It took me a long time to deal with the loss of my closest l'il friend & best-ever cat, Scully, and I plan on doing a sort of RIP page about her, just for me. But I also have other cats and I'd like to get back to writing about my life here in CatWorld (Yes, I'm honest about it. It's their world and I'm just a guest). I've always enjoyed writing my cat blog, my 8 million readers enjoyed it (ok, maybe it's more like 8 readers), and I feel ready to do that again. Besides, the litter of silly kittens I had has grown up, and there is no shortage of crazy antics going on around here. So now you have something to look forward to ;-}
The tons of snow dumped here on the East Coast today, on top of last week's piles of the white stuff, are an inconvenience to most, a serious problem for some, and a danger for the stray cats and dogs trying to survive in it. For those of us who worry about strays, it means slogging through the snow on days like this, bringing food and water to places they congregate. During the worst of it, they're often stranded elsewhere, but will eventually venture out to their favorite haunts.
Oh, and for those people who don't like stray cats ... or the people who feed them ... I say, many of you are the reason there is a huge stray cat population in this country in the first place. Unfeeling people who take in cute little fluffy kittens for their kids to play with, then when the kittens grow and reach puberty, instead of getting them neutered, just dump them out the door with no conscience, no remorse, no sense of responsibility. And what do you think happens to them after that? Let me be the one to explain basic science to you: they go in heat, get pounced on by every male cat within miles, and end up pregnant, thus expanding the population of the very stray cat colonies you so dislike. Can you say, DUH!, boys and girls?
But I digress.
The point is, I got out in the snow today -- and with warmer temps than during the last storm, it didn't feel so bad -- did what I could for the kitties, and came home to a cup of hot coffee, some crumb cake (Mmmmm!), and cats of my own who are spoiled rotten. Yes, they were out on the streets when they were very young, until I rescued them. But I doubt they remember it. Their main interest is in convincing the human to do their bidding. And food. Frequently, a combination of the two. Yet, even though they're indoors, they seem to be getting as sick and tired of snow as I am. Maybe it's because the view out the windows is so monotonous lately. White stuff falling constantly ... white stuff covering yards and sidewalks ... empty streets full of, yes, white stuff. Max has always been fascinated by people and cars. Not birds. Not other cats. But no one ever said Max is normal. Scully, on the other hand, loves to watch birds hopping around out on the sidewalk or from branch to branch on the rosebush, as if they're a favorite TV show. But during the past snowy week, very few people are venturing out, even fewer cars, and even the birds are apparently holing up somewhere. Thus, no birdy performances. Consequently, Scully is not a happy camper. Asked her opinion of the dual Blizzards Of 2010, she responded, "Pffffffffft!":
Scully and Max would like everyone to know that their Xmas gifts this year are nowhere near as fun as last year's, but the wrapping paper rocks! Thus, the human is not allowed to pick it up off the floor. Nor the pretty, curly ribbons. Ditto for the big, bite-able bows. The paper -- the one with snowflakes on it, the skinny one with Xmas trees, and especially the biiig one with Garfield and Odie on it -- are reserved for catnaps. And the occasional rowdy game of "Quick, Stick Your Paws Under This Thingy, 'Cause Who Knows What We Might Find Hiding There!" Not to worry. Once the novelty wears off and boredom sets in, all Xmas-y sheets will be shredded into various-sized pieces, as well as enough confetti-sized bits to require the human to drag out the noisy suck-up-dirty-stuff machine and make them disappear. However, in keeping with the festive atmosphere of the season, games of "Let's See How Many Times We Can Knock The Little Stuffed Rudolph Off The Top Of The TV" will continue to be played until the end of the holidays, in the hope of breaking last year's record of 147. Meowy Xmas, Twitterverse!
Scully & Max never met a gargoyle they couldn't destroy. I have several small stone gargoyles that sit on the back of a shelf. Cool-looking figurines that I, gargoyle aficionado that I am, would love to display more prominently, if only for my own enjoyment. I used to have four of them. Now I have three. Cat lovers can probably picture how that came about. Yes, one cool little figurine met its demise after encountering The Furry Fists Of Death, which sent it sailing off the windowsill, through the air, and onto the floor. I think some of it is still under the refrigerator. Try sweeping while being ambushed by furry attackers. As any cat could tell you, swatting pieces of broken knick knack across tile can be the highlight of a feline's day. But today I brought home a gargoyle big enough to stand its own ground. Probably. Hopefully. As you can see in the photos, Max even gave it a kiss. Can't help wondering if she paid attention months ago when I watched "The Godfather" on TV. 'Cause the "Kiss Of Death" would not bode well for the new gargoyle. Was that a conspiratorial look that passed between Scully & Max as they gazed upon this stony new visitor? Only time will tell.
Writer of horror, sci-fi, other genres. Servant of cats. Multiple cats, who kindly allow me to live here (at least until they figure out how to open Fancy Feast cans themselves). Contact me at: GargoylePhanNB@gmail.com