Wednesday, Oct. 13, 2004
Dear Diary:

Norma used to love to "hunt" things in the house. We couldn't leave a drawer open anywhere because she would instantly hop into it and rummage about, looking for something she could take.

She stole the ace bandage I use to wrap up my knee for running out of my gym bag so many times that I finally threw up the white flag and gave it to her, buying two more�one I keep in my gym locker, the other in my car.

That line about dogs having owners and cats having staff? Totally true.

She was a very overweight, sedentary cat when she came to us from the shelter, so I used her delight in hunting her favourite toys as a form of exercise. I'd put her toys in a place that was hard for her to get to, and she'd scramble to them, appearing in my office meowling about her hunting prowess, toy in mouth. She trained me to do this for her many times during the day.

The most convenient place for me to put them was the top of the big scratching post I have to pass all the time to go upstairs to my office. It's been three weeks now since those toys have moved and their presence makes me just too sad, so yesterday I took them down and put them in a drawer.

So I guess the candle is out of the window now.

When Zoe died there was no question about what to do. That tiny, cranky, eccentric black cat spent many years bossing me around. Thanks to her, I need to be kept under a firm paw. When she went to the big catnip patch in the sky I immediately went out and got two more cats to take over from her.

Norma did an excellent job of being a tiny, cranky, eccentric cat. Not knowing what has happened to her leaves me in an odd limbo. I've decided not to look into getting another cat until the spring.

The annoying thing here is that I am now semi-catless. Zubby was always the spousal unit's cat from the get-go. Now Enid has also chosen him as her human. She will deign to let me pet her and make a fuss over her, but she makes it clear who she loves best.

Want to know what rots my socks about this? I was the one who chose her from the shelter. If it wasn't for me, she'd still be living there. Do I get any gratitude for this? Do I? Huh? HUH?

Fuzzy ingrate. It's hard not to be bitter.

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 734.28 miles. Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck. 25 per cent thereTen percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.Ten percent there rubber duck.
Oh man. This is going to be hard
Goal for 2004: 1,000 miles - 1609 kilometers

Going Nowhere Collaboration

.:Comments (16 so far):.

Old Drivel - New Drivel


Subscribe with Bloglines


Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


.:Cast:. .:Diaryland Notes:. .:Comments (16 so far):. .:E-mail:.
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.

Cavort, cavort, my kingdom for a cavort Globe of Blogs 12 Per Cent Beer my partners in crime


A button for random, senseless, drive-by linkings:
Blogroll Me!


< ? blogs by women # >
Bloggers over forty + ?
<< | BlogCanada | >>
[ << ? Verbosity # >> ]
<< x Blog x Philes x >>


This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.

�2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.