Siiiiiick!

I'm sick! I'M SIIIIIICK!

Oh, I hate it! I can't remember ever having a cold before. I've seen the People sniffling and snuffling, and have alternated between offering sympathetic cuddles and laughing quietly to myself. But not moi. I don't GET sick.

Until now. Those flea-ridden, germ carrying shelter cats* have given me an "upper respiratory infection"- whatever that means. Feels a lot like a People cold. I'm stuffed up, I can't breathe, I-

What's that, Woman? What the heck is a "Darf Vater?"

Whatever.

What was I saying? Oh, I can't breathe. I snuffle and snort and sneeze, or I have to breathe through my mouth, and then I drool everywhere. SO embarrassing. The woman has been taking me into the bathroom with her when she has a hot shower, and that helps for a while, but it's not enough. I demand a cure! Now!

Eh... I'm too tired to demand anything. I'm too tired for exclamation points. I'm gonna go lie on the couch for a bit and look pathetic, and then maybe follow the woman around so she'll feel EXTRA guilty. Than I'm gonna sneeze in her face. And laugh to myself.



*You don't have to remind me where I came from, I know. But I didn't come home SICK.

Siiiiiick!

I'm sick! I'M SIIIIIICK!

Oh, I hate it! I can't remember ever having a cold before. I've seen the People sniffling and snuffling, and have alternated between offering sympathetic cuddles and laughing quietly to myself. But not moi. I don't GET sick.

Until now. Those flea-ridden, germ carrying shelter cats* have given me an "upper respiratory infection"- whatever that means. Feels a lot like a People cold. I'm stuffed up, I can't breathe, I-

What's that, Woman? What the heck is a "Darf Vater?"

Whatever.

What was I saying? Oh, I can't breathe. I snuffle and snort and sneeze, or I have to breathe through my mouth, and then I drool everywhere. SO embarrassing. The woman has been taking me into the bathroom with her when she has a hot shower, and that helps for a while, but it's not enough. I demand a cure! Now!

Eh... I'm too tired to demand anything. I'm too tired for exclamation points. I'm gonna go lie on the couch for a bit and look pathetic, and then maybe follow the woman around so she'll feel EXTRA guilty. Than I'm gonna sneeze in her face. And laugh to myself.



*You don't have to remind me where I came from, I know. But I didn't come home SICK.

Eeew, girls!

Well, they're still here. The woman loaded the new cats into carriers this morning and took them out in the car, and I thought that was then end of it, but they were back a few hours later.

I guess they're not so bad. I mean, they're both being treated for fleas and earmites (gross!), and they've got colds, but I've been avoiding them anyway, so it's probably safe for me to just point and laugh at them. They stay out of my way, and my routine hasn't been too disrupted. Well, except for the fact that I now try to sleep on the Woman's pillow instead of at her feet- what am I supposed to do when there are two other cats on the bed?

They actually don't mind The Dog too much, which seems weird to me. I guess when you're fresh off the mean streets, there would seem to be worse things than a giant puppy who wants to sniff your butt. I still hate him, though. Big idiot.

Oh, and did I mention that the new cats are both madly in love with the Man?! Back off, ladies, he's mine! They just sit at his feet, looking all cute and staring admiringly up at him. It's sick. It's disgusting. It's a shame I didn't think of it first.

The Woman says they're going to be going back to the vet in two weeks to "get fixed," whatever that means. They don't look broken. Well, Harriet's a little bow-legged in the front, but she works fine.

I guess I should get used to them. They can stay, as long as The Woman still gives me lots of love.

What the FUR...

People, the way to celebrate Thanksgiving is NOT by bringing two new cats into the house!

The Charles is not amused!

Purrs and Good Thoughts Needed- no joke!

...but not for me. The Woman's cousin has a very lovely tabby cat named Hanjo, and he's pretty sick with an infection. The vet told his People he's got a 50% chance of making it, so Hanjo and his family need major prayers, purrs, good thoughts, anything you can send out to them in ON.

Thanks, everyone, and much purring and kneading to all of you from me.

-Charlie

Would You Rather

OK, The Woman has got to stop answering Catster's questions on the Book of Faces whatchamacallit thinger. Last time she did it, she called me "bonkers," and not as a cute nickname. This time is worse.

They asked "Would you rather: Never clean the litter box again
(it would magically clean itself) or have your kitty talk to you for one day?"

What did The Woman say? I'll tell you what she said. "Litterbox- not my favourite chore. Charlie talks to me plenty as it is, and I'm pretty sure he'd just be saying "Pet me! Love me! Rub my belly! Don't rub my belly! Where's the other guy? Why isn't HE petting me? What does 'be quiet' mean? Where are you going? PET MEEEEE!" No need for him to speak English. :)"

Doubleyou-tee-eff, Woman. I am NOT amused. I am offended. I am- what? Well, yes, but I don't care that you were RIGHT, it's the PRINCIPLE of the... never mind.

Oh, and SIX People had the nerve to "like" her comment! Not happy here, guys.

I'm sure you'll all be pleased to know that she got extra doses of me talking to her ALL NIGHT LONG.

Next time I see the Woman typing something other than my diary I am SO lying across the keyboard. I will not be made fun of on the internets!

BONKERS?!

Excuuuuuuuse me?

What is going on here?

