Category Archives: Cat Stuff

Return of Cat Post: I Have No Shame

I know, I know. How pathetic to post cat photos in order to generate blog hits. But the cat wasn’t harmed. Just a little irritated at having his nap disturbed. And my self-esteem will be greatly enhanced if you just click this post over and over again.  Next time, it will be the dogs. And they’re adorable.


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O’Malley, Fierce Jungle Cat

I hate to say how long it took him to learn the chickens were ceramic.

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OK, not much here. But I’ve been busy.

No, really. Busy. There was the month I worked as a bureaucrat for the Census. All that paperwork doesn’t get done by itself, Buddy.  And there was the leaky roof.  The tomato plants don’t grow themselves. OK, actually they do. But then I had books to organize… whole SHELVES of books. And, of course, the naps…

I’ll have some new posts soon. Really riveting stuff, I promise. Honestly. Just you wait…


Filed under Cat Stuff, Procrastination Is An Art, Uncategorized

Ubiquitous Cat Blog, Phase III

O’Malley does not take kindly to the paparazzi


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Ubiquitous Cat Post the Second

Some of you may already  be familiar with this picture. It’s the Cat Also Known as O’Malley. He came into our life about five years ago. A girl my elder son knew could no longer keep this cute, adorable kitten.  She had named him after O’Malley the Alley Cat, character in the one Disney feature that we had escaped seeing. So he became ours.

It was a strange time. In rapid succession, we had just lost a Golden, Molly, age 15, a Bassett, Flash, age 13, and a long-haired cat named Emma, age 16.  O’Malley came in, took charge. He left instructions on feeding – the bowl must NEVER be empty. Else you get The Glare. Water is to be drunk out of the bathroom sink. Never a bowl.   Our bed is his bed. Our couch, his. He frequently lays between us at night, stretched out to his full 3′ 3″ length, his head on my pillow. He also hogs the covers.

For fun, he pretends my wife is a gazelle and spends many happy hours stalking her through the house, trying to bring her down by biting her feet.  He frequently mistakes my arm for a scratching post. And at moments when I’m feeling my most creative at the computer, he jumps on the desk and forces his considerable weight into my arms. And purrs.

More later. I fiand id hardter tu typppe now…

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