Some days, the cats make me want to leave home.
And some days, I luff them more than I can bear.
My kitty snuggle tonight is better than a beer. Cheers, Moosh Moosh.
Well, I feel slightly less icky today. I would be happy about that, but the sickness has moved into the “never ending snot faucet” stage. Usually the good cold meds work — you know, the kind of you have sign for at the pharmacy so you can’t buy enough to make meth. You can’t even buy it if you’re a canadian on vacay here. I only know this because I overheard a poor, sick Canadian who really wanted the good stuff but needed a US ID to do so…that’s kinda BS. Does Canada even have a meth problem? Seems like they’re less trashy up there. Anyway, it’s not working for me.
But I am, nevertheless, enjoying watching the kitties play on the new cat tree. They’re not quite as addicted to it as I’d hoped they’d by, but at the moment Taco is, in fact, sleeping on the 4th level. Success.
Enjoy my enjoyment.
Most of the time, Moosh and Taco live separate existences. Except, of course, when they’re fighting. They’re well-matched in that regard, they’re about the same weight although Moosh is more bulk and Taco is long and lean. I don’t worry about it much until Moosh meows his wussy ass “mreep” and then I break it up. Otherwise there’s no hissing involved, and the only sound is the snapping of jaws and paw swipes making contact. Oh, and Moosh’s huffs. He does that when he’s really pissed.
So the other morning I woke to something heavy on my feet. Heavier than a cat. What’s heavier than one cat?
TWO CATS. That’s right, these so-called tough guys got busted spooning. SPOONING! So glad I had my phone next to the bed.