I just noticed that The Woman has allowed- even HELPED- the dog to have his own diary. A DOG. I can't wait to read those riveting entries. "Licked my butt today*, then licked The Man's face. Drooled on the couch, shook the life out of a very naughty bit of knotted rope. Pooped in the yard where people could step in it. Burped in someone's face. Great day!"

He's only got one entry so far (slacker!), but he had the NERVE to call me "completely bonkers" in the first paragraph. Who does he think he is? He's just saying that because I don't like him and I yell at him when he sniffs my butt. Also maybe because it freaks him out when I play kitty pinball off the walls when he's in his kennel at night. Hey, it's not MY fault he can't be trusted to be left out to have fun at night!

I'd say that I'm shocked that The Woman let him say that, but I see that she's put a comment on something about "crazy kitties" and used the EXACT SAME PHRASE in describing me. She claims I see things that don't exist or something like that.

What. The. HAIRBALL.

I'll deal with this later. I'm pretty sure there's a Fleedlesnozzle stalking me down the hall- I've got to go frighten it away. BRRRRRROOOOOWL!!!

*gallop* *gallop* *leap* *CRASH*

That's... better... owwww...




*I know, we ALL lick our butts, it has to be done. But I don't lick people after I do it. I'm just sayin'.

Sad Day

Hello, my friends (and fur-iends). I have to share some sad news with you. My adopted brother Gus (aka Gustifer, aka "The Fat One") passed away a week ago. The Woman was too sad to help me with this diary entry until now, but she wanted you to know. She found him under the basement stairs... he wasn't sick, losing weight, or acting weird before that, so The Woman is wondering whether he choked on a hairball. He had been getting them lately in spite of lots of brushing and this gross stuff she gave him to help them come up, poor guy.

I tried to tell The People last Sunday that something was wrong- I was yowling (even more than usual) and being super cuddly with them, but they didn't realize Gus was missing until that night, and The Woman found him in the morning.

I'm OK with the whole thing (thanks for asking). Other than being very clingy and sleeping on the Woman at night more than I normally do, my life hasn't changed much- we weren't buddies or anything. But it *was* a comfort to have a fellow feline in the house, even if we did fight sometimes... also, he dog is now trying to stick his flat face up MY butt- Gus was always good about letting him sniff. Me, not so much. I run away, and then the dog has the nerve to CHASE ME. But that's beside the point... I'll just miss having him around.

The Woman is sad, The Man is fine, the little kid doesn't really understand, and the older one basically said it was OK, because they still have me. I believe he said, "Charlie is the nice cat... he's not scratchy." 5-year olds are weird. I have to say, though, that I'm also glad I'm still around. I saw the Woman putting Gus' body in a box, and I went into full bobble-head mode. It was weird, OK? The box is gone now (waiting for the ground to thaw), and here I am, other-cat-less.

Rest in Purrs, Gus.

Oh... My... DOG.

So... there's a new dog here. Well, by "new" I mean he's been here since August, but The Woman hasn't exactly been keeping up with my diary updates, has she? Eh, Woman? Yeeeesh.

Anyway, the dog. The Man got himself a boxer puppy. People say he's cute... I say he looks like an old People man. He's so gross, too- he drools, he sniffs- right now he's investigating some of The Older Boy's underpants, and he seems to be REALLY enjoying it. UGH! I mean, sometimes it's OK to investigate People's shoes, but UNDERPANTS?! Dogs are a sick, sick species.

And Gus... don't even get me started on THAT traitor. He lets The Dog (the people call him "Jack") SNIFF HIS BUTT all the time! He doesn't yell at The Dog every time he gets too close like a normal, decent cat (i.e. me) would. Then again, Gus is pretty much a dog himself, isn't he? A big, fat lapdog. With hairballs.

As for The Man... well, I thought I was making some progress there, but now there's ALWAYS someone begging for his attention, and it's not even me! How can I get my after-the-woman-goes-to-bed rubbings if there's a freaking DOG lounging on the couch?! Now I have to get all my love from The Woman and The Children (though I DID lie down on his chest for a few minutes before he fell asleep last night, and he rubbed my chin before he rolled over and I got bounced back over onto The Woman).

It's all too sickening. I'm going back to the basement where I can get some peace and quiet while I sleep on my chair. Maybe things will look better when I wake up tonight...

MROWLL?

I don't understand why The Woman gets mad at me for yowling while she's sleeping. She should be happy that I'm expressing a need rather than holding it in until I DIE (or until she wakes up, I don't know what would happen first).

Here are the reasons I wake her up (and their accompanying
yowls):

-"MYOOOOOWL? YOOOL? MEW?" - this means I want love, but first she has to get out of bed, follow me as I trot one lap around the living room, dining room, and kitchen, scoop me up and take me back to bed. I will then lie down with her for several seconds before taking off, often bouncing off The Man in the process. I don't see what the problem is.

- "YOWW! YOWW!" - Gus wants in. It's not my fault he forgets to come in before bedtime, but it IS my job to wake the entire household when he decides it's time.

- "Brrowl? BRRRRRROWL?" - I need a drink. The water in my dish is not good enough, it's too warm. The glass of water in the bathroom is no good, it's too... still. I need for you to turn on the bathroom faucet so it's not running in a stream, but just has some really fast drips of water so I can drink out of the sink and get my head all wet.

Those are the most common ones, but sometimes I sit outside the kids' rooms and yell, just to keep her on her toes.

And then she has the NERVE to take her revenge by waking ME up when I'm trying to sleep during the day! This makes no sense to me. People are SO weird!