Category — Cat Blogging

Friday Cat Blogging^TM [Kevin Drum]

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It’s tough living down having been a really cute kitten.

Friday Cat Blogging^TM [Kevin Drum]

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I’m sure Mom won’t mind if I leap on her.

Friday Cat Blogging^TM [Kevin Drum]

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Welcome wherever she goes, or else. Queen of feral cats.

Friday Cat Blogging^TM [Kevin Drum]

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Wow! Who knew? They had the good ‘nip at the party.

Friday Cat Blogging^TM [Kevin Drum]

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I’m not coming down until you get the fat bearded guy off the roof.

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Hey! Enough of the clicking already! People are trying to sleep. Sheesh, humans.

Friday Cat Blogging^TM [Kevin Drum]

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Oh, no — baby pictures!
It’s Mom and our cuddle: You, Shemp, me, and Moe. I wonder what Mom and Moe were looking at?
Probably at him taking pictures.

[Ed: My current roomies and your commentators are the mostly black tom at the top: Sox, and the predominately white female at the bottom: Dot. I didn’t name them, their original owner did.]

Koshka

April, 1992 – July, 2004

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Koshka means female cat in Russian, but she wasn’t always sure she wanted to be a cat. Her favorite active past-time was playing “fetch” with a crumpled wad of paper, and the only way she would go outside was riding on my shoulder.

She loved heights and I had to be careful when closing doors, as she might be on the top, asleep.

She was among a group of three feral kittens that were my first attempt at hand-feeding, having been orphaned at about one month of age. Her mother was a niece of Eve and was lost to traffic. At three months her brothers were adopted, but she decided to stay with me.

Her warm furry body tunneling under the quilt to curl up at my feet is missed as the nights grow colder, and when I wad up a sheet of paper to pitch into the waste basket I still expect to hear her running through the house for a game of “fetch”.

Friday Catblogging^TM [Kevin Drum]

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It’s Herself!

Momma Eve, the oldest cat ever. I didn’t think she allowed pictures.

They say she could catch squirrels and blue jays.

[Ed: All of the cats you will see here, except one, are descendants of this cat, who was at least 16 years old when she died. Her true grey color is shown on her right side.]

People’s Republic of Seabrook is hosting the 37th edition of the Carnival of the Cats, titled: Carnivale de los Gatos.

Details for entries are at the main site.

Friday Cat Blogging [^tm Kevin Drum]

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Oh, look, it’s a picture of Granny.

He must have fixed something, or that replacement for the printer you clogged with hair does tricks.

She must have killed something recently because she looks kind of relaxed in her tree.

Come on, get off your tired butt and get up here!

I don’t think he’s going to like this, and I don’t see why you need me.

Look, he’s busy with something outside and I want to finish before he gets back. I need you to control the black rat.

Mouse, he calls it a mouse.

I know about mice. I have chased mice all my life. I have eaten mice. That is not a mouse!

The only mouse you ever ate was that one Granny hauled in after we refused to go near the dove Mom caught, and you didn’t even eat as much as I did.

No one has ever eaten as much as you do! Now let’s get going!

Okay, okay…no need to get excited…geesh. What are we doing?

We are catblogging.

Why?

It’s traditional. We are cats. This is a blog. Ergo, there must be catblogging.

Where did you learn about this? I don’t remember Mom or Granny talking about catblogging. Actually, I don’t remember Granny talk about anything that didn’t involve disemboweling. Granny really liked blood and guts.

You’re a tom, you don’t think they’d talk about important things with you. There’s only one thing toms think about, and you were tutored before that became a problem.

Let’s not get into that. That hurt. Nobody said education was going to be that painful.

Stop complaining and get up here so we can blog.

Ooof…Ouch! It’s a lot easier when he’s here to keep the chair from spinning…Okay, now what?

We go out to Giggle…urr…Google and put in cat and blog…Okay, now hit the button…the other button you idiot!

No need to shout. This rat is slippery and you didn’t say which button. It’s not like there’s an ickron…uhm…symbol saying this is the button.

Bring the arrow down and hit the button on the first one, if it isn’t too difficult…hmm…try the next one…next…next. Hey, they don’t let the cats say anything, it’s just pictures, and some of them aren’t even cats, that one looked like a weasel. What’s with all of the basset hounds?

Continue…what’s this? It’s a Labrador and he’s blogging and sounds like a Republican! We should sue for misrepresentation.

I don’t think it’s nice to start frivolous law suits…I mean the courts have important things to do…

Keep it up, and I’ll tell him you’re a Republican.

Hey, that’s not something you should say, even joking. So now what do we do? You don’t think he’s going to start with the camera again? What a pain, you’re just getting to sleep and he blinds you with the flash.

He can’t do it. He needs the equipment you knocked off the desk two years ago, after the last bout with the camera…unless he’s planning to get another…uhh…scanner, that’s what you broke.

Well, he should have known better than to put it in the best sun in the room.

I had hopes of getting something organized, but we’ll have to wait until those other cats wake up to the possibilities. Let’s shut it down. Stop! What did you hit?

I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.

Oh, well, no harm done…probably. If there’s a problem, it’s your fault.

Hey, this was your idea. Why is it my fault?

Because you’re not the brightest light on the ferris wheel, and humans tend to excuse the mistakes of the stupid. Besides, I’ve already got him conditioned to think every disaster is your fault. Now hit the blue button on the box…