Smudge at Your Service

Smudge at Your Service

Mom finally stepped away from the computer without turning it off, so I can finally use it. She has been on this energy saving kick ever since the home show and she keeps turning things off and pulling plugs. I don't really mind the pulling plugs though because sometimes fraNkie and I like to nibble on the cords and when they are plugged in you can get an unpleasant jolt. Mom doesn't feel too well right now. I can tell because she isn't as playful as usual and she is really moving slowly, too.

I thought maybe her cuts were still hurting - she made a terrible noise when I ran across her stomach a few days after she got those cuts - but I heard her tell her friend they all healed fine. But now it is something else. What is it with people anyway? Cats are much more resilient and complain a whole lot less, too!

Back to Mom. She went to another doctor and when she came home, I thought she needed some catnip!! She told M that the doctor said she had chronic kidney disease stage III (moderate) and that she had to have more tests and - worst of all - she had to stop taking the pills that make her joints and muscles not hurt. Ever since, she has been making bad noises, and walking slow, and she needs to take pain medicine all day instead of just at night.

The doctor told her that if she doesn't take the joint medicine - something called NSAID - maybe her kidneys will get better. M asked her what that stage III part meant and she said it meant her kidneys, working together, only worked 30% of what they should. That kind of worries me because I think Jack went away because his kidneys didn't work right. I couldn't stand it if Mom went away. I may be the alpha cat around here nowadays, but I still need my cuddles on a regular basis. M tries, but he just can't cuddle like Mom can.

I especially like it when Mom is wearing a big sweater because I crawl into the sleeve as far as I can go and Mom puts the sweater over me, and then I just go into cat heaven. It is better than catnip! She seems to like it just as much I me. Well, there's a line here of cats with something to say, so I guess my turn is over.

its fraNkies turn now

Smudge is so bossy. I had to wait a long time for my turn. I like this new typing thing mom has cuz sometimes it fixes stuff and I don't even have to know how to do it. So if I seem smarter, im really not.

Ihave been having a lot of trouble with the mean cat. She gets really mad at me whn I snuggle with mom on the bed. She bats me with her claws out!! Mom cant seme to do anything with her and I am getting tired of it.

But I never bat her back. I jst lay on the bed real quiet and try to ve invisible. If the mean cat would jist let me, I would be her friend. I like to cuddle and I would cudd;e with her on the bed. Sometimes she lets me get a little close to her but not much.

Mom always wants to cuddle with me but I am not ready for interspecies cuddling. She can feed me treats from her hand and that's okay. She can brush me too as long as she keeps it in the bedroom wher it belongs. Boundaries, mom, boundaries. When I tiptoe out into the big part of the house it is pretty scary and I don't want anyone picking me up. That is the scariest. And I know mom wants to pick me up, I can see it in her eyes.

Of course as soft and round as I am that makes sense. She can hardly keep her hands off me. Training mom has been harder than I thought it would be. Oh here comes the mean cat. I have to hide.

You Can Call Me Ms. Trixie

Well, I chased off those two ruffians. They know that my human's desk chair belongs to me, so I can't think why they would even get near it. I am getting quite sick and tired of those boys. They take attention that should be mine. I have had to resort to sitting on my human's lap, something I thought I would never stoop to. Fawning and playing up to people has always been beneath me, but hard times force hard choices.

The big dumb kit, fraNkie, is almost all right. Sometimes I am tempted to try getting close to him like I did with Jack, but then I stop myself. NO ONE can replace Jack and I feel so sad remembering that he left and never came home again. And so what if I take it out on the juvenile delinquents? The dirty cat (his name is Smudge) really gets me going. He stalks me and chases me every day. When I call him on it, he claims that it's all in fun and he just wants to play. Right.

My position requires that I rise above it as much as possible without condoning bad behavior. That goes for cats and humans. Just to remind my human that she should treat me with respect, I think I'll leave a fresh hairball on her chair before I go in for evening treats. It will be quite amusing to watch her reaction when she finds it tomorrow morning.

Hooligans

I am surrounded by hooligans. They say I am old and mean. Harrumph, they haven't seen mean yet.

This used to be a very nice home. Jack could be troublesome, but after 15 years together, we had worked out most of the kinks in our relationship. Usually, I could count on him to groom my head and face at least once a day. His antics entertained our people enough that they left me in peace. I had long ago trained then to keep their distance and only touch me when I gave them permission. You don't hear about people going around picking up Queen Elizabeth and living to tell about it, do you? Same principle applies with me.

