Scars.

Mom had to put a band-aid on her finger this morning because when her alarm went off, I jumped up to remind her that it was time for me to eat. When she shoved me off the bed (like she always does), I caught her pinkie with my back foot and sliced it open. She said I give her too many scars from my sharp, sharp claws (even though she keeps 'em trimmed down, they grow real fast). *I* say that if she fed me more often and stopped hitting the snooze button, things like this would stop happening.

Hmph.

My life over the last few months.

As I'm sure you can tell from the pictures, Dexter turned out NOT to be food. He is instead some squirmy, noisy, sweater-wearing, floor-peeing little THING that likes to chew on my head. I do outweigh him, though, and I can take him down pro wrestling-style in no time. He chases me around, which makes Mom happy since she thinks I'm too fat (so what if I'm cuddly? I thought that was all the rage) and Dexter is making me exercise. He has a tail like mine, but it likes to wag super fast, and man, I just can't resist that. It's such a tempting pounce target, which I take advantage of constantly. I also sleep in his dog bed because hey, it was my house first. He chews on these little white knotted things called "rawhide", but if you watch my video, you'll see that I have claimed those as mine, too.

So yeah, life has changed around here a little since that ratty little thing showed up. I still won't admit that I like him (although I do let him come snuggle up next to me from time to time, but DON'T TELL). However, I will ALWAYS be the king of this castle. Speaking of which, I am going to go hop in the bed and smack Mom in the face with a paw. It's time for me to eat, and I'll make sure she knows it.

What's this I keep hearing about "dog"?

So my mom seems really excited about some little thing coming on Friday next week, called "Dexter". They're really concerned about how I'll get along with it, whatever it is. As long as Dexter is some kind of food, I'm sure it will be fine. If not, well... we'll see.

Cleanliness is next to catliness.

I enjoy cleaning myself so much, so often and so loudly that Mom and Dad have started calling me "Slurpee". They seem to be concerned that I'm pulling some of my fur out on the front of my chest, so that's when Dad took me to that strange guy that sticks things in my hind end and checks my teeth. It was strange to go with Dad instead of Mom (like I normally d0).

They are amazed that I weigh so much now. What can I say... the life of a spoiled cat is measured in laziness and the amount of food I can put away. Mom likes to pat my fat stomach and pick on me about it. A quick swat with my paw and a bite on her wrist tells her just how much I enjoy *that*.

Luckily, I don't have mange or a fungal infection or anything like that. I guess perhaps I am bathing a little too vigorously... I should probably cut down. I'm really going to hate the taste of the cream they're supposed to put on my chest...

...assuming I let them put it there at all. =^..^=

Feeding Time

One thing I hate most is seeing my food dish empty. When I first got to my house, my people gave me some little plastic dishes to eat and drink from. It made me mad when my food and water would get low, so I decided to show them who was boss. I took my plastic bowls and turned them over so the remnants of food and water would get all over the floor. Now I have some heavy ceramic bowls that aren't as easy to turn over. I'm still young, though... maybe as I grow up and get stronger, I'll be able to carry the bowls all over the house.

Since I was pretty sick when I first came home, my people had to add things to my food to make me feel better. I didn't really like them at first. Nobody should mess with the taste of my food; it's fine the way it is! My mom got worried about me because I didn't eat for a long time. She's stubborn, though. She kept right on putting that stuff on my food even though she knew I didn't want it there. I would never tell *her* this, but I finally gave in and got used to it. I think I've finally learned her pattern, too. She takes a little round thing out of a bottle and bangs on it until it turns into powder. Then she grabs my bag of food, the powder and a squirt bottle and starts walking to my dish. I always talk to her while she's doing this so I can make sure she doesn't miss a step. After she pours the food and puts the powdery stuff on it, I race back into the bathroom to oversee the next part. I have to make sure she does everything just right... forgetful people! She grabs another bottle and gets another small thing out of it and pokes it with a pin. I heard her talking about it once... "vite uh men eee" or something like that. Anyway, she goes back to my food dish to drip little drops over the rest of it. (I have to admit, sometimes I get a little over excited while I'm talking to her and I almost trip her!) Once I know she's finished, I'll look at her and give my final word of approval, and then it's chow time.

I have her so trained. =^..^=