Serene Sunday Selfie

 Anyone else having a hard time believing it's already December? Good gosh, is the year flying by or what? Dad came back home yesterday, mom and I are happy and all is well. Except the cold. Damn, it's cold. 'tis the season. Whatever.

Pay No Attention to the Crusty Old Cat Behind the Curtain

Firstly, I did not write the title of this post. Secondly, "crusty"? "old"? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. 

Anyhoo, so I know we've posted photos of me looking out the sliders before, but dad felt the need to share some more.

Close

The only difference this time is that there was no little bunny outside for me to chitter at and drool over, and the drapes are new. Mom and dad got some heavier ones in preparation for winterizing this place, which is cool since it gives me more space to hide.

Closer

Often, mom and dad will be like, "Where's the kitty?" or "Smudge? Here Smudgy Smudge", like I disappeared or something.

Closest

I'll sit as still as I can behind the drapes, laughing my furry butt off, knowing I'm fooling them. Until they see the suspicious bulge in the drapes.

Wait, where was I? Let's see- pot, kettle, drapes, oh yeah, so dad's got another mutt-sitting stint next week. He'll be taking care of Goober McDinglehound, seen here sorting through his emotions the day after the election.

Yeah, it's Thanksgiving week, but duty calls. Dad and mom plan to spend at least part of Thanksgiving Day together. I've overheard talk of a big "healthy" breakfast including eggs, potatoes, bagels, veggie sausage, and mimosas. I don't think there's burd of any sort on the menu this year😿. They'll also be watching It's a Wonderful Life, their annual Thanksgiving tradition. So, umm, Happy Thanksgiving.

SUNday Snoozefest part II

 So, as much as I'd like to, I can't control the cold temperatures these days. Boy, how I already miss the screen on the front storm door, the open sliders, and the fresh air flowing through the windows. Routine weather patterns, seasonal cycles, and all that bull and whatnot- whatever.

 At least I can still catch the occasional sun puddle for my naps. Mom's got her melatonin, dad's daily rising at, to quote mom, "the buttcrack of dawn" is his sleep aid, but give me a nice warm puddle o' sun and I'm off to la la land for hours on end. Or at least until the sun moves. It helps, too, to have parents who cater to my every need. 

Yeah, I turned the chair for her

We felines have to put up with those damn cameras in our faces constantly, and when I'm sleeping it doesn't much matter, but sometimes, well, I'm sure you can relate...

Depends on Your School of Thought and Beliefs

Dad found one of my whiskers on the floor the other day. 

See it? Right there-

I'm not superstitious, but this could be interpreted either way...

It's only the big one in the middle. Those others are just my furs

Blindfold me, swing me around 10 times by my tail and dare me not to puke- what a week it's been. Who in their right mind- never mind. That explains it.

Let it go, Smudge, let it go.

The Queen Bee

I don't typically do the Sunday Selfie thing, but my goodness, if this photo doesn't sum up my Smudgitude, nothing does. End of story.

The Changing Seasons

 As you've seen in previous posts, one of my most favorite spots here is the nice plush footrest on dad's chair. Now, I own the rights to the seat cushion on mom's, but when dinnertime rolls around and my annoying parents disturb my peace to sit in their respective chairs, you can put money on my hopping down from mom's as she settles her bum and squeezes me against the armrest. From there, I instantly leap onto the footrest, where dad somewhat begrudgingly (ask me if I care) shifts his legs this way or that to accommodate yours truly. 

Ahhh, open windows & doors and fresh air

 

Just chillin' with an episode of Mapperton

These pants remind me of Monty Python's lumberjack song

Wait- what was this supposed to be about? Oh yeah, the changing seasons or whatever. So as you can see, the old man's attire has gone from his lifelong favorite- shorts and barefoot- to jeans & slippers and, lately, fleece PJs & slippers yet again. So yeah, it's getting colder and I guess that's it. If anyone has room to spare for some aging (the ladies gracefully, the other not so much), cold-weather haters, please contact me at imanindooronlycatsoidontreallycare@thisplace.com. Thanks for visiting. Bye.

Getting Into the Holiday Spirit

 Just having a little festive fun...

See how many creepy things you can find.

Miscellaneous

 I had to go to the VET a week before last or thereabouts for some routine stuff.

Look at my pouty face

Even though I was allowed to roam free during our 114,000,000-mile ride to see the grands a few months ago, I was forced to ride in captivity for this short, stupid trip. I was a bit unsettled, but once dad opened the hatch on my porta prison, I was okay with it.

