Well, here we are. The end of one year, almost the beginning of the next. This will be, lets see... somewhere around my twentieth or twenty-first year of existence on this planet (the old guy who, together with mom waits on me hand and foot, my companion for all but a few of those in between), and I'm thankful for the chance to live and be as healthy as I've been for this long.
Though I won't admit it out loud I'm grateful for the brief time I got to spend with that little tyke, Grayson. I'll quietly admit he wasn't really that annoying.
I've seen and heard a lot in my twenty-whatever-the-hell years here, and I'll be grateful for however many more I'm granted. I've learned to live with less, learned to slow down some (although I can't really imagine I ever did anything at a pace different than that of my current way) and breath deep and enjoy what I have.
In the approaching new year I hold out great hope; for the discovery of cures for diseases and pain that have caused suffering and death for too long; for more people to take a good, hard look at the way they live, what they have and what they really need; for loves lost and faltered relationships rekindled.
I have high hopes that a child I know of will change the way she feels enough to contact the parent she mistakenly believes doesn't know or love her.
I hope that the great (and some not so great) minds in Washington can get their shit together and come up with a solution to the looming mess we'll all have to pay for.
I long to see a family I know (several, actually) learn to be more forgiving and come to the realization some day that life is way too short to be so selfish (good luck on THAT one).
I hope a bulldozing canine I know someday realizes that bullying is neither effective nor attractive, and that such corrosive behavior can haunt like a rolled newspaper if left unchecked.
I hope dad will be able to adjust his daily schedule so that he can sleep past 5 a.m. and stay awake at least a little later than six-thirty in the evening.
I hope mom will learn to give up her dependence on Diet Coke. She's working on it. Really.
I hope a cure will be discovered for a most common ailment- that of obsessive feline grooming- and its less than pleasant after effects.
In short (who am I kidding already?) I hold out lots of hopes- some beyond reach, I'm sure.
So anyway, Happy New Year. I'm being forced to put this ridiculous f*cking picture in here for your amusement. Certainly not mine. Mom went and dressed me up for a card and made it look like I partied too much. Whatever. May the coming year be good to you all...
Ahh, the sounds, the sights, the smells- I really love Christmas.
The joyous music, the overall upbeat mood, the smiles and friendly greetings all around, especially at any of the fine, bloated retail establishments sprinkled throughout this great land of ours.
I only wish for one thing this year. I wish Walmart, Target and Best Buy (I'm sure you could toss in several others) would offer, as part of this fine festive holiday shopping season free lessons in parking, driving, pedestrian's rights of way, and manners to all who enter their parking lots.
Once inside everyone should be required to take a test before shopping to prove that they've learned something from said lessons, and if they do not receive a passing grade they should be forced to stand at the back of any of the mile-long checkout lines at the four open registers only to come to the realization upon approaching the smiling associate with the what the f*ck do you want facial expression that they've forgotten to actually make their purchases.
They would then be forced to blend back in with the violent, buzzing multitude to complete their tasks and return to the previous step.
Okay, I'm done. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone!
I wish not to offend anyone, especially at this festive time of the year, but whoever the hell invented those oversized inflatable lawn ornaments you see everywhere should be forced to live with Honey Boo Boo and her family, along with every walking testosterone factory from every Bachelorette episode and those stupid insurance cavemen from that memorable, oh-so-long-lasting sitcom.
All in one snow globe, shoulder to shoulder. And no bathroom privileges.
And only each other for sustenance. And if they get thirsty, let them catch the swirling snowflakes on their tongues.
Apparently it's that time of the year again. Mom's busting out her creative juices, whatever the hell that means, and the chill in the air has that certain frostiness that- oh wait, we're not in New England anymore. Since I'm not allowed OUTSIDE (evil glare in dad's direction) I have no idea what it's like out there!
Mom's busy painting on the front door, packages are getting readied and wrapped to send off to the new grandkids, and she surprized dad with a hand-made advent calendar the other day.
As for that stupid picture of me up there, well, lets just say that I'm NOT very happy about it! I don't even like having my mug on here, nevermind doctored in such a stupid, childish way! Dad's an idiot.
This is dad's cartoon rendition of me. I'm lying. He's not really that talented. He couldn't draw to save his life. It's just something his stupid phone did with a picture he took of me sleeping.
Remember when phones were just phones? What the hell? Who needs all that crap? If I want to take a picture I'll use a real camera. I have all the apps I need with my parents. I don't have to do anything for myself. I'm in a pissy mood. I didn't sleep well. Humbug!
