Coming to an end

The year is coming to an end, not me. Not this blog, either, although you maybe thought so. Gosh, I have been lazy lately. And clingy. Mom says I'm extremely clingy, and she's right. It's probably the weather. It feels good to snuggle up to a human who keeps telling you how good it feels to snuggle up to a cat.
Until she's freaking out, that is. She has that from time, telling us (Greebo is usually on the other side while the girls hang out in a bit of distance) that she can't breathe anymore and that she needs to move. It usually doesn't last long before she's back with us again.

Meffi is so much better now, and she makes the pill giving pretty easy for Mom ... we'll see how long that will last.
She even took up lap sessions which she hadn't done for the longest time, in fact since Mom got her own desk which has been years.
Isn't she a little beauty?

Now that she's gaining weight again, Esme and I have no scruples stealing her food if we think it's better than ours. Or if we were too fast cleaning off our own plate. Or just for the heck of it.
Too bad the paparazza was there ...

A lot of you already know it. We had to say goodbye to our beloved Buster bunny.
It came as a complete surprise and it went fast, too fast. I miss my little buddy and I also know Mom is still very sad. She can't talk about him without tearing up. Her friend Heather (the other half of the HeatherCats) painted a picture after one of Buster's photos. It's just how I imagine him. He's probably snuggling up to Merlin right this second, lying in the grass in the sun.
You won't be forgotten, Buster, that's for sure.

Nine years

Time runs by, that's not new. Not that us cats care. We live in the here and now, as in "Come HERE and look what I've got" or "I want food NOW".
Mom is a bit jealous of that ability, just as much of our ways to relax without feeling the slightest bit of guilt. Just now she took a look at Esme sleeping on a chair and Buster sleeping underneath the same chair and heaved one of her sighs ... and took a picture.
That's not the picture I want to show you, however. When downloading the pictures from the camera to the infamous "ATempCats" folder that holds everything that still needs to be cropped etc., she found a picture of Buster having an intimate little talk with one of the wooden cats and it reminded her of something.

Almost exactly nine years are between these pictures of Merlin and Buster. The wooden cat is still there to tell the tale. If it could talk, that is.

Rollercoaster

Life has been a rollercoaster around here lately. The worst of all was the scare that my beautiful lady gave us, though.
Mom was convinced that this was it, but just when she decided she couldn't let Meffi suffer any longer, the Queen showed her clearly who makes the decisions in this house, and it's definitely not the human. She got up and had a bite to eat.
Now she gets a pill a day, is generally being adorable except when I annoy her, and glares at Mom when she tries to put her eye meds in. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Two different eye meds five times a day because she managed to get a little wound in her eye. It's a lot better now, thank Bast, and they are down to three times a day.

Meffi in her favorite hideout these days, the tub. It has been reported that it's quite a sight when Mom is sitting in the tub, trying to get a good grip at Meffi doing her weasel impression. Sorry for the bad pic, the lighting was suboptimal that evening.

Mom keeps asking me why cats are so difficult if their humans just want to help them.
The answer is easy. We are cats!!

The Royal Court

Rumors go that cat nobility is living in this house. Of course they are right.
Not so right is that Mom thought it would be funny to put a crown on Esme's head while my little sister is sleeping in her bed and can't defend herself.
I would have had to take measurements if she had tried the same with me. I don't need a crown, my behavior speaks for me.

At least it's just a photo editor crown and not like what she did to Esme when she was still an innocent babe, almost exactly eight years ago (these are scrunchies she put over her ears, no respect, that woman!).

P.S. I was so shocked that I actually forgot to log in to my own account this time!!

The Mighty Hunter

First of all let me warn you. This post contains graphic images, so if you tend to queasiness, hysterical outbursts or uncontrollable sob attacks, you should tread carefully now.
I usually recommend the old "looking through your fingers with your head slightly turned away from the screen" approach.

Meet Stevie. Quite a handsome dude with his big eyes. Don't let that fool you. He may look like the kind and sweet guy next door, but Stevie has a talent that I can only admire. A manly talent. An archaic talent. It makes me want to beat my chest and howl to the moon together with him. Too bad I am neither a gorilla nor a wolf (although Mom says that in my younger days I used to howl to the moon a few times ... I can't remember that, must have been my werecat phase).

Stevie is a hunter. I can see you looking each other, thinking that isn't unusual for a feline. Stevie isn't an ordinary hunter, though. The game he keeps taking on day after day after day is much more dangerous than a little mouse or even a rat.
He's facing certain death every day, but never stops in his efforts to keep his people and his cat pals safe.
Let the pictures speak for themselves.

"I've got its tail!!!"

"You can come closer now, it's dead alright."

"Gotcha!!"

The fiendish enemy - beaten.

"They get bigger every day, but I won't let that stop me!"

Last breath

Another one bites the dust

"You only got what you deserved, but you did put up a good fight."

Ready for the taxidermist

We are doomed

Step by step Buster is taking over the place. It was a while ago already that he put up his little bunny flag (a carrot on a green background) in the kitchen, in the bathroom, even in the toilet. Tiles are no longer the way to keep out the might bunny explorer.
There are only two more white spots on his map, one is the room behind the kitchen which is home to two of our litter boxes, the other one are the stairs in the office.

Yesterday however Buster put his little (virtual) helmet on and went to conquer the stairs. As you can see, I was not quite sure about what was going on here.

Mom cut me out of the next picture in which I did a big jump over him, all she caught was an annoyed looking tail. The stairs have been mine from the very beginning and I shared them most generously with my pals. Buster didn't even ask, though! Of course the reason could be that his meow is really bad, practically non-existent.

He came as far as three steps up which didn't amuse Esme who had retreated there to have a bunny-free catnap. Unfortunately our home photographer was too slow once again, so you'll just have to believe me.

Shop improvement

You know that I always participate in the monthly blog carnival of the Jewelry Artisans Community. I feel that as a master thief of valuables of all kinds I am more than predestined to do so.
Shop improvement is not really my subject, though. I'm not a shopkeeper. Come on, I'm a cat! I have people who do that for me, and those people (aka Mom) also should improve the shops that I own to make huge loads of money for me and my pals ... better cat food, better cat TV, better cat everything!
Excuse me while I try to calm down a little.

So instead of boring you with cat-unrelated stuff, I'll show you a totally random picture of a worn out Esme. Enjoy!

P.S. Oh, I forgot. Should you be interested in shops, have a look at these blogs. Fair warning ... no cats!

Jewelry Art by Dawn 
Bead Sophisticate 
Cat's Wire

P.P.S. Mom said I'm not taking this seriously. Do you think she is being serious?