Tag Archives: animal

Always Young

Pick the real moggie.

Pick the real moggie.

Smudge looks like a venerable, oriental gentleman, but don’t be fooled. Now 13 in human years, he continues to be exacerbating and his exuberant playfulness never wanes. The elderly fluffball sleeps a lot more now and has mellowed just a little.

Chubby Smudge with some toys.

Chubby Smudge with some toys.

As I get older, I don’t worry so much about how others see me, but Smudge still loves to impress the kitties by keeping up his fastidious grooming routine, and shimmying his tail.

These days, he subtly wakes me up in the morning with a gentle paw to the face. However, if I don’t get up, he’ll thrust his backside in my face, or block my nostrils with the end of his tail. It’s effective, but not nice.

That dreaded tail.

That dreaded tail.

I enjoy my comforts—a supportive bed and great food are bliss. Smudge has always made sure he is comfy, resting his head on cushions or pillows, even using my belly as a headrest when he is curled up or sprawled across my lap. Although he is fed nutritious cat food, Smudge manages to score a small piece of meat from my own dinner when I’m sitting on the couch watching T.V. After waiting a minute, he’ll saunter by and flick his tail near my food. If ignored, Smudge will jump up next to me and drool over my plate. Of course, I relent and he wins. An excellent human manipulator, Smudge won’t change, and I continue to be wrapped around his paw.

The human.

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Left Again and a New Bed

Me looking at the new human and 'that chair'.

Somewhere where the new human can’t find me and observing a new sleeping spot.

It’s that time again when the human disappears, leaving me with a stranger. The new human calls my name, while holding out her hand. Wrinkling my nose, I look up eyeballing her and retreat to the cupboard. When I wake-up, she is still around. The newbie isn’t up to scratch, but I tolerate her. I get fed and let out, but she’s not ‘my human’, so I snooze a lot in a favourite chair.

After many moons, the human returns and shrieks, ‘Smudge, you’re so chunky,’ whatever that means? I nip her ankle and strut outside, and don’t come back till morning. I do not bat balls the human throws to me, or am interested in playing hide and seek chasey. The human is disappointed.

'That armchair'.

‘That armchair’.

She has a new armchair that smells funny. Lounging in it, she breathes in the scent and pats the sides. I approach but she snaps, ‘Mine.’ Later, when she is not around I jump up. It’s a bit slippery, but bouncy and comfy. The human returns, ‘Hey, get off.’ I jump down as she throws a rug over the chair.

A few days later, she removes the rug. When she is not looking, I leap into the chair and plop myself down. Chilled, I dig in my claws and purr, but soon I’m sprung and the human yells. I open one eye, then cover my face with a paw. As I stretch out, my tail dangles over the seat.

Miaow