We all know, much as we love her, Momma’s a Work in Progress…you can’t depend on her to pay ‘The Bad Cop’ ever….well, at least with the cats…with me, she seems to have no problem settling me down…if I need it…which hasn’t been for a long, long time because I wrote ‘The Policy and Procedures for All Creation’ so obviously, I have no excuse.  In order to be an Enforcer, you first must drink the Cool Aid…..no matter the color, no matter taste….

Let me give you an example about how Momma failed me…again.  The other day,I was sleeping in the living room, usual spot on couch, my head being pillowed by Pink Bunny and Pink Eared Sylvester. 

Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte (Charlie) claimed the spot beside me to sneak in a cat nap….and that is exactly what Charlie does…she cat naps…if Momma moves anywhere in the house, she sits up, a most worried look on her face…is she leaving…will she ever come back….Charlie suffers PTSD from being born in a bin at a noisy Tier One Automotive Plant, where clangy 1000 Ton Presses grind steel at impossible to register decibel,  into various and sundry car parts.

The Diva Calico Gen comes into the Living Room…Wouldn’t you just know it….seems Charlie has the spot on the couch she wants….so she stands on her hind legs and gives Charlie a sharp paw slap.  Faster than a speeding bullet, Charlie sits up and noisily thumps Gen, right jab, left jab, get out of here.

 

As the Leader of the Pack, I don’t like it one bit.  Momma, who somehow heard the thumping runs in to the room.  Gen, knowing she has been rightfully chastised, gets the heck out of Dodge….which means I am left to put Charlie in her place…so I give her my most severe long ‘Are you kidding me? Were you raised by the Forest Freaks?’ look….and Momma laughed…. Whether it was my expression, Charlie’s reaction…I couldn’t tell you…and I swear, just the way Charlie turned away, flicked her ears, she was flipping me the bird…..she was….

I am putting it out there….who else suffers such indignities…all in the line of duty…..tell me…who?????

I feel so helpless, what can I do….Remembering all the things we’d been through?  It seems they all stop and stare….I can’t hide my angst… but I don’t care…Never forget it, I’m yourLeader of the Pack….. Lookout,  Lookout…                                                                    (Paraphrase Jeff Barry / Ellie Greenwich / George Morton)

 

 

 

What can I see…with one eye covered?            What can I hear… with one ear smothered?

Just give it a whirl..so you can see….                Nothing ever changes… for you and me! 

So I try, I try to be an Angel Doggie but for reasons I can not quite fathom, I am just a bit mouthy, expressing myself mournfully or forcefully (sometimes) with attitude and a look that could drill a hole through pressure heated hardened steel or cut through Kevlar…. You choose…

Now it may be in my DNA, it may be that I was born an Aquarius, it may be I need Anger Management Training but, like Lady Ga-Ga, I was Born-This-Way….If you would let me ponder…. I believe it is because I am overly sensitive, notice every minute detail and think I am in charge of correcting it…oh, and I may be OCD…do doggies get that, ya think?

And Momma (being Momma), taps right in to my sanctimonious, put-everyone-in-their-place-and-you-better-stay-there moods.  It is a challenge to not to disappoint Momma….again.  She doesn’t chastise me but it is that look in her eyes… besides she feeds me!

So,  oops, I did it again…because…I can’t mind my own business (that asks far too much of me)….and it is not my fault the Good God Almighty gave me ears that hear those butterfly wings flap in Africa. 

One day (true story) as I am having a peaceful nap, falling into a REM state where dreams become sharp and clear, and you become part of the action, floating through yellow buttercups, the wind ruffling your furry ears and I hear Diva Calico Gen spring and land on the table in the kitchen.

First off, it is no fair a cat can so deftly jump from a floor to a table, in a standing position, no less and I can’t…I resent that…but mostly importantly, I have heard Momma admonish the cats time and time again for doing so.. Yet when I go rushing in to the kitchen in attack mode, snarling and barking, and Diva Calico Gen jumps off the table and takes off, so…of course it is my job, Man, to pursue her, jump on her back, chew her ears,

The problem is Momma doesn’t like the barking, the meowing, the chase around the house like wild stallions thundering across fields and dells and who gets the blame? Me.  I roll my eyes, I look accusingly at Diva Calico Gen and go thump down on the cool hardwood floor with a lengthy sigh.  Like: Yakety yak Yakety Yak.  Don’t talk back…

Now, you know already, Momma like to live in PEACE so she will always seek me out later and explain she knew Diva Calico Gen had plotted that scenario, right down to knowing I attack the Cat, Momma attacks me.  That Diva Calico Gen covers her mouth with her paw to conceal her mirth at my folly, every time… like Tom & Jerry and Tweety Bird, just scorches my very soul.

I mean even Bad Boy Andy doesn’t do that…actually he should be called…Good Boy Andy.  He just wants to groom me or sleep beside me.  Hush Hush Sweet Charlie, well, upon occasion, she will hop on the Coffee table but I stand up and cuff her with my fluffy paw, she runs a bit, waits for me to catch up…. No tattling with Hush Hush Sweet Charlie …. she believes in that  ‘Don’t ask, Don’t tell’ philosophy of higher thinkers, thank you.

