You Know, Kitties . . .

she wasn't really all that happy to see me.

By the Time We Get to Phoenix. . .

Okay, I had to speak extra-sternly to Pricilla to pry her away from that handsome devil, but I persuaded her that her family in freezy Montana would miss her if she ran off with a mysterious stranger. And you know they'd blame me!
Don't worry, Miss Patty, your best goatie-girl will be home tomorrow.

Almost certainly.

The Pop-In

Pricilla met a beautiful buck on the beach today, and I got to feeling all three's-a-crowd, so I decided to pop in on the Human. I've been gone a pretty long time and I was a little worried she might be missing me and stuff.

So I teleported home and had a good long gander at what had happened in the neighborhood in my absence (not much).

I wasn't missing her or anything, you know.

Oh, and Goaties? Don't worry. I'll go pick Pricilla up off that beach tomorrow. I'm sure* she wouldn't run away with Lucky or Gonzo or Maverick or whatever-his-name-was. He sure was good-lookin' though.

*Well, practically sure.

We have it all . . .

Just like Bogey and Bacall ♪♪

Pricilla and I are camped out on the beach at Key Largo, for a day or two. Or nine. Or thirty-seven. Hope you don't miss her too much, Goaties!

♪♪ In old Savannah, I said SavannahThe weather there is nice and warmThe climate's of the southern brand

With darling Pricilla at my side, I cruised into Savannah, GA, earlier today. We drove straight onto the ferry bound for Ossabaw Island just off the coast. We spent a restful afternoon, recovering from our wild dash out of New Orleans after we -- oh, wait; no, some things are better left to your imagination.

Bourbon Street Before the Big Bash

If you're headed for some warms, who could pass up New Orleans, the Crescent City, The Big Easy? Certainly not this ManCat and his favorite LadyGoat. 
Before we painted the town red, we enjoyed an early supper of hay and peaches (Hers) and salmon and cream (His). 
After all, you need a little something on your tummy before you a down a couple of Sazeracs and a Hurricane or three.

RTS* and Our First Night on the Road: Santa Fe

*Restless Tail Syndrome  I first learned this condition had a name from Sweet Screamoline at William's. Even though I am in the very very deepest of slumbers here, my tailio, she never really sleeps. This is rather an enchanting little film, quite mesmerizing; though some might call it "dull" or even "boring," they would be wrong. Well, you be the judge, Kitties.

*****************************************************************************

Pricilla and I spent the first day of our roadtrip in Santa Fe, where it was a balmy 60 degrees today. We drove up into the mountains a little ways, and I brought out our picnic while we enjoyed the sunset. Ah, it's a good life! Headed for even warmer climes tomorrow! 

Snow Princess

Darling Pricilla recently retired after a long career as spokesgoat for The Maaaa of Pricilla, though she still occasionally graces the Innerwebs with appearances on The Broken Teepee. My favorite goatie is getting up in years (as am I, Kitties, as am I!) and life in snow country takes its toll on an older LadyGoat.
So today I tuned up the Furrari and this afternoon I collected her for a quick getaway to a nice warm Florida Beach. I'm bringing plenty of apples, too (don't worry--they're in the trunk). Buh-bye, Snow!
Stay tuned for our adventures throughout the week!

E-Z Sundae

I Do Not Trust

New Stuff. But Stay tuned.

Don't Think I Don't Appreciate

the steady supply of grass you provide, Human, because I do. I really, really do. And I know you enjoy coming upon the little piles I regurgitate for you after a good nom session with my green friends.

Ah, now you see the point: Green stuff. Not the sickly, yellowish cast the current supply has taken on after too long a sojourn here on the table.

So, uh, let's get crackin' on that, shall we?

Lickin' & Thinkin', Thinkin' & Lickin'

And minding my own business. I was taking my time smoothing out those pesky cowlicks and taming the tummy floof, considering the Great Imponderables of the feline universe, or at least what would be for dinner, when (Yep! Of course! Again!) there she was, clickety-click-clicking away.

I really need my own room. With a door. With a lock.

The Yin and the Yang of Spitty-the-Kitty

This post is a shout-out to The Mysterious Megan in Sydney, Australia, who is a fantastically 

funny and clever and loyal commenter, 

but who remains a mystery to me . . . both of me!

She makes us laugh every day and we look forward 

to her comments, but I look West and I look East 

and I still find no contact or blog info about her.

Anyway, Megan, you make our days brighter,

and if you ever want to come out of hiding, 

well, you know where I am!

A-Tisket, A-Tasket

I finally have my basket!

Why Do the Humans Never Say

T.G.I.M.?

I mean, 
I like it 
all right.

