An Exciting Weekend!

I had a special visitor today. Actually, I had TWO special visitors today - Mishamummy and Flat Misha, all the way from Auckland. Misha is a suave Russian Blue boy and was a judge in New Zealand's Next Top Cat Model this year, a finalist last year, and has his very own blog. While Misha himself was unable to visit today, I got to meet Flat Misha, who is the same size as real Misha, but a bit quieter and less furry.

I thought Flat Misha WAS real Misha at first so I puffed up a little bit and had a bit of a sniff.

Halt! Who goes there?

Meeeeg! I need a second opinion

Then the lovely Mishamummy got out the catnip and treats, and Meg and I were rolling, stretching messes. Meg *may* have gotten a bit of a whap from me when she tried to steal the nip away.

Also, last night mum hooman got to meet the bootiful Rumblemum and Rumbles (cat blogger, handsome mancat extraordinnaire, and a fellow finalist in NZ's Next Top Cat  Model). He showed off his climbing technique rather well and mum hooman was very impressed. And of course he worked his charms on her with *that* face (Mum hooman here: one word - SWOON).

Helloooo ladies

Out with the old and in with the new

My prized straw mousie decided it had had enough so I thought I’d take my replacement straw mousie for a test slaughter today.

Yep, new straw mousie is nearly as good as old straw mousie.

Wordless Wednesday

The Evilest of Evils

Every few weeks one of the hoomans (usually mum) sneaks up on me and puts some icky cold liquid on the back of my neck. I can always tell when they are about to do it too – they sneak up all friendly-like with that horrid squirty tube of doom hiding behind their back, pretending they want to pat me, and then *EEEEP!* the cold hits me right between my shoulder blades. Today was one of those days.

I HATES it! It makes me itch and it bothers me and my sensitive skin. They must be punished for putting me through that and so I run away and hide and refuse to let them pat me for at least half an hour afterwards. If they do get near I will half close one eye and scowl at them.

Hurumph

And then I forget it ever happened...till the next month.

A Sad Farewell to a Fluffy Cuddlemonster

My fellow blogging kitty friend Inigo Flufflebum aka Prince Cuddlington of the Floofingshire (Rumblepurr's big brother) has unfortunately passed onto the Rainbow Bridge today after being unwell for some time.

Inigo was a very handsome and very fluffy Ragdoll cat. We had some things in common – aside from us both being similar ages, being devilishly good looking and rolling and stretching at odd angles in front of heaters, we both enjoy/ed our boy time with our dad hoomans on the computer in our respective spare rooms (see the video of my blog entry here and read the very sweet tribute by Rumblemum here).

I never met you Inigo, but me and my mum hooman were impressed by the bravery you showed fighting your illness. We were also impressed by the Rumblefamily’s courage in making the awful choice which we hope we never have to make. It is clear that you were loved so very much by your family.

Goodbye sweet Inigo, you will be sadly missed.

Let me in!

I’ve learned a new trick. Well it’s not entirely new, but it is new in that I am now doing it quite often – it’s almost part of my routine!

It goes as follows:
The hoomans arrive home and the garage door goes up. I race out of the garage and around to the front door which is next to the garage. The garage door is then closed. I will then meow forlornly at the front door until I am let in. I won’t necessarily start meowing straight away. Usually I will wait until the hoomans are upstairs, far away from the front door. They then come down and let me in, even though I have my own cat door around the other side of the house.

Pleeeeeease?

Yesterday, dad hooman was washing the car, the garage door was wide open, but I decided I still needed to meow desperately at the front door until he opened it and let me in. He looked at me as if I was crazy. Except I am so not crazy. I had important things (like snoozing and rolling and stretching) to do! He is the crazy one for waiting for so long to let me in! And who washes a car anyway? Cars are made for walking all over with muddy paws!

O hai!

The Quiet Meow

Sometimes, when I’m cuddled up and the hoomans are within seeing distance but not patting distance, I will bring out my special trick: the Quiet Meow.

The Quiet Meow involves me doing the quietest, sweetest, whisperiest meow, sometimes even without any sound at all and looking as enticing and lovely as possible. Sometimes I only need to twitch my whiskerpads for it to count as a quiet meow. I will continue to let out quiet meows until I get the desired result: the nearest hooman running straight up to me with a squeal and giving me a big cuddle and lots of pats and chin rubs. WIN!

