Everyone here is sick and the movement around the house is slow and cranky. More snow last night and I feel more is brewing. I sit by the tree, in the sunlight, dreaming of warm summer winds, fresh cat mint, the frogs singing and the crunch of grasshoppers between my teeth.
I walk alone, no other tracks accompany me this morning. Brand new snow, no mice tunnels yet. The wheeled machine that eats snow hasn't even appeared. It gives me energy and renews my spirit. Shade should come with me, her spirit could use some tweaking.
They returned from Christmas away with these pics of some of the woodland creatures that would eat out of their hands. They should have brought them here for a visit. I would have loved to try to eat ...er...no...feed them.
I can't wait for what ever is coming to finally come. The house is actually vibrating with all the excitement. The wee ones are running constantly from room to room, the tree is making me nervous and the Peacemaker is busy sewing and cooking. I feel a little left out. I tried to contribute to the excitement by eating some shiny ribbon but then had to leave it in a pile on the floor with a hairball. I also pooped right outside my litter box to shake things up a bit but that appears not to be a good thing to do this time of year. I then surrender to showing my belly, trying to get back into the good graces.
Yesterday a gorgeous fox walked through the yard peeking into the windows, in the middle of the afternoon. I think he wants to be my friend. He was in the field jumping and dancing. On the white snow, in the sun, he looked like he was on fire. I cried at the door to go dancing but to no avail. I'll watch for him today.
Goldie~I know some of the canines out there have "booties" to help them through this wretched time of year but about us? Anyone have these on their Christmas lists? I'll have to check out Ebay.
Shade~Yes Idiot, it is a great invention called the long fur between your toes.
Goldie~ I wish you would quit looking over my shoulder.
I had just arose from a nice quiet nap and decided I needed to relax by the fire. There I found a beautiful surprise. In a bowl, warm and soft were 3 blocks of creamy white cheese. I am really spoiled, they love me so much. I was just starting to enjoy my little snack when the Peacemaker walked in. Screams echoed through the house...bad cat...cheesecake....ruined. I don't know what the big deal was. You would have thought I pooped in the darn bowl or something. She whisked it away, fixed it and made this revolting concoction. Chocolate..blech!!!
They were talking about a picture they had taken of "a snow covered cat tail". I was curious to see it as I wondered why they just didn't take a picture of mine. Well, this is what I saw! What poor creature does this wee tail belong to? What beast is walking our fine woods to cause such damage? The most disturbing thing is why did my kind, loving folks take a picture of such sadness and then leave the fur ball out there in the snow! I am thinking of getting a rescue mission together but Shade wouldn't go outside if her fur was on fire and the wee ones can't even get their boots on themselves. I need time to think but I will now be sleeping with one eye open.
Normally the furry eunuch will be handling these stories, I have way more imminent things to attend to, but there will be times when I'll need to step in for some clarification. We have had a chat about his hysteria. There are two times of year, outside time and inside time. I take this inside time to bask in the heat of the fire, find ample laps in which to curl and relax, relax, relax. He is way too hyper. There is a celebration approaching and I have found the best perch is on the lovely silver embroidered linen on the dining room table. They don't seem to happy with my decision but I am a lady of leisure, only the best will do. I am waiting in newly awakened anticipation for the outside tree to make it's appearance inside. That apricot fool will be sure to faint.
I am waiting for this to change but it does not appear to be going away. Why? What have I done to endure this abuse. My daily treks have become short dashes. The peacemaker has been reading a story to the wee ones about a British feline by the name of Mog who encounters similar white circumstances and the falling flakes are actually delectable perfect little mice. This is not the case, I fear that was just wishful dreaming. I am going back to bed.