Counter Culture

How much is that Kitty in the Window?

One of my favorite places to hang is in the jewelry case up front. It has a mirror on the back that I can check my hair in and lots of glittery things that I can swat off the shelf and watch fall with a very satisfying crash. The roof is glass, so I can stare up at the customers and pretend to swat at anything they put on the counter. I've learned to work the sliding door so I don't have to wait for someone to let me out and in and out and in.

The only problem with hanging out inside the counter is that people keep thinking that I am for sale. Honey, let me tell you.... I can be bought, but I am NOT cheap! I definitely have diamond tastes. Just
call me a material girl.

A couple of things I learned while hiding in the case..
1. some of you need to shave your legs
2. this is a great place to practice my Mime-in-a-box routine
3. some of ya'll have great painted toenails. Did you get those
across the street? I was thinking of having mine done. What do
they charge for 20 rhinestone pedi's?
4. Mom missed a couple places vacuuming this week

Time for a Kit Kat Break



Packing my knitting in my new, cool Nantucket bag. It has hidden compartments to smuggle catnip across the country.



After the airconditioner situation, I decided to take matters into my own paws. So while you peons were panting and sweating like primates, I went on a trip to Paradise.

When it comes to vacations, let me tell you the first choice for me is Cat-alina, California. Ah, such a lovely town. You can take a Cat-amaran out to sea and catch your own lunch. Those who don't have claws used rods and reels... terribly inefficient if you ask me. But these human fishermen are always so considerate of me. They don't want me to go hungry, so they bring buckets of sushi for snacking for me. (only they call them minnows).

While on the ship, I decided I needed a Pirate name, so I opted for Cat'n Jack Sparrow-Eater. It has a nice ring, don't you think. Maybe I should trademark it before someone steals the name and makes a movie or something.

The hotel was lovely and cool and the perfect place for a catnap. They had giant flat screens broadcasting 24 hours of MTV (Mirror Television). I do so love staring at myself. What grace, what beauty. I knew I would be in pictures one day.
Unfortunately, one has to come home to reality some time. But, I found out that the white dog with the Highland brogue moved to Oklahoma, and that made me feel much better. Now if I could just get rid of the occasional Chihuahua.

Hot Dog! It's Summer

It's summer again and you know what that means....Flip flop season. Oh, how I love flip flop season, let me count the ways.....10 toes per customer (usually), all bare and just waiting to be pounced on. Smaller, but much easier to catch than mice.

My adopted human thought she was so clever in selling clear clogs so the customers could show off their freshly knitting socks. You don't know how aggravating that is. Little piggies so close, and yet so far away.

This is me helping the Webmistress take pictures for the new shopping cart. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

Dog! It's Hot!

So, the other day I was laughing at the dog with the weird Yorkshire accent about her swimming in a pool. I can smell chlorine on her when she comes in, you know. What a sissy! I had barely gotten the third "Ha" out when the air conditioning cut off. Stupid storms....The other night I was so excited because I thought I heard a bunch of rats running around back, but it just turned out to be a bunch of hailstones hitting the roof. What a letdown...


Ahhhh. Cold Pepsi on Ice. A terrible vice I picked up.

Storms make terrible loud noises that interrupt my naps. And now, they broke
the air conditioning. Normally I don't mind the heat that much. I just pretend I
am in Egypt again, reclining on pillows, while grovelling humans worship me
and place salmon strips in tribute at my feet. Ah, the good old days.

What I cannot tolerate, however, is the smug smile on that chlorine-scented
ratty little showoff. You know it was Mark Spitz who won those swimming
medals, not Mark Yorkie.

So, next time you are in the store buying something so my human servant can fix the air conditioning, feel free to throw yourself prostrate at my feet (or bow deeply, if your back is acting up). Only, wait til the dog is watching first. That'll get that smug smile off her face.

Oh, and you can bring salmon strips if you wish. I might deign to nibble on them.

Her Glorificus is in.