Not much to say lately. There's nothing going on worth telling about. I think I've come down with a case of writer's block. Oh, wait- mom and dad have been talking excitedly about the new Trader Joe's that just opened up down the road.
I think they're going to go today to check it out. Their (probably more dad than mom) enthusiasm for this momentous occasion is matched only by their reaction over the arrival of the new phone books. Seems someone needs a life if you ask me.
Lately, they've taken to going to the local Whole Foods, usually on Saturdays, and dad's excitement at the thought of sampling cheeses, guacamole, and other interesting-sounding things they have displayed throughout the store is on a level with when he got a raise. Or had his first child. Or won the lottery. Okay, the lottery thing I made up.
I can tell he's bubbling over with excitement, hoping that Trader Joe's will have similar offerings. Pretty pathetic, huh?
This, mind you, from someone whose idea of exciting is licking his own butt, getting up and turning around two or three times, and laying back down in the exact same position he was in previously and falling back to sleep. (I'm talking about me, not dad, in case it sounded confusing)
Bye.
Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I know that because I heard mom and dad talking about it. That, and Ellen talked about it yesterday.
Dad's been on vacation this week, and he and mom sat and watched Ellen, apparently a guilty pleasure for dad. Anyway, they were watching Ellen and she mentioned being thankful for stuff, so I guess I should think more about what I'm thankful for and less about what others should be thankful for, such as taking care of me, feeding me, cleaning my poop, and seeing to it that I'm as comfortable as I can be at my advanced age.
I suppose I'm most thankful for the two laps here that provide me with a warm, soft place to rest. I'm also thankful for the love of these two humans who have nothing better to do than be entertained by the fight in this old furry body when it comes to who's going to sit in which chair.
I'm also thankful for my gorgeous, glossy coat, which graces, in parts and pieces, every square inch of our home. I'm thankful for the ability to stretch and yawn, and for the fact that I still have all my own teeth.
I'm especially grateful that I wake up and breath every day, and have the energy and vitality, after a long night's sleep, to roam and wander until I find just the right spot to lay down and... go to sleep. I'm thankful that they don't make me sit and watch "Downton Abbey" with them.
I'm very thankful that I still have the ability to crunch through dry food, see clearly, poop normally, and pee freely. I've been given the chance to live out a long, spoiled, way-too-catered-to life (dad made me put that one in here), for which I will be eternally grateful.
Okay, master. There, I said it all. That enough? Mom's right- sometimes you ARE an ass. I hope you're happy. Go ahead, hit "Publish". Now leave me the hell alone!
As mentioned in previous posts orbit likes to greet me when I come home from work. I like to chat with my wife about our respective days when I first get in, and orbit provides the background music, which usually grows in volume the longer we talk.
As much as his usual tone is that of a gruff, crusty old bugger he's really quite the softy. He waits impatiently while my wife and I talk, and then when I do finally pick him up he'll usually settle right onto my left shoulder. We'll walk around, and he'll sniff at the cupboards, walls, shelves or whatever I stand near, as if it's the first time he's noticed it.
The other night we performed our usual routine, only this time, when I hefted him onto my shoulder he laid his head down against my back and just kind of hung out that way, enjoying the ride as I walked around the apartment.
My ultimate daily goal, as you know, is my own personal comfort. I don't really give two sh*ts whether mom and dad are comfy and cozy,
and I'll do almost anything to reach that goal.
These pictures show how I lovingly wend my way into that place where I
am the most comfortable- the human lap.
This battle has been raging for some time now, and I usually alternate between
the two. Sometimes mom's lap is the softest and warmest, sometimes it's the big idiot's that you see in these shots.
He tries to get all manly and pet ownerly and say "No orbit!" "Get down!" He'll even tell mom, when he sees I'm trying to get on
her lap, to push me away or firmly scold me to submissively shrink away from my efforts. Well, as you can see he's not always
the victor in these daily battles. I don't care that he's trying to use the computer. It doesn't matter to me whether he wants me on him
or not. I'm going to do what I want to do, dammit. I ultimately won this round, as you can see. The big oaf gave in, and had to push the laptop to his knees to make room for ME.
Once again, who's the master and who's the slave?!
Oh brother. Here he goes again. The brilliant, restless one changed my damn background. Mom and dad went and brought home some pumpkins the other day (3, in fact- two big ones (insert perverted dad snicker here) and one tiny one (and a giggle for mom). I think that might mean one's for me). It's that time of year when humans feel the need to carve up some freakin' gourds and display them proudly out front for all to see.
