Sunday, August 21, 2011

Life as a Cookie - Chapter Six

Oreo Cat again reports on his life with Reffie, Evil Twin, and Hubby.   Oreo wrote this post from the cabinet above the dryer, laying on the rag towels, examining the paper bags, and chewing on light bulb packages.  All of this while he thinks he's supervising me doing the laundry.

Last week the female got up, peed (with me in her lap of course!) and then did something crazy. She opened the window in the upstairs bathroom. Ooh, ahh. Those outside smells made my tummy grumble. I smelled birds, and squirrels, and armadillos, and possums, and...... Whoa. WHAT'S THAT?

Silly Cat. It was rain. Reffie opened the window to rejoice that we finally got some rain around here. She was walking around singing and dancing, acting very silly. She kept saying that the smell of wet brown grass was a very beautiful thing.

Everything calmed down after that. I'm back to sitting in windows and cooling my belly on the floor. It's FREAKIN' HOT here!
I wish I could get closer to all that food the female seems to enjoy. She sure makes a lot of cookies. I like cookies...and bread...and crackers....and well, just about anything. My latest favorite treat comes right out of the big cold box. I went in there one day. The female wasn't happy with me. She said she might think Oreo means accidentally) close me in there. I don't see the problem.


Anyway, back to my treat. It's small, round, and cold. Reffie pushes a magic button and it jumps out on the floor. I play with it to make her think I'm having fun but I really just want to make sure it's very, very dead. Lick. Lick. Bat. Slurp.

Sheesh. Oreo is trying to say that he likes crushed ice. Reffie gives him a piece and he thinks he's eating something yummy.

I've discovered that the soft cushy large apparatus in the upstairs big room is a fun place to play hide and seek. In the mornings, the female does what she calls "make the bed". I see no sense in this chore as it gets unmade every night. I try to tell her this by jumping around on the the sheets and hiding inside them.

I can't find most of my toys but that's ok because I discovered ink pen. Yes, ink pen is shiny and it rolls around on Reffie's papers on the couch. It brings me seconds of great joy. Sometimes Reffie picks it up and tickles me with it.

She's not tickling you, Goofball. She is trying to write your name on your belly so you won't forget who you are. Just remember that she's a bit strange sometimes. It's the alien probing. It messes with her brain.

Probing? I don't like the sound of that.

Shiny thing. Ooh, ahh. Pounce. Bat. Bat. Wheeeeeeee!!!!!

Something tells me Oreo is finished with this post.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Floating over the Texas Brown

What color is your parachute?

Sheesh.  Forget parachutes.  What color is your lawn?  Mine is brown with patches of green.  We are about to break a record here in north Texas.  We're not proud.  We'd like to pass.  It's been 100 degrees or higher for 39 days in a row.   The record is 42 set in 1980.  We should break that record on Saturday.


Ah, yes.  The summer of 1980.  Memories of sweeping trash at Six Flags, flirting with boys, and developing from lifting heavy trash bags.  For some silly reason, I liked that job.  It must have been because I could walk around all day thinking I looked cool.  It was a strange summer, not a cloud in the sky.  August rolled in and a cloud appeared over the park.  It got heavy and opened up with pouring rain.  We stood there letting it soak us to the skin.  Ahhhhh.  When I got home later, our house had not received a drip.  Even back then, Mother Nature was a finicky bee-otch.

We are hoping that 1980 will still go down as one of the worst summers in history with 69 total days of 100 degrees or higher temps.  

Uncle, I say, UNCLE!

Speaking of uncles, my oldest uncle turned 90 over the weekend: 

I felt bad about eating George but that cake
was tasty!  It was 1/2 chocolate 
and 1/2 white with a strawberry filling.


In other news, Oreo Cat and Evil Twin are doing a great job making sure I don't sleep through the night.  Play time starts early, way before dawn thinks about cracking jokes.  I'm sure they are trying to weaken me so that when the men in the pretty white coats come for me, I'll be complacent.  During the day, when he's trying to sleep, I try the same tactics.  Sigh.  They don't work.  

I am such a good slave.

Let's get back to parachutes....

No, let's go past parachutes into hot air balloons.  Hubby and I attended a Family Day event for his work at a lodge down south where they have real hills and wind.  Holy Light Bulb, Batman!  Hubby and I almost got to go for a "ride" in that beautiful balloon but we left before they started to let people get in the basket.  Earlier, the balloon was struggling with the wind and it looked like it was going to make a nice decoration for the lodge's lawn instead of actually being able to rise.

Tethered balloon at Rough Creek Lodge

Please do a rain dance and send clouds.  We don't remember what they look like.

Photo credits:  Birthday cake: Reffie, Balloon at Sunset: Rohr Balloons

Monday, August 1, 2011

Life as a Cookie - Chapter Five

The female human found my toy stash.  I slid my wine cork and my fluffy round mouse under the display cabinet saving them for a rainy day.  The next thing I knew the female was on my floor with her big head and eyeballs peeking underneath the cabinet.  She reached under there with a stick and brought out my toys and a few bugs (yummy).  Sheesh.  I HAD to play with them just to make her feel like she did something special.

Um, Oreo Cat?  You're so silly.  Your paw could not reach those toys.  They were gone forever.

What?  I don't quite get that.

I've noticed that it's getting harder and harder to jump up on tall things like the female's "Irony bored."  Who is Irony?  Why is she bored? 

Oreo, it's an IRONING BOARD.  The female, Reffie, presses clothing on it.

What?  Why would she do that?  I don't quite get it.

Why can't I get my belly up there anymore?

Oh.  Are you saying I'm getting fat?

 Is this the belly you speak of?

A new toy appeared over the weekend.  It was brown and almost dead.  The humans obviously did not provide this toy as they seemed a bit upset that this thing was in their kitchen.  I tried to get it to move and play with me but the male human made it go away.

That was a scorpion, Oreo Beast.  It might sting you!

Oreo notices his wine cork on the floor and pounces upon it.  It rolls and he chases it around, emptying his head of all memories and unlikely understanding of possibly getting stung by a scorpion.

That silly female got up too early Sunday morning.  She said she was going to a race where she had to swim, cycle, and run.  Yawn.  I thought for sure it was play time or I would at least get a snack.  Pffft.  She patted my head, told me to be a good kitty, and left.

Yeah, right.  I went back to bed.  I waited a couple of hours and then started to engage the male human in play using my claws and teeth towards the center of his body near his legs.  

I got in trouble.  :(

Since the female obviously likes to rise early, I thought that 4:30 am this morning would be a good time to show off my sharp claws making a nest in the sheets near her legs.

Apparently not.  

Sigh.  Life is hard for a kitty.

"1.00s, 1.50s, 1.75s for the short arms. If you know what I'm talking about, you're probably old, too."

"Boomer brain fog: What was the last, middle, and first part of what you just said to me?"