Suzy Says

It turns out that I was over my quota, and that’s why the pictures wouldn’t load. So I did overdo it with the new camera. Fortunately, my fabulous friend (and hostess with the mostes’) Candi* doubled my capacity and fixed the problem. Let’s see how long it takes me to use it up!

The cats are completely undeceived by the madness of the time change. This means that Audrey thinks any time after 4:00 am is the perfect time to wake me up so she can venture out in the cold darkness to do whatever it is that’s so important for her to do. I will never understand why she wants to go out in the cold and/or rain instead of staying warm and cozy in the house. Aren’t cats supposed to hate water?

They all tell me how hungry they are starting at 7:00 am (the new 8:00) and again around 4:00 (the new 5:00). Maybe we should listen to animals and our own instincts and make the madness stop. Are you with me?

The boys have figured out that I’m actually available all night, and not just after Audrey goes out on her early morning prowl. Clyde in particular likes sleeping on my face or on my pillow. Roscoe tends to just curl up next to me, while Audrey is either on the foot