Cat Yoga for any Cat

Today I'm feeling extra lazy....specially since I just finished my Yoga. So no words of wisdom here, but I do have a good book pick for you...."Cat Yoga" by Rick Tillotson. They even have a nifty set of cool postcards with awesome poses. By the way, they asked ME to pose, but I turned them down--too much in my hectic schedule. For more info go to http://www.clarksonpotter.com and you'll be in shape in no time!

Tell um The Boyfriend sent you!

Rug Rats and Kitties just DON'T Mix

One of the huge irritations around here is when the grandkids come to visit. I call them Rug Rats and in general, Rug Rats and Kitties just don't mix. However, there is one RR that is especially terrifying. Her name is Isabella--Bella for short. The Kid is pure Hell on Wheels and possible/likely death to all animals smaller than her. She may appear All Sunshine here, but don't let the outfit fool you. Let me tell you, she has the look in her eye and any animal with a particle of sense can spot it--Cruella Deville in the flesh!!

Take last Easter...Becky had the brilliant idea to buy ducklings for all the grandkids. Never mind that I wanted to kill them and had to be locked out of the laundry room.....little did they know that the REAL AND PRESENT danger was Bella. To her it was killing them with kindness-

"Lemme hold da duckies, Lemme hold da duckies."

She was so beside herself when she saw that little yellow ball of fluff, her hands would start shaking trying to grab it around its scrawny little neck. If they left her alone in the laundry room with them, invariably you'd hear a very frantic high pitched quacking coming from there.....and usually they wanted to blame it on me. But sure enough, it was Bella with a strangle hold on one. (Have you ever seen bugged out duck eyes...not pretty.) Guards had to be posted at the duck box at all times if Bella was around. It nearly ruined our Easter.

One day Becky had enough of those pooping little quackers and had another brilliant idea....NOT. "Gee, Let's send them home with the grandkids" Yes, they were safe from me, but suddenly thrown into a whole new horrifying situation... Though I never heard of them again, I could only but wonder what their final demise looked like. I just couldn't understand why it wouldn't have been at least somewhat better for ME to end up with them in my tummy, rather than being tortured by those awful little grandkids...

And Speaking of feathered things, we have a permanent resident here at Full Circle Ranch House....his name is Pip, The Maniacal Singing Canary. (I know, I know Pippen and Pip--creative, huh?)

Becky has this idiotic idea that everyone should own a canary. The first time she heard one sing--so the story goes--she just HAD to have one and wondered why everyone didn't own one.

EXCUSE ME?? Did anyone ever tell her that besides Rug Rats...Boyfriend here and birds just don't mix?? That tweeter drives me to distraction--and I'm not the only one! Just ask Number Two Son, Jordan and Number Two Daughter, Anna what THEY think. Those two spoiled kids have been known to throw a blanket over that bird's cage during the day just to shut him up. He's so dumb he thinks it's night and won't sing. Mu Ha Ha Ha Ha Meooowww! (Works for me.)

Actually, another trick that stuns him to silence is when I've managed to fly through the air from the bureau right smack onto his cage--It's happened twice now, but that didn't go over so well. A spray bottle of vinegar water sits nearby just for such an occassion. I got sprayed like a bug til I was drenched and stinky. I think I licked fur for two hours--HAIRBALL time!! And speaking of which...gotta run... Achk, achk kkkuk

Who Owns This Blog Spot Anyway?

Every once in a while Boyfriend here lays in front of the computer with a meowlevolant glare somehow willing his thoughts to mysteriously appear on this blog. This is known as cat channeling. However, this is NOT his blog, though I will occassionally share the space with him! This blog space is owned by one Rebecca Hostetter!!

