Walkabout

Lola escaped from the house the other day, and had a bit of an adventure. I sealed my reputation with my neighbors by walking through their back yards whistling "Happy Birthday" (the tune that normally brings her running) and crooning "Lola...Lola...Lola...Here KittyKittyKittyKitty" for close to ten hours.

I finally found her just before midnight, hiding in someone's side yard, sitting quietly on a small cement outcropping near a basement window. I approached her very slowly, and with lots of cajoling she finally took a few steps toward me and allowed herself to be picked up.

As soon as we got home, she went to her food dish and looked at me expectantly, apparently unfazed by the events of the day. After eating, she took up her favorite spot on the couch and sat there, looking rather contemplative.

Stupefaction

Bongo woke the neighborhood at 5:45 this morning, yowling mournfully by the window as though his heart had been broken by some Persian princess. Turns out, it was a 22-pound calico with a mangy tail, passing through the side yard. I got up, turned on a few lights, and gave Bongo a quick pat, hoping I could pull him out of his jag and go back to sleep. But his whiskers twitched and he carried on with his mewing and chirping and chattering as he continued to track the calico--a rather disgusting creature with a mud-caked tail and a lumbering gait. "Bongo, what the hell?" I hissed. He ignored me. Lola blinked disdainfully from the foot of the bed.

Finally, I fell back asleep and managed to squeeze in another hour and a half before the meows cut through my consciousness once again. It was 7:30am on a Sunday morning, and I was hungry for some form of revenge.

There is very little that can stupefy a cat, but I know of at least one thing. So I brewed some coffee and settled down in the living room with a bottle of bubble solution, and enjoyed the ensuing display of feline consternation, startlement, and cautious intrigue.

Glow

I don't know what's going on with Lola, but she's had such a glow about her lately...

Workbench

I suppose I should be flattered that any place I spend time is a place my cats want to spend time. But they seem to have taken over most of the space on my workbench, which kind of makes it just a bench. Or a large, industrial cat bed.

Spring

Yesterday was an exemplary spring day, and Bongo & Lola chose to spend it convalescing in bed. Perhaps they're exhausted from all the window-to-window bird watching they've been doing. Or perhaps they're overcome by the cyclical, repetitive nature of their days. Sleep, wake, kibble, nap, windowsill, nap, bath, nap, kibble, repeat.

I relate, which is why, whilst they slept, I looked at airfares online and daydreamed about the trip I'll be taking later this summer. I do have a destination in mind, but honestly, any change of scenery--even a trip to the blandest place I can think of--would get my lazy synapses firing again after that impossibly long winter.

Languor

Waking up from a long winter's nap...