 

One day I am going to surprise even Momma.  I will ignore Diva Calico Gen.         If you don’t play, you can’t lose…I am assuming….

Okay so Momma, we got to talk….I got a system…and truly I’d appreciate (no offense), if you just keep up, okay.

Let me start by thanking you for having toy boxes in different areas of the house, crammed full of chew bones, balls, stuffed toys and sundry.  I am eight years old now…and an Aquarius…I am super organized…Like Your-Sister-Who-Taught You-Most-the Things-You-Know, I am an inventory genius.  I know where every item is, FIFO (first–in–first–out) and where I want to keep it…so let sleeping toys lie, already!

It always happens when you are cleaning house…which you do far too often, I’m thinking…I can never get a break, day after day, shuffling from room to room to avoid the chaos you create when the brooms and mops appear and dust gets flying.

And I admit, I am guilty.  I take toys out of my box and just drop them willy-nilly, like a Princess with an entourage, to clean up after me.  Oh, I am perfect in countless ways but Momma never trained me to pick up my toys every night and put them back in the bins. Blame Momma…again…of course!

No, Momma enabled me, cleaning up after me….so when she recently found Babby on the sun room floor instead of putting him in the bin right there, she took him in to the living room basket. Trained, Momma is, but by who….I ask you?? 

Well, you know what I had to do.  I went right in, dug out Babby and plunked right where I had left him in the middle of the sun room floor. If I wanted Babby somewhere else, I’d put him somewhere else…Got that Momma?  Tigger stays on Wonder Boy’s bed so I can sleep with him all night, Pink Fluffy Bunny has a corner by the pillow on the couch in the living room so I can rest on him during the day and Babby is my sun room solace… along with whatever else I feel like playing with at any given time… on any given day.

Truly it’s not so difficult to follow….but we all know Momma is highly contrary and marches to the beat of a drummer only she can hear….my advice…to paraphrase Pink would be:

You gotta show up and try, and try, 
Gotta show up and try, and try….

So….we good, Momma?

What the world longs to know…..

Why great nations fall …

Your secrets are safe with me…

Just trust me…I’ll never tell.  :)))

So………..that is what my tail looks like…

Momma always telld me that it is plumed with the longest, silkiest, creamiest fur, as it rides high, carried over and swishing my back…

From where I’m sitting, I can’t see it myself but I don’t have eyes in the back of my head…

And, you know and I know… well, you can’t always trust my Momma to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth…so help Her God….

You know I am all about the Rules…even the ones I have to make up on the spur of the moment when called for….but some of them are just common sense.  What part of that does Momma not understand?

Take for instance (and this should be a given) when I have kept Wonder Boy company all night long…I believe…I firmly believe I should not be disturbed by Momma, even if it is for something like my favourite thing in the world, going for a walk. If Wonder Boy is sleeping in because he was up late, well, so was I, right by his side, all night long, all night…all night long.

I really don’t care Momma if you want to go  for my walk in the cool of the morning air, before it reaches 100 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade…dress down a little…I mean, I am not one of those furless cats, yet do you hear me complaining?

So Momma stealthily enters Wonder Boy’s room, gives me ‘the look’…. I ignore her.   By the powers invested in her by the Sweet Baby Jesus, she telepathically forces me to open my eyes. She holds her finger to her lips, motioning  ‘ssssshhhhh’ with one hand, while the other hand indicates ‘Come on, walk time.’  Sure Momma. Later Momma.  I close my eyes.

But Momma is like those driven, doggedly persistent feral cats.…Maybe that’s why she is so attached to them… Giving up or giving in is not in her dictionary. She bends over, scratches my head, my ears and my belly and, well, I can resist cat food, doggy treats, food left on the coffee table in the living room but belly scratches, like an addict on crack cocaine, I can’t say no to a belly rub….I am yours 4ever…..  I hop over Wonder Boy, splat on the floor and we are off….and darn, does this mean Momma won again?

Once up and at it, I feel fine.  I hold no grudge.  However, I have to say, it appears my work is not done yet on training Momma. Kind of like that song she sings, only Paraphrased to suit  the Guilty as Charged:

Momma’s under construction – Maybe her paint is still wet….. 
Momma’s under construction – The Almighty’s not finished with her yet….(Bill Gaither and Larry Paxton)….But He’s trying….He’s Trying!…and              Good Luck With That!

 

We  gotta love the man…We  gotta love the man….
We take him by the hand…We make him understand…
The world on him depends.
So our life will never end…We gotta love the man, yeah….

All riders on the storm…All riders on the storm….
Into this house we’re born…Into this world we’re thrown…
Like a dog without a bone…An actor out on loan….
All riders on the storm…All riders on the storm…
All riders on the storm…All riders on the storm….

(Paraphrase The Doors)

 

 

I have a Little Aura…That goes in and out with me… And every where my Aura goes… I am sure to be…

 

There’s some out there, not lucky… They don’t Believe, you see… But you and me lived many lives… Our Auras were not free…….

(Paraphrase Robert Louis Stevenson)