The gallery

Today Mom made a new background picture for her notebook.
I think she did a pretty good job although she shed more than a few tears making it.
Can you find me (tip, click on the picture to enlarge it for better detail)?

Storytime

I said I would keep you updated on the Lego front and I said I'd tell you about the vet.

The Lego story is told quickly. I put it in a little photo story for you. Mom finished George and der Dekan helped again ...
Mom has two more projects waiting, but with bigger bricks. I wonder how der Dekan will react to those.

There are no pictures for the vet story because des Dekan's part was yucky and mine was delicate. Pretty much the story of our lives there.
Have you ever wondered if we have really bad fights? Actually, we had some before, but they are very rare. The brat likes to run after me, but often it's more like a ritual. It can turn into staring contests under the bed - which drive Mom nuts because der Dekan will stare which he's very good at and I will growl because I hate him doing that - but we usually don't let the fur fly.

One day, however, Mom found a few small blood stains in the cardboard bed. As I hardly ever use it, she grabbed den Dekan to take a look at him. As you may remember, that's not something either of us is fond of. We make it very clear when we want to be held or cuddled - never lifted up and carried around - and that wasn't one of those moments. Nevertheless, she checked him out as thoroughly as she could, his legs, his head and she went through his fur, but all she found was what could have been a little wound on his toe bean.
When nothing changed over the next few days - no bleeding, no wound to see, no limping or anything else - Mom thought everything was okay.
Wrong. One day der Dekan flopped down next to her to groom and Mom was shocked to see that he had a fat hock. So he got a very spontaneous vet visit.
Der Dekan didn't know serious vet visits since kittenhood and Mom was worried how he would react to something that might cause him pain, but would you believe he was the perfect little gentlecat? Mom said she told them more than once that this was NOT her cat and that she didn't know where he came from and how he got into the carrier. Speaking about carriers, can you believe he jumped right in by himself the first time? That's what you get for being so nosy.
Anyhow, he had an abscess which looked as if it was about to open up by itself and so he just got pain meds and antibiotics.
At home, he showed his true face. Don't spend money on those fake wrestlers, for a fun time watch Mom and den Dekan wrestling!

Sebald Beham, Hercules Killing the Nemean Lion, engraving
1548, National Gallery of Art, made available under CC0 1.0

If you are wondering, Mom wore clothes and her muscles are better not talked about.

Well, Mom had foolishly counted on what they like to call "food motivated" and failed miserably. There were some tears of exhaustion. Next they tried shots (which is usually what Mom chooses over pills, but this time ... "food motivated", ha!). Pathetic, my dear reads, pathetic. So they went back to the pills and a LOT of liquid snacks and that actually did the trick. Not pills in the snack, mind you, but with a bit of wrestling and very quick snack offering to make den Dekan swallow. It wasn't quick, but mostly successful. Until Mom got different pills, that is, which were huge and watching them got fun again for me while both of them had no fun at all.
She was really lucky that her spoilt baby boy doesn't hold a grudge. Ever! Which she might have regretted when he settled on her lap after their first wrestling match and the abscess opened up all over her dress ....
And by the way, our vet needn't have mentioned several times that "she (as in I) gave him a good one". Yes, it was a bite wound and no, the details of that will remain my secret.

If you think that's where the story ends, you are wrong because not long after it was my turn.
I had a cut in a delicate spot - Mom thinks it was one of our ritual chases gone wrong during which der Dekan is usually holding a certain distance when I jump on the cat tower - and the vet said my butt needed to be sprayed with some herbal stuff twice a day for a while and then once!
Oh the indignity!!
But as I'm a darling lady and also like to surprise Mom with what I like to do or not do or what I hate or not, I let her do spray me without any complaint. After two weeks, we were absolutely sure that everything was okay.

Now we never want to see a vet again!!

