A morning in the Cat House

Not *that* kind. Get your mind out of the gutter...

Daybreak dawns in Buffalo. I feel a tickle alongside my sheek, a whisker.
Could be anyone's until I feel a very cold, very wet, very boogery nose poke
through my lips and I sputter myself awake. Good morning, China Dolly.

Sufficiently Listerined, I trudge back to bed. My husband's got the sports
talk radio on and for some crackpot reason it seems to spew forth something
about what the presidential debates and the recent economic unpleasantness
have to do with the selection of the new Hockey Night in Canada theme. It's
barely after 5 AM and I lumber into bed.

China, unsatisfied with her earlier excavations into my mouth, decides to
examine further and I taste a mixed bouquet of paw, fur and Tidy Cats, with a
sprinkling of catnip from a rather aged source. I have a preference foir the
cleaner taste of Arm & Hammer Odor Control myself, but at this hour I can't
be choosy. Sufficently Listerined, back to bed.

There is a mighty sound of thunder rolling toward the bedroom, and a great
dawn-shattering "OOF!" this is what Brandy Jumping on Mama sounds like. She
swats the inspecting China-paw away and bends down the Lick The Mama, as Mama
must be clean before she has to go to work at noon.

WHUMPH!!! Stosh taking a run and thudding into the side of the mattress. A
shriek as he pounces and wrestles that fierce serpent, Mama's braid. Stosh is
the one purring.

FWOMPH. The sound of Philip plumping himself into the bed and slacking
between me and Louie. He has been breaking out of his shell and joining us
more and more. I smell something herby in the air around him. The proposed
new Hockey Night in Canada theme takes on a hallucinatory air of the Grateful
Dead. Roxie trills in time to Mama yelling, "NO, Little Guy! Leave Mommy's
tail alone!"

BAPP! Sabrina, accompanied by muttered obscenities, pops Stosh in the nose
and he and Brandy meld into a whump-bump-whump of wrestling on the bedroom
floor.

Where is Daddy? Sound asleep, dreaming of a Stanley Cup.

It isn't 5:30 AM yet. But it's okay. Brandy kneads me gently, Philip's bulk
is comforting; and I don't really care that, after the sky is bright, I'll
have a pile of catnip to clean up where an enterprising little person tore
the plastic tub open.

Blessed be,
Baha

--
Message posted via http://www.catkb.com

God ain't it great to be a cat slave :-)

"Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote in message news:8b5fef036a5ec@uwe...
Not *that* kind. Get your mind out of the gutter...

Daybreak dawns in Buffalo. I feel a tickle alongside my sheek, a whisker.
Could be anyone's until I feel a very cold, very wet, very boogery nose
poke
through my lips and I sputter myself awake. Good morning, China Dolly.

Sufficiently Listerined, I trudge back to bed. My husband's got the sports
talk radio on and for some crackpot reason it seems to spew forth
something
about what the presidential debates and the recent economic unpleasantness
have to do with the selection of the new Hockey Night in Canada theme.
It's
barely after 5 AM and I lumber into bed.

China, unsatisfied with her earlier excavations into my mouth, decides to
examine further and I taste a mixed bouquet of paw, fur and Tidy Cats,
with a
sprinkling of catnip from a rather aged source. I have a preference foir
the
cleaner taste of Arm & Hammer Odor Control myself, but at this hour I
can't
be choosy. Sufficently Listerined, back to bed.

There is a mighty sound of thunder rolling toward the bedroom, and a great
dawn-shattering "OOF!" this is what Brandy Jumping on Mama sounds like.
She
swats the inspecting China-paw away and bends down the Lick The Mama, as
Mama
must be clean before she has to go to work at noon.

WHUMPH!!! Stosh taking a run and thudding into the side of the mattress. A
shriek as he pounces and wrestles that fierce serpent, Mama's braid. Stosh
is
the one purring.

FWOMPH. The sound of Philip plumping himself into the bed and slacking
between me and Louie. He has been breaking out of his shell and joining us
more and more. I smell something herby in the air around him. The proposed
new Hockey Night in Canada theme takes on a hallucinatory air of the
Grateful
Dead. Roxie trills in time to Mama yelling, "NO, Little Guy! Leave Mommy's
tail alone!"

BAPP! Sabrina, accompanied by muttered obscenities, pops Stosh in the nose
and he and Brandy meld into a whump-bump-whump of wrestling on the bedroom
floor.

Where is Daddy? Sound asleep, dreaming of a Stanley Cup.