So just a note of clarification...the 4 evil children mentioned in his 1st blog are really delightful little girls, belonging to Mick and Scott McDonald, our friends. I'm just sure they never intended to flush him down the toilet, but hey--stuff happens. The McDonalds moved to The Shire--our affectionate name for Wallowa County, Oregon--last summer. We have an amazing covenant community here and in addition to that we just happen to be situated in the most beautiful spot in the world--bar none. It's easy to see why people end up moving to this valley. If you build it they will come, as the saying goes. [The Shire on a winter morn]

Scott and Mick have a dream of starting a dairy and creamery here someday. They have owned a special miniature breed of cows called Dexters http://www.dextercattle.org and have spent the past few years studying and reseaching starting up a dairy and making cheese. Mick is an extraordinary cook and hostess and going to any event at their home is sheer ecstacy.

I don't know how she manages it with 4 children under the age of 5, but she does it in a grand way. Scott was born and raised on a big ranch in Eastern Oregon and both of them long to have a small ranch of their own someday. For now, they are renting in town, hence the advent of the Boyfriend into our otherwise tranquil household.

I admit, I longed to have a good house cat but figured it was out of the question, due to my side-kick, Pippen, a Toy Austrailian Shepherd who is pretty much one brained...the groove being...KILL ANY KITTY THAT MOVES!!! When the McDonalds had to give up this funny feline they asked if we would take him. I said I would give him a try but he would probably never make it in the house and would thus be relegated to "barn cat" status.

How dumb was I?! Within two days he had Pippen whipped into shape and cowering in a corner. He now completely rules and dominates poor Pippen. His greatest joy is to torment the pooch the moment he knows he's locked in his crate for the night.

It goes like this...Boyfriend will be sound asleep on my bed until he hears the click of the crate door shutting closed. Suddenly, his evil little head will lift from his paws. Swiftly and Silently, he flies through the air pouncing with one felled swoop onto the top of the crate. Hanging over the edge of the wicker box, he begins his side assault through the bars by whapping the poor whipped pup relentlessly about the face.

Luckily, we had his claws removed. I hated doing it but there was ABSOLUTELY no choice. He was death on my expensive Oriental string paper not to mention what he could/would do to the grandkids! Not only does he torture Pippen in his crate, but to add insult to injury he's actually taken over his bed whenever he can get his large flabby body in there--with or without Pippen! [Boyfriend flaunting his power]

His other domain of domination would be at my computer. He can't stand being left out or put aside by a mere machine. I dare not leave the keyboard for a second or the blog will look something like this:

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And then there would be the maniacal singing Canary that is his Arch Enemy. But where does the time go? That cat tail will have to wait til tomorrow and hopefully said Canary will still be alive!

One diabolical kitty!

For the most part blogs are so boring. Do I look bored to you? Actually, this is where I hatch my best plans. I may look like I'm sleeping, but I am really thinking. I think all the time. I think, therefore, I am.

The sink in the master bathroom just happens to fit me to a T. It's the purrfect (get it?) multipurpose hangout. And when I'm thirsty--it's easy--I meow in a really pathetic way and Becky comes running to turn on the tap. Why grovel drinking out of a bowl when you can get it fresh from the faucet? I tell ya, I have these humans trained.

Looking at this picture you probably think I've always had the life of Riley. Well, you'd be wrong. Before I took over Full Circle Ranch here in Oregon I spent a miserable time in servitude to four little girls--evil little girls who dressed me up in doll's clothing, jumped with me on the trampoline, tried to drown me in the toilet and pretty much daily concocted various other ways to torture me. It's not my fault I became The Diabolical Kitty mua ha ha ha ha-meowwww.

They called me Teddy but here I am pretty much just known as "The Boyfriend". Maybe that's because I slobber on Becky sometimes and she thinks I have a crush on her...or because I get to sleep between her and Rahn at night and he better dare not try to move me. I'll let her think whatever if it gets me my daily bowl.

Still, I probably would have never left their household (the parents adored me) accept that they moved to a new rental--NO CATS ALLOWED! (YES!!!) And did I want to move in with the Hostetters who had no children living at home? Yes!!! I thought I died and went to heaven....until I found out they have five grandchildren. Which I shall tell you all about in due course. Let me just say, life is never purrrrfect--get it?

But right now, it's snack time, so gotta run!