Lego helpers

Sometimes Mom does weird things. Okay, she does a lot of weird things, but one of includes little colorful bricks - Lego.
I used to help her with those, but to be honest, it became boring pretty quickly. Not having an opposable thumb, I couldn't help her actively, she never took any of my advice on how to improve, and worst of all, she never let me take any of those bricks to play with myself.
"I need those, my darling." "That's too small, I don't want you to swallow one, sweetie." "Oh baby, please don't sit on it." I have no idea why she thinks flattering will make me forget that essentially all she's saying is no, no, NO. She says no a lot. Don't puke on the bed, don't knock that down (granted, she mostly says that to dem Dekan), don't stand on my collarbone ... ouch, ouch, ouch! What a whiner!
Honestly, do I look as if I could do anything wrong? Except maybe being too gorgeous of course.

Back to Lego.
The other day Mom wrote about her latest project, it's a portrait of a beetle, sorry, I mean a Beatle.

Now I did tell you about how we like to confuse Mom, but it's just as much fun for me to see how she confuses the brat.
The first attempt of having him around failed in the most pathetic way. Mom participates in those Crafternoons, a video meeting of some bloggers who chat and work on something creative while doing so. Usually she sits on the bed doing them and she never gets far crafting because der Dekan who thinks she's piece of soft furniture absolutely loves her sitting cross-legged which makes a perfect little nest for him.
This time, however, she decided to work on her Lego Art set and thought that maybe der Dekan would like to help her (seriously, I think she gets less and less smart with age because who in their right mind would think that's a good idea?). She probably craved the cozy feeling of Ponder doing it with her, but honestly - der Dekan is not Ponder.

Well, she mentioned how it went crazy quickly and actually she locked the brat out.
He doesn't deal well with being locked out of Mom's life, no matter how often I tell him it's actually rather boring and I only bear it because it goes great with my nap cycles.
So the next time she let him help again, but she didn't put the studs (that's what the bricks are called she's using at the moment) on the table which quite understandably drove the little predator to madness, but she put them in a bowl.
The result was amazing. See for yourself.

These are the yuckiest kibbles I have seen in my life.

He sat there transfixed, my guess is that he wondered if these were some kind of kibbles that had a weird color and didn't smell. He stared at them for a really long time, even while Mom already started picking them out, and didn't try to touch them!
Mom was so proud of herself.

Not sure how I should deal with this situation ...

Then she opened the box. The lid is attached to the box and part of it was not on the table.
Der Dekan thought it was a great cat bed, anyway. To be on the safe side, Mom pulled the box towards herself a bit more, but he totally went overboard, rubbing himself on the cardboard and rolling around.
It just had to happen - wheeeeee, and down he went off the table. I wish there was a picture or even a video of that! As a German cat, I'm very familiar with the concept of Schadenfreude ...

Anyhow, after that he obviously had to wreak some havoc elsewhere - on the desk - to hide his embarrassment. Mom hates that because her desk is a bit in, erm, disarray at the moment (the biggest euphemism ever) and once again she threw him out until she had finished her square.

Today the boy took out his revenge on the box. It had knocked him down and now he knocked it down. Mom wasn't in the same room at the time and came running thinking he had knocked over a chair, it was so loud! Luckily - for her - the box had not opened up. I think it would have been fun to watch her picking up studs from the floor, but alas, it wasn't to be.

So I guess it's 1:1 in the Lego : Der Dekan game at the moment. I'll keep you posted!


We are not affiliated with Lego in any way, except playing with it every, now and then.

It's mad, I tell you, mad!

Had you thought der Dekan and I disappeared off the planet? No, but we were really busy. We had to eat, we had to nap a lot, play sometimes, fight every, now and then - and most important of all we found a hobby that we can both agree on. It's cheap, it's fun, it's easy and you can do it all around the clock.
I'm of course talking about driving Mom to ultimate madness. It's not that we don't like her, she's quite useful as a can opener, she does our boxes, she makes quite a good bed for lounging (especially if she falls asleep and doesn't move), she reads to us which can be pretty relaxing, she pets us, and she catches our beauty in pictures (den Dekan more than me because my pictures tend to be blurry if the light isn't right and she hates how flash makes my gorgeous fur look all wrong while it really brings out his stripes nicely) and, even more important, knows which pictures of me to delete (who cares if she shows the goofiest, least flattering pictures of the brat, mugshots are rarely good).