It isn't 5:30 AM yet. But it's okay. Brandy kneads me gently, Philip's
bulk
is comforting; and I don't really care that, after the sky is bright, I'll
have a pile of catnip to clean up where an enterprising little person tore
the plastic tub open.

Blessed be,
Baha

--
Message posted via http://www.catkb.com

Matthew wrote:
God ain't it great to be a cat slave :-)

I wouldn't live any other way.

--
Message posted via CatKB.com
http://www.catkb.com/Uwe/Forums.aspx...dotes/200810/1

And, as you drift in and out of sleep, you know that BASICALLY all is well
with the world.
"Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote in message news:8b5fef036a5ec@uwe...
Not *that* kind. Get your mind out of the gutter...

Daybreak dawns in Buffalo. I feel a tickle alongside my sheek, a whisker.
Could be anyone's until I feel a very cold, very wet, very boogery nose
poke
through my lips and I sputter myself awake. Good morning, China Dolly.

Sufficiently Listerined, I trudge back to bed. My husband's got the sports
talk radio on and for some crackpot reason it seems to spew forth
something
about what the presidential debates and the recent economic unpleasantness
have to do with the selection of the new Hockey Night in Canada theme.
It's
barely after 5 AM and I lumber into bed.

China, unsatisfied with her earlier excavations into my mouth, decides to
examine further and I taste a mixed bouquet of paw, fur and Tidy Cats,
with a
sprinkling of catnip from a rather aged source. I have a preference foir
the
cleaner taste of Arm & Hammer Odor Control myself, but at this hour I
can't
be choosy. Sufficently Listerined, back to bed.

There is a mighty sound of thunder rolling toward the bedroom, and a great
dawn-shattering "OOF!" this is what Brandy Jumping on Mama sounds like.
She
swats the inspecting China-paw away and bends down the Lick The Mama, as
Mama
must be clean before she has to go to work at noon.

WHUMPH!!! Stosh taking a run and thudding into the side of the mattress. A
shriek as he pounces and wrestles that fierce serpent, Mama's braid. Stosh
is
the one purring.

FWOMPH. The sound of Philip plumping himself into the bed and slacking
between me and Louie. He has been breaking out of his shell and joining us
more and more. I smell something herby in the air around him. The proposed
new Hockey Night in Canada theme takes on a hallucinatory air of the
Grateful
Dead. Roxie trills in time to Mama yelling, "NO, Little Guy! Leave Mommy's
tail alone!"

BAPP! Sabrina, accompanied by muttered obscenities, pops Stosh in the nose
and he and Brandy meld into a whump-bump-whump of wrestling on the bedroom
floor.

Where is Daddy? Sound asleep, dreaming of a Stanley Cup.

It isn't 5:30 AM yet. But it's okay. Brandy kneads me gently, Philip's
bulk
is comforting; and I don't really care that, after the sky is bright, I'll
have a pile of catnip to clean up where an enterprising little person tore
the plastic tub open.

Blessed be,
Baha

--
Message posted via http://www.catkb.com

"Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote in news:8b5fef036a5ec@uwe:

Not *that* kind. Get your mind out of the gutter...

Daybreak dawns in Buffalo. I feel a tickle alongside my sheek, a
whisker. Could be anyone's until I feel a very cold, very wet, very
boogery nose poke through my lips and I sputter myself awake. Good
morning, China Dolly.

Sufficiently Listerined, I trudge back to bed. My husband's got the
sports talk radio on and for some crackpot reason it seems to spew
forth something about what the presidential debates and the recent
economic unpleasantness have to do with the selection of the new
Hockey Night in Canada theme.

Well, I nearly made $10,000! My neighbour wrote one of the (15,000)
entries for the new Hockey Night in Canada theme contest. A nice cheery
tune with lyrics. He asked me if I could translate them into French for
him, so I said sure (I've done translations for him before).
Unbeknownst to me at the time, when he entered the contest he put me
down as the translator, with a 10% share of the $100,000 prize. Nice
neighbour. Unfortunately he didn't make it to the semi-finals, so no
easy money for me, and no place in history.

Bobble


It's barely after 5 AM and I lumber into bed. China, unsatisfied with
her earlier excavations into my mouth, decides
to examine further and I taste a mixed bouquet of paw, fur and Tidy
Cats, with a sprinkling of catnip from a rather aged source. I have a
preference foir the cleaner taste of Arm & Hammer Odor Control myself,
but at this hour I can't be choosy. Sufficently Listerined, back to
bed.

There is a mighty sound of thunder rolling toward the bedroom, and a
great dawn-shattering "OOF!" this is what Brandy Jumping on Mama
sounds like. She swats the inspecting China-paw away and bends down
the Lick The Mama, as Mama must be clean before she has to go to work
at noon.

