Weekends are made for me

I love the weekends!  Readers, you’ll discover that one of my most favorite things in life is a good weekend.  They just can’t come fast enough.  You know I love me a good Sunday, but really the whole weekend can’t be beat.  That good ol’ Saturday comes and I just purrr Purrr.  

This Saturday I’m going to perfect my new move.  See, my friend Carrot gave me a really sweet toy.  It’s the best toy ever.  It’s a mouse but it’s not just any mouse, oh no.  It has a fluffy tail and other stuff.  Oh, did I say “toy”?  I meant “Heart of Dharma Winner.”  Oh yes.  How my move goes, or will go cuz you know practice makes perfect, is like this: mouse tail grab –> head jerk left –> spin right –> mouse triple flip side spin in the air above my head –> floor pounce –> tail flourish.  

I know.  You don’t even have to say it!  She’s aaalllll mine.

Ahhh, my heart's desire! You have nose freckles, too! You sit with your foot askew! Oh love!

Bugs. BUGS!

I HATE bugs.  Big ones, small ones, medium sized ones… I hate them all.  But especially the big ones.  Ok, ok, yeah, I know, I’m a cat.  I do enjoy jumping into the air to catch a fly once in a while, but those big bugs give my tail the shakes.  Take, for example, the very enormous bug that tried to eat me this morning.  I was getting into the shower just to see what was happening in there and HEY BLAGAAH!  OMG, it was at least three inches long not counting its antennies.  Soooo gross.  Gross!  

To all my readers who do not know me personally outside of my blog, I’m a Southern Cat.  I live in The South.  And Southern States have enormous bugs.  And when I say “bugs,” what you should read is “cockroaches.”  I just can’t bring myself to say that despicable word.  See, when I say it in parentheses, er, commas– no, dang it!  What are those things?  Ok, I got it.  I remembered without looking it up or asking Maya.  When I say that word in quotation marks, it’s like I’m not really saying it at all because I’m quoting something else.  You can try that technique, too, when you don’t want to say something but you have to say it anyway.  Where was I?  Oh.  So I’m a Southern Cat and I just can’t get used to these dang bugs.  That’s my point.  It’s like a Chinese Cat not liking rice wine— just doesn’t happen.  But it happened to me. 

And I have a theory as to why.  You see, I’m pretty sure I found myself in a New York state of mind the other day.  Does that mean I’m NOT a Southern Cat after all?  Georgia’s never been on my mind and I don’t even know where the Suwannee River is, so it’s almost like I’m not made for this geography.  Heck, I don’t even have a Southern accent!  So the Max+bugs=EWWW thing makes sense when you think of it that way.  I have cousins in PA who say the only bugs they ever see are ants, an occasional spider, and cute little grasshoppers, which are actually really cool bugs.  I just don’t get many of those in my yard.  Never ever do they see “cockroaches.”  In fact, they said they thought those hideous monsters were invented by Hollywood for movies!  Don’t I wish!  

This is me, way up high where the bugs can’t get me.

 

If you have more than four legs, go away. FAR AWAY.

Stories and whiskers

 

The other night I was going to tell you the story that Maya was telling me in my closet.  Oh yeah, I still call my closet “home.”  Closet, sweet closet, as we closet-cats say.  I had some callers asking about when I would leave my closet but cats like me, Max, stick to our guns.  We don’t go back on our word.  I said I was moving to the closet forever and I meant it.  If you don’t like that idea, well, then buy me a condo sans prouncers and I’ll consider moving out.

Back to my story.  Where was I?  Oh right.  So Maya came in after a crashing sound and scuffles that could only be dog in nature because they were loud, obnoxious sounds, not graceful and elegant sounds like cats make.  I beg your pardon?  I BEG YOUR PARDON!?!?  You don’t know that.  There’s no way you have any justifiable right to make that claim against my ability to be graceful.  I will have you know that I can jump onto counters just as easily as any of my girlz… provided they’re the bathroom counters, I mean.  The kitchen counters are verboten anyway, so I’m not allowed up there.  

Er, I mean… Whatever.  I’m allowed to go anywhere I want to go, because I’m Max– and I’m in charge, not anybody else.  And if I change my mind about living in my closet, then I change my mind.  It’s my call, you know.  Not yours.  Not some human’s.  

Grrr, you made me lose my train of thought again!  Jeez-UM, readers!  Ok ok ok, I got it.  There was a noise and then Maya came in to tell me what was going on.  That prouncer has taken to sticking her nose in the waste basket in the other bathroom.  She pulls out tissues and q-tips and dental floss like it’s the best fun she’s ever had.  Now, I myself have dabbled in the fine art of bathroom waste basket raiding, but for like one day.  The prouncing lunatic doesn’t know when to say when.  So what happened was she lifted her head up and the can was still on her head.  She banged the can against the fun white wading pool and against the sink.  Then she turned around and banged it against the bath tub.  It came off now but she was all ooooogaa-blaaaaarrGAAAA all over the house!  And just all over the place.  I mean, she was everywhere.  My girlz scattered to save their lives.  

It was hilarious.  

You know what else is funny?  And when I say, “funny,” I really mean, “awesome.”  So you know what else is AWESOME?  

Whiskers.  MY whiskers.  Max whiskers ROCK.

 

When I sleep on bookcases, I let my head loll over the edge so I don't damage my whiskers.

 

 

You’re jealous of my closet

My closet is my thinking spot.  When I spend time in my closet (which is all day in case you’re just catching up), I tend to reflect upon my life.  You know, what it all means and if I’ve led a meaningful existence.  Considering all the joy I bring to the world every single day now that I’m famous, there seems to be only one answer to those questions:  MEH.  That’s right, meh.  I can’t help being awesome.  I can’t help being full of cattitude.  Heck, I can’t even help being orange!  But here I am, in my closet, where the clothes are hanging and the shoes aren’t all that sassy– me, Max, and you wish you had this clarity of mind.  

You wish you had my closet.

Here’s lookin’ at you, reader.

 

Nose to see you again. Come back and visit sometime!

Nose Freckles

It was my nose freckles that did it– won the heart of He Who Adopted Me.  True, at first he thought my nose freckles were bits of dirt.  Oh the joy on his face he realized the dirt would not wipe off!

This is a picture of my nose freckles.  See them?  

You’ll also see how cute I am when I sleep blissfully.  This is pure sleepy bliss, I tell ya.  I enjoy as much sleepful bliss as I possibly can.  In fact, sleeping is my favorite activity after issuing forth robust “mehs.”  There are all sorts of great places to sleep at my pad.  The bed, the end cushion of the couch, the big red chair, of course the green chair with my blanket, the other end cushion or even the middle cushion of the couch, the closet, on top of the hamper in the bathroom… I can’t even list all the great places.  

The best, the absolute best place to nap is on a nice human belly.  Human bellies are so soft and squishy!  I was on one for awhile during a movie we were all watching today.  Nope, don’t know what the movie was cuz I was nappin’– sorry.  

Heh heh meh.  The two dogs who live here got baths today.  I watched from a window and they didn’t know I was watching so I saw everything.  They stink all the time.  Why don’t they bathe themselves?  It works really well… when you can reach all of your parts and places, anyway.  You know what?  You just made me mad because I know you had a fat joke running through your head just now.  

Maybe you don’t get to see my nose freckles.  Maybe you’d just better go do some laundry or something.  Better yet, make my dinner.  

 

Aahh, blissful sleep. Aah, handsome nose freckles.