Putting the "Man" into "Manx" and Making Mountains Out of Mole Hills

Today I overheard one of mom's friends calling me "Mr. Man" and that I "put the 'man' into 'Manx,' on account of my gentlemanly airs and the way with the ladies. Mom and her friends just fawn all over me, and I adore the attention. My mom also noted that I've grown up quite a bit from the wee lad I was in December when she adopted me.

That's because unlike back then, when I was a playful, handsome toddler, I am now a playful, young handsome man.

But the point of this blog is not to brag about myself, for I am way too humble to do that.

The point of this posting is to vent.

Frankly, I don't like to complain, as you dear readers know, but there are certain things about my new home that Cosette and I find very hard to understand. In a previous posting, I mentioned how irritating it was that the house we're under house arrest in has no window sills. Not a one.

Today, Cosette again smashed into a window and fell onto the floor -- landing on all four paws -- unharmed but shaken once again. You know where mom was? Sitting in the back yard sipping tea and eating tuna chatting with a friend on some wireless gizmo. We cats were grateful to have had some of her tuna before she headed outside, but c'mon....no mayonnaise?

Considering all the energy we expend reaching our paws in futility looking for a window sill, we deserve a little mayo. Cats need window sills like cheese needs crackers. And by the end of the day, we were going crackers in that Cracker Jack box without the best prize of all: window sills.

Cosette and I counted each window, several times, and we only found one bay window, which is really nice and has room enough for both of us. However, she bullies me so that we rarely can share the same space at the same time.

We don't even have privacy to do "our business." It was humiliating to hear about my process of elimination as bizarre, yet cute. So before you hear about it from a third party, this is how it went down (pun noted). I peed a lot and buried it in a mountain of this wonderful odorless litter my mom gets for us. Then I left my signature by pooping on top of the mountain and leaving it unburied for all the world to see.

My mom and her friends laughed about how I created a crap mountain and how weird that was. Here's a correction: I only crap small pellets, also known as Hemi-pellets.

Now, if my mom thinks she knows about all things cat, why did I catch her reading Cat Fancy today? I happened to look over her shoulder and noticed she was reading all about cats' litterbox habits and such. Of course, I snickered at her lack of knowledge.

Also, tonight, mom went to the movies while Cosette and I played with the dust bunnies under the couch and watched scary animals pass by the bay window.

I'm just in a mood, but I know mommy loves me and Cosette. It's not mom's fault that she moved into a place without window sills. She really doesn't know any better.

Meow for Now,


Hemi