The Buck Stops Here

Yes, I, Bad Boy Andy, am an Indoor/Outdoor cat but I am not stupid.  When Jack Frost comes calling, it is time to find a cozy corner and hunker down.  I mean you don’t have to be a rocket scientist, just look at the window panes strewn with frosty icicles rivers and tributaries, diamonds, circles and stars – to die for beauty, especially when the winter sun enshrines them in a golden haze.

Besides when  Jack Frost paints our windows in the deep of an Arctic vortex, I feel it in my thirteen year old arthritic bones.  Oh, I can still put the fear of the Good Lord Almighty in to all the cats in the neighbour hood and our Indoor Cat Charlie but I know, I am failing fast when it comes to terrorizing (but  sshh…that is our secret).  Here at home, they haven’t noticed and everyone knows, what you don’t know can’t hurt you, right?

Now, my dear sweet sibling, Diva Calico Gen doesn’t read window panes or feel it in her bones.  No, she coddles herself.  I think she follows the calendar and reacts accordingly because early in December, even before winter descends, she hibernates inside, getting in to all kinds of mischief because she is full of unspent energy, still as agile as a kitty, while wily like a fox which means every once in a while, when Jakita is asleep (she runs interference for her Best Friend Forever, Gen) and Momma is busy, I board Gen to put her in her place because, well, Gen doesn’t seem to know she even has a place.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, she is pretty, a great fisher of things out of wicker baskets, a tried and trued Olympic Hockey player but she is not as discerning and bright as me.  How can she be if she will curl up beside that poor demented Charlie?

What’s that you are saying?  Okay, you are right, I am a bit psychotic, purring one minute, prowling and snarling the next but I am no fool.  I am very loving with Momma and Wonder Boy and all of the guests that come over – well, except that one time, when Momma’s Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-The-Things-She Knows, slept over.  I mean, she slept on the couch, my bed, so I had to slap her with my paw, across the cheek, just to wake her up, so she’d move you know.  Instead, I got pushed in an embarrassing heap on the floor.  Momma would never do that to me.  Not all Two Footed are created equal. 

Live and Love.  That’s my motto.  Too bad no one took the time to teach Momma’s Sister-Who-Taught-Her-Most-The-Things-She Knows.