Check me out in action here:

Wordless Wednesday

Morning Wake Up Calls

Every morn at a time of my choosing – usually between 4.30 and 6.30am - I like to wake up the hoomans. The hoomans are required to rise at this time for feeding and/or entertainment purposes.

Behold!

Haha just tricking, this isn’t what I do. We don’t have a baseball bat at our house for starters and I quite like my hoomans to *not* have head injuries. Instead I like to use a combination of the following techniques:

• knocking things off the top of drawers;
• biting plastic water bottle lid loudly and crunchily;
• scratching walls;
• a little claw to the edge of the hooman's lip or nostril;
• general face prodding;
• the bladder sit;
• marching on the spot (usually on the hooman's chest);
• the eye lick;
• ball walking;
• waiting for the hooman to half open their eyes and then bringing my paw (claws extended) towards one of their eyes.

I think that’s about it. The hoomans are getting wise to my current repertoire so it would be good to have some new tricks up my furry sleeve. If anyone has any other ideas, I would love to hear them!

I command thee to wake up

Neighbourhood watch

Every breath you take, every move you make...

The neighbours’ house on the right is my number one priority. I need to check it at least four times a day to make sure nothing has happened to it. Like perhaps it might have fallen down when my back is turned. Or maybe someone has painted it blue while I am asleep.

I sit and stare at the house from my perch on the heater. So far not a lot has happened over there in the few years I have lived here. The house has not burned down during this time. Nor have they added anything cool like a bird aviary. One time the neighbours moved out and we got new neighbours. I liked the old neighbours better. They would wave at me through their lounge window. The new ones don’t seem to do anything interesting.

The neighbours on the other side of my house do not concern me as much. They have a giant rabbit which is bigger than I am and two chickens. The chickens pecked me once when I ran up to say hello with my claws, so now I avoid them like the plague.

Must stop blogging now and continue surveying next door...

Introducing Miss Meg

Do do, do do, dodododo, dodododo... (Jaws)

This is Meg, my big sisfur. She came to live with the hoomans a year and a half before I did so she was the boss of the house (and still thinks she is, but I know better!)

    

Synchronised ignoring

 








We didn’t get on at all at first. It took two weeks before she would even stay in the same room as me. Now we get on ok. We like to wrestle and try to kill hug each other. Sometimes I like to kick her off the top of the cat tree, and sometimes she swats me when I get all up in her face.



Here is a video of us happily sharing one of my Top Cat Model prizes:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=owscymf9Hl4

Working the gam

Meg is a lot shyer than I am and has a gammy leg. She ruptured her cruciate ligament and her leg has never been quite the same since. When she sits down she always sticks her leg out at a funny angle.

Meg's favourite sleeping position aka Beanbag Pose

I’m sure you will agree that Meg is almost just as bootiful as me!

Ode to My Garage

One of these things just doesn't belong here

I know it’s going to be a great day when I beat the hoomans through the garage door as they leave for work. It means I can snuggle and purr all day long on the pile of dusty duvet inners and curtains right at the top of the garage shelving.

Yep. That's right. Just me....and the garage. Time for some Barry White.

The hoomans don’t like me being in the garage. They think I’m going to get up to mischief in there with all the bits and pieces lying around. There's also the matter of pawprints and scratches on the beloved car. But the more they try to shut me out and stop me, the more I realise that I cannot live without my garage.

O how I love thee, Garage! O how my throat becomes hoarse when I forlornly cry your name over and over while we are apart!

That's a 9.75 for the dismount.

Welcome to my new blog!

Here it is! My very own blog! Not only am I on Facebook and Twitter (not so often now), but I now have this, my special page where I can keep you up to date with all the latest highflying highjinks in the world of me! I might even allow my big sister Meg some airtime too. But only if she plays nice.

I would like to say a special big thank you to grandad hooman for designing the header logo. Extra big running headboof next time I see you grandad....

So what have I got in store for you all? Well I'm not entirely sure, but how about we start off as we mean to go on with a couple of pictures of yours truly being a diva during my aeroplane model shoot:

Take 1. Nuh uh!

Take 2. Nope!