And About That Chair

You may have noticed that interesting chair in some of my posts.  Though mom and dad love nestling together and miss the days when they had a sofa for such teenager-like snuggling, they bought this man-cave monstrosity a while ago and lugged it up to the apartment.

Plus size kitty occupying mom's side

     They got it for a steal from a student rental property clubhouse, and (after thoroughly sanitizing it, of course) enjoy reclining and watching movies with a cold beer, Diet Coke, dinner, or me.  It has two reclining positions and comes complete with cup holders, and though they enjoy lounging in it mom, especially, wishes it rocked as well.  Can't have everything, mom.
     That thing on the arm next to me is one of their solar lights.  They were given a pair a while ago and, being the simple-living type use them almost daily.

and ditto

     Mom keeps them on the window sill next to my perch during the day to charge and uses hers at night to read by.  Dad uses his for his ridiculously early morning reading sessions (during which I get most of my posting done).  
     Okay, enough about furniture.  This is, after all, supposed to be about me.

Grooming

First off, I don't have fleas or lice.  Mom bought a "normal" cat brush, but it didn't quite do the trick.  Actually, it seemed kinda useless.  

     This thing really does the trick, and it feels good, too.  With the warmer weather I shed a lot, as most of us do.  Mom and dad are always saying stupid things joking around about how they could build another one of me out of the fur they pull from my coat.  I'm up for another session today most likely, as they try to comb me at least once a week. 

I'm starting to really look forward to it.  Can you tell I'm enjoying this?  As I think I mentioned before dad went away mom got a little rough (unintentionally, I know) the first time she tried combing me, and she still has the scars (sorry, mom).  They think they're being smart.  They try to "distract" me by one or the other of them petting me, and scritching my head and nose (which I absolutely love). 

 
     The other will begin combing me, starting with my back and gently gliding the comb downward and raking out wads of my fur.  Apparently I also have litterbox issues wherein I fling the stuff around so violently I end up wearing it like a buried coat of dandruff. 
     Sure, I'm a little larger than average, and they bought the biggest domed box they could find, but I can't help it.  They're always making fun of me because I claw and scratch at the sides of the damned thing, trying to bury my peeballs and pooplogs.  Not sure why I do that.  But I'm getting off topic here.  Anyway, I'm loving the attention and the feel of the comb. 

Ahh, Feels Good...

     

Pickles? What?! Wait a Minute...

Dad, you're an idiot. 
      Hey!  
     What is this picture doing on here? 
      It's called variety.  
      Is that a fabulous Tortie?
     Does it have to be? 
     Does it meow?
     I can give anything a voice, as you know.   Does it provide you with excitement, love and entertainment?
     Come on, look who you're asking, as mom would say.  You know mom says I live for food. 
     Does it beg for a good back- or belly-stroking, then walk away, rubbing on every possible surface it encounters?
     Okay, you got me there. I just wanted to share one of mom's wonderful kitchen projects.  Do you mind?  Mom's pickles are the most awesome!  I mean, does it always have to be about YOU? 
 Yes.  As a matter of fact, it does.

What Can I Say?

Dad's at a loss for words with this one...

After and Before

     So this is what I had to deal with before the previously mentioned perch was constructed.  Though the stretching was good for me my legs didn't like supporting my pendulous paunch (can you guess who chooses the wording here?)for any longer than they had to.

Sure, I made do with what space I had.  All I cared about was getting a good view outside.  As you can see, my, umm, girth is a little much for the narrow sill (thanks dad), so I'm quite grateful for the extra space on my perch.  
     Although dad likes to poke fun at me for my size I will say that he and mom are, in fact concerned with my health, and are taking steps to get things under control.  

      He wanted me to throw that in here so you don't think he's not taking it seriously.