Dolly “Gee” Squeakers, formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers, embraces the changing of the seasons.
Have you met? Dolly Gee, aka Dali G, aka Kitty! Get Down! is a long-haired Siamese mix of some sort, a cross-eyed, blue-eyed cat with gum disease.
She came that way. “She appears to have a bit of gingivitis,” I believe the Humane Society’s statement was.
Ah, well, so she’s had some troubles. Could happen to anyone.
Of course, it’s not until Dolly fixes her crossed, bright-blue eyes on your face – one on your eye, one on your nose – and begins her monologue that you realize she’s got, like, a total of four teeth.
Apparently, gingivitis is not to be trifled with.
Dolly’s been through a lot in her short little life and telling you about it is one of her pleasures. Her shiny black lips part, join, and part again over tiny, sharp teeth. Dolly no doubt thinks her stories are fabulous; and when she’s going on and on about whatever it is she’s saying, I can’t look away.
The fact that she has only four teeth and still manages to be quite attractive? Not everyone can pull that look off.
You’d think there’d be more to say about Dolly Gee, but you’d be wrong. Aside from her penchant for laying flat on her back, staring at you whilst upside down, and her belief that one should snack, all day, every day, there’s not much else to her, unlike Liza Bean, who, last I heard, is working with David Gilmour on some experimental music due to be released around the holidays.
No. Dolly Gee’s a good cat, a neat cat, a cat with all four paws on the ground – and a cat now taking up a quarter of my half of the bed.
There’s been an invasion of sorts.
Liza “Bean” Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys), being the clever, tiny being that she is, is on the bed year-round, snugged into the space behind Willie’s knees.
But Dolly? Dolly Gee’s long-haired cat-ness does not allow for year-round coddling. She’ll keep her distance, thank you, and lays during the spring and summer months with her belly exposed to the electric fan.
But ladies and gentlemen, the seasons done changed; and with that change has come the crowding of the bed.
Let’s put it this way: If the bed were a clock, I’d be sleeping between 9:00 and 12:00.
I have it coming, though, don’t I? This is what happens when you let cats into your house.
Rats. I’m going to need to have my legs removed below the knee. There simply isn’t room for them.
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14 comments:
LOL! The things we do for our pets.
I have no cats, just a wife, and with her, I'm usually sleeping at 9:45 on the if-my-bed-was-a-clock mattress.
Dolly Gee sounds like a lovely lady. And what's a bed without a cat or two or three?
How come you can write about cats and it's not banal and uninteresting?
Eh?
EH?
I sometimes sit in wonder at how dogs get their way with sweetness and love and punished with short stout words to keep them behaving.
Cats however, have learned success through inflicting pain.
How did this happen?
I recently re-inherited a cat of mine. His name is David Foster Wallace, affectionately nicknamed "Hey pain in the a$$. What of my few personal belongings did you ruin today?" I bet your Dolly Gee is much too dignified for his level of thuggery.
He does carry on a decent conversation though.
My cat's a rag doll with a penchant for throwing up outside the bedroom door where it's pretty much guaranteed we'll step in it as we make our bleary eyed walk across the landing to the bathroom to discover he's peed in the bath again. Deep joy. It's a good job we love him.
Bimbo (that was my first official cat) used to sleep either on my head or curled up in my right armpit. Which explained why I had fleas in my armpit for a few months.
Yes, but cats don't grow as large as human children. I'm still trying to throw my five-year-old out of my Queen bed. I am NOT buying a King for the prince. Yes, I'm frightened of having two children. I'll be sleeping in their beds eventually. Maybe I should get some cats to enact some revenge on the children?
For the love of god, a man does not expect to walk into a bloggers bedroom for the first time and see so much fur centred in the same place all at once.
I'm glad I did though.
My Emma kitty's favorite position is on her back exposing the soft furry belly, but it's a total 'you may look, but you dasn't touch'.
Ah, the Humane Society's idea of tact. "She appears to have a bit of feral raccoon in her."
Thankfully, the dammit is not allowed on the bed, he used to sleep with our daughter and shove her off the side - his 35 pounds works like 350. Instead he just leaves pointy and/or squeaky toys underfoot so you're sure to wake him in the middle of the night if you get up. He doesn't want to miss anything.
Quite glad to hear that at least one takes summers off.
I feel for ya girl. With the invasion of the new canine kidlets, I'm not sleeping my best either.
Katee belle needs to be snuggled up right next to me, and I have to find my spot on the bed quickly before Sookie Bear tries to bite off my nose and my chin and my ear in her attempt to keep playing dawn until dusk.
I'm sure it'll settle down a bit ... eventually!
I wanna meet Dolly Gee!
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