Happy Thanksgiving

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!    

     

Daily Welcoming Committee

     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. 

            

The Battle Rages On

      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?!