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

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