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Colette's Diary

As Time Goes By

Almost a year since my last diary entry and a lot has changed. I’m not so itchy anymore and I feel a lot better. Mom says that’s probably why I’m not cranky anymore. She calls me her sweet girl.

Marrakech avoids me instead of going after me and Samsara and I are now buds. That started the night Mom came home really late. We both decided to walk out on her (out of the apartment) in protest. You should’ve seen the look Mom’s face when we two girls walked off down the building hallway side-by-side. We still cuff each other occasionally, but mostly we groom each other.

I like nothing better than running off with Mom’s toys. Her pens, her tubes of moisturizer, her calculator, bottles of nail polish…. She thought she was losing her mind the day she brought out all the stuff to do her nails and I made her only emery board disappear. ; - )

Mom lets me go on the sofa now—so that’s my exclusive territory. (Marrakech and Samsara still kick me out of the bedroom.) [Editor’s note: Mom has given up the battle over the sofa and has learned a whole new definition for the word furrniture.] We sit or lay next to each other on the sofa, and even though I hold her paws, Mom still doesn’t understand that I don’t want to lay on her. [Editor’s note: Mom has never met a cat that does not understand how comfy that is.] I do make sure I stay close by, though, when Mom isn’t feeling well, and I come running when she yelps because she’s stubbed her toe or banged her knee.

Life is pretty good around here now.

Purrs & Headbonks

Taxing Moments

Like I was there, laying on the table like I usually do when Mom does her paperwork. But unlike usual, it was sign the tax forms day.

Mom had picked up the forms from the accountant and he put them in one of those yellow envelopes with the self-seal flaps. Take note, long-haired kitties. DO NOT LAY ON THOSE FLAPS! When I went to stand up, that stupid big envelope came with me. Who needs a Furminator when you have one of those!

I should also note my now twice daily taxing moment. I'm supposed to be getting my itchie medicine twice a day. Mom and I are learning how to best get that pill into me. Today is the first day that (Mom got the pill into me) I let Mom give me the pill both times. I hate it--I complain, but at least she's stopped wearing the rubber gloves. (The gloves were for some, now forgiven, temper tantrums.) If I have to take the pills, at least I get a lot of love and kisses in exchange.

Purrs & headbonks...

3 Glove Day

Akin to 3 Dog Night. Mom and I got sooo angry at each other today.

I wouldn't eat my food. Like a dork, Mom was putting my allergy pill in it and it tasted all bitter. (She finally got the message when she took one of them for her own allergies.) I didn't eat until I was so hungry I kept jumping on the stove. I finally gave up and downed it with a bit of dry kibble in it.

Then Mom discovered knots in my coat. I scratched her while she was trying to get the knots out. Out came the rubber goves--I can't get my claws into them properly.

She was still so angry about the scratch that while she had the gloves on she kept them on so she could trim my nails. I haven't let her do that since she adopted me. Glove routine number 2. (Usually I bite and scratch her when she tries to do that.) Dang--she got my nails cut.

But I'm supposed to take that pill twice a day. Supper time came and I wouldn't eat again.

If you're thinking that I usually try to scratch Mom when she's giving me a pill, you're right! Glove routine number 3. That was the worst. She finally wrapped me in a towel too. I didn't trust her when she put fresh wet food down--wouldn't eat it--nope.

I finally got my kibble and we've both calmed down and made up.

Headbonks...

Colette