Gizmo's mewsings

Scowling

2006-05-02T08:16:00.000-07:00

The sun is out now, after thunder rudely woke me up from my long, winter slumber. Trying to relearn how to post here, the paws are rusty.

We might as well open a zoo here. Remember the two cats of a long while ago? Mom and baby? The baby has moved on, but mom is still around. She won't let the brat touch her still. The bad thing? She looks to be getting larger. Not like taller. Nope. More like rounder. Yep. I think she's making more little ones. That will add to the zoo of things that have crossed our back yard. A couple of possums. Before that the skunks. We've also had a monsterous raccoon. I wasn't going to mess with him, but I did let him know his presence wasn't appreciated. He didn't care.

The grass is long, we're going to have to fight the lawnmower in the next day or two unless it keeps raining. Think I'll stalk it later today. Well....think I'll take a nap in the sun first.

Checking in

2005-10-06T11:49:00.000-07:00

Whew. The wind must finally be blowing in a different direction and the smell of skunk that had invaded the house is gone. I was worried that the vagrants had gotten in a fight with him, or Buxley again, but I think that poor sucker died on the road.

It's been so hot....but we might actually get cooler this weekend. Looking forward to that, though wondering what will become of the vagrants when it gets even colder. The brat tried to mess with them last night, going outside and sitting down, rather than heading over to their food bowl directly. The baby came running, yelling, and stopped just short of where the brat was. Mom was slower to come over, and stopped within ten feet. They both kept looking at the brat and you could just read their expressions. "Food? Over there, the bowl? Like now?" He sat for about five minutes before giving up as neither cat was in the least bit inclinded to eat out of his hand. Now if he had a hot, juicy t-bone, they might have given that a shot. But somehow, I don't think Cameron would appreciate good food going to them like that. And personally speaking....I'd chew a new hole in the brat's favorite shirt if such a treat was given to them and not me.

It's about time for the brat to come home, and for me to tour my property. Until later!

Happy, happy, happy!

2005-09-22T09:42:00.000-07:00

Heard Cam and the brat pull up out front. I was watching out back, the vagrants having a game of chase going since their bowl hadn't been filled yet. Watched the baby bound towards the brat like he was extremely excited and wanted to be petted. The brat heads towards them and the baby runs and hides under the fence with mom. Don't quite understand them as they keep hopping out from under the fence, all kinds of excited and happy, but then they're also still scared. The brat has gotten much closer to them, actually within touching distance while they eat but if his hand comes out at all to try to let them sniff him, they back off. Quite funny to watch their antics and conflicting body language. Guess that's what happens when you live without human contact, even if it DOES happen to be a brat.

SO.......the brat went out last night and brought home this new fangled water dish. Looks like a small bottle of spring water turned upside down. Guess it means the water will drip out as I drink it, but if he thinks I'm drinking day old, week old, or month old water, he's got another thing coming.

He decided too that I needed a new toy. Some cutesy door hanger with two puffy things on the end of that rubbery black string. I should be inducted into the Guiness Book of World Cat Records - I had that string chewed through in under sixty seconds! The duck thing is free! The worm thing will be next, at least as soon as I figure out how to get on the top shelf in the pantry. Cam didn't think it was too funny.

The Enabler

2005-09-08T09:22:00.000-07:00

Alright - the brat has seriously crossed the line. I think I've mentioned the homeless varmints that seem to have taken up residence in my back yard. A mom and her baby, who by now has just about reached her height, though not yet her weight. The brat has been feeding them. That didn't sit well at first, but yes, even I have a soft heart for someone that doesn't have their own home, or their own Cameron to cuddle up to. So the food has been tolerated, though if either of them think of coming any closer to the house I let them know to back off.

But last night, the brat actually became.......an enabler. A drug dealer. He is preying on those poor homeless cats and turned them right into addicts. Yes, it's The Nip. He put bait out for the birds first. Then fed the vagrants. They had just decided to come investigate when he went back out with The Nip. They ducked back under the fence and I saw him pour a generous amount of that in the dead grass next to where he feeds them. Once he'd left the area, both came out again and the mom caught the first whiff of trouble. You could see her eyes go wide and without a second care for the dinner laid out for her, she went straight to The Nip. She didn't even need to indulge and she was already acting like a junkie. Immediately checking out the surrounding areas, making sure there was no one near to steal her stash, eyes wild, head darting this way and that. Immediate paranoia. Once she was certain she was alone, and no one would see her fall - she did. Straight over on her side, her snout buried deeply within The Nip.

What transpired was a classic drug reaction. Couldn't keep her feet, and frequent arguing with her baby. The baby got a few whiffs and looked like a classic case of hyper ADD. Chasing pink elephants I think, though I never saw a thing. Then the baby decided that the mother's tail was the greatest toy ever, once he realized he couldn't catch his own. It took over an hour for the munchies to hit, and either of them found their dinner.

Guess it'll be a halfway house for them, rather than a full one.

Almost caught, on film

2005-08-23T09:25:00.000-07:00

To Mom. I love and miss you.

