I'm outnumbered ... oh the horror!

Good afternoon, Catster Cats. I must say, it's been awhile, and I hope you have all been well. I do keep myself busy enjoying my life of leisure, bossing Tanner around, and keeping myself looking fabulous, but I could not keep quiet about this latest development.

Now, before I fill you in on what's been happening, I know that some might say I only use this blog to complain, caterwaul, and otherwise air the occasional grievance, but really my friends, that is not the case. I assure you that my disposition is really quite charming most of the time, but my patience is, it's true, sorely tried by that pesky younger brother of mine, who is always trying to use his brawn (I'll give him this - he sorely needs it, because he certainly doesn't have many brains to speak of, unlike some other stunningly gorgeous calicos I could mention ... but I digress) to push me around. He just does NOT seem to understand that I am a LADY, and what's more I am a CALICO, and as such, I do not enjoy roughhousing, bug hunting, or any other such common behavior. Frankly, it's enough of an insult to my finer sensibilities when Mom insists on serving me my meals on a regular plate instead of that fancy crystal dish the Persian on TV uses. Some cats get all the perks, I guess. The point is, I have enough to deal with without my brother trying to entice me to engage in his decidedly plebian pursuits.

So ... my news....

A few weeks ago Mom came home smelling ... well, disgusting, to put none to fine a point on it. She smelled like ... KITTEN! Stray feral kitten, to be exact, a smell I recognized instantly, as I once, a very long time ago, had smelled exactly the same way, though I shudder to recall it now. I was, understandably, put off by this stench, and looked anxiously about the house to see whether Mom had brought the source of the stench home with her. Fortunately, she had not, but each day she returned home from the place she calls work ...

Sidebar: I used to go to work with her when I was a baby, and quite honestly from what I could tell it looked like all she did was talk on the phone all day and tap her paws on the keyboard. It didn't look all that hard to me - I can't imagine why she says it stresses her out so much sometimes?) ...

... smelling like KITTEN! As the days went by the feral smell decreased, so Mom must have given him a bath. And I heard her talking on the phone about what to do with this kitten, as I anxiously peeled my ears for any word that she intended to bring IT home. Therefore, I was elated one Friday evening a few weeks ago to hear her telling one of my aunts that she had just come from driving IT to ITS new home. I breathed a sigh of relief at this news, and relaxed my vigil, but just a scant two days later, she arrived home not only smelling like IT, but actually CARRYING IT in a carrier bag similar to ... no exactly like ... MINE. In fact, it WAS mine!

Which, of course, was inexcusable enough, but it didn't stop there! She THEN proceeded to rearrange the sunroom which is by far my favorite room in the house because HELLO!!!!! it gets lots of SUN!!!!! ... and make it into a sanctuary rooom for this interloping little good for nothing that she was calling by the name of Finn and cooing to like an idiot. When she kissed it on its pointy little nose, I actually coughed up a hairball in my mouth!

I could go into further detail about how she took such care to arrange the room for IT - er Finn's - comfort, and took out of the rustly plastic bags all sorts of new toys and a cardboard scratchy thing that had catnip sprinkled all over it and then shut him inside there and shut ME out! But ... I won't. Well, ok, I just did. So sue me.

Now fast forward a couple of weeks later, and though my perfectly pink little nose was decidedly out of joint for a few days, I have reconciled myself to the inevitable. I even ... dare I say ... somewhat appreciate the little wretch, as Tanner has apparently decided, thank goodness, that Finn is a much more willing sparring partner and insect-hunting companion than I would ever deign to be. Yesterday we touched noses. Ok, I admit - he doesn't smell all that bad anymore.

Purrs,

Olivia

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