First of all, I'm really pushing my art career at the moment.
Let Mom call me a vandal, I don't care. Here's just a small reminder of my inspiration, I never pose like that with my artwork to keep a bit of the Banksy touch.
Der Dekan has pretty much given up on this kind of art installation, by the way. Obviously he had to acknowledge that I'm so much better than he is. He's more into

I am taking this further than der Dekan, though, in frequency for example which is of course a comment on the many Sisyphos tasks humans are dealing with throughout their lives, such as laundry, vacuuming, cleaning, grocery shopping, etc.
To be clear, they are doing some of them happily because they know we allow them do those for our wellbeing - choosing the best food (which we will like and then refuse and then like again), creating a safe but inspiring environment for us to develop our many amazing talents, but also litterboxes for example (although sometimes I wonder if that is more of a weird obsession and I'm thinking about writing my thesis about that).
For Mom, one is obviously kicking back the baseboards with her foot while mumbling to herself, no doubt about the flawless execution of not ripping out just the short, but also the long board. Extra touches are to pull them out far enough to either knock over one or several of the door stoppers or leave them slanted which looks very good if I may say so myself.
I'm quite grateful she took over that duty because if she didn't put them back, I couldn't rip them out again, right? About a minimum of three times a day, with the record probably at about six or seven.
You can tell I'm working very hard on this.

Another way to make Mom panic is to eat something you shouldn't it. Like bats.
If you have been around for a while, you may remember my complicated relationship with bats. No, I didn't follow Ozzy Osbourne's example, I'm talking about felt bats (or actually any other felt pieces).
Mom never fails to show me this picture of my former BFF and she keeps pointing out that two days are not "forever". So petty.

Well, she gave me "another chance at proving I'm a responsible and mature cat".
I won't be saying any more without my lawyer except that I had fun hearing Mom yell for me to stop licking the new bat to death. She says she doesn't want me to swallow the felt that gets stuck on my tongue. Pfff.

By the way, no need to worry about the missing hair on the back of my legs,
it comes and goes.

Unfortunately, Mom has taken measures to fight back in the most cruel and humiliating way. All I'm saying is "vet".
But that, my dear readers, is a story for another time ...

Happy Gotcha Day, I guess

"You have to write something."
"Why?"
"First, you haven't done it last year and you always ignore his birthday. Second, you have become quite lazy with the blog."
"Gee, woman, nothing is happening here!"
"There might be happening something if you didn't sleep so much."
"Hey hey, listen to the pot calling the kettle black."
"Back to Gotcha Day. I told your story on my blog for it this year."
"And on his birthday you told the story about how the brat moved in. What more does he want?"
"Come on, it would just be nice to do it."

So, here I am now thinking.
I never thought cats could get writer's block because, to be honest, I'm not even sure how I got to be a writer in the first place. When I told Mom nothing is happening here, I wasn't so wrong. I don't even want that much to be happening here, you know. It was hard enough when der Dekan moved in.

You know how they say a vampire has to get invited in order to be able to come into a house? Der Dekan claims he was just as much of an abductee as I was. I'm not so sure about that. I think he did one of those vampire mind tricks to convince Mom's neighbor.
Yeah, he's not officially a vampire although he can sure be a biter. Not with me usually. If I feel he's in hunting mode which is not that often, I just growl at him. Mom, on the other hand, keeps saying "Stop it". Der Dekan probably thinks that's his name, that and "Enough now!" Oooh, scary. As if he cares 😹

***

If you wonder now how you missed this important update ... well, I cheated.
I did write this four months ago and then I stopped and forgot about the draft. I just found it again by accident and decided to publish it with the originally intended date.
At least I'm honest about it.
You know, shortly after I started it, summer came and felled us. Literally. We fell like trees, only not as loud. Although Mom claims that she actually worked all summer, I have absolutely no recollection of that. She says that's because we slept all the time and didn't even notice that she did everything to keep us fed and all that. Yeah, I don't even want to judge that. As we like to say here "she can tell me a lot if the day is long".

Anyway, we are back. That's a threat. With butter on the nose.