I was looking outside yesterday, watching as the brat fed the vagrants. They hide in the neighbor's back yard. Not Buxley's yard of course, but the other one. A six foot privacy fence separates their yard from ours. In the back corner the yard slopes down gently, creating a low spot for the water to travel in when (IF!!!!) it ever rains. Anyway, the vagrants can get under the fence there. I see the brat go out every night, dumping the dry crunchy stuff into an old microwave container and filling up a water bowl. Sometimes they come out, but never too close to him. He'll sit down in the grass and chatter at them while they eat.

Anyway, yesterday he goes out and puts the food down and I see them looking from beneath the fence. He comes in, then goes back out. The mother cat goes back under the fence. The grey kitten looks scared, backs up but doesn't disappear. I watch as the brat slowly makes his way over there, probably about fifteen feet away. He sits down in the grass and takes out a camera. The kitten steps back over to the food and takes a bite or two, then goes under the fence. It's funny, I can see them sitting there. The brat had a stare-off and of course the feline population wins! They sat and outwaited him, knowing he had a camera I think. He was so disappointed. He'll have to wait to feed them, until they come out when he goes out and he MUST have the camera with him. Otherwise, they'll outwait him again.

I'm hot stuff.

2005-08-11T16:38:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's hot. I get that. I seriously get that. My salad outdoors is a crispy yellow rather than the succulent green that I like. Food chooses to stay hidden rather than come out and play. Can't sneak up on the flying bits of food because the grass sounds more like rice crispies than anything else. I am thankful the mowing beast is silent.

But that does NOT change the fact that I want a lap to lie on. I couldn't find Cam the other day and was resigned to trying the brat's lap. I got up, got settled, and two minutes later had to rearrange myself because the brat did. Got settled again, another blissful two minutes and we move yet again. Then he has the gall to drop some of what he's drinking on my head. Then I get a shower of crumbs as he's munching through a very dry bag of pretzels. I'd share the kibbles with him but he doesn't deserve it.

He finally put me on the floor. Or rather, *I* gave up and left. He was all 'you're too hot' and I shrugged. At least he knows it.

Drink anyone?

2005-08-02T10:57:00.000-07:00

The brat should be given a science blue ribbon at the county fair for his latest concoction. He actually figured out what makes up cough syrup! A few simple ingredients, so he says. I've never needed the stuff and don't plan on accepting any drinks from him that aren't fresh from the cow.

Typing in a few of the bottles they have, the brat came up with a list of drinks that could be made. The first one they managed to drink. The second went straight down the sink after both tried it. Equal parts of Midori and Vodka, topped with Grenadine. Supposed to be a watermelon shot or something to that effect, but the look the brat had after taking a healthy swig spoke otherwise. He was trying to keep it down when he handed it (that's my brat, always willing to share) to Cam, who for some unknown reason didn't use logic. Logic would dictate that if your partner is a pasty shade of green with a contorted face, you shouldn't drink what he just drank. Cam had a momentary loss of the much needed logic and took a healthy swig himself. He didn't turn green but his face matched the brat and had anyone been looking, they'd have run screaming.

That was the end of that. Pet the cat. Give another watermelon shooter to the brat, he looks good in green. Besides, he's quiet.

Payback

2005-08-01T10:00:00.000-07:00

The brat is not only standing on my very last nerve, but jumping up and down on it! He was entirely too self-satisfied with the fiasco of the talking turkey leg. He'd snicker everytime he walked by for a day or two.

Then something happened. I walked into the living room one day and got picked up immediately by him. An earful of mush and lots of petting followed. Then he set down something on the floor and put me next to it. It smelled suspiciously of Nip.

He kept trying to get me to play with it, but aside from Nip, I was smelling something fishy. He's never this nice and entirely too caught up in the idea that I play with this thing. It's hairy, has eight legs and a tail. I stalked off the first night - No Way was I going to entertain him after all the snickers and comments about legs and impossible cats.

It's intriguing though. I've had a look or two when he wasn't watching. Mostly it wasn't around if he wasn't. So finally, last night, I thought I'd give in. It was sitting there and he was lying on the couch. After he pointed about a dozen times like a dumbass to the thing, I went over to give it a sniff and a whack.

Except when I got my nose to it, it JUMPED!!! I heard a loud thump in admist the giggles from the brat, letting me know he was actually rolling on the floor laughing. I didn't care, I was on top of the stairs by that time.

In case you were wondering, that THING didn't frighten me. It's just that I wasn't expecting it to move and it caught me off guard. Just in case the brat had anything to do with it, I didn't waste my money on a plastic something, but brought in a fresh spider from outdoors and put it into his lap.

Cam! Pet the cat! Then when I'm done with you, you can peel the brat off the ceiling.

Turkey Temptation

2005-07-28T10:56:00.000-07:00

Seriously need to vent today. I'm in disgrace. Disgrace!! Yes, ME, can you believe it? Pet the cat, ignore the brat. *I* know that mantra, but Cameron has forgotten! Why you ask? Let me TELL you. The truth. The whole truth. And nothing BUT the truth, so help meow.

It was yesterday. I had to spend about two hours in the house smelling the turkey cooking. That's bad enough while it cooks but it's totally cruel to then leave the pan on the counter. My mouth was drooling no matter where I was in the house. *MY* food is in the kitchen. I needed sustenance, as any feline would, so I went in to eat.

