I was neither at the hot gates,
Nor fought in the warm rain,
Nor knee deep in the salt marsh,
heaving a cutlass,
Bitten by flies, fought.
Saturday, October 04, 2008
My sister's cat, Annie, having valiantly fought and subdued this gardening glove, carried its corpse to the back door as a gift to her favorite humans.
Oh, no! That is too sweet! Look at her little noggin, all bowed down in good kitty mode! I hope she got lots of loving for her heroic contribution to the dinner table.
She gets more loving than is good for her, so her good kitty act is pure fiction. She's actually quite spoiled and maybe a little bit insane. The gardening gloves are kind of a regular thing; the other day she actually stole a gardening glove off our neighbor's porch while our neighbor, who was gardening, had his back turned, and carried it to our door all pleased with herself. She also brings us little pieces of wood.
Not only do all objects small enough to carry belong to her, all space does as well, which I suppose is why she is currently on my desk behind my flat screen monitor, snaking her paws out to bat at my mug of tea, the pencil and scraps of paper on the desk, etc.
In short she is a cat. I wish we could be so accepting of humans (many of which I know have similar peculiarities). But yes, cats are pleased with themselves almost always, another reason to come back as a cat (kneading people in the groin as an excuse for stretching is still number one!).
I am a young, female, disabled veteran of the US Army. I have fibromyalgia with fatigue and associated cognitive dysfunctions, which means my thought processes and writing are slower and less coherent than is necessary for a proper news-reactive blog. Therefore, you get my maunderings about whatever the hell I'm thinking about, current or not.
3 comments:
Oh, no! That is too sweet! Look at her little noggin, all bowed down in good kitty mode! I hope she got lots of loving for her heroic contribution to the dinner table.
She gets more loving than is good for her, so her good kitty act is pure fiction. She's actually quite spoiled and maybe a little bit insane. The gardening gloves are kind of a regular thing; the other day she actually stole a gardening glove off our neighbor's porch while our neighbor, who was gardening, had his back turned, and carried it to our door all pleased with herself. She also brings us little pieces of wood.
Not only do all objects small enough to carry belong to her, all space does as well, which I suppose is why she is currently on my desk behind my flat screen monitor, snaking her paws out to bat at my mug of tea, the pencil and scraps of paper on the desk, etc.
In short, she is a cat, and we love her.
In short she is a cat. I wish we could be so accepting of humans (many of which I know have similar peculiarities). But yes, cats are pleased with themselves almost always, another reason to come back as a cat (kneading people in the groin as an excuse for stretching is still number one!).
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