They took this picture at the church where the pumpkins were piled all over the place just off South College Rd. I'm telling you- it's fascinating what you humans do for fun.
I suppose that means they'll also be wearing makeup, cross-dressing, and pretending to be something they're not again. Oh, and then there's the bowl of candy that they eat most of pass out to trick-or-treaters. I guess we all have our things...
What? I was napping! Get that thing out of my face! Who moved the sun? Leave me alone! What?
Ahhh, what's better than a nice warm dad-lap on a cool autumn day! This is how I can usually be found most days. Lately, for whatever reason, I've really been insistent on worming my way onto mom's and dad's laps.
Maybe it's because I haven't been able to sleep with them?
Even when they're eating or using the computer- actually, especially when they're doing either- I've got to get right up in there and push my way in.
It's all about me, dammit, and I won't tolerate any of this too-busy-for-orbit b.s. I love it when they make a "nest" for me like this!
Dad scared me when he came in the door the other day. He pushed open the door, not knowing I was right behind it, exploring, and up I went. I jumped sideways and skittered over towards the coffee table.
My back was to him, and he walked over to me and, without meaning to, I'm sure, scared the crap out of me AGAIN! I jumped, turning in mid air and landing all out of sorts.
I guess I was just particularly edgy that day, for whatever reason. Who the hell knows. I'm sure he didn't do this on purpose, but it irritated me that they both laughed heartily at this, something for which I will repay them. Many times over. Just wait and see.
Mom likes to hide behind the front door when dad comes home and jump out, yelling "Boo!" He'll deny it, but she gets him almost every time. Maybe I'll try that when they least expect it.
Dad tries to do the same to her, but he usually fails. I'll think of something else for her. Some day.
Here we are on day three of being banished from the bedroom during the night, and I'm not very
happy about it.
Mom and dad, I love you, and I will continue to do so by allowing you to take care of me, but you are total asshats for not letting me sleep with you anymore.
I am a cat. Cats meow. We are nocturnal. We have no sense of time. End of story.
How would you two like it if every time you wanted to sit in my chair I came along and shooed you out of it? Or how 'bout I put up a chain link fence topped with razor wire around said chair. And electrify it. There. Not too cool, huh?
I'm sorry you haven't bee sleeping well because of me. I want to talk to you when I want to talk to you, and that's that. What about that crazy loud train, like the one that's going by right now?
Are you going to block the tracks so it can't get by? Do you think you can stop that? I think not! I don't know why I'm doing what I do lately. You've allowed me to sleep with you for years, and it's not fair for you to cut me off now because of some silly occasional... disturbances (says YOU).
I'm going to sleep now, since someone feels the need to interrupt me and take the computer away from me. Maybe I should put a lock on their door so he has to stay in there until I say he can come out and bother me.
Dad got back this past Monday, and has been pretty much straight out since. He had a great time visiting the kids and meeting his new grandson, and came back with something called a hard drive, with over five thousand pictures on it.
Okay, so not all of them were from his visit. Only about half of them were. Not really. Maybe a few dozen, but the rest were from his oldest son's collection from over the years, and dad and mom enjoyed going through them all.
Dad says they've brought back some great memories and showed him some details from his son's life that he hadn't known about, and mom's been hard at work sorting and arranging them in the computer.
The weather out in Minnesota last weekend almost couldn't have been better, according to dad. He had a great time, playing with the baby, meeting his youngest son's girlfriend for the first time, watching his oldest son coach a football game, and helping with a few things around the house.
Though unplanned, dad was happy with the way this photo came out, since he's not one to have his handsome, graciously-aging face made too public. This was how he spent much of the weekend. The baby is a mover, and when he got a little cranky (the baby, not dad) all it took was a walk around the house to quiet him.
Dad's had a busy week back at work, and I've been back to my zany early morning alarm clock antics. The other morning, however, dad got a nice surprise when he awoke. Sneaky, crafty mom had hung a big "Happy Birthday" sign on the living room wall, and planted little homemade cards with "51" on them and tiny notes inside.
She left him a delicious lemon poppyseed muffin on the counter in front of his coffee maker for when he got up, and I left him a special chocolate treat with my own little card on the coffee table in front of the chair where he reads in the morning.
Last night when he came home from work he was greeted by mom (I'll have to be careful here not to share more than they'd want me to) in a slinky black skirt and black heels, a bottle of champagne, candles all around the place, and a delicious steak dinner.