Now tell me - would someone TELL ME???!!! How can ANY feline, canine or God-forbid BOvine sit down to a bowl of sticks and twigs when there's a juicy, tender, delicious turkey leg screaming your name? I heard it, same as I'm sure the lasagna talks to Garfield. "Gizmo.......Giiiizzzzzmmmmoooooooooo. Crunchy outside, juicy inside. Giiiiizzzzzzmmmmmoooooooooooooooo." I tried shutting out the voice but it was insistent. Besides, when I went to chew on a stick or a twig, it was already soft, like cheerios are after a few minutes in milk. Pavlov's dogs come to mind but *I'd* never compare myself to the likes of those stupid species.

So I did what I had to do to remain sane. I quieted the voice. That required taking that dreadful turkey leg off the counter. For those of you who are Monk fans, just call me Monk. He had to quiet the singing card that wouldn't die, I had to quiet the turkey leg that wouldn't stop talking. I took leg under the kitchen table and set it down. Still extremely loud and very much in the line of fire. I checked where Cam and the brat were and made it slowly into the living room. Tried behind the chair, but again, still open for attack. Went behind the couch - straight into dust bunny territory. A little Tai-Kwan-Meow was needed to make it out alive, turkey leg intact. I surveyed the rest of the living room and found no better hiding places. This was going to require a very scary run in front of the couch. Completely open, no cover, but decided that would be far faster than fighting the dust bunnies again. Besides, they'd probably already called in re-enforcements. I did another quick reconniter, then slid across my belly out in the open air. Almost there, almost to the edge of the couch, so far I've been under the radar. Whew, I made it.

Still in the open, and one more long dash to the stairs. It was time to head up. Underneath the bed I'd be safe and the covers would keep the thing quiet. One more quick survey and I started to the stairs. Should have signed up for the Catolympics before going as I'd have won the high jump. I was halfway to the stairs when there was an incredibly loud sound. My nerves were stretched to the breaking point as it was and that shot them. I think it was a 360 I did in the air, I'm not sure. Just know that I hit the steps on four legs and was gone in a flash, not having needed any of the floor between the couch and the stairs.

I dove under the safety of the bed. The turkey juices were a most soothing balm to my ruffled nerves. It didn't take long to kill the leg. It was quiet inside of fifteen minutes. And oh what a triptophan it was. Laid out flat on my back dreaming - I was next to the ocean, it was the biggest sandbox I'd ever seen. Mice and birds everywhere you looked, and not a stick nor a twig bowl anywhere in sight. And best of all - NO BRATS. Only laps for me when I wanted them.

Then all hell broke loose. I won't go into the details, no one could live happily forever after knowing all the bloody, gory details. Let's just say - I don't think Cam will ever be that thoughtless again.

I forgot one!

2005-07-26T09:09:00.000-07:00

It's so hot.....

The brat earned himself a spanking, just to cool off!!!

The seasons: Tolerable, Hot, Hotter and Are you KIDDING me??!!

2005-07-26T08:26:00.000-07:00

It's so hot.....

The early bird getting the worm had to use potholders!!!

It's so hot.....

The trees are whistling for the dogs!!!

It's so hot.....

The brat has learned to drive with only two fingers.

It's so hot.....

The brat got branded by his seatbelt. (snickers)

It's so hot.....

The brat has decided the best parking places aren't those that are close, but those that have shade.

It's so hot.....

The brat has found out asphalt has a liquid state.

It's so hot.....

The brat didn't want to ride his bike for fear of cooking to death on the asphalt after being knocked unconscious from a wreck!

It's so hot.....

The brat has condensation on his butt from the hot water in the toilet bowl when he gets up.......(aaarrggg, uuuggghhh.....poking out mind's eye)

It's so hot.....

Wait...what do I care??? Poultry is better cooked - all I have to do is add salt and pepper to taste!

Potter's brats

2005-07-20T11:48:00.000-07:00

I'm going to post what happened in a time line. There IS no other way. Cameron had to go back home for a couple of days and the brat had a test he couldn't miss in school. That's how it started.

12:01am - Brat had been grounded the previous few days, thus unable to get out and get the Harry Potter book he so desperately wanted. Left the house.

12:20am - Brat returned with book, snacks and a cold twelve pack of Mountain Dew. This was going to get ugly.

12:22am - Page 1. Brat back in skimpy shorts, no shirt, curled up in the lounge chair. Snacks arranged around him, first Dew ready to go. Dew down: 1. (extra bottle purchased as he scoured the store)

1:20am - Page 60. Sounds of satifaction from brat as he reads. Gets through the first can of Dew. Can on floor, brat gets another one from fridge. Brat on floor. Dews down: 2.

2:05am - Page 100. Lines in forehead signaling the very beginnings of a reading headache, not to mention overdose of caffeine at a time when he's normally sleeping. Brat on couch. Dews down: 2.

2:45am - Page 170. Brat's muttering about pattern of the Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher is thrown off. Evil, Useless, Good, Evil, Useless, Good. Clue? Crackling of potato chip bag wakes me. Brat on Floor. Dews down: 3.

3:15am - Page 230. Brat upside down in lounge chair, chair at precarious angle. Cookie trail from floor to chair. Sure he's trying to settle head which must be pounding at this point. He's obviously been smacking the ceiling at various times from the caffeine while I've been asleep. Dews down: 4.

4:00am - Page 289. Brat muttering "about damn time." Goes for the cheetos, careful to leave only a hint of grease on the book while the orange finger prints get wiped on the paper towel if it's in reach, shorts if it's not. Dews down: 5. Amazingly staying down.

4:30am - Page 350. Brat muttering about George Bush being the new Minister of Magic. WAY too much caffeine. Book down for three Tylenol tablets, line in forehead far more pronounced. More snacks. NOTE. No food in MY bowl. Dews down: 6.

5:15am - Page 420. Harry and He Who Must Not Be named - parallels. Are they products of their choices or are they just different inside?

6:00am - Page 485. Is this where Saddam Hussein was hiding? Nice tactical reading. Dews down: 7.

6:15am - Page 505. Alarm upstairs goes off. Brat on couch still reading. Must be one hell of a book.

6:35am - Page 570. NOTE. No food in MY bowl. Breakfast is freaking LATE. Brat finds pizza box on floor from dinner, opens and eats the last few pieces without watching. Amazing feat, the book is still mostly spotless. Brat not. Neither is carpet as I was forced to snatch a few pepperoni to snack on while he's reading. Dews down: 8.

7:15am - Page 605. Brat moving postions about every five minutes. Is it caffeine or is the book getting better? Radio alarm silent.

7:30am - Page 630. Brat bursts out with "Damn!" I glower. Dews down: 8.5.

7:38am - Page 640. Brat bursts out with "No WAY!" Time to drag out the BIG paw, THE CAT is hungry and could care less about HARRY Potter. When L.M. Mewlings writes about HAIRY Catter I'll read.

8:05am - Last page. Long break to empty bladder for the rest of Dew number 9 before getting to this point. Brat with a look of wonderment on his face, "Wow." Eyes go wide when I drop his watch in his lap. I stand back as language that would make a sailor blush erupts, along with brat from the chair. He's gone ten minutes later. When blue air clears enough to see about an hour later, BOWL STILL EMPTY. Stare disdainfully at the dry food and head upstairs. Downstairs looks like a bomb hit it and I wonder who's going to make it home first...........

Dumb dogs and mowing

2005-07-18T12:53:00.000-07:00

WHAT a weekend. Another one with highs and lows and a LOT of laughs.

We'll start with the brat. It rained finally, just a little, and my salad finally started to grow. It had been so dry and tasteless lately. At least I had a few good chomps of it yesterday, before they shave it back down and make it harder to eat. Anyway, the brat wasn't happy about mowing, as usual, even though the last time he had to do it was at least three weeks ago. Mid June I think to be exact. Anyway, they got out in the garage with only a few death threats. I heard the beastly mower moving around out there and headed straight upstairs, as far away as I could get. Chanced a look out the window and saw it......raining. Not really rain rain, just one cloud with a few sprinkles. Wet enough to have to wait just a short bit before mowing, according to Cam. The brat thought he was home free, but noooooooooo. (insert evil laugh) Cameron decided that they then had time to pluck a few weeds from the gardens - another brat hated chore. Now THAT was the funny part. If there's a bee within two miles of the house, the brat is on the defensive. He'd bend down to pluck a weed out of the mulch, under extreme duress.....and a bee would fly by. He fell I don't know HOW many times on his tail, he squeaked, squawked, danced, pranced.....you'd have thought he'd stepped into a nest of hornets, rather than just heard things flying past his head. Cam finally gave in to pity and sent him inside to sit for a few minutes. I don't think Cam sat...he was pacing and furious. Not a good mood to be in before mowing.

I also spotted a dog almost hit on the road. Stupid animals, don't know how to cross a street. Thankfully the car managed to stop with a screech (going WAY TOO FAST) I know, because Cameron complains all the time about it, and the dog was fine. The owner came and collected him, putting him back on the leash he needed to be on.

Then it was time to mow. The brat was mowing with his head down and jumping here and there. He absolutely refused to get anywhere near the flowers, which Cam patiently went and did for him. He was dripping sweat left and right, so hot and sticky out there. I think he's lucky, the sun took the bad mood from him before he could do anything to make it worse.

Water balloon anyone?

2005-07-13T15:12:00.000-07:00

So...maybe I woke up in a crabby mood yesterday. I went back to bed in a crabby mood. I woke up again in a crabby mood. BUT.....I did get a good laugh that helped some.

The two kids next door were playing with water balloons. Buxley was running between them, DYING to get one of the balloons himself. They played keep away with him for a long time, till his tongue was about to drag the ground. Then one of them said, "Here Buxley!" That silly dog danced in place and when the water balloon was headed his way, jumped into the air to grab it. The look of surprise was priceless when his teeth went into it and water drenched his head.

He landed on all fours. (THAT was an amazing feat in itself!) Shook off his head and coat, then started yapping for the next one. SILLY dog......

I need one of those. CAM??? Pet the cat. Waterballoon the brat. I'm sure he deserves it.

B*tch and poem

2005-07-12T12:36:00.000-07:00

It's one of those days -

I'm going back to bed now.

Try again later.

Haiku, when you'd rather say f*ck you.

Baths and vagrants

2005-07-08T12:29:00.000-07:00

Been keeping up with Garfield lately? He's got catdom down to a science. He hasn't moved from his spot on the floor for days....

Whereas I was trying to occupy only a small portion of the countertop next to the sink this morning, when the brat decided he needed to dry his hands off - ON ME. It was a surprise attack as at last look, Cam was in the bathroom too and I KNOW he wouldn't have let that happen. Wet fur, especially wet fur that smells like watermelons and cucumbers is NOT cool. Very undignified for a cat of my stature to wander around smelling like something out of those horrendous envelopes that always seem to accompany department store bills. I did make sure that before I began the long, arduous job of cleaning my once fine fur, that I shared with Cameron exactly what the brat had done. I got rid of the worst of the water and now loose fur on his pants. At least HE has the option of changing out of wet stuff that I don't have. It was only a moment later that I heard the satisfyingly loud smacks that told me the bath brush was being used in the manner it was designed best for. You could hear the dirt screech and jump off rather than get compressed between the backside of the brush and the backside of the brat. If the brat didn't learn from those few smacks that he should keep his wet cucumber hands to himself, maybe he learned that he'd be far smarter to wait until he put his clothes on to try that again. Cat 1, brat 0, as if there was any doubt.

Now I need a moment to vent, since this forum was set up for that express purpose. There happens to be two vagrants that have shown up for three days straight. The brat is feeding them in the far corner of the yard - MY yard, and against ALL rules of the house. One of these days I'll let Cam know but at the moment I'm waiting to see what I can learn about them. The one comes in monochrome. She wears a mask of black over a white face and flicks her tail expressively. Kind of like my cousin, but a lot more svelte. Her eyes are intriguing, staring back at me in the depths of the night as I patrol the downstairs windows against intruders. I had been thinking I might go out and introduce myself, but she has a bratlet of her own. No doubt a bastard child, a youngster grey from head to tail with thick fur he can hardly handle at the moment. While his mother was eating the brat's dinner, the youngster danced along the fence, diving under it, around it and trying to climb up it. There is NO WAY I'd get involved with someone who had a ready made family. My brat is almost more than I can handle, and to have to adopt a bratlet would give me that heart attack the vet is fearing I might have one day. Want to learn more about her - but the urge to fix the brat's wagon about feeding vagrants is getting more tempting by the day.

Ice needed

2005-06-23T15:56:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. Supposed to be using this as therapy, but I refuse to be bullied into it. I'll therapy when *I* feel like it.

In the meantime, someone asked if the brat had been good this whole past month. That was VERY dangerous and shouldn't be attempted again. I had to get stitches in my side from laughing too hard and it took hours to get up off the floor. That brat, being good? For a WHOLE MONTH??? omg.....you've got me laughing again.

They went on vacation for a week. Don't know where, I wasn't invited. No, I got stuck trying to entertain this young lady that kept dropping by. Do you have any idea how hard it is to look like you're interested in inane baby chattering? And WHY you guys think chasing a string is entertaining I'll never understand, but I tried that a few times just to shut her up.

So....Josh thought it was a good idea to make iced tea. So far so good. He puts water in the teapot, the teapot on the stove. Turns the burner on high. Anyone want to take a guess on what happened? Car horn honks, he heads outside to talk to a friend. Meanwhile, the pot starts to boil. As it usually happens, he puts in too much water so the whistler puked water all over the stove, down the front of it, onto the floor. Did he hear the awful racket? Of COURSE not, he was busy outside. I was just about to lose my mind with that high pitched squeal when Cameron came inside. Thankfully he killed the whistler, then killed Josh a few minutes later. I'm not sure who squealed more, the pot or Josh. The only thing he needed ice for after that was his backside.

Ice the brat, pet the cat. My ears hurt.

Gotcha!

2005-05-19T08:20:00.000-07:00

Last night I was playing chase the string with the brat. I don't know why it entertains him so much but I was feeling generous so for about five minutes I pulled on the string for him. It was one of those good strings, stretchy and gold, something I could really get my teeth into. Since it was stretchy.....when I was finished entertaining the brat, I bit down firmly on the string and walked away. The brat didn't let go, which is what I expected. It was getting just to the perfect length and I let go. SS NN AA PP !!!!! The yell I got from the brat could have broken glass as the string snapped back into it's normal shape, directly against his wrist. Once my ears stopped ringing and Cam was there to keep the brat from taking revenge, I sauntered back in to look. He had a lovely red welt on the tender white skin of the inner wrist. I could tell Cam was trying very hard not to laugh at the brat. You'd think he'd learn, that brat, but he's slow. PET THE CAT, NOT THE BRAT.

Tempting

2005-05-02T10:44:00.000-07:00

It finally quit raining enough so that Cam and the brat could get outside, out from underneath my paws. Thank goodness for that and that it's Monday - some actual quiet time.

So.....yesterday they did some gardening. FINALLY putting out something that the rabbits enjoy. Looking forward to some of that in the not too distant future. The brat doesn't do gardening. Only Cam, but he wanted some help. Why, I'll never know. "Ew, that's dirty. Do I HAVE to sit on the grass? It's HOOOOoooootttttt. How much looonnnggggeeeerrrrrrr?" MP3 players make MUCH better company than that of brats. At least that brat.

I had a look around later. Cam and the brat ate dinner on the patio, to which I was very pointedly not invited. I had fun anyway. In the twilight, I caught the glimpse of some beady eyes. The wind was blowing away from both of us, so it didn't know I was there, and I couldn't figure out exactly what it was. Either intruder or an early rabbit. Either way, it wasn't going to get much farther without meeting me.