Then something happened to Jack. He started to shrink, literally. He lost interest in his normal activities. He let that little whippersnapper, Dirty Nose, bully him sometimes. That was not the Gentleman Jack I knew. The people kept taking him away and bringing him back smelling like the poke-at-you place. Then he stayed there long enough that his smell scared me. Then he went away and didn't come back.

I suppose our people think we don't understand because we are cats. Harrumph. I know perfectly well that Jack got so sick and tired of those hooligans that he left the country and didn't look back. I'd do the same thing if I felt more comfortable going outdoors without my entourage.

So now, instead of a suitably adoring, if occasionally curmudgeonly, companion, I have to contend with two hooligans. Smudge - he of the spot as permanent as Lady MacB's - and Frankie - the blind boy - are nothing but trouble. I do feel a little sorry for Frankie because he does not, in fact, see well and it makes him very skittish. (FYI - Skittish comes from the feline word "to skit" meaning "to act like a kitten.") But D.N. has nothing to recommend him. He crawls right up on my person and LAYS ON HER, sometimes even when I am draped regally at her feet on the reclining throne.

I give them a hiss and the back of my paw whenever I can just to keep them on their toes. I am the queen of this kingdom and if they don't show me the respect I deserve, they will be sorry. Let's not forget that the front of my paws have well-sharpened claws and I know how to use them. I've even taken a swing at my M. P. recently when she got between me and the hooligans. She will learn not to overstep.

The Queen of Hearts had it right: Off with their heads!

Queen Beatrix Autumn
(Trixie to her close companions)

P.S. My main person got out her traveling bag tonight and started putting clothes in it. I have been around long enough to know what that means. She will not be around for a while. It could be one treat cycle or it could be several treat cycles. Either way, I will be suitably crabby when she comes back no matter how many treat cycles it is. I hate going without my bedtime treats. The back-up person would give me my regular bedtime treats, but I prefer to keep him in his place by letting him pet me, but refusing to take treats from him. You can't let the people get too familiar, you know.

Who Doesn't Love a Snuggle?

Mom has been moving too fast for me today. She never even sat in her big chair this evening. I like to climb up on her chest, right under her neck, and snuggle in the evening when she's sitting there. But not today. Why don't people learn to relax, like cats do? Napping is a very productive occupation. It is good for your digestion and it makes you a more pleasant creature. Even mean ol' Trixie doesn't growl at us so much when she sleeps on top of Mom and M's bed with Frankie and me.

I noticed that Trixie growls at us more ...

I'm Back! It took me a whole week to get my chance. I got rudely bumped off the computer by Mom (sorry to be harsh, Mom, but you were rude) and then she hardly got on her computer all week. Usually I can count on time during the weekend, but she went all weekend long without even turning on her computer. It drives me crazy, but we've already had the opposable thumb conversation, so I'll try to regain my train of thought.

I noticed that Trixie growls at us more when Mom and M are around, especially if they are talking to us, or petting us, or brushing us. Usually they brush "fraNkie" because he has long hair. My hair does not need brushing because it is just the right length, which is good, because I don't like brushing that much. I like snuggling, which is where I started with this post.

When Mom first whispered me inside, I felt scared and I was sick. Mom wanted to make me feel safe and keep me warm, so she carried me inside her big sweater thing. It has very, very big sleeves - like a shawl with cuffs, I heard Mom tell someone - and I would crawl into the sleeve part and curl up for long naps. When I came out, if I didn't feel like eating or playing, I would sit on Mom's chest, way up high so I could snuggle under her chin.

Now days, it is harder to get into the sleeves of her sweaters, even that big one, but I still squeeze in as much as I can. And I still snuggle on her chest. My head fits under her chin just right and she holds me and snuggles me when I'm there. She rubs me with her chin. (Not very many people know that chin rubs on a cat's cheek and face are very, very special to us because of how we are made, but Mom has always done it and I love her for it.)

I have heard her tell M that I am a lot heavier now than when I was a kitten. And sometimes I jump onto her from the other furniture or off her to the other furniture and then she gets a very wide-eyed look and says "Ooof." She doe not seem to like that. Once, I accidentally got my claws into one of those bumps she has on her chest as I launched myself and then she kind of yowled and said bad words. But most of the time, she is calm and behaves in a very cat-like way.

Decorum is very important to cats, you know. Well, most of the time. We do allow for playtime. "All sleep and no play makes Puss a dull cat," as the old saying goes. "What about the catnip?" you ask. Okay, I'll admit it. When there's catnip around, we can't be responsible for our conduct; however, that is not a fit topic for a public forum and I'm not saying another thing about it.

Mom was taking a shower, but now she is moving around in her den, so I better wrap it up.

