Posted by on Apr 18, 2019 | 12 comments

 

 

 

 

 

 

WHAT ON EARTH AM I DOING?

Well, I happen to know what I’m doing.

I think. Uncertain…

But THEY who do not speak kitty (except when THEY want me to get in my new carrying apartment in which case they speak TREATS really well!) would love to have an opinion or two on just what it is I am saying every morning, and I mean EVERY MORNING, right on the button, just after having come down from my beauty sleep, wandered in the garden, and had my petit dejeuner.  I speak.  I give them the mews.

Of course THEY are reading THEIR morning “mews” and could care less about mine.  Well, that’s not really true, because mama says, every morning, “Loulou, what IS it?  What do you want?  Why are you looking up the stairs?  What can I do for you? Your door to my atelier is OPEN!”

(I go in there every morning like clockwork but do I know why?  I THINK I know why, but why don’t THEY? I think I am hinting, hint, hint, that mama get to WORK!)

Or maybe I really don’t know why.  Whatever.

So, there is this WONDERFUL portrait of me by Mya’s mama, Anne Pujalt, the renowned animal painter, that sits on a little shelf as one walks up our stairs, and I appear to be staring at it every morning and then talking.  Is that it?  Do I think it’s another Loulou? Oh, lordy…

Just to be clear, I sometimes do NOT stare at it before starting up the stairs before always stopping and myowing loudly (my spelling).

So just what is it that I am reporting, conveying, translating, SAYING? And I mean I do this each and every morning of my life with mama and papa, and they STILL can’t figure it out.  I’m not sure I can, either, haha.

Calling all psychics–any ideas are welcome…

Uh, oh, gotta run. That *&#%!@ tourterelle is bathing in my water dish again!