Mama and papa love to eat together. Well, they love to eat, period, as do I (note my refawined English) and they love shopping for food together and they love having friends over for lunches or dinners and they sit around the table forever, it seems (especially when they haven’t fed me first!) and they talk and talk and talk—papa calls it...
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Well, I’m mad. Last night I was watchin’ the Roma play all over the map–a team that is far better than Chievo, who won, I’m very, very sorry to say. I watch a lot of soccer with mama and papa and this was brutal. Why can’t our Roma THINK and SEE and ACT and get out of the way when there’s an opposing player right...
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Well, my muzzle is chattering away. Just like those tigers you see staring at gazelles or whatever they stare at. Meat, in short. Those of you who are fascinated (of course) by us predatory animals are looking right now at a photo of me in the capucines—nasturtiums, in English) I, who am a cousin of an uncle of a brother of many other cousins of THE King...
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Mama was discussing with me this morning (when I walked over the keys on her computer and AOL was open) that even if I sat on her computer, it would be okay, because she has NO emails lately—at least, not the number she is used to, and she asked me, “Do you think it’s your blog that makes people think I am nuts—to let you, a kitty, write on...
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Boy, are my parents in a state. I hear them calling, “Loulou, Loulou, Loulou, where are you?” Heh, heh, where, indeed? It’s time for their siesta and they want me in the house for that hour—not out wandering around looking for ways to get out of this garden, which I wouldn’t do anyway because I know where my kibble is...
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Back in our little fishing village, the garden blooms. Is there anything sweeter than spring? We kitties feel the softness in the air, we smell the sage and lavender and lemon flowers (I sit in the lavender for hours, just sniffing their perfume—of course, where I really like to sit is in my drug patch of catnip, now in all its glory, just for my...
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On The Road Again Well, as a travelling cat, completely at home on a giant floating thingy that goes whomp, whomp, whomp in the night and sometimes (notice above) makes me want to regurgitate even my minimal kibble cuisine (but I don’t, you see—I just make everyone nervous about it and then I go into the closet and ride out the waves until the next...
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Well, Toddy the Jack Russell is not like me and there’s this kitty downstairs and she’s not like me. That is, she is a Persian/mix of something or other and really pretty and regal but I like her anyway because she is street-smart and talks a lot and can avoid getting hit by cars really well. It’s not easy to survive as a kitty in the...
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