WHUMPH!!! Stosh taking a run and thudding into the side of the
mattress. A shriek as he pounces and wrestles that fierce serpent,
Mama's braid. Stosh is the one purring.

FWOMPH. The sound of Philip plumping himself into the bed and slacking
between me and Louie. He has been breaking out of his shell and
joining us more and more. I smell something herby in the air around
him. The proposed new Hockey Night in Canada theme takes on a
hallucinatory air of the Grateful Dead. Roxie trills in time to Mama
yelling, "NO, Little Guy! Leave Mommy's tail alone!"

BAPP! Sabrina, accompanied by muttered obscenities, pops Stosh in the
nose and he and Brandy meld into a whump-bump-whump of wrestling on
the bedroom floor.

Where is Daddy? Sound asleep, dreaming of a Stanley Cup.

It isn't 5:30 AM yet. But it's okay. Brandy kneads me gently, Philip's
bulk is comforting; and I don't really care that, after the sky is
bright, I'll have a pile of catnip to clean up where an enterprising
little person tore the plastic tub open.

Blessed be,
Baha

What a nice person.
"bobblespin" wrote in message
...
"Baha via CatKB.com" u18616@uwe wrote in news:8b5fef036a5ec@uwe:

Not *that* kind. Get your mind out of the gutter...

Daybreak dawns in Buffalo. I feel a tickle alongside my sheek, a
whisker. Could be anyone's until I feel a very cold, very wet, very
boogery nose poke through my lips and I sputter myself awake. Good
morning, China Dolly.

Sufficiently Listerined, I trudge back to bed. My husband's got the
sports talk radio on and for some crackpot reason it seems to spew
forth something about what the presidential debates and the recent
economic unpleasantness have to do with the selection of the new
Hockey Night in Canada theme.

Well, I nearly made $10,000! My neighbour wrote one of the (15,000)
entries for the new Hockey Night in Canada theme contest. A nice cheery
tune with lyrics. He asked me if I could translate them into French for
him, so I said sure (I've done translations for him before).
Unbeknownst to me at the time, when he entered the contest he put me
down as the translator, with a 10% share of the $100,000 prize. Nice
neighbour. Unfortunately he didn't make it to the semi-finals, so no
easy money for me, and no place in history.

Bobble


It's barely after 5 AM and I lumber into bed. China, unsatisfied with
her earlier excavations into my mouth, decides
to examine further and I taste a mixed bouquet of paw, fur and Tidy
Cats, with a sprinkling of catnip from a rather aged source. I have a
preference foir the cleaner taste of Arm & Hammer Odor Control myself,
but at this hour I can't be choosy. Sufficently Listerined, back to
bed.

There is a mighty sound of thunder rolling toward the bedroom, and a
great dawn-shattering "OOF!" this is what Brandy Jumping on Mama
sounds like. She swats the inspecting China-paw away and bends down
the Lick The Mama, as Mama must be clean before she has to go to work
at noon.

WHUMPH!!! Stosh taking a run and thudding into the side of the
mattress. A shriek as he pounces and wrestles that fierce serpent,
Mama's braid. Stosh is the one purring.

FWOMPH. The sound of Philip plumping himself into the bed and slacking
between me and Louie. He has been breaking out of his shell and
joining us more and more. I smell something herby in the air around
him. The proposed new Hockey Night in Canada theme takes on a
hallucinatory air of the Grateful Dead. Roxie trills in time to Mama
yelling, "NO, Little Guy! Leave Mommy's tail alone!"

BAPP! Sabrina, accompanied by muttered obscenities, pops Stosh in the
nose and he and Brandy meld into a whump-bump-whump of wrestling on
the bedroom floor.

Where is Daddy? Sound asleep, dreaming of a Stanley Cup.

It isn't 5:30 AM yet. But it's okay. Brandy kneads me gently, Philip's
bulk is comforting; and I don't really care that, after the sky is
bright, I'll have a pile of catnip to clean up where an enterprising
little person tore the plastic tub open.

Blessed be,
Baha

Baha via CatKB.com wrote:
Not *that* kind. Get your mind out of the gutter...

Daybreak dawns in Buffalo. I feel a tickle alongside my sheek, a whisker.
Could be anyone's until I feel a very cold, very wet, very boogery nose poke
through my lips and I sputter myself awake. Good morning, China Dolly.
snip
Blessed be,
Baha


Lots of sleeping purrs,
Polonca and Soncek