Miao

my name is fraNkie

my name is frankie my brother has been saying mean things abou5t me on the com0puter i think he shouldbt do that becasdiue i am just a littkle cat i amn not even 1 year old yet i cant dfo as many thingfs as smudge can but he is not as soft and berautiful as i am trixie is the meanest cat alive she scatres me a lto lots of things scare mne becdause i am not used toi inside noises ort people

i lived outside all my life until mom tricked me into coming inside at first i didnt mind because myu sisters were wityh me then they webnt away most of the time smudgte is a good brother he plauys with me every day and we sleep nest to each other too smudge is not afread of trixie sometomes he even chases her until she takes a swipe at him then even smudge will back away i usually just flp on my back when she gets close to me she wont hirt me whemn i show her my tummy

mom likews to brish me and pet me i like it too but sometimes she moves too fast and i get scared and run away smudge saod i was too dumb to eat my food without mom showing it to me but that is not true i jist dont like to get too vlose until i knoe that it is safe for me

so plrease dont believe thngs sthat smudge says agbout me i am a nice cat and he knows it if you see my cat mom tell her i said hi and i havent forgotten about her i wish she was not outside in this cold weather but mom and m are puttig out extra foods for the outsoide cats this weel to help them stay warm

it is nice to meet you
bye
fraNkie

I Need an Opposable Thumb!

Cats are nearly perfect creatures in every regard; however, it is a shame that we don't have opposable thumbs. Mom has been distracted and busy, gone for a long time some days, and this is the first chance I've had to get at the computer to update her blog. She doesn't realize how frustrating it is for me when she hibernates her computer during the day or turns it off altogether at night.

I have heard her saying something to him about saving energy. I can't imagine how they could save anymore energy than they already do. Don't tell Mom I said this, but they sit around an awfully lot. Frankie and I play chase with each other, we jump up on high windows and bookcases and, of course, our cat condo. We harass Trixie a little bit if we are feeling very, very rambunctious. (Have I mentioned that she's mean? If we get too wild, or sometimes if we even try to politely walk past her to use the facilities, she growls and she doesn't stop until we are out of sight.)

We also play with Mom and sometimes him, which is about the only exercise I ever see them getting. They have been a challenge to train, him especially, but since Frankie and I both still have all nine of our lives, we can invest the necessary time. Mom has learned to curl up in bed so that Frankie can sleep by her feet and I can sleep by her neck. She hardly ever kicks or rolls on us anymore and, if she does, she stops as soon as she wakes up enough to know what she's doing. When she gets out of bed at night to use their facilities - a lot nicer than ours, btw - she scoots out from under the covers without pushing us off the bed.

That is very thoughtful of her, but I usually get up anyway to escort her. I'd hate to think she ran into any trouble and I was not there to help. Frankie might come along if he's already awake, but if he is sleeping at the bottom of the bed, he just keeps his lazy hindquarters stuck to the bed and pretends he is asleep.

I'm sure you can figure out that someone is not doing quite as well with his training. He kicks a lot and pushes his feet against the railing at the end of the bed, so it is pretty miserable trying to sleep with him. Sometimes he scrunches into the middle of the bed and I can find a little room along the edge of the mattress. Not too often, though, because Mom says, "If you're going to sleep in the middle of the bed, then why did we have to buy a queen-sized?" I am not sure what a queen-sized is, but I guess Mom was not to impressed with it.

You might be wondering why I keep writing him and he, etc. instead of Dad. Well, believe it or not, he objected to a cat calling him Dad!! That just chaps my fluffy butt. How did he get such a big head? Well, I have thought and thought about it, and I decided to call him M. If he doesn't like that, too bad; I'm not going to change one more time for anybody. Even if Mom asks me to really nicely. She spoils M anyway.

Whew, Mom was coming to turn off the computer but she got sidetracked by Frankie. He can be good for something every once in a while. She just started brushing him and that can keep her entertained for quite a while.

Mom's big girl, Alix, came over yesterday and she got a good look at Frankie for the first time in a while. (Frankie's a hider.) She got very excited and said she thought he was some kind of fancy cat. Alix and Mom got on the computer for a long time, looking at cat pictures and reading stuff, and they said Frankie looks just like a Birman cat and acts like one, too. I jumped up on Mom's lap and took a look myself. I must admit there is a strong resemblance.

Birman cats have the darker colors on their legs and face and creamy colors on their body like Frankie. And they have very distinctive mittens and stockings on their feet that do look like Frankie's. They have tiny voices, which is true of my brother, and long silken hair with no undercoat so it doesn't tangle. Frankie's coat is like that, too. (That's why Mom is always brushing him and petting him and making goo-goo sounds about his fur. Yuck.)

