241 Days

Back on July 31, 2017, the Human tucked our little Honda in to sleep in our very own garage.

The next day, the construction peoples came to retrofit the lower level of the building, and our Civic slumbered on the Mean Streets of the big city for eight long months.

About 20 minutes ago, new clicker in hand, the Human returned little Honda to its refurbished nest. 

And then she took this stoopy picture.

My Tailio Tragedy

All right, all right. Don't begrudge your King a little hyperbole now.

So last evening, the Human was cooperating with my desire for some fun playtimes with my very favorite Red Birdie wand toy. 

She was dangling and swishing and whipping that thing like nobody's business. That little birdie was dancing, my friends. 

Suddenly, though, that Red Sparrow reared up like Godzilla and whipped itself around, strangling my precious tailio--my tender floofy Tailio, Kitties! I took off like greased lightning, trailing that red snake behind me. The Human was laughing, I tell you, laughing like some kind of heartless maniac while I ran for my life.

Then, as I flashed by for the third or fourth time, she grabbed the stick part and held on and I kept running and that thing pulled my precious tailio right off, I tell you, off. 

Well, almost.

And yeah, sure, it looks all innocent now, posing for its picture, but I will never trust that little $#%$&@ again.

WTF?

*Funeral* potatoes?  What--are they poison? And WTF are they doing in an ad with kitty litter?

The Human Speaks

He thinks he's hiding. 
He thinks I can't see him. 
He's a good boy, though, so I'll let him have his little delusions.

Sunday Selfie: Nappytimes at Dawn & Dusk

Oh yes, yes, yes I was awake, plenty awake, in the in-between times, eating and playing and biting and scratching the Human (hush now: It was just a little bit, hardly even drew blood) and flinging kitty litter with abandon.

And Just Who Is This?

What's this guy doing in my Human's Litter Box Room anyway? I never said he could live here. Think of the feed bill! Hay's not cheap, you know, and don't even think about asking me to share my kibble. 

Who Knew a Simple Exorcism Could Be So Exhausting?

Well, apparently an exorcism really takes it out of a kitty. I'll have to remember that for the next time. My friend, the Mom of Elliott, Izzy, Ivan and Sweet Caroline,* says that once the Human retires--an imminent occurrence-- this and other types of misbehavior could occur with increasing frequency.

I don't think I have the strength for that on my own. I may have to call together a volunteer squad of my fellow felines to help carry out cleansing rituals after too many strange Humans end up sitting--or worse, passing out--on my furniture. ::shudder::

*Well, I think she's sweet. She does have some brothers who might possibly disagree.

Sunday Selfie: A Shameful Exhibition

No, not me, Sillies. If you look carefully, and ignore my adorable kittenish playfulness (nearly impossible, I know), you might see some evidence of three Old Bats having an impromptu drunken pre-St. Patrick's par-tay last night (don't you worry about Spitty, though; he stayed safely UTB for hours). What an embarrassing debacle that ended with a 74-year-old neighbor passed out snoring in this very chair. As you can see, I am performing an exorcism this evening with my sacred fevvers.

You Be the Judge

A. Imagine if you will a winsome and endearing kitty seeking only a spot of relaxation and warmth in his day:

B. and a group of Young Lady yoofs at the Human's school braving the rain to have their say:

A or B? or B or A? Who's the Fairest of them all?

The WatchCat

I had to argue long and hard to convince the Human that this photo was not too unseemly for use on my very own blog.

After all, I consider it my sworn duty to stand guard over the Human when she is, um, busy in the Human Litterbox Room.

She felt that perhaps this topic might be somewhat undignified, but I told her there was absolutely nothing undignified in a fine ManCat ensuring the comfort and safety of his Human in her time of need.

Right? Right.

Sunday Selfie: Come to Papa, Little Birdie

There, that's good.You know I wouldn't hurt you.












Much.







'Cause I'll want to play again soon, right?

There, there, no need to scream.

The Human Likes to Sit Here

Sometimes, that's  allowed. 
But not tonight.

Tonight, I was here first.

Zee Ack-reddit-tay-shun, She Eez O-vair

And can't you see how thrilled I am?

Why, I have even opened one eye.

Sunny Sunday Selfie

There were sunpuddles today so I wasn't as mad as I might have been that the Human spent the day at school. This was the first day of their "ack-reddit-tay-shun" visit. Whatever that means. She says it'll all be over Wednesday. But I dunno. I don't find her the most honest person.


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

Since some of you inquired about what a "soft story" is (and believe me when I say we didn't used to know either), herewith is Wikipedia's explanation:

A soft story building is a multi-story building in which one or more floors have windows, wide doors, large unobstructed commercial spaces, or other openings in places where a shear wall would normally be required for stability as a matter of earthquake engineering design. A typical soft story building is an apartment building of three or more stories located over a ground level with large openings, such as a parking garage.
This was the picture that accompanied the little article. Maybe we'll stop complaining about the retrofit now:

Once Upon a Seismic Upgrade

The last time the Human parked in her garage was July 31, 2017. 
On that day, Anthony Scarramucci, The Mooch, spent his last day at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Prince Harry was still footloose and fancy free, & Elon Musk's Tesla was still on Terra Firma.
In all its infinite wisdom, the city of San Francisco issued a decree that all residential buildings with 6 units or more and a "soft story" must be retrofitted. Worst case, three months they said.
                              Tick    Tick    Tick    Tick.
Liars.
So, as we embark on our eighth month of Honda displacement, yesterday appeared this Thing just outside our front door, looming like the portal to a distant and dangerous universe. Or maybe just a particularly ominous port-a-potty covering.

How will it all end? we ask. But no one replies.



Obligatory picture of The Kitty, so you can tell how much he's fretting about the Human's parking difficulties: