Hi diddley dee, a feline life for me

Hi to Mom's blog readers. While she's busy in the kitchen making soup and not allowing me and my sister to eat either the bacon OR the ham hock, I'm co-opting her blog. It's been a little disruptive around here the past five weeks, and I know you haven't gotten the full story. Mom reads this postmodern theory stuff that talks about needing multiple perspectives. Here's mine. First, though, here's me with my favorite birthday toy:

Note the irritation in my expression. It's not that I don't love my toy. I REALLY LOVE my toy. I don't know why; it just calls to me. I carry it around the house, meowing gleefully the whole time. I cannot peacefully sleep without it near me. It reminds me of the primeval need to swallow fur. I bring it to Mom to show her my carefully evolved hunting skills. If she would just let me outside, I could bring her something with REAL fur. Maybe even feathers. Sometimes she throws it and I humor her and pretend to chase it. I bring it with me to the bathmat while Mom showers she knows she is safe in the presence of a sabre toothed tiger descendant.

But I digress. Why am I irritated in this picture, besides the fact that Mom flashed a camera in my eyes at bedtime? Look at the photo again. See all the extra pillows? I hate them. They have been keeping me away from Mom's lap for five long, long weeks. Sure, she'll let me sleep on a pillow if it's on her lap, but that's not as comforting as actually BEING on Mom's lap. Why oh why won't she let me comfort her by curling up in her lap and purring? I know she's been healing from something, and I wanted to help, but that pillow was in the way. All I could do was sleep on her legs.

And you know what else? Strangers kept coming into the house! Some of them brought their kittens. Most of those people kittens were well behaved, but one tried to pick me up when I was sleeping on Mom (protecting her, really). He didn't understand my warning hiss, so I swiped at him. Mom wasn't happy that I swiped, but I was protecting her.

I also didn't understand why Mom couldn't feed my sister and I for a couple of weeks. She seemed like she couldn't bend over. Why was that? I would meow and meow and she would just look at me and say, "Sorry, you have to wait." I hated that! Good thing a couple of nice strangers came over to feed us and clean our litter boxes. Sometimes the strangers had a kitten tagging along, but we were hungry enough that we didn't care.



Things are different now. Mom can feed us. And guess what else? No pillow on Mom's lap! Mom even called to me that I could sit on her, but I haven't done it yet. What if it's a trick? What if she's not REALLY better from whatever kept her from letting me on her lap? I will be cautious. But Mom seems like she's back to her old self.

Hmm. Early morning seminary starts Monday. That means fresh muffins. I wonder if she'll leave them unsupervised so I can lick them?

Uh oh, here she comes. I'll just curl up in the rocking chair and pretend I don't know how to type.