I guess I can see why they think he's one of those Birman cats, but I have to tell you, it is sheer dumb luck that he turned out as well as he did. We do not come from fancy cats. We are salt-of-the-earth, backyard cats, and I haven't seen any hoity-toity Birman cats hanging around my birth mother.

Mother is quite stunning and unique in her own way. She is a gray tabby with very, very long hair. There's a big ruff around her neck like a lion's mane. Her coat gets even bigger in cold weather and right now she looks very scary when I see her in the backyard eating. Alix thinks she is a Maine Coon cat, but again, that seems a little far fetched. She might look like the pictures on the computer, but how would a Maine Coon cat end up as a feral living on her wits and the kindness of strangers in this neighborhood?

I am a tuxedo cat, the smartest and handsomest kind of cat anyone could want, and it is hard to fathom why they even care about Frankie's genealogy, but, if it makes them happy, they can believe any fantastic thing that they want.

If Mom would cut me some slack and leave her computer on a bit more, I could visit with y'all more. Why don't you mention it to her if you get the chance? But nicely. She's my Mom and I don't want her feelings to be hurt.

Miao

Meow Culpa

The Old Man got very upset the other day because he found out I had called him the Old Man in the blog. He said to Mom, "What's this "Old Man" #&%*@? Did you get a boyfriend or something?" Well, you could have knocked me over with a mousie! In the cat world, all the dads are called Old Man because we usually don't know for sure which one is our actual dad. Sometimes there are a couple of dads for the same litter; it can get confusing. To cats, Old Man is a title of respect and a certain amount of fear. They are fearsome creatures, scarred up from fighting and everything. It's best to keep your distance.

But I guess to people, it means something else. I'm not sure what, but I know he did not like it. So, in the ancient words of cat spirituality, I say to Dad, "Meow culpa, meow culpa, meow maxima culpa. I will not call you anything but Dad from now on. Oh, and I am pretty sure Mom doesn't have any boyfriends. I have never smelled an outsider male person on her and I get to smell her a lot when I snuggle."

Now that I've taken care of that, I will say a few words about Christmas Day at our house. Tori woke up Mom and Dad at 3:00 a.m. and wanted to go open presents. Mom and Dad BOTH said the %$*&@$* words and told her to go back to bed. She did - after she went in the kitchen and ate snacks. We cats have never gotten a snack at 3:00 a.m. and I would like to figure out how to open the big box so we could do that, too.

Well, I suppose you can guess that Mom could not go back to sleep and Dad didn't get good sleep either. He said he tossed and turned. Just what he was tossing and turning is unclear to me, but I know it was not treats or cat toys. At least he stayed in bed. Mom went in her working room and turned on her machine. I don't really like that machine because Mom won't let me jump up and walk around it or sleep in front of it, like she let's me at her computer.

I tried to jump up and she said, "No, Smudge," and it scared me and I slipped. That made me grab with my claws and part of what I grabbed was Mom's leg, which made her yell again. I got out of there before she could yell anymore, but later she did say sorry to me and that she knew it was an accident.

By 7:00 a.m. both Mom and Dad were up, but not Tori. Dad made himself a breakfast taco and Mom made caramel rolls. The breakfast taco smelled really, really good; the caramel rolls not so much, but Mom and Dad really like them. Dad says they are better because Mom makes them from scratch.

This is a confusing idea for me. I asked Trixie if she knew what"from scratch" meant, but she just hissed and walked away from me. And there's no point in asking Frankie, as we all know. So I am still confused. What I scratch is not anything even a cat would want to eat, although I've heard that some dogs are known to sink that low.

Back to Christmas. When Mom and Dad finished eating, they made Tori get up even though she didn't want to anymore. And then they found a lot of things piled in the living room and more things wrapped in paper under the tree. I am not impressed with this Christmas business in the least. First of all, I was prowling the house, doing my guard duty, when the guy they call Santa came by with gifts. He was in and out so fast he didn't even leave presents for Frankie, the mean cat, or me.

Can you believe that? Maybe the mean cat didn't deserve one, but Frankie and I have been very, very good all year except for one or two small lapses caused by over excitement. (That's my story and I am sticking to it.) So we should have gotten something from Santa.

The second reason I'm not impressed with Christmas is that if it wasn't for our cousins Kasey and Coffee, we would not even have ANY presents. They gave us lovely cat treats, just the kind we like best, but no one else got us anything. So I say, "Bah Junebug," to Christmas.

Tori didn't like Christmas very much either. She was disappointed, I could tell. Dad said, "This is your first grown-up Christmas and you still want a kid's Christmas." But she got gift cards and a lot of money from her Grandma, so today she bought things that made her happy. So now she is excited about Christmas and it is already over. Go figure!