Note mom's hand-
decorated plate and bowl, which mom filled with one of dad's favorite good-for-you snacks (they're trying to eat healthier so they can stay around to annoy each other longer- I don't remember which one I heard say that...). Funny- I've made it as many years as I have without eating that kind of crap. Hmm...
Well, the big day is here. Dad leaves this morning for Minnesota to meet his first grandchild. Baby Elijah was born in March, and dad can't wait to see him. It's also been over two years since dad's seen his boys, and this weekend should be lots of fun for them.
Mom will be here catering to my every whim, and dad's making me promise to stay out of the bedroom until at least seven while he's gone so she can catch up on some sleep. I'm still doing what dad wrote about the other day. Two days ago it was two a.m. Yesterday it was three-something again. This morning I decided to wait until four-ish. Whatever. I've overheard them talking about closing their door at night, but that's been done before and all it did was make me claw at the bottom of the door and voice my annoyance even more.
Deal with it, mom and pop. I run things around here, so get over it. And dad, just so you know- whispering "Shhhh!" or "Be quiet!" means absolutely nothing to me. All I hear is that buzzing noise that I know mom hears when you launch into one of your tedious, drawn-out technical explanations that she so loves.
Anyway, have a safe trip, dad, say hi to the boys for me, and don't worry about me and mom. We look forward to some peace will miss you, and will make the most of our quiet time can't wait til you get home!
Wow, it's been four years today since my uncle left.
As I think I mentioned in an old post dad couldn't keep me at one point some years ago, so his brother took me in to live with him and his girlfriend in her house, and it didn't take long for me to grow on them.
There were several other cats and two dogs living there, which was kind of uncomfortable for me. I grew kind of reclusive (that's a word, right?) and kept to myself, hiding under and behind furniture most of the time.
Once in a while dad would come to visit, and I wouldn't come out to see him. I was so mad, and didn't understand the whole situation.
One of the two dogs there was a little weird. He had a thing for this stuffed bear, a habit most would find odd. Well, I'm sure there are some who wouldn't find this so... never mind. Anyway, this dog would lay there, dry-humping (can I say that?) this poor toy. I guess you had to see it.
My point is that I wasn't so very happy with the living arrangements there, but I did look forward to sleeping between my uncle and his girlfriend, much the way I do now with mom and dad.
Well, my uncle passed away, leaving us in September of 2008. I think of him often, and we all miss him a lot. In spite of all the other animals they had I'll always remember the abundance of love they had for us.
When mom and dad decided to foster poor Grayson I was reminded of dad's brother and his girlfriend. She fostered little ones through the Dakin Pioneer Valley Humane Society, often caring for several at one time.
Anyway, I just miss my uncle. That's all. Goodbye.
Oh, how I wish I could teach orbit how to tell time. That's not asking much, is it? As much as we love this old fart, his shitty sense of timing can get very, very annoying at times.
I'm a hopeless early riser, even when I don't want or need to be, but there are times when- and this morning was one of those times- I'd really like to sleep until at least five. Is that so much to ask, ORBIT??!!
Even at his age a lot of what he does is "cute", and one of our favorite things is his habit of head-butting. We usually get at least one or two a day each, and he's learned that he has to head-butt one of us (usually me, sorry honey!) before he can settle into his favorite spot between my wife's legs for the night. This morning, for whatever reason, he needed a head-butt fix somewhere between three thirty and four, and when he gets something in his head he becomes extremely determined.
We'll take whatever "cute" we can get out of him at this point in his life, but at that hour it's a little difficult to think "cute". He kept going back and forth between (and over, and around and back again) us on the bed, alternating head-butts against our foreheads and noses. I don't know if he was trying to tell us something (I often find myself wishing he could talk- life with him would be so much easier) or he was just feeling particularly loving. Whatever the reason, it was hard to get back to sleep, even after HE settled comfortably in my lap and nodded right off, almost at once soaking his paw and the comforter with drool.
I have to be at work in about two hours, and, as with every other day, I have to be productive. I'll start out bristling with energy as usual, but by lunch time I'm sure my ass will be dragging, THANK YOU VERY MUCH, ORBIT!
But I LOVE you! This qualifier is something my wife and I throw in after insulting one another, usually in jest (right?) Like, "...you're an idiot, but I LOVE you!" "You don't know what you're talking about, but I LOVE you!" You get the point, right?
I'm sitting here trying to tie this up and thinking about breakfast, and orbit's in the bedroom all nice and curled up next to my finally-back-to-sleep wife, in the nice warm spot I left when I got out of bed.
