One of These Things...

... is not like the others. But they're all in my favorite-toy lineup.

The wiffle ball really moves when I bat it, and it makes a satisfying little "clink" sound when it bounces off the baseboards. The red ball is really heavy and "clunks" when it hits stuff. It's a good ball to use if I want the peeps to hear from afar that I'm having fun.

Mom brought me four soccer balls and (of course) they're her favorites. We play penalty kicks with whichever one we can find, and wouldn't you know I'm a natural goalkeeper. She can't get a shot past me, so I keep rolling Futbol back for her to try again. The soccer balls also bounce, so I can get them airborne if I'm playing by myself.

That purple yarn ball is perfect for wrestling. I get it up against my chest, trap it with my front paws, and kick it with my back legs until it gives up.

Those other blue things? I found them in the bathroom. They cover the bolts that hold the peeps' litter box to the floor. (Mom's calling them "toilet caps.") Somehow I figured out that I can knock them loose and play my version of air hockey on the vinyl floor. Dad put them back, put I took them off again. Dad decided to let them rest in a drawer for awhile.

I also have a tie-dye ping pong ball that I can't find right now (I rolled it under something) and a round orange mouse that came with me from Kitty Angels. The mouse does a good imitation of a ball, and I've been sharing it with my cat buddies. Lily especially seems to think it's fun. That mouse is around here somewhere... Time to search and play!

Multi-Tasking Baskets

My horizons keep expanding. The toy basket is great fun, but it wears me out. I've had to add another to my routine: The Basket of Rest. It's centrally located, yet off the beaten path -- on the living room floor (so I can watch the peeps go by and follow some TV), but under the table (so I can stay below the radar).

Maybe Jimmy will decide to occupy the basket next door. He likes sleeping next to me when I'm asleep. When I wake up, though, I can't help but be mesmerized by his tail. I watch it, then I tap it with my paws, and then I chew on it. Jimmy rolls over and says, "Do you have to?" Since I really do have to, I keep at it. Jimmy wrestles me for awhile, until we forget what we started wrestling about, and then we go back to sleep.

He really should try that basket. I don't think I'd see his tail in there.

"I can feel him looking at it."

Basket o' Fun

The hardest part is figuring out what to do first. I can pick out a toy (the rolling ones are best, but the wrestling ones are growing on me), I can stick my head in the basket just because it's there, or I can play with the catnip-filled mat. Decisions, decisions.

If I time my playing appropriately, I might lure Jimmy or Lily into my games. And then we can can engage in The Tour de Cats, where Stage One is straight-up speed trials and Stage Two adds stair work.

Jimmy and I are taking up Greco-Roman Cat Wrestling, as well. We should probably use the mat for that, but did I mention it's filled with catnip? I land on it with intentions of total domination, and next thing I know I'm drowsy and have the munchies. Which reminds me... I haven't snacked for awhile. Kitchen time.

Later, gators.

Everyone's an editor

I've met with the boys, and we've decided that Mom gets to keep a sliver of work space. As long as she takes the occasional break and shows us interesting videos. (Or feeds us.)

Bedouins

It's easy to make friends when you have something in common. Jimmy and I, for example, share a mutual love of soft places.

It took me a few days to work out that the left side of the bed has been his turf. We've got it sorted now, and the right side is mine. (Silly peeps don't seem to appreciate that we've left them a piece of the top half.)

Rest is important. We have a nightly standing appointment to raid the toy basket at 3A.M. More on that adventure later...

Stairmaster

Make no mistake: that Big Bed is my headquarters. I nap, I receive human visitors, and I get a nice up-high view when the other kitties pass through.

The stairs are growing on me, though. They're useful for getting to the food -- big plus. They have a landing half-way up, and an open railing, which makes an excellent observation post. Mom's been teaching me how a toy will bounce down them and dare you to chase it. She also showed me that a toy tossed up to the top disappears until you go look for it.

They've got a lot of tricks, those stairs, and they're keeping me on my toes. I'm showing them who's boss, though: I run up and down them just for fun. The poor guys must be exhausted. I sure am... zzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Operation Prince Charming

My plan of action is pure genius.

First, I lured in the peeps. Child's play: wink, yawn, stretch, nudge. They really don't stand a chance. And then the checkmate: I set the scene as "Feline Napping on Sofa" when Mom got home from work. It was so good, she added her rendition of "Sales Associate Rests Legs and Eyes" to the mix. All that creativity made me hungry. When the 6PM Supper Buffet was announced, I joined my cronies in the dining salon. Our chef artfully prepared a mix of their food/my food. There are no leftovers. (I checked.)

Winning over my fellow cats is dodgier work. Like magicians trying to outdo each other, we know most of our colleagues' secrets.

Lily seems to like my style, and we have similar roots, so we've been sharing a room and swapping stories. Seems she was a street cat who found herself pregnant at a tender age and got taken in by Josh, who inherited the animal-in-distress receptor from his parents. She had two kittens that she raised beautifully. They were adopted out as a set, and Lily is no longer on the production line. She's missing a few teeth, like me, and is pretty happy to watch the world go by (especially cars, dogs, and coyotes) from inside the windows.

One of these days she'll show me pictures of her kids. Apparently there's a mouse who knows how to find them. If we can figure out which end of him (her?) is the face, we'll have to ask about that.

Two more conquests to go: Smoky and Jimmy. Wish me luck.

From There to Here

(Mom, start typing:)

I'd been hanging around a housing complex for as long as I could remember; someone who lived there called me "Baby" and fed me. In June 2010, after we'd known each other for 7 years or so, my feeder noticed that something was wrong with my eye and I didn't really defend myself against other cats. She called the Kitty Angels shelter and said they needed to come get me so I could be "put down."

Kitty Angels collected me and had me checked by their doctor. She saw that my left eye was damaged (I can see light and dark); she also found that I have Feline Immunodeficiency Virus, from a deep bite by an infected cat. I was healthy otherwise, and FIV+ cats can live long, happy lives without infecting others, so the Kitty Angels volunteers took me in. They all thought I was a sweet guy.

In November 2011 (yep, 2011), I was living in the Kitty Angels "adopt me" center at Petsmart. A man who was shopping for cat food noticed my cute face and read my history; he went home and told his wife about me. A few days later, she came to see me and took a picture. What's up with that?

The wife came back on December 20th to meet me face-to-face. (I guess they'd been talking about me and looking at that picture.) We hung out, and I purred. And guess what? She came back on the 22nd with a cat carrier and brought me to their house. Whoa!

So here I am... nine years old and living with three peeps and three cats. I'm pretty happy hangin' out and have a comfy sleeping spot. (It's "The Bed.") It's a good spot to watch the other cats, and two peeps sleep there at night -- warm! The wife (now known as Mom) put a couple cat toys up there, too. (I thought it was fun to "pounce" her feet while she was sleeping. She told me it is funny, but please use the toys first. It's a fair deal, and the toys are pretty good. She does let me pounce her hands when she's awake.)

And that's my story so far. Stay tuned!

Along Comes Frazier

We weren't looking for another cat. We were at the Theoretically Ideal Cat Number: three. And then, as it's happened so many times before, serendipity blew through and introduced a little gentleman who needed a home -- our home.

So, friends, we present Frazier. He's a noble successor to Willie, Sarah, Bill, and Muko. And a fine housemate for Smoky, Jimmy, and Lily. He's whispering about the adventure that's taken him from Rescue Kid to Prince of Relaxation. (I'm listening and transcribing.)

Hope you enjoy...