With the temperatures back in the 20s, the following is a little something from summer, a short season that wishes us well and thinks we should all go have a drink, maybe sit out on a deck somewhere…
Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) is an absolute hoot, albeit a cruel one.
“Don’t look,” she hisses, her paw covering her mouth as she sips delicately from the Mai Tai she insists she have with lunch. “But I think I saw that woman over there suspended by guy wires and sandwiched between Mighty Mouse and a high school marching band at the last Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.”
Of course this sort of thing always makes me spit my beer out with laughter, even if it is inappropriate.
But what do you want from the world’s most dangerous kitteh?
For she truly is dangerous.
How else would I describe her, aside from “dangerous”? She is a small-pawed and symmetrically-striped kitty, a stealthy and bright-eyed kitty, a kitty capable of lifting your wallet while winding herself about your ankles.
A kitty with sharp eyes and a sharp tongue.
Sure we’ve had our issues. She has repeatedly cost me money (usually in the form of financial settlements in lieu of litigation) and she once dangled a gerbil on a string out the front window just to see how high the neighborhood cats could jump (for the record, the answer would be “quite high, really”).
We are sitting at Psycho Suzi’s, on the Tiki Deck. Summer has arrived, and with it Liza Bean’s penchant for umbrella-ed drinks. She sips, the straw held delicately between her little black lips. Tiny white teeth appear and disappear as she talks around the straw.
“I mean, really,” she says. “Are those pajama bottoms? One goes out in public, and one dresses for the occasion.” She laughs behind one well-manicured paw. “How much will you give me to go over there and tell her naptime’s over?”
How much will I give her? Nothing, of course, as I’m afraid she’ll do it for free.
The last fight she got in cost me the money I was saving for a flatscreen TV.
“Oh, never mind,” she purrs. “It’s too lovely a day.” Her eyes, half-lidded in the afternoon sun, glow an emerald green.
“We have cream at home, don’t we? I do so enjoy a little cream in the afternoon.” She sighs. “I just love these little outings. We really should do this more often.”
Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) is an absolute hoot, albeit a cruel one.
“Don’t look,” she hisses, her paw covering her mouth as she sips delicately from the Mai Tai she insists she have with lunch. “But I think I saw that woman over there suspended by guy wires and sandwiched between Mighty Mouse and a high school marching band at the last Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.”
Of course this sort of thing always makes me spit my beer out with laughter, even if it is inappropriate.
But what do you want from the world’s most dangerous kitteh?
For she truly is dangerous.
How else would I describe her, aside from “dangerous”? She is a small-pawed and symmetrically-striped kitty, a stealthy and bright-eyed kitty, a kitty capable of lifting your wallet while winding herself about your ankles.
A kitty with sharp eyes and a sharp tongue.
Sure we’ve had our issues. She has repeatedly cost me money (usually in the form of financial settlements in lieu of litigation) and she once dangled a gerbil on a string out the front window just to see how high the neighborhood cats could jump (for the record, the answer would be “quite high, really”).
We are sitting at Psycho Suzi’s, on the Tiki Deck. Summer has arrived, and with it Liza Bean’s penchant for umbrella-ed drinks. She sips, the straw held delicately between her little black lips. Tiny white teeth appear and disappear as she talks around the straw.
“I mean, really,” she says. “Are those pajama bottoms? One goes out in public, and one dresses for the occasion.” She laughs behind one well-manicured paw. “How much will you give me to go over there and tell her naptime’s over?”
How much will I give her? Nothing, of course, as I’m afraid she’ll do it for free.
The last fight she got in cost me the money I was saving for a flatscreen TV.
“Oh, never mind,” she purrs. “It’s too lovely a day.” Her eyes, half-lidded in the afternoon sun, glow an emerald green.
“We have cream at home, don’t we? I do so enjoy a little cream in the afternoon.” She sighs. “I just love these little outings. We really should do this more often.”
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15 comments:
She's a character.
Quite amusing, really.
No one does cat conversations like you do.
That is intended to be a compliment.
You two give a whole new meaning to: "crazy cat ladies" :-)
Hari OM
cough splutter... you made me spray my umbrella-d beverage all about my being... YAM xx
Psycho Suzi...I resemble that name.
I've half a mind to take one or three of my cats out for drinks now. Maybe I should find the other half of my mind. Or wait until I've saved up for the lawsuit(s).
I'm glad the weather is moderating in your neck of the woods. Hope your new work position is pleasant, rewarding both financially and intellectually, and as permanent as you want it to be. It could happen!!
You are soooo much braver than I am. I don't think I could take Jazz out - or at least not without an ambulance and a lawyer. And a financial wizard.
In the 20's? A heat wave 😁
"...gerbil on a string out the front window..." Now I know where shredded gerbils come from before the cannery gets them.
I really want a mai tai now. I'm drinking fake wine. This is what winter does to me. It's a sad state of affairs.
Cats that prefer umbrella'd drinks and cats that gamble...I'm going to have to be very careful when I finally make it to the animal shelter to choose a cat.
Very catty remarks.
You spoil that cat.
Have you tried therapy?
For the feline I mean.
I do love your writing!!
(ツ) from Cottage Country Ontario , ON, Canada!
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