The other day mama came across us sleeping very sweetly on the couch.
As she gazed upon us in our slumbering state, she very lovingly said “OH MY GOD WHY DON’T YOU GET OFF THAT COUCH AND GET A JOB ALL YOU DO IS LIE AROUND AND SLEEP WHILE I WORK ALL DAY!”
At least, we *think* that’s what she said. We weren’t really listening.
Caught in the act–Connor in the nip!
We didn’t mean to disappear on everyone! Between the heat and work mama didn’t feel like she could make a coherent post. It’s nicer out now (for the time being) and her brains are less addled.
Since you all have been bereft of my handsome visage, here’s a picture of me:
We’ll be back Friday for our normally scheduled post!
Pssst, it’s Connor. From here in the corner of the bedroom.
The big box that mama promised Lizzie turned out to be a dinky little thing, and now she’s upset. She had wanted to turn it into a ladycat clubhouse. I suggested that she just duct tape them all together, and now I’m hiding from her (you don’t want to know the details…hell hath no fury like an upset ladycat!). I thought I was being helpful!
Anyway, so now I’m just waiting for the peace to be restored here. At least mama is still my friend. By the way, mama, you need to vacuum over here. It’ll only take a minute…Oh, you work this whole week?…Ok, stop yelling…..
Oops, now I have two women mad at me. I think I’ll just stay in this corner for a while….
You look a little funny today….where’s your head?
Mama is always kissing my big mancat feet. Really, it’s already embarrassing that she tells everyone about the ridiculous nickname she gave me, but to talk about my feet? Can’t she leave a guy with even a modicum of dignity?
She also babbles about my pink toes (She kisses them too. Ewwww! I was just standing in the litterbox!). Really, she’s so dysfunctional. Is there a Rent-A-Mom or an exchange place? We need to swap her out or something.
Being an only mancat in a house with women is so hard.
Mama loves it when we get in this position. We compact ourselves into neat little bundles that she calls “meatloaves”.
A long time ago she saw a cartoon of a cat curled up like this and under the caption it said something like:
“Surely a cat, when it assumes the meatloaf position and gazes meditatively through slitted eyes, is having thoughts of utter profundity”.
What profound thoughts are we having here?