noun; a cat, an old female cat, an ill-tempered old woman
This is a picture of Dolly in the prime of her life. She was a busy body, always curious about everything. Her favorite people were men who came to fix things because they had tool boxes she could check out and try to nap in. She came to live with me when she was six weeks old and died in my arms when she was a nineteen-year-old grimalkin. She was a tiny (never more than six pounds) loving cat, always young at heart and definitely a diva!
I did not know this until late last night. If I had known I would have written about Dolly yesterday. She was my black catkid and I appreciated her. Most of the time. She was a brat cat.
Still I loved her and miss her big time.
She had an attitude for sure
She like to get up close and personal.
I was her mama from the time she was 6 weeks old until she died at 19.
just a couple of days before she died.
She was a petite girl. Never weighed more than 7 pounds. Dolly had tiny feet and beautiful big round gold eyes and a white spot on her chest that I always thought of as her jewelry.
Right up until the end she was a cat of great energy. Every night she had a zoomie spaz attack. She would run from room to room over furniture on counters; from bed to table to sofa up and down the hallway all at full speed. It took awhile but I did get her to understand that she could not run up the curtains and jump from the rod to the floor.
It also took awhile for her to learn that she could not sleep on the lampshade. She would settle herself on the metal part of the shade that attached it to the harp. There were a couple of broken lamps before that lesson was learned.
She could be lovable and she could be–not so lovable–aren’t we all like that?
It was ok to read but not if the book got in her way.
Every night she slept snuggled up against my side.
today is my BIRFDAY! an halloween! i don’t know what that is but it haz sumthin to do wif black cats like me so it mus be good.
its the day we call my birfday cause i don’t know xactly when i was born. sumbody fownd me an my siblings ina field. 2 of us were dead so they thot our momcat must a died and they took us home. when i was jus 6 weeks old i got my mama. shes been wif me ever since.
i had a dopted bruddeer Henry but he got kidknee failure and went to see our doctor and never came home. mama cried. I miss him but don’t tell mama she thinks I dint like Henry but he waz ok but so big! 18 pownds!
its my 19th birfday. thats purrty old i guess. i am feelin good and sumtimes frisky but mosly i jus curl up and nap. i don’t hear so good anymore an sumtimes mama really surprisez me when she comes up from behind me. it’s a nice surprize.
when I waz bout 10 I got sick wif pankreetitus. it was awful! i barfed all the time and my fur got all dry and dull, i hated that. after all fur is a ver important part of the cat misteek.
i still haz pankreetitus and so still have the barfin thing but mama found sum food i can eat that stays in my tummy mos of the time. she gets ver upset when I barfs my food. i got real skinny bout 4 pownds but now i ways bout 6. mama wood almos cry when she pet me cause my ribs stuk out.
mama got me sum treats for my birfday but only gave me a couple–they are soooo gooood. i tries to get more but mama said too many wood make me sick to my tummy. i no she will give me more later. an she haz sum chiken for me for supper, but only a taste…that stoopid barf thing ya no.
i writes a lot this time an my paws are tired an I need to find mama so I can nap on her lap. im sure she is ready to read her book,that’s a great time for a cat-lap-nap.
Well here I am again. Mama is in some kind a snit. I relly don’t unnerstand people. They get all flusterated and ferget the important stuff. Like the cat in their life.
Mama needs to chill or take a nap or sumpthin. She is getting my whiskers in a tangle. Not payin nuff tention to me like she should.
I remember when we dint have a puter. Those were the days. Sittin in the rocker wif a book or a movie. No up an down an wigglin round type tappin, just a nice quiet lap to sleep on.
I think I need to go into my act an get her tention. A good yeowlie meowie is called fer. My mama gets all worried when I do that and gives me lots a scratches and rubs. An we sits in the chair all comfy cozy like–sometimes we fall asleep. This dumb puter thing is getting in the way a that.
I’m not pointin and claws or anything but this puter stuff is a pain in the tail. Makes me wanna spit and hiss.
Ok I’ll get off my tall tiger now. Just hadda get this off my fur.
Mama has a pointment this morning. I don’t know wat that is but she left erly so I thot I wood chat a bit and tell you bout a problem I am having.
We, Mama and me, are having some struggels bout food. I have a very sensistive tummy and a very diserning palette. She thinks she can fool me into eating cheap tuna. Wats wif that?!
I like Bumble Bee solid white albacore tuna. How bees got into the fish buzness I don’t know but they do a good job wif tuna. Mama thinks if she mixes the Pigs tuna wif the Bees I wont no and I will eat it all up. But reelly pigs just don’t do tuna like the bees do. And mixing them spoils the the gormay sperience for me.
Well, I am going to hafto teach her–again!– that like trying to fool me wif sardines in the mackeral dish, messing wif the tuna wont work.
Leest she learned fast bout those oyster and clam things. Eeew! I barfed em right up!
You wood think after 18 years of living together Mama wood no whos the boss round here. I been spoiled and shes the one that did it so she shood just skip the triks and do the right thing.
Hey, I think my sunbeem is in the living room–time for a nap!