The Bee, The Battle of the Bay Window, and The Sill

This is a guest post from my pal, Cosette. We've been getting along better lately and just having fun playing, so I asked her to guest blog for me this week on issues pertinent to the most important members of the household -- us.

Dear Readers,

There's been a lot of excitement in our household over the last two weeks or so. First of all, we are happy to welcome the human baby back to our family. Her and mom were in Florida visiting the grandparents, and mom's good friend took very good care of us.
The big drama that unfolded was when a bee got into the house. I'm a tad ashamed to admit it, but I was never taught to hunt by my mother, and contrary to what most people believe, for cats, hunting is a learned skill. Hemi has that skill.

But the bee crossed MY path, not his.

So I swatted it, it got back up, I swatted it, it got back up, I swatted it, it got back up. Mom's friend wound up killing it, but I'm proud of my prowess. The way I view this incident, if I didn't keep swatting the bee down, the human wouldn't have been able to kill it, and it would've stung her. I instinctually knew that the human was allergic to bee stings, so I technically saved her life.

I'm a cat -- hear me roar.

In a few weeks, I expect a Medal of Honor to come to my door.

On another matter, Hemi and I have become buddies and comrades in arms. We work as as a tag team to get more food from mom, and we love chasing each other down what Hemi calls "The Hemi Highway," a long wooden-floor hallway, where our paws resonate as we run full-speed. Baby must think she's at a horse racetrack, but truth be told, running cats are more beautiful and compelling than running horses.

That's my opinion, and I'm sticking to it.

Despite my friendship with Hemi, the Battle of the Bay Window rages on. Hemi is larger than me, but I still put the fear of hiss in him. One might even say I'm full of hiss and vinegar.
We both love this window, so we have to take turns basking in the sun. It works nicely for both of us, but if I'm at the window first and Hemi the interloper comes sniffing around near the window, I just have to give him one dirty look, and he's gone. Kind of embarrassing behavior for an acclaimed hunter.

Remember the posting where Hemi and I have complained about no window sills in this crazy house? Well, mom and her friends must've heard us because now there's a prime piece of real estate in our home: a "kitty sill," as it is called. However, it's my job to educate readers on the term "kitty." It is politically incorrect. We prefer the term "cat."

Anyway, the sill is up on one of those freakazoid windows, and it is truly marvelous. It is so beautiful, I would one day like to write a poem about it. Now here's the dilemma. Both Hemi and I love the sill, and our friendship is sometimes in jeopardy because that stubborn tuxedo cat is so long, and when he's on the sill, his legs often hang off it, and I find that irritating.
I believe that since I have been the first adopted being in this household, that I should be the priority with sill time.



But Hemi believes because he has a precious tuxedo coat and he's the newest cat in the household, he should have more sill time.

But overall, we are both thrilled that we have a sill to sit and lay on. We are both grateful to have it. Now Hemi has a nice alternative whenever I kick him of the bay window or the sill.

Anyway, I wish to thank Hemi for giving me guest post space. And enough about me, what do you, my dear readers, think about me? Comments (of praise) are strongly encouraged.
-- Cosette