Family, pets

I Enjoy Being a Cat

22 Comments

Husband and I often spend our evenings pondering deep subjects, like our cats.  Here is what we came up with last night.  We were thinking mainly about our youngest cat, Millie,  who loves her life and is so joyous.  Think I Enjoy Being a Girl.

I’m a cat and by me that is only great!  I am proud that my tail is swishy.  That I walk with a panther-like grace and charm, and my cat toys are soft and squishy.

When I have a brand new grocery bag, that I hide in and lie real flat,  Then I swipe at their feet and bite their toes.  I enjoy being a cat. 

I  sharpen my claws on Mom’s new purse, Then she tells me to run and scat. So I knock all the pens down on the floor. I enjoy being a cat.

I’m strictly a long haired tortoiseshell,  and my future I hope will be,  on a cushion upon the window seat, with some nice cat nip to smell, cat nip to chew, catnip to eat, for me. 

Who have you  known who totally enjoyed being themselves. Tell some stories about animals or people you have known.

 

22 thoughts on “I Enjoy Being a Cat”

  1. my sisters cat harley was the sweetie who would purr when he saw you
    his paws were alway making muffins
    he was an urban outdoor car and he didn’t enjoy laying flat
    buried him last week

    animals do seem to be better at living for the moment than i am

    i’m working on it.

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  2. Goodness, that was a bit of bother.
    I’m working on a Samsung Galaxy these days and WordPress was having none of it. Tried to log in and just got a tasteful white screen with their logo.

    Finally figured out they want me to install their app, so I did that, and finally, here I am.

    My cats seem reasonably contented. They have windows that one by one are acquiring comfy cushions and the food is good, although never quite as accessible as one could wish.

    I’ve gotten to know several people in the distance running community who, while not necessarily giddy with who they are, seem to a solid appreciation for who they are.

    I suspect it has something to do with the amount of time they spend alone with themselves outdoors.

    For those following along, the s&h was on the injured list until last Friday, but his first race of the season was a good one, so probably good his coach kept him of the course longer than he wanted to be. We shall see.

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    3. That whole concept of having time to be alone with ones thoughts is being challenged by the device brigade we all live in the midst of.
      Runners who run with headphones on should consider losing that important also

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      1. I’m mostly going by what the photos and thoughts I see people posting on their Twitter feeds. Lots and lots of sunrises, so maybe it is the early rising more than the solitude, but I have often found the two go together. I honestly don’t know what the people who wear headphones when running are listening to, as my runner doesn’t even want to be burdened with his little flip phone (which makes his nervous mother, nervous).

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    1. It’s smaller and lighter than the old brick that has been my faithful companion for years now, but yes, I now work with androids. I don’t really see it as the darkside. I find the ability to look something up to facilitate a conversation a plus, not a minus. Like most things, it’s all in how you use it.

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  4. I’m trying to answer today’s question. Imagine a trail in thick woods that splits. (When you come to a fork in the road, take it!) One trail is labeled: “For people who are self-satisfied and sure of themselves.” The other trail is labeled: “For people who beat up on themselves and are deeply insecure.” My problem is I’m not sure I’ve ever known a person who could walk that first trail. I myself–and just about everyone I hang out with–wouldn’t hesitate to stride off down that second path. Make of that what you will.

    We had a dog once, a springer spaniel named Tessie, who adored herself. She was far from perfect, but that was my view, certainly not hers. She was, in that sense, more cat than dog.

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      1. I’m trying to understand what those words mean. I’ve never been anyone else and can’t quite imagine what that would be like. With all my shortcomings I’m still delighted to be myself in the sense of preferring that to the alternative. To be alive I have to be somebody, and I’d rather be Steve than many other people I know. Still, if I had the power to choose, I’d rather be a version of Steve who doesn’t keep falling short in so many ways. A slimmer, less inhibited, taller, more polished version of me would be nice to experience . . . if just for a while.

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  5. We keep our Millie inside all the time, as she is the sort of cat who would get herself into all sorts of trouble out of doors. The other morning I was awakened by a thudding, scrabbling sound, then silence. I got up about 15 minutes later to find the other cat, Luna, sitting by and staring at a tall curio cabinet in the corner of the living room. Millie was no where to be found. On a hunch, I moved the curio cabinet to find Millie stuck behind it. She had made a flying leap from the window seat to the top of the cabinet, overshot, and fell to the ground behind the cabinet where she was trapped. I am glad she wasn’t hurt and didn’t knock the mantle clock off the top of the cabinet as she leaped.

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  6. Cat story. About a month ago and anyway got herself locked into my closet. This happens every now and then when she slips in quietly and I don’t notice and then shut the door behind her. This time she was in there about 5 hours and she made a little nest of things that she had pulled down off of hangers. I hung everything up and didn’t think much about it and last week when I packed to go out of town I took one of those items rolled it up and put it in my suitcase. Imagine my surprise on Saturday when I took it out and discovered it didn’t have any buttons any longer. Luckily the hotel had several good safety pins. When I get home last night I found all the buttons scattered toward the back of the closet.

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  7. I love today’s parody. So much there for my felines to identify with, especially the pens knocked to the floor. Along with the mail, the newspapers, the prescription bottles, the CD’s, the phone, the laundry, the dishes, and pretty much anything else left on a surface anywhere in the house.

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  8. Ernest and Hemingway are indoor lovers, they never ever knock anything over, they do for no reason and no prescribed time frame chase like lightning around and under over and around the stair rail the coffee table and each other at wide open flying finish speed and then……they stop and curl up on the couch or the bed where they cuddle up and close their eyes and rest for 3 or 4 hours

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