up and settle into the "V" in the comforter between her legs.  Ahh, to have so much control of these two!!
     Dad's poison oak is pretty much gone, and he's sleeping better and not itching.  Good thing... for all of us!  Yesterday Dad had a tuna sandwich for lunch, and after they finished eating he placed his plate in front of my nose, which drew me to it like a magnet, and lead me into the kitchen.  He placed the plate on the floor and I got to enjoy a miniscule dab of tuna salad.  They stood right nearby, though, and their foot motions and loud talking irritated me to no end, so I gave up and walked away, leaving remnants of tuna to warm and spoil.  Now if they'd only do that with the chicken they seem to eat often...

Poor dad!

Dad had a bad weekend.  He got into some poison oak at his job, and suffered through the weekend.  His arms looked like raspberries by Monday morning, and I guess he went to the doctor.  Mom and I caught him scratching a bunch of times, and, although it's something I do quite often, mom kept yelling at him for it.  He told mom he got a shot in the butt and he has to take some pills all week.  He also has to put this gross, greasy stuff on his arms, so he hasn't been able to hold me, something I like.  I've been spending more time on mom, but I hope dad gets better soon.  I talked to him this morning, and he picked me up and held me awkwardly, which I didn't care for, so I jumped down. 
     The little bubbles are starting to go away, but his arms are still all red.  Hurry up and get better, dad!