This is a 3 day weekend for me! But that's not why my suitcase is packed...this picture is actually from a business trip last winter and my little pal Whiskey was bound and determined to either empty my suitcase or get packed inside herself.
Whiskey is the oldest member of my household (besides me)...she also is a hand me down...starting off her life as a birthday present for my young grandson. Who loved her WAY too much...so much that when she saw him coming she would run off and hide in places that he couldn't find her. So, she came to live with me at my apartment in the city until I had the blessing in disguise of getting downsized from my job...which put me in a position to move back to my hometown. I was never intended to be a city dweller...
It was just me and Whiskey for quite awhile...until Oscar came along...and then Whiskey became like the only child who suddenly had a baby brother dropped into her perfect world...and this is what she thought of Oscar those first few weeks...
Oh my God. What a nightmare came into my life yesterday. My human is a nice lady but sometimes I wonder about her sanity. She's brought that stupid canine in my house again. I don't know if it's because she feels sorry for that ugly, ratty mutt who insists on taking my throne on the back of the sofa or because she's just downright crazy. I guess the advantage is that sometimes the canine's big, tall master comes over for dinner and sneaks me food off his plate. And it's usually something really good like chicken, or salmon, or steak. He's an interesting character; I like to sit on the back of the sofa which is my official throne and touch his hair when he's watching television with my human. I've heard that he doesn't like spiders and I'm hoping that he will think a spider is in his hair one of these days when I'm touching his hair. I've heard that he acts all crazy when he comes in close proximity to a spider. I want to find out for myself.
The canine came in here yesterday, chasing after me like I was some kind of toy. For crying out loud, does he not really know that I am the queen of this house? Not even my human calls the shots around here. I'm even the one who decides when she gets up in the morning by parking my elegant, beautiful, grey behind on her chest and demanding my breakfast as loudly as I can without sounding like a common alley cat. You know the type; they are like the women that my human refers to as white trash bimbos. Well, she uses a more colorful term than bimbos, but I am not about to use that kind of language. I try to understand where she is coming from; but quite frankly, instead of the name calling I prefer to use my sharp claws on my foe. She should take a lesson from me.
At least she took the canine with her yesterday when she went to go swimming in some pool. Why humans feel that they need to float around the water like fish or ducks, I have no idea. At least she took that little pathetic creature with her so that I could have my house to myself. You just cannot imagine how peaceful my house is when I'm the only one in it. If I could feed and water myself and clean out my own litter box, I wouldn't really need a human.
Today, my human lay outside on the patio reading a book. I took this as an opportunity to slip out through the patio door that she left open for that insipid little canine and chase those annoying, little, yellow birds. Much to my surprise, my human sprayed me with water and had the audacity to raise her voice at me for doing what my feline instincts tell me to do. I came back inside the nice, cool house and claimed my throne since the little canine was outside sitting in the sun like a fool. Let them sit out there in the heat and bake like a couple of lobsters.
At least when she came in the house, she gave that smelly canine a bath with some of her lavender body wash. I guess dogs can't clean themselves like I do. Or maybe they are just too lazy to keep themselves clean. I guess I can tolerate him sleeping on the back of the sofa now that he doesn't smell like dirty laundry and cheap, men's cologne. That's fine, as long as he is here, I will just claim my human's bed for my own. She usually locks me out of the bedroom but that doesn't last long because I sit by the door and make as much noise as I can without reducing myself to the level of an alley cat. My tactic usually works, because she eventually gives in and lets me in. Who does my human think she is, restricting me from any area of my castle? I'm clearly the queen around here.
Whiskey is the oldest member of my household (besides me)...she also is a hand me down...starting off her life as a birthday present for my young grandson. Who loved her WAY too much...so much that when she saw him coming she would run off and hide in places that he couldn't find her. So, she came to live with me at my apartment in the city until I had the blessing in disguise of getting downsized from my job...which put me in a position to move back to my hometown. I was never intended to be a city dweller...
It was just me and Whiskey for quite awhile...until Oscar came along...and then Whiskey became like the only child who suddenly had a baby brother dropped into her perfect world...and this is what she thought of Oscar those first few weeks...
Oh my God. What a nightmare came into my life yesterday. My human is a nice lady but sometimes I wonder about her sanity. She's brought that stupid canine in my house again. I don't know if it's because she feels sorry for that ugly, ratty mutt who insists on taking my throne on the back of the sofa or because she's just downright crazy. I guess the advantage is that sometimes the canine's big, tall master comes over for dinner and sneaks me food off his plate. And it's usually something really good like chicken, or salmon, or steak. He's an interesting character; I like to sit on the back of the sofa which is my official throne and touch his hair when he's watching television with my human. I've heard that he doesn't like spiders and I'm hoping that he will think a spider is in his hair one of these days when I'm touching his hair. I've heard that he acts all crazy when he comes in close proximity to a spider. I want to find out for myself.
The canine came in here yesterday, chasing after me like I was some kind of toy. For crying out loud, does he not really know that I am the queen of this house? Not even my human calls the shots around here. I'm even the one who decides when she gets up in the morning by parking my elegant, beautiful, grey behind on her chest and demanding my breakfast as loudly as I can without sounding like a common alley cat. You know the type; they are like the women that my human refers to as white trash bimbos. Well, she uses a more colorful term than bimbos, but I am not about to use that kind of language. I try to understand where she is coming from; but quite frankly, instead of the name calling I prefer to use my sharp claws on my foe. She should take a lesson from me.
At least she took the canine with her yesterday when she went to go swimming in some pool. Why humans feel that they need to float around the water like fish or ducks, I have no idea. At least she took that little pathetic creature with her so that I could have my house to myself. You just cannot imagine how peaceful my house is when I'm the only one in it. If I could feed and water myself and clean out my own litter box, I wouldn't really need a human.
Today, my human lay outside on the patio reading a book. I took this as an opportunity to slip out through the patio door that she left open for that insipid little canine and chase those annoying, little, yellow birds. Much to my surprise, my human sprayed me with water and had the audacity to raise her voice at me for doing what my feline instincts tell me to do. I came back inside the nice, cool house and claimed my throne since the little canine was outside sitting in the sun like a fool. Let them sit out there in the heat and bake like a couple of lobsters.
At least when she came in the house, she gave that smelly canine a bath with some of her lavender body wash. I guess dogs can't clean themselves like I do. Or maybe they are just too lazy to keep themselves clean. I guess I can tolerate him sleeping on the back of the sofa now that he doesn't smell like dirty laundry and cheap, men's cologne. That's fine, as long as he is here, I will just claim my human's bed for my own. She usually locks me out of the bedroom but that doesn't last long because I sit by the door and make as much noise as I can without reducing myself to the level of an alley cat. My tactic usually works, because she eventually gives in and lets me in. Who does my human think she is, restricting me from any area of my castle? I'm clearly the queen around here.
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