Sunday Selfies

Plain, unadorned Spitty Selfie:

Tarted-up, over-dramatic Spitty Selfie

Caturday Musings

Happy Caturday, Kitties!

As you can see, the Human has jury-rigged a little perch for me next to her desk and the window. She even provided a tiny towel for my comfort (now, now, don't be snarky--she offered a little beddie instead, but I disdained it, preferring the simple pleasures of the tiny towel). 

You may wonder what happened to the nice covered basket I used to use for my window seat? Well, allow me to explain.

In mid-December, the Human repurposed her bedside table as a stand for our little tree, and then selfishly absconded with my basket to use as a bedside table.

But wait! I hear you all crying! Christmas was 23 (yes: twenty-three!) days ago; should not the tree stand have been returned to its job as a bedside table, and the basket been moved back to the window?

Indeed, my friends, indeed, these things should have happened. And yet . . . they have not. 

Our tree still rests atop the bedside table. Now she's thinking about keeping it till Super Bowl Sunday.

Rhetorical Question for Kitties . . .

though it may stymie their Humans.

Yes, Yes . . .

               

I hear you calling me!                                     No, no . . . not interested.

Tuesday Tidbit

There was a fine ManCat named Spitty

      Who tried hard to be tough and still witty.

But his butt, it turned curly,
Which made him feel girly, 

  And his ditties thereafter turned pretty.

Why, Yes, We *Do* Still Have Our Little Tree Up

The Human likes its cheerful color and light, and she says it isn't too weird to keep it a while longer.

Me, I think it *is* a little, um, strange to still have a tree when it's halfway to February.

But apparently I do not get a vote.

I'll just hide here under the chair and wallow in my embarrassment.

Aw, I'm Just Winkin'

You know how you can tell, don't you? 'Cause on my last post, I was winkin' with my left eye and today I'm winkin' with my right. 
Oh, and I didn't really cut off my ear either. 'Cause see? I still gots both of 'em.

P.S. Even though we are baseball folks, we are pretty happy for The Packers today! Well, mostly we are happy 'cause they beat those darn Cowpokes!

The Name's Van GoghVincent Van Gogh

But you can call me Spitty.

I Remember Vacation

Ah yes, those cozy days full of sunpuddles and noms, and petting and playing and attention anytime I asked for it.

Those days are gone now, Kitties, gone like the wind that swept through Georgia. Or like the fog that swept through San Francisco.

The Human waves a melancholy goodbye before 6:30 a.m., and with her go the tasty treats, the wand toys, and (sob) the brushies. The brushies, my friends.

And what happens when she staggers in at 4:30 p.m. or even later? Well, she says hello, pats my adorable furry head, and proceeds to forget I am even alive. That's what happens. I swear.

Does anyone need a live-in boyfriend? I've been, um, snipped, but I don't eat too much and I give a very nice baff.

The Human asks, "Spitty! Can you possibly be comfertables like that?"

And, really, can you even imagine how I answer her?

Holey Moley Guacamole!

The Human returned to work today, depressed that our nice vacation is over now (sob), when in her mailbox she saw something festive and hand-addressed. It did not look like yet another dreary communique from On High--no, there were kitties peeping out from the tiny confines of the postage stamp! Looking closer, she recognized Katie and Waffles, our Secret Paws!

But still, what could this be? We had already received a most generous gift from Glogirly and the Gang! Well, have a good look-see for your fine selves:

They are the finest, most elegant, most Royal stickers ever produced by anyone, anywhere, anytime. And a lot of 'em, too! You can take my word for it, Kitties! 

Our only problem now: Whatever missive could possibly be worthy of bearing such a seal?

Thanks!

A or B? B or A?

Alas, the joyous Christmas Break is at an end. To combat the Last-Day Blues, we offer you two consoling photos. Picture A was taken downtown at Union Square yesterday as the Human and her friend enjoyed a last holiday fling at a play, followed by dinner out (yes, they're old--they go to matinees now, ha ha meow!) Picture B was taken this very morning as I luxuriated in a sunpuddle, oblivious to the flashy box. The Human cannot decide which photo better represents the joys of this holiday from work. 
*I* can, of course.

                                                                                                       A

                                                                                                       B

Weep for Madama Butterfly

The soulless Human, she mocks my playing style. She says I "flail" without purpose! As if! She can't even tell when I have removed that butterfly from its wire! She keeps waving the thing around like there's something still attached to it (her stupid hand, for example, ha ha meow!)

Alas, the poor Madama, she will not survive another round with The King.

Welcome, 2015!

And Happy New Year to Kitties and Humans everywhere
(and even woofies, and goats, and donkeys, too)!