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!