Alone at Last

Yesterday, H. took Garp & Elvin to the vet for shots. At first I was scared and upset--I didn't understand where she had taken the boys. After a few minutes, though, I realized how great it was to be an only cat. I didn't have to kick Garp out the bed that I wanted to sleep in, and I didn't have to hide my toys. I was really enjoying the peace and quiet and then THEY came back and they smelled weird!

Heather even brought me back a special little catnip treat. So it ended up being a pretty good day. It would have been a great day if H. and A. hadn't insisted on keeping me on that stupid diet.

$8.88, Matey!

H. and I got in a bit of a tiff this morning. I thought I finally had her trained not to sing/scream those strange little things that seem to amuse her at odd times (for no apparent reason). Then this morning, as soon as she came upstairs, she started droning "888. 888. 888" over and over. She wouldn't stop, and she kept getting louder each time she said it. I didn't want it to be another "Ahoy, Matey!" or "Shiver me timbers!" incident so I ran over to her, balanced on my hind legs, and placed my front paws on her thighs. "Okay, Hilda. Don't nip me!" she said. Then she shut up. But I still had all of that fury inside of me, so I tried to nip Garp on the neck when he passed by me. He's taller than me, though, so I wasn't able to connect. He gave me a dirty look and said, "Get off of me, girlie."

H. went and complained to A. that I never let her chant any of her ditties anymore. "What was that 888 business all about anyway?" A. asked.

H. said, "Oh, I needed to record a purchase for $8.88 in the checkbook and I was trying to remind myself. I might have gotten a little carried away."

Surfing the Web

This new sister of mine has turned out not to be so bad after all. She looks a little like me (although not as cute), her name (Hetty) sounds a little like my nickname (Hildy), and, best of all, she's taught me how to use the new laptop! I think H. and A. are on to us, though. They've complained about finding our cat hair between the keys. They don't appreciate how tough it is to type when you don't have fingers. Why are those keys so small?!

Elvin Gave Them to Me. They're His Fault.

My brother, Elvin, gave me pimples. I know because my female human took me to the vet yesterday. It's very embarrassing to have pimples at my age--only kittens are supposed to get pimples! It's a relief to know that it's not cancer, though. My female human had worked herself up into such a frenzy (too much web surfing on the subject) that even I was conviced that I had cancer on my chin. Now she insists on rubbing some smelly ointment on my chin every morning and evening. I don't mind, though, because I get a special treat afterwards and Elvin doesn't get any. Elvin has also caused problems for Garp, but I'll let Garp write about that if he wants to.

RIP Squeeker II. Long live Squeeker III!

This morning, H. broke Squeeker II! It's bad enough that she threw Squeeker I away (after I spent months killing Squeeker I, H. said that Squeeker I's stuffing was coming out and that it was time to retire him). I guess H. was too rough when she threw Squeeker II because it wouldn't quit squeeking! I didn't know what to do with it--normally it only squeeks when I put it in my mouth or bat at it with my paw. I slowly backed away from it. I thought if I just gave it some time, it would return to normal.

I caught H. sneaking out of the house with Squeeker II (still squeeking away within her clenched fist) and I gave her an earful. She gave me another squeeker mouse (Squeeker III), but it's not really the same. If H. wanted her own Squeeker mouse to play with, why couldn't she take Squeeker III?

Surgery for Squeeker III

The other day, my special little friend Squeeker Mouse III became very ill. It started out slowly: a litle rip in Squeeker's back seam. After a couple of days, I could plainly see Squeeker's hard black insides. Then, Squeeker III's insides fell outside! It was horrible (like reliving Squeeker I's death all over again). I was afraid H. would try to throw Squeeer III away like she did with Squeeker I, so I sat on Squeeker III to protect him. H. promised that she wouldn't hurt Squeeks, though.

I watched her perform the surgery on Squeeks. It was touch and go for a couple of minutes, but now Squeeker III is back to normal. H. said I made a good little nurse. I'm making sure to exercise Squeeker III regularly. He needs his physical therapy.

Goodbye, Patrick

I’m feeling very sad right now. I just found out that my friend Patrick passed away yesterday. I'll really miss reading his diaries. I loved finding out about his secret caves and the songs that his mom would sing to him.

Goodby, Patrick! I hope you have a grand time with your little doggie friend. The two of you will probably come up with some great songs about your adventures!

Like Grapes and Oranges

As many humans know, cats have much better hearing than humans. So why does my A. think he can whisper and I won't hear him? H. has even told him that he doesn't know how to whisper (comment from H.: his whisper is as soft as a braying mule). So last night, when he pointed at me and told H. that that I'm "getting fat again", of course I heard him. How mean can you get! Luckily, H. pointed out that it only looks like I'm gaining weight because the loose skin on my stomach is more prominent (from my weight loss!). She also pointed out that because Hetty Miep is so small, I look larger in comparison--like looking at an orange next to a grape. Of course the orange looks huge!

In other news, H. killed Squeeker III this morning. She threw it too hard (it's a mouse not a football, H.!) and it wouldn't quit squeeking. Then she tried to sneak off with it and I yelled at her. Luckily, she had Squeeker IV waiting in the special toy cabinet.

Do the Plopsy!

I have a new dance. I call it the "plopsy". I like to lay on the laptop when H. is using it. It's so very warm, and I'm in the perfect spot for H. to admire my beauty. At first, I was content to occassionally stroll across the laptop. H. put a halt on this activity when the "p" key started sticking. Then, I started laying on the top left corner of the laptop. Next thing you know, H. is complaining that the "q" key was sticking, so she started putting her hand underneath me when I would lay on the laptop. I heard her complain that her hand was falling asleep underneath the weight (what can I say--I have very heavy fur). That didn't stop me. Now the space bar is apparently sticking. I don't know why these humans selected such a faulty machine--keys breaking left and right! H. has become more aggressive about keeping me off of the laptop, so I've had to up the dose of cuteness. Now when I jump up by the laptop, I plop down at the very outer edge of the laptop. After H. places her hand underneath me, I get up and plop down on more of the laptop. I keep doing this until I cover as much of the keyboard as possible. H. is finally catching onto the dance, though. Last night, she told A., "Hilda's doing the plopsy!"

Found Object Toy

I found a wonderful new toy last week when H. was cleaning out the litterboxes. She ripped the string off of the top of the cat litter and as the string (and some of the paper) drifted to the floor, I ran off with it. H. ran after me to make sure I didn't eat it (silly H.!). Then she dangled it in the air for me to jump at. I'm very good at standing on my hind legs while I bite at it. I like to sing a little song while I am playing with it too. I'm not greedy (like Miep); I share my new toy with my siblings (although I have been known to land on their heads while I am playing with it). H. will only let me play with it when she is around, though. I guess she's afraid that I'll get too excited and eat my new toy.