Frodo "Not My Cat" and Leonie

Do you remember Leonie? My friend Leonie, the lioness?

The other day she casually mentioned her twin. Can you believe she never told me before?
And guess where her twin sister is living ... with Mom's sister B.! And another guess, who do think is Leonie's best friend ... B.'s black Not My Cat! Or should that be Not Her Cat in this case? Ah, who cares.
Here they are, Frodo and Leonie the First (my Leonie moved in later).

I wonder what she said to him that he thought he had to put his paw on her mouth.

He's not the first "Not My Cat" who likes to hang out with B. She's famous for her cat buffets and neighbor cats like to do a quick stop at her place every, now and then to check out what's the special of the day. Der Dekan has said more than once he'd like to visit sometime to see if the buffet is really as good as it says in the reviews.

Frodo and his brother Filou live(d) across the street from B.
Filou was more of a shy and a bit skittish cat. He liked being at home and he liked to roam his territory, but if it was very cold, he'd come by for a quick or sometimes a longer nap in the warm and a meal.
He passed the Rainbow Bridge a while ago and is fondly remembered.

Frodo on the other hand enjoys the finer things in life - as he did his brother's leftovers (does that sound familiar to you, only that somecat dares taking his Lady's leftovers, aka mine).
Of course he insists on a stroll through the neighborhood, but even more he insists on the absolute submission of humans. It's his world, they are just allowed to live in it if they know their place and have opposable thumbs and the cans, pouches, and packs to open with those thumbs.

This is where King Frodo likes to hold court when he's outside, by the way. People know he's sitting there and come by just to pay homage to him. Many of them think it's the house where he lives and are surprised to learn that his home is on the other side of the street, but seriously, show me the king who only has one house. I wouldn't be at all surprised if Frodo had a few secret ones on the side. I'll have to call him sometime and ask.

Frodo looks like a big bear of a cat, but of course it's all hair and in the middle a tiny starving body. You know how humans are, opposable thumbs or not, you just can't rely on them for ten meals a day, but when they start snacking ...
Having to be hungry all the time while ruling the neighborhood with a benevolent but firm paw is deeply exhausting and calls for comfortable sleeping spots.
Look what B. is offering him, though!

An armchair which is clearly too small for such a big personality.

The floor. Okay, so there is a rug, but still. Leonie can't believe it, either.

A hard chair!
After Frodo let B. know that this was absolutely unacceptable, she showed a bit more effort, but why do humans always need a kick, a poke, a scratch or extra hair in their nose to provide for the simplest amenities?
Is that the way you treat a 17 year old feline king?

And then she complains when he takes up a tiny bit of space on her couch, pokes her armchair just a little bit with one claw or demands to be set free to see his kingdom at 2 a.m.
Humans, I swear!!!

Taking back the throne

I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the last post. What a sneaky little punk!
He was right about my spending a night away from home, though. Mom is so lucky that I never hold a grudge for long because not only did I have to stay at the vet's all by myself, but it was for nothing! Can you believe it??
My vet had heard some heart murmur when I was so excited and so they shaved my chest - now that my belly is finally starting to grow back in - and gave me an ultrasound and Mom was too wimpy to even come and hold my paw. Her excuse was that she thought he would upset me even more.

Good news, though. There's no medication needed yet - take that, you liquid snack hungry little brat - and the vet found a lot of wonderful words for my blood work.
When Mom picked me up and finally took me back home again, I spent a few hours on the Stairs to Nowhere just to show her and dem Dekan how hurt I was. Later Mom told me that he had been very confused and sensitive about me being gone. Who would have thought ....

Anyway, I needed to make clear that I'm still the boss here, so I changed my routine around a bit - slept on the pillow behind Mom's head, kept ripping the kitchen baseboard out every time I came by the kitchen (always worth a little detour), slept on Mom for hours and ignored her pleas to let her breathe.
Most important, though, I took back my throne on the wardrobe to set a sign.

Don't mess with Lady Gundel!

Unfortunately that means we have to do the same stupid thing again next week because the vet is now sure they can do the anesthesia for my dental appointment without a problem.
If you have any tips for a good revenge, let me know!