Feline Moussassin

This is what we have been entertaining ourselves with for the past week:

The smart cat has since become the destroyer of all iPad related movement... while the less-smart cat watches sans comprehension...

The Hubs has created a monster, as now both cats prowl looking for either an iPad or an iPhone to attack, even when there are no virtual mice running across them.

But they sure are cute when they tucker themselves out:

Fan of Clams

(Continuation of Linguine alla Vongole)

I mean, she is a cat.
But these pics just made me laugh, so I thought I'd share them.
Also, fun with my new camera.

Oh look! Seafood.

Underwater.

Damn.

I hate water.

I want the seafood under the water.

Or I could just eat your face.

Did I mention that my camera goes into auto-macro mode?

This was just a lucky random shot.

Unless you're not a cat person in which case you're just been far too up-close-and-personal with a feline.

Apologies.

(Not really.)

But if you really look you can see the reflection of me holding the camera in her pupil, which is kind of cool.

Also, she's smart enough to do your Trig homework for you, but only if you can translate her sequence of breathy-squeaks, and I dare you to get past "I want this/something."

(Note: Dad's out of ICU! So I thought I could post something goofy.)

Daily Dose of Cuteness

Witness the cute that is the sleeping cat:
Do not click to enlarge... the cuteness is so strong it will go out of focus for your own safety...

Camouflaged by the giant pile of beige blanket, he feels secure.

Plus, he's got his teddy.

(Yes, the teddy's foot says Tempur-Pedic®. We got him for free when we bought our mattress a few years ago. And he's super soft and squishy too.)

As do most pet-owners, I have enough pictures to create a decade's worth of "Daily Dose of Cuteness" blog posts. But I will try to restrain myself.

This weekend: Tangy Asian Chicken!

You WILL like it.

Marketing Fail

Ok, this is seriously F*cked Up.

As previously mentioned, I have two cats. Byron, who is extremely lovable, but in no way smart. He will also eat just about anything you feed him. Unfortunately, he is allergic to all things seafood, so I have to be very careful about what I buy or else we end up with Spastic Colon Kitty, which is in NO WAY cute or fun.

On the other hand we have Keats, who can eat anything she wants. Unfortunately, she doesn't want much. She's incredibly fussy, and additionally she sometimes will not eat if you are in the room with her. I think that stems from the crazy house we got her out of - something to do with Alpha Females and her definitely not being one of them. But there is one thing she will eat:

She freaking loves these things. They are like kitty-crack for her, and if I let her, they would be all she ever ate. If I leave a bag on the counter she will eat right through the bag so she can get the treats. She's obsessed, and lets me know about it at Treat O'Clock every day.
The only down side for her is that she has to stick to the beef and chicken flavors because of Dippy.

But that's not the point.

Look at the label. It's a silly cat laying on its back, dreaming of the crunchy treats it loves. Harmless. What you would expect.

Well, I got a new shipment of treats the other day, and they have changed the design on the bag.

How twisted is this?!?! "Whoohoo, got your tail feathers! Next I'm gonna eatcha!" And the bird looks happy! Like it's a game!

And the Beef ones are just as bad!

(*More exclamation points!!!!!!!!)

Yum! I am SITTING ON MY UNWITTING DINNER! Look at how vacant the cow looks! I'm just chewing my cud, unaware that there is a cat with full bib & silverware sitting on my back. (Last I checked, cats didn't have thumbs, so can't use silverware. In fact, if they DID have thumbs, they wouldn't need us at all because they could open their own cans of food.)

I'm just saying, marketing people at Whiskas: You are F*CKED UP!!!

Meet the Furballs

Really, it was only a matter of time before I blogged about my cats, right?
Besides, dinner tonight is leftovers of the pasta sauce I made last night, so I don't have anything food-wise to impart to you.
So... cats.

If you don't know me, I have two cats. Keats, who is a very smart girl who can solve complex problems, squeaks rather than meows (unless she has found a sock, at which point she yowls with it in her mouth), and was a rescue so took a solid year before she trusted me enough to sit on my lap.

 

Keats, Intent.

Keats, Adorable.

The other one is Byron, and he is very fluffy, looks very regal, loves to curl up with his head in your cleavage, and unfortunately follows that stereotype of beautiful but dumb. And I'm not being mean. He really is just dumb. Like can't-get-out-of-a-push-to-open-closet-door dumb. Instead he just cries until someone lets him out.
(As a comparison, Keats once stared at Mike's closed dresser, jumped on top of it, pushed the door open with her paw, and then jumped down again so she could leap directly into the drawer. Problem: solved.)
But we love him. We just feel badly for Keats sometimes that he's all she has for company.

Byron looking fluffy and majestic.

Byron sleeping upside-down on Mike.

Not. Smart.

So today's Not Smart moment is about Byron learning that Plastic Bags Are Not Toys.  

He stuck his head into a plastic delivery bag, and of course stuck his head through the handle... and panicked. Before I could get to him to remove the bag, he took off like a shot up and down the hall, where it worked its way down his body to his hind legs. Keats started chasing him because he was in such a panic. The noise of the bag, however, scared him so badly I have never seen him run so fast in my life. When I finally cornered him and removed the bag, he slunk in slow motion to the doorway, and spent the next TWO HOURS doing the hunt-crouch all around the apartment. He seemed convinced that the Big Bad Bag was hiding somewhere, just waiting to pounce on him. He didn't even try to sleep on me that night. It wasn't until the next day that he was back to normal.

I can only hope he has actually learned not to stick his head in bags anymore.