I know you're probably getting tired of me reminding you to be nice to the cat sitter. But you should know that Gloman has found a new house that he thinks would be perfect for you and he's threatening to send you away if he learns of another hissing and swatting incident with the cat sitter. So please, please, please watch your step, proceed with caution. If you can't exchange civil pleasantries, just resort to plan B. Hide. She'll only be in the townhouse a few minutes for feeding and scooping.
Here are two more of your Canadian cousins, Aaron and Karen. I know, they rhyme. Karen is Aaron's mom so the rhyming thing is probably her doing. I don't think she was too happy when Aaron told her he got a motorcycle, but he took her for a ride to show her what an excellent and careful driver he is. He even got her a pink helmet. To my knowledge, they don't make helmets for cats so you won't be going for a ride anytime soon.
So my friends, it's just me and my cat sitter. I got in huge-o trouble last time for hissing and swatting at the cat sitter. I really don't need a cat sitter. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Glogirly insists though. So now I've got some smelly stranger coming and going, messing around with my food and my litter box. She better watch out, that's all I can say. I can tell she's got her own cat. I hear his name is Hakeem. What kind of crazy name is that. I also hear he's pretty big. So to be safe, I should watch myself. Last thing I need is for the cat sitter to show up with this beast.
So I'm forced to see the world through marginally clean glass windows. Now don't tell Glogirly, but between you and me, there are actually a few benefits to this. A warm spot in the sun with a view of passerby birds. A rabbit oblivious to my stares. You see, I'm a voyeur. Most cats are. I can watch and dream without all the messy details of actual contact. After all, what on earth would I do with a rabbit? There's no room in this townhouse for squatters.
I'm a very smart cat. Good looking too, but that's not relevant at the moment. I can put two and two together. I can read the signs. I'm concerned. Actually, I'm very concerned. Glogirly is spending a lot of time in places she doesn't belong. She's been making improvements and tidying up in all the bedrooms and bathrooms that she doesn't use herself. Yes, she's a neat freak. So am I. But this goes way beyond her neat freakishness.
I've already spoke of the downstairs red room being converted to a guest room, bed and all. Well there's more. There's a bathroom down there too that never gets used. Except by me. That's where my litter box is. Out of the blue she's making it all fancy. New photographs hanging on the wall. A new hand towel and a fresh bar of pretty soap. She's scrubbed the floor and tucked my litter box out of view. I've even heard talk of a new rug.
The same kinds of things are happening in the upstairs bedroom and bath. I have a very bad feeling. This is not just your ordinary guest who will come and go within a 24-36 hour window of time. She's making these rooms so nice that I fear we may be looking at a more long-term situation. I simply cannot live in an environment where intruders, pretending to be all friendly and happy, take over my space. How will I get to my food and still avoid contact? How can I possibly navigate a path to my litter box when some stranger is snoring a few feet away? How can I do all this and be expected not to hiss?! There will be no place to hide and I will have no choice but to maintain a 24-7 guard post. I can kiss my napping schedule goodbye.
It was a virtual HGTV show in my townhouse today. And I did not like it one bit. Every once in awhile glogirly decides to move things around on me. A chair from upstairs may suddenly show up downstairs. A bed may move across the room. It's all very stressful. These changes interfere with my daily rounds. You see, everyday I systematically walk the townhouse and investigate each room to make sure nothing is out of place. Anything that doesn't belong or has been moved must be inspected. It's incredibly time consuming. But someone has got to do it.
Often when things start moving around there's a great deal of chaos. Chaos makes me uncomfortable. There's the squeaking of furniture feet on the floor. Clutter everywhere while she decides where each thing she's touched will ultimately be placed. Spray cleaners spraying. Vacuum cleaners vacuuming. You're probably starting to get my point. My day has been turned upside down. I have to supervise every move she makes and my napping schedule has been severely compromised.
It all culminated with the relocation of the most important element of the house. My litter box. Glogirly thought she could make me like it by gushing at me about what a good kitty I am. If she only knew how ridiculous she looks. My box didn't move far, so I'm not going to make a scene. She's got it hidden behind a curtain now so although it's a little dicey getting to it, I at least have a bit of privacy. I'm still going to dig with reckless abandon and spray my litter all over the place. That's the price glogirly must pay for making me poop in a box.
Blogger即将迎来10岁生日，我想他们想听听所有将网志定为生活一部分的猫的消息。他们想知道什么博客 MEANS to me. What my STORY 是。我不知道，我认为这可能是不受欢迎的收集大量感性运球的方法。或暗中尝试访问我的个人信息。但是我的人类，glogirly，向我保证它是不断上升的。所以去。
I'm a cat. Blogging has obviously posed some unique obstacles for me. The typing is a challenge with my unusually small paws. I've had to resort to the hunt and peck method. Still, my hair can get caught in the keys. The mouse is typically not a problem as long as glogirly goes easy on my manicures and I refrain from eating it. Blogging has also created opportunities for personal growth. I've gained a working knowledge of digital photography and Photoshop. I can snoop on the internet with the best of them. To be clear though, I rely on glogirly for the majority of my imagery. I tell her what I want and when I want it. Just like everything else.
Blogging has helped me maintain balance in my life. Not that I needed much help in this department. Cats are known for this ability. We rarely stumble and always land on our feet. Grace is my middle name. I strive for an 80/20 blogging ratio. 80% real life, no nonsense. 20% gratuitous, sentimental gush. This proportion is reflective of my approach to all things in life. 80% leave me alone I'm a cat. 20% loyal, loving companion. Frankly that 20% loving stuff is just an act. And the gush is intended solely for glogirly's benefit. She likes to think there is good in the world. She looks for inspiration through her family and friends. Her glass is always half full.
My favorite parts of the Tour de France are the sunflowers and Bob Roll. Although the riders will sweep through beautiful French fields of sunflowers on just a few of the day's stages, Bob Roll (Bobke to me) is there every single day. Gloman must really like him alot too. Whenever Bobke is on TV, gloman will honor him with an impressive impersonation routine. He'll wear a goofy grin, mispronounce words and flail his hands all around. He just can't seem to get enough of Bobke and his Tour Day France.
I feel ignored with all this working out stuff she's doing. So I've got a strategy. Catflexing. Now I can't take credit for this original approach to fitness. A human named Stephanie made it up. She's even got a book. If glogirly would just start working out with me, she wouldn't need a personal trainer. She wouldn't even need to go to the gym. Think of all the cat toys she could buy me with the money she'd save. Her workouts, just like her life, would revolve around me.
This time when she came home though, I didn't smell anything suspicious at all. No dog. No cat. No guinea pig. Nothing. Glogirly's friend, we call her hoffy, just lost her little Corgi Girl. Her name was Miss T. Miss T and hoffy were the best of friends. In fact they were a threesome just a few years ago before Tex passed away. Miss T and Tex did everything together. They loved each other very much. Too bad they were dogs, but not everyone can be perfect.
Glogirly and I poke fun at each other and aren't afraid to show our sardonic wit. But I'd really miss her if she went to human heaven and I know she'd miss me if I went to cat heaven. (I can't say as much for gloman.) Once when she was in Maine hiking up to a lighthouse, she tripped over a rock. Just before she said something not suitable for a blog, she realized what it was. A small heart-shaped remembrance of someone's companion and friend. I hope she'll remember me someday as a Darn Good Cat. I also hope she can find a bigger and more impressive rock.