Back Up Slowly and No One Will Get Hurt

Last Saturday my landlord had scheduled to show my apartment to 8 prospective new tenants.  After much cleaning and tidying on my part, I elected to head to the suburbs with Dorothy for the day, so we wouldn't be in the apartment to encroach upon the viewing.

However, I did leave my cats to more or less fend for themselves.  I told Plum to keep an eye on things, since he is a good Watch Brit, and I gave Posy permission to run under the bed and hide if she felt so inclined.

And my landlord tells me that she did feel so inclined for the first few visits.  But then she decided to hold her ground--or rather, hold her spot on the comforter at the end of the bed.  So when people walked into my back bedroom, this is what greeted them:

Back up slowly, or you might lose a digit:

Meanwhile I’m sure Plum was greeting people at the door, all very British Shorthair cat of him—welcome, would you like some earl gray, pip pip, you can sip it while you admire my beauty, etc. etc.:

And here they are at rest on the couch, glad I am back home and tolerating Dorothy's return as well.  Good job, guys!

Bulldogge By-Laws: And Then There Was Rest

The Bulldogge By-Laws volume is back out on the table, and there has been much pawing through its pages.  Apparently, the clause I’m supposed to read and memorize goes something like, “On the day after a long hike down an old railroad path, during which a Bulldogge performed her walking admirably, said Bulldogge does not, I repeat not, have to walk any distance whatsoever.  In fact, she does not – and will not – turn a corner.  She will do her business a few doors down from her apartment, and then maybe she will walk back.  But more likely she will collapse dramatically down on to the sidewalk and try to get passers-by to think that she is misused.”

Dorothy thinking:  walking is for suckers.

Sharing

Plum and Posy have been sharing the pillow under the desk lamp more often than they used to.  I think Posy is less inclined to move and more inclined to hold her ground, and Plum knows that if he climbs on top of her to make her move, I will get angry.  So we have all reached a somewhat comfy detente!

Posy feeling bookish:

And this is what Posy really thinks of my detente:

Disgruntled

Disgruntled is the look on your face when your sister is in the spot where you want to be, yet your mother is watching you so you can't just bite your sister and make her move:

Feeding Time at the Zoo

When I feed my pets in the morning and at night, I go in age order.  First Plum gets his food, then Posy, and finally it is Dorothy’s turn.  I’ve been doing it this way since day one, so Dorothy expects to be the third one allowed up to the buffet, if you will.  And she will usually wait quite patiently for her turn.  Lately, however, something has been occurring that makes her a little edgy, and that something is that while I am dishing out Plum’s food, he gets all happy and has started to include Dorothy in his happiness by rubbing up against her – including putting his tail smack in her face – while he waits. 

Dorothy does NOT know what to make of this.  She has tried reacting in different ways:  she has interpreted it as his strange way of saying “let’s play!” and has crouched down on all fours, amenable, with a bark or two.  She has tried ignoring it and sitting stock still, seemingly intent on pretending that it isn’t happening.  And she has tried edging away from him subtly by side-stepping a few inches in the opposite direction.

None of these options works—by which I mean, none gets Plum to stop invading her space with bushy tail and purr.  Dorothy remains worried that whatever Plum is doing, it will end in him slapping her face with his lilac paw.  Oh help!

Dorothy thinking, oh please, make him stop!

Peppermint Posy

During the winter, the view got so boring that some of us had to resort to threats of mailing one's person to a place with more entertaining windows.

We occasionally saw a squirrel jump down the fire escape stairs, but that was it.  But now the sparrows are back in the alleyway, and both cats enjoy giving them the evil eye from our windows.

Here is Posy, fresh from a stint as a fierce tigress-y kind of hunter.  Good job, Posy!

Monkey In My Mouth

Nothing pleases Dorothy more than to find a treasure in the park.  She gets happy if the treasure is but a fine stick; but if the treasure is a stinky old ball, or some sort of dog or child’s toy, well then! – her glee and amazement know no bounds.

Yesterday she went to the park with her father and returned quite quickly.  Usually they will do three or four turns around the park, but this time she found a squeaky monkey on a park bench and so had to bring it home, STAT.

After giving it a rinse, we let her enjoy the monkey and make it squeak for a good hour or so.  But we took it away when she removed its rubber monkey tail from its rubber monkey body.

You can be sure that Dorothy will be checking the particular bench on which she found the monkey each time we go to the park from here on in.  Who knows what will be there next?!

Dorothy thinking, this is MY monkey; it is not YOUR monkey.