Cats rule the world

Today's issue is about our three furry felines: Mashka and Zoë (our two lazy-ass old gals) and a lithe young orange thing named Julius (aka Mr. Fluffy or The Fluffinator or Captain Fluffalicious.) They are making me write about them. They have been complaining that the stinky dog gets more air time than they do. They said if they weren't featured in today's blog entry, they would set fire to our bed as we slept. Who knew that cats played with matches? How do you light a match without an opposable thumb?

Introducing Mashka and Zoë! Those are actually NOT cat beds they are lying on. They belong to a certain aged English Setter, who is regularly denied comfort by these two holy terrors.


“Piss the hell off, woman! Flash photography offends us!”

Evil, pure unadulterated evil.
We have given up trying to slim down Zoë. She is the only cat I know who gained weight on diet food. She has more toys than she knows what to do with, and I play with her regularly, but somehow the fat remains.


“Mmmmm mmmm good!”

This cat is NOT fat, believe it or not. He is intensely fluffy, but under that fur he is muscular and at a healthy weight. Truly!

Why is Julius licking his lips? Well, the other night we had a very nice roast chicken for dinner (from the farm around the corner that is BC SPCA-approved and treats its chickens humanely and gives them organic food.) There was enough roast chicken left over for sandwiches. Or so we thought, until we entered the kitchen and found Julius on the counter, chowing down on the remains, making hideous little crunching noises.

WARNING: The following may offend some vegetarians!


“The horror, the horror!”
Do you see enough meat for a sandwich on that? No, nor do I, unless you're into bone and cartilage panini or something. That's because the meat was all in Julius' belly. I wanted to get a picture of him devouring the carcass, but I wasn't quick enough, so I had to make do with a catless carcass shot. It looks pretty gross, really.


I grew that sprig of rosemary in my herb garden! I guess cats don't like rosemary. Next time I'll use catnip. Won't THAT be tasty for us humans?


“Get me more chicken, bitch!”

Julius has an unnatural attraction to these roses. I don't know what it's all about. The dining room table has become his new roosting spot, which strikes me as rather unsanitary. I do clean the table before we eat on it. His FAVOURITE spot is on top of my computer printer. One day he left skid marks on it, which was truly revolting.