Alix and Adam came over, too, but not until afternoon. I could hear a lot of laughing, so I know everyone had fun, but I had to stay in the bedroom with Frankie because he just gets terrified when outside people come in our house. Trixie does, too, and then she is not so mean to us and let's us get on Mom and Dad's bed with her. I think Trixie would be happier (and nicer) if she would relax a little. She seems very anxious all the time and I know the 'rents are worried about her because she keeps getting smaller and smaller.

If she would not hiss at us, Frankie and I could snuggle up with her and keep her warm, and groom her so her coat didn't look unkempt, and entertain her with our tricks and games. But it doesn't seem as if she will ever relax about Frankie and me. Too bad for her.

After Christmas there was a pretty big mess of stuff on the floor in the living room. Sometimes our people would rummage around in the mess and pull something out. Then they played quietly for a while. It is nice to see people relax and play. They should do it more often. That, and nap more. Who was it that asked, "Why can't people be more like cats?" (I think it was in a song.)

Let's hope New Year's Eve is more entertaining than Christmas.

Miao

"He's Not Heavy, He's My Brother"

Mom is back in her room for making things. She told the Old Man that when she finished this present, she would be done for Christmas. I hope so, because she has not had much time for me lately. Last night I got my first good snuggle in a long time without Frankie S. butting in.

Frankie is my younger brother. We don't have the same father, but that really doesn't matter to cats. (And it shouldn't matter to people, either, IMHO.) Mom whispered Frankie, Lovie (his twin sister), and Little Bit into our house last June. She didn't want them to grow up wild like our birth mother. We had five cats in this house and that is a lot more cats than anyone should have. In fact, the perfect number of cats to adopt is ONE and it should be ME!!!! (Are you listening, Mom?)

Mom and the Old Man built this cage thing to keep the kittens from running all over the place. At night, they put them in the hallway bathroom so the could run around and play. I got kind of put out, because Mom spent an awful lot of time playing with them instead of me. Finally, she got rid of my two sisters. A nice lady came over with her four people-kittens and they picked Lovie and Little Bit and took them home.

That left Frankie. I know they planned to give Frankie away, but it never seemed to work out. When they found a place that would take him, he ran away! In fact, that kitten ran away two times before he settled down, and he brought us all fleas the second time!! The fleas made me get a b-a-t-h. I hate fleas.

One day, Mom told the O.M. that I liked to play with Frankie and they should let me have him for MY pet. And then they laughed, like it was real funny. They should know that no one can own a cat. Cats own themselves and sometimes people, but we are clever enough to let the people imagine they are the "owners." Mom was right about me liking to play with Frankie. After living with two old, crotchety cats who wouldn't know a real mouse from a toy, I wanted more action and Frankie provided lots of action.

The problem with Frankie is that he is not as ... gifted... as I am. I say this in all humility; I am a tuxedo cat and Frankie is not. Mom oohs and aahs over his fur because "It is the softest fur I have ever touched anywhere," but Frankie is still scared of people a lot and she doesn't get to pet him or brush him as often as she wants.

Here's the bad part. Whenever Mom plays with me, or brushes me, or snuggles me, or even when I sleep on Mom's chest with my head tucked under her chin, Frankie sticks his big nose in. He is not afraid of them if they are being nice to me. I hardly ever get any attention just for me anymore. Plus, he wants to sleep on my cat condo. The old cats never wanted to do that. I admit it has plenty of sleeping places and even a hiding place, and jumping off places, but it is mine and always has been.

It must seem like I don't like Frankie, but I really do. Besides, he needs me because he is ... how shall I put it? ... dumb! We get wet food in the morning and at night, and while Trixie (the mean cat) and I are gobbling ours up, Frankie just stands there looking confused. So every time, Mom has to scoot him over to his food and say, "This is yours, Frankie." And he gets very excited about our evening treats when she opens the treat jar, but if she doesn't put the treats right under his nose he gets all frantic and crazy looking for the treats until she helps him.

I heard Mom talking to the O. M. and she said, "I think Frankie doesn't see well and that's his problem. His eyes are a little crossed, after all." Now I'm a cat, and I'm his big brother, and I'm telling you: Frankie is as dumb as a stump. But we'll let Mom think it's his eyes. After all, he's not getting any little cat glasses any time soon, now, is he?

So that's a little bit more about my brother Frankie. And, BTW, he IS heavy, he already outweighs me. But if he thinks he can be the boss cat around here, he is so wrong. I'm already letting Trixie know that I am boss now.

Miao