Nubs ...

Uh, the indignities I have to suffer for beauty! Mom was home early today (after yesterday's fifteen plus hours at the job), so the Feline Americans and I got pedicures. Mom uses these tiny snapping clippers to trim our claws as close to the quick as she can manage. She thinks that it makes it less horrifying if she calls it "clippy claws," but let's call a spade a spade, huh? She's lopping off all eighteen of our finely honed digital pokers! Mine took me two weeks to grow and sharpen on the Alpine Scratcher! She doesn't see me slaving away on the corrugated cardboard day in and day out.

I understand that she HAD to do Cocoa Puff's because he'd gotten himself caught up on the back of the recliner (BAD cat! Use your scratcher!!!), but the rest of us were just minding our own business. In our defense, we did try to preserve our claws by evading Mom. Cocoa Puff was caught easily ... He's so big and slow that he's an easy target. His yowling alerted the rest of us, so we had a little time to find "hiding" places. Sparky Fuzzypants (he of the room-temperature-with-the-a/c-on IQ) "hid" in the middle of the kitchen. Duh! He got his claws trimmed second. He did try to wiggle away from Mom, but she held fast. Fudge Ripple, that little suck-up, held still and even got combed. He'll do anything if he thinks that it'll lead to something edible.

I was hiding on Mom's bed. I don't know how she found my black-and-white self on her red quilt. It will remain a mystery of animal camouflage ... How does she do it??

Mom saved Lucky Charmz for almost last because he typically covers her with his white fur (and it makes her sneeze). He was above the cabinets in the kitchen, so Mom climbed up on the counter and jabbed at him with the kitchen tongs to get him to stand up for the easy grab. He wanted some reciprocity for losing his claws, so he puckered up and Mom gave him a little kiss (SUCKER! Mom quickly discovered that Charmee's breath smelled like butt ... Yuck! That'll teach her, right? Nope, probably not.)

Pumpkin, the king of under-the-bed was last because rousting him requires moving of boxes, a flashlight, and sometimes more than two hands!). Pumpkin had some seriously long claws ... I think that he missed his "appointment" with Mom two weeks ago, so he had more growth with which to dig into the carpeting under the bed.

Ugh ... What's that whining noise?? Crap. Shadow's here ... the dipstick K-9 cousin. Gotta hide ...

Happy weekend, Efurrybody!
DaisyMae Maus

Wonk Removed! Peepers stunningly golden once more!

My wonky eye is all better. Mom put me in a headlock (with much protesting on my part). My squealing and hissing attracted an audience of interested Feline Americans ... You'd think that those guys would try to gang up on Mom to free me, but ... NO. After all, there are FIVE of them and they could overpower her, right? What weenies!!! They make me sick! Those useless panty-waists sat at Mom's feet and watched as Mom wiped my eye and put drops in BOTH of them. I did exact a little revenge by sneezing drops in Mom's face, but she held fast and dosed me again with something she calls "tears" ... I'll show her tears!! Anyway, the wonk is gone and I can see clearly today. Apparently, I had been cleaning my face too thoroughly and managed to get a piece of fur from my mitt in my eye. That'll teach me to be fastidious, huh? I hate wonk.

Mom came home happy today. The air conditioner at her job is now fixed. She won't be coming home all melty and exhausted ... just the usual exhausted. I think that I may be able to persuade her to come home earlier now ... Thanks for the suggestions. "Pooping on the pillow" will just make Mom upset. She has a hard enough time with the litterboxes and our Sheba. Some mornings, she has to clean the boxes while wearing a bandana over her face. Do we stink that much?? I know that Cocoa Puff does because ... whewwww ... that big boy eats vast amounts of kibbles (I've secretly nicknamed him "Bowels of Hell" ... Don't tell him, okay??) Anyway, the added stench would just make Mom ill. I'll have to come up with a more socially acceptable way. Keep your thinking caps on ...

DaisyMae Maus

Welcome August! I think ...

Finally, the plumbers and repairmen are gone. Some of you have asked about the "toolbelt/butt-crack" element. Thankfully our service professionals have not worn low-rise workpants. Charmee is an "audience participation" kind of guy who will stick his nose down the backs of pants if given the opportunity. The last guy who showed some bun-cleavage got some whisker tickling from Charmee. You should have heard the guy shriek ... He sounded like the daycare kids next door. You've got to hand it to Charmee ... He's sneaky.

The guy today who was repairing drywall (the holes that the plumbers knocked in the walls to replace a houseful of pvc plumbing with copper pipes) didn't even realize that we were in the house. He got down on his knees to fix a hole behind the guest bathroom toilet and Charmee ran right up his back and sat on his shoulder. I was watching from the bed across the hallway. Boy, this guy was startled and said something that sounded like "Dios mio!" (... I don't speak Spanish, but I sure do love carne asada and carnitas). I had to keep my snickering to a minimum ... When he looked my way, I pretended to be cleaning my hind leg.

The temperature hasn't gone down much and we had the windows open (grandma and grandpa were here while Mom was at work earning what she calls "the little bucks"). She works nearly twelve hour days and comes home exhausted. It will be better when she gets the kids into a firm routine and can come home at a more reasonable time. By the way, she says that I cannot blog on Thursday (sorry, regular readers) because she's got a fifteen hour day at work. At least she gets to come home EARLY on Friday ... I just have to convince her to leave the work at work. Any suggestions that might be convincing to Mom? I've tried begging, kneading her lap, meowing pitifully (kind of degrading), and gacking hairballs in her shoes. Perhaps the Feline Americans and I can stage a protest of some sort. Mom hasn't taken a sick day in more than five years, but leaving at a reasonable time should be workable for a cat with my obvious persuasive capabilities, right?

To cap everything, I've got a wonky eye today. I hate wonk ...

DaisyMae Maus