So dad took last week off from work, and he and mom did some exploring that they'd talked about since we moved up to not-like-the-NC mountains-sylvania. They hiked up in the Poconos one day, wore their feet out at Valley Forge another day, and wandered in awe at Gettysburg. Of course, they didn't take me along for any of these, and I was okay with that. Seeing historical sights is cool and all, but my idea of relaxing time off is more like-

Oh, and dad also got another year closer to 100 during the week, so I made him some special "sand🤣" art to commemorate the occasion.

Sunday Snoozefest

 Dad's got nothing, so I guess I'll just share some pix of what he says I do best- 

Dad's got some pretty weird feet, but anything's good for a pillow, right? 

Goofin'

 Just having a little fun-

Not sure what's going on here. Is she lying down? Is there an invisible starting block and she's getting ready to run a race?  Maybe her behind got tired from the effort of lying down and just stopped on the way there?

Paunches R Us 

Lastly, mom and dad always make fun of me for what they lovingly refer to as my cottontail, and I'm okay with that.

I'm quite proud of it, and besides, dad's muffin tops have clung to his middle since his baking days eons ago, and mom calls her midriff "Ester". Now, I know we're not the only family who names their body parts. Care to share any of yours? (please keep it PG-13 or thereabouts, though dad's the last one who can say anything about that)

Nip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah

A while ago, mom felt my nip mat that Miss Ellen made me needed to be washed.

I didn't think anything was wrong with it and couldn't understand why it needed laundering.

It had my own personal scent all over it, and I thought the purpose was to allow L’odeur de l’herbe à chat to permeate the fabric for my pleasure.

I've never really been one for catnip except on rare occasions, but I do lay on the mat often, especially since it's in the front window upstairs.

So, mom opened up the outer fabric and removed the scented pad inside, but before she could throw the outer cover in the washing machine I got the urge to partake of the stronger scent of the inner liner and went to town on it.

So like I said, this was a while ago, and since then my furs have once again covered the top side, which, I feel, is how it should be. 

Now, I know we felines don't all experience the same sensations while under the influence, but dad did his best with this new background after I described to him one of my hallucinations. Pretty trippy, no?
 

Something about playing with feathers, being old, bathing and napping or something, I don't know.

 In captivity, many felines rely on their self-proclaimed "owners" for companionship, sustenance, waste removal, and leisurely activities. However, in the event none of said "owners" are available or are just too effing busy to care, some creatures must take it upon themselves to satisfy their need for amusement. As such, in the case of this one particularly lovely, extraordinary, allegedly senior individual, such needs are met as the infrequent longing for entertainment arises (and as the male "owner" sits lazily nearby, phone camera in hand) only when she explores a container of assorted playthings tucked beneath a wooden structure purchased for the sole purpose of the aging male "owner" to rest his derriere upon while placing fabric and rubber sheaths upon his massive, malformed hooves.

After brief distractions from some unknown item above, the camera's flash, and the sudden need to bathe, 

and having settled on a feather-tipped wand of sorts,

this exceptionally ravishing specimen of her species paws at said feather-tipped joystick only briefly before noticing the camera's intrusion, causing great annoyance. Surrendering in defeat, the moody morsel of feline exquisiteness succumbs in repose, the half-withered plume the final vision her drooping eyelids close upon. 

 Umm, okay. And they all lived happily ever after? What is this? Is there a moral here? What the fudge, dad? 

Things and Stuff

 One of my newly revisited favorite lounge spots in our place is the low window sill up in the extra bedroom.

When we first moved here, I enjoyed watching the world go by from on high but lost interest when the plastic went up last winter. The sill is only a few inches off the floor and is nice and wide so I can sprawl out leisurely. Plus, I get to spy on all the activity outside.

As you can see, Miss Ellen's nip mat gets a good workout, too. In case some of you are wondering or don't remember from old posts many moons ago, the sarcophagus is the final resting place for Angels Isaac, Orbit, Cleopatra and wee Grayson.

Downstairs, the sliders offer a different view of the great outdoors.

Here's where I saw my little hippety hoppety friend a few posts ago, and where I'm often found sprawled out when dad wakes up at idiot o'clock when it's still dark out but my silhouette is highlighted by a neighbor's obnoxious 24/7 patio light.

So there you have it. I'll bet your day feels more complete now that your brain's filled with all this fascinating good-to-know stuff. See ya.