I crept forward slowly, in step with his movements away from me. All of a sudden Buxley bursts forth from the left, headed straight towards my sworn enemy. I laid flat, ready to steal my prize from good ole' Bux the instant he headed back to his yard. Instead of him neatly catching the enemy, there was a short scuffle, then a whine. Bux came bounding back past me, just about knocking me on my ass. And NOT in the physical sense either. Seems my sworn enemy was in fact another cat - a pole cat! Me being me would have figured it out long before we'd gotten to that stage, but not Buxley. It moves, he'll go after it. I immediately headed straight inside, followed a minute later by the returning garden party of Cam and brat, both coughing and complaining. Had to shut the windows and it STILL smelled.

Cam went next door a while later to help them clean up Buxley. Bux wasn't too happy, being dunked in a bucket of red goo. He didn't quite understand what was going on and by the time they were done, they each could have made a very fine bloody mary, if only they had celery to carry around. I enjoyed that tremendously from my upstairs viewing post. I did not, however, go near the bathroom while the brat was trying to clean up Cam. There are some things that need to stay behind closed (or mostly closed) doors.

No knees is good knees

2005-04-25T08:10:00.000-07:00

Before ANYone else develops a soft spot for poor wittle Josh, let me tell you what he did. Yesterday Cameron decides to do laundry and as usual, he would appreciate a little help from Josh, who was having none of it. Cameron finally dumped a load of clothes on the floor and moved Josh to them, leaving him with no doubt as to who was going to fold them. The tv went off and Josh was instructed not to move until they were folded and put away.

All I wanted to do was soak up some of the warmth as it was COLD yesterday. I settled on the fringe, certain that I'd have just enough time to soak the heat out of the clothes before Josh got around to actually folding the piece I was sitting on. Instead of getting to enjoy the heat, the brat pulled a shirt over my head and held the bottom closed. I managed to find an opening and got my head and one leg out. I dug in with both feet and threw myself forward, hearing the satisfying rip as I did so. Josh's laugh stopped about that time and I backed up and headed out the new opening I'd made. I made sure to keep one leg hooked into it and headed straight to Cameron.

He was, to put it mildly, surprised to find one of his nice shirts shredded. Josh did the smart thing and didn't follow, giving me plenty of time to get my fur straight with the help of Cameron. I took his chair when he got up, carrying the shirt with him. The scene unfolded (pun intended for those of you who are slow) something like this:

Cameron stopped just short of the pile of clothes, watching Josh dutifully folding. He cleared his throat before Josh looked up.

"Want to tell me how Gizmo happened to be wearing this lovely shirt?"

You could hear the air coming out of all tires.....

"I was TRYING to fold the clothes and Gizmo jumped into the middle of them." I don't think so. "I just put the shirt over his head and he went spastic." I don't go spastic. I just wanted out.

Cameron didn't waste any more breath. He grabbed Josh by the arm and pulled him up and I heard quite a few smacks landing as he spoke. "You do not torture the cat just because you're mad at me for making you help fold clothes." I heard several suprised sounds coming from Josh's mouth, before a long, drawn out whine appeared. "Caaaaaaammmmmmmm."

"You can stand there and think about other ways of handling that situation - quietly," Cam finished before Josh could voice another word.

Yes, corner the brat. Safest place in the house for him. Come back and pet the cat Cam. Pet the cat, corner the brat.

Maybe not summer........

2005-04-22T12:52:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in the window earlier and it's getting chilly. Wind is blowing and I heard the weatherman say that the windchill (this IS a term reserved for the winter mind you) was going to be 20 this weekend. 20!??! It was nearly 80 yesterday! I think we're going to have a few storms tonight.

Josh gives me so much to write about. I should thank him, but why? Last night was yet another drama filled night, but not because he was spanked. No, last night was all, and I mean ALL, his fault. It was late and he had headed upstairs to get ready for bed. As you read earlier, the weather is getting a little odd around here. It was cool enough that the windows were open, but Josh thought the air needed a little help to move around. So Mr. Smart Man took the fan that was plugged in on one side of the bathroom door and pulled it across the door, putting it on the chest on the other side. That meant that humans needed to step up and over the cord, while I could saunter right underneath. He did see, and remember the cord being there on his way into the bathroom, but I guess brushing his teeth jarred loose the memory and it washed down the sink. He yanked open the door and executed a beautiful swan dive, almost straight into the side of the bed.

Yep, the silly boy hung his toes on the cord and he and the fan went flying. Then came the sound of elephants as Cameron rushed upstairs to find out why the plaster was falling on his head downstairs. Finding his brat in a crumpled, crying heap wasn't what he expected. No one heard me laughing.

Josh was fine, for any of you that were wondering. He didn't appreciate the ice that Cam put across his knees before they went to sleep, but I looked this morning and his knees are the same bony things they were before he fell. I was hoping to see a basketball there.

I'll let you know this weekend if I find Josh under the bed when the lightening strikes.

Spring? How about Summer

2005-04-21T07:10:00.000-07:00

Someone posted last night that said spring was going strong in Texas. It's been summer here for a couple of weeks and the mowing has begun. The mowing and all the fun that entails. You would think Josh was allergic to the outdoors, though he has no problem going out for fun stuff. But once Cameron mentions mowing, the poor boy turns white as a sheet, has a headache, a stomachache, is sneezing.....and on and on and ON. I wait each time they have to do it just to see what the current excuse is.

Personally, I side with Josh on this one, but he'll NEVER know. There is no reason in the world to mow. Firstly, the beast is loud and obnoxious. Thirty minutes to an hour of an incessantly loud whine. It stinks to high heaven as well - totally surprised the grass doesn't just die upon turning the beast on. My paws turn a ghastly shade of GREEN. And lastly but most important.....the hunting SUCKS on a carpet of flat grass. Snacks and toys that fly and run can see me coming from miles away without the cover of the grass. Cameron is smart about a few things, but the desire to keep a well manicured lawn is not one of them.

So, last night was the second time they've had to ruin my hunting grounds this season. The first time wasn't so traumatic. Josh had the whole winter off and he probably forgot just how much he enjoys the job. (Personally can't see him remembering from week to week but he somehow manages that feat of concentration) Cam surprised me by coming home early. I was just finishing an early supper when the beast was awakened. Cam has no sense of decency. How is one to digest a meal with all that racket and smell going on outdoors?

Anyway, Josh was no where to be found. I looked, trust me. I heard the beast choke and die. A couple minutes later it started again and the front door slammed shut. Then a chair hit something and there was a lot of muttering. Putting two and two together, I figured out Josh was home and not very happy. I put up with the beast just to get a little closer to Josh to find out what was going on. Seems he stayed away on purpose, to skip the mowing and Cam didn't think that was too funny. I'd say Josh was pretty smart, staying away from the beast, but I had a nasty suspicion that Cam was going to be beastlier.

And I, of course, was right, as always. Josh mumbled for a short bit then got really quiet. The beast was finally put away for the time being and Josh returned inside. I went back upstairs to sit on my perch by the bedroom window, surveying my domain while death and destruction reigned downstairs. Josh was louder than the beast but thankfully it was a lot less than 30 minutes worth of whine. Think I'll try dinner out next time the beast emerges. That was the worst case of heartburn I've had in a while.

What snow?

2005-03-01T10:33:00.000-08:00

Oooooooo....scary winter storm. If you're afraid of a few flakes of snow you're in serious trouble. There's just enough outside to make going out messy. Cold, wet paws and still, no where deep enough for a rousing game of whack-a-mole. Takes away even the fun of hunting with trails in the snow.

Buxley barked every time a flake went whizzing by his head. That dog would go insane if we had a blizzard, never knowing in which direction to snap next. I watched him for a few moments before *my* head started to spin. Fifteen circles, snapping at the snow flying. He only stopped when the fifteenth circle was interrupted by a bike left out by one of the kids. THAT was funny.

My Castle

2005-02-28T19:30:00.000-08:00

My home, my castle. Mi casa is Mi casa. The Brat was finally well enough to go to class, giving me some peace and quiet around here that's been sorely missed.

The Brat finally got around to finishing the puzzle yesterday. Or finishing it as best he could minus one piece. I got a really dirty stare from him when it came up missing. I settled down like the fabled Cheshire cat. Cam though, wasn't fooled a bit. I don't know how he does it, but as soon as it was determined the piece wasn't on or under the table, he looked in two places before finding it behind the couch. The Brat wasn't even grateful it was found at that point. Cam shot me a look that usually makes Josh shrivel. Me? I just shrugged, 'what can *I* say?' That round was a draw.

Cam stopped by the store today, complaining the entire time he was putting the groceries up. Supposed to be under some winter storm watch for tomorrow, which meant everyone was at the store getting the bread and the milk. He dislikes going when everyone is panicking, but I only had a few days supply of food left and that was about as low as it was going to go. Now.......I don't understand the bread and milk thing. IF the power should go out and you're stuck at home, won't the milk sour and the bread be useless for anything other than wish sandwiches? I mean, don't all the sandwich fillings always come out of the fridge? And God forbid, you canNOT eat a peanut butter sandwich without milk! You'd glue your mouth shut for ever and always!

Wait.....Cam? Feed the Cat. Milk. Now. All of it. LET IT SNOW!!!!!!!!!!! Pssssst, The Brat looks in need of a peanut butter sandwich.

A better Brat - NOT

2005-02-26T11:49:00.000-08:00

The whines have changed from 'I'm so sick' to 'I'm better, let me DO something.' He's still peaked and bitchy. But then the bitchiness is what he is.

They worked on a puzzle last night. Some water scene with boats in a harbor, buildings behind and a lot of blue sky and clouds. That's the only part left, the blue. I was going to help but kept getting yelled at by The Brat. On my last trip up to the table top, I made sure to pocket a piece on the way back down. Put that behind the couch for safekeeping. See him try to finish THAT puzzle without my help.

Why, what's this? Sunshine? Excusi, I feel a nap coming on.

Brat anyone?

2005-02-25T09:17:00.000-08:00

Oh. My. GAWD. Could it GET any worse? So, we get a few flakes of snow and WHO heads right out in it, without a coat? Bingo. Ding ding ding, you win! It was The Brat. Cam dutifully went out to collect the boy, swatting him from the sidewalk all the way into the kitchen. His excuse? He was hot. NO kidding boy, you've got a fever. Off to bed he went, right after dinner. Cam was so worried about him that I volunteered to clean up the dishes. I was settling down for the movie of the week in peace but that was not to be had. Every fifteen minutes I swear, Cam headed upstairs to check on Josh. I finally gave up on the idea of a warm lap and settled for the chair, alone. Cam then had the gall to turn the television off halfway through the movie so he could be upstairs, closer to the brat. I know how the movie ends, but I'd still like to see it. I'll just have to wait and watch it on my own.

Time Off

2005-02-24T10:06:00.000-08:00

Winter is good for long siestas. Too cold to enjoy the outdoors on most days, especially with the grass dead and yellow. Not at all to my impeccable taste. And not enough snow to play Whack-a-Mole. What's a cat to do besides sleep?

Even THAT has been hard the last few days. The only game in town is Connect The Tissues. Don't look where you're going and you're likely to get a wet paw. The lovely brat of ours has a cold. Sniffling, sneezing, coughing, wheezing, wet, complaining mess. I keep trying to tell Cam that a plastic bag over his head would protect us all. Get anywhere near the boy and you're in danger of getting sneezed on. Trying to keep a buffer between the two of us is more than difficult because he's on or near Cam 24/7. The only relief I've had is when he's put to bed or sat in the corner. At least there the danger is minimal if he sneezes. And both of those have come once or twice a day because Josh is in such a lovely mood. He's ill and because the other two of us in the household can hold our own against the germs, he's got nothing better to do than try to infect us with his ill mood.

I keep trying to tell Cam - pet the cat. Shoot the brat. Put him out of OUR misery. Snot-face is on his way to check mail. Time to bail!

The beginning of the week

2005-01-31T16:45:00.000-08:00

Slept today. It's Monday, what can I say?

Sunday

2005-01-30T22:20:00.000-08:00

Cam wasn't feeling too good today, so I curled up with him in front of the fireplace while Josh worked on dinner. When it started smelling good and Josh was no where to be found, I went to investigate. Found a bowl and a platter set out just for me. Unfortunately, the bowl was smack in the middle of the platter and I know there was more pork underneath the bowl. Once I'd finished cleaning up what I could reach, I had no other option than to dump the two dishes on the floor. Did you know humans can levitate just as well as cats can when they hear a very loud noise? Keep that tidbit of information for later use, it can come in handy I'm sure.

Nothing broke, but you'd think I was trying to destroy the kitchen by the sounds Josh made. I barely escaped a swipe from the counter by him, and the air was about as blue as this font is. I retired to the fireplace where Cam had been and cleaned my utensils and face while Cam cleaned out Josh's mouth. Every dinner should include such fantastic entertainment with it.

Saturday

2005-01-29T19:05:00.000-08:00

The weekend is here. I don't know why I care, but there you go.

Had the house to myself most of today. Went around and collected the toys I could reach that always seem to wind up as far under the big pieces of furniture as possible. Have to remember to point those out to Cam for later fun and games. Stuffed one of Josh's stinky socks under the dresser just so he wouldn't feel left out.

Surrender

2005-01-28T05:19:00.000-08:00

I've forgiven Cam for his faux pas yesterday. The pieces of fresh chicken didn't hurt in his quest to gain back my favor. Neither did the devoted lap time.

REALLY enjoyed the lap time, as I could tell Josh was steaming. He was sitting at Cam's feet while we soaked up the comfortable recliner. Cam's hand kept getting tangled in Josh's hair until I'd gently nudge it back. PET THE CAT, NOT THE BRAT.

When they finally retired upstairs, I took up my post in the window overlooking the garden. Can't see outside until all the lights go out downstairs. It took a good thirty minutes but it finally made an appearance. Ahhhhh, I can SO imagine that possum on a spit over a fire. My mouth was watering and my heart was racing when all of a sudden my mewsings were interrupted by the mutt from next door. Buxley (what IS it about stupid pet names??!) tore through the yard at breakneck speed, slobbering and barking his fool head off. Dinner slipped under the fence at the back of the yard, leaving Buxley with a flattened nose when he tried to follow. He barked, as if THAT would solve anything. A moment later I heard the window go up and Josh yell at Bux to stop barking, which made Cam tell Josh to stop yelling. The cat IS the superior being. I would have had Dinner without a sound. Time for breakfast. FEED THE CAT.

Therapy begins

2005-01-27T16:00:00.000-08:00

I'm not talking to Cameron any more today. The indignity of a visit to the vet is unforgiveable. I was enjoying my rare glimpse of the sun, stretched out and soaking it up when I was manhandled into a tiny box. Not asked, not warned, nothing. Just stuffed right in. I told him in no uncertain terms what I thought of him, but that didn't seem to matter.

I like the vet. She's got beautiful long, dark hair. She gets right on my level and really connects. Scratches me behind the ears, which I love. It's just that by the time I see her, I've been poked and prodded and absolutely tortured by the bloody assistant-in-training. Cold hands, no tableside manner. Doesn't know how to treat me, AT ALL.

Cameron was going on, to BOTH of them, about how me and that brat of his can't get along. That's when the vet mentioned therapy. I KNOW she was talking about Joshua.

NO Cameron. You don't get to pet the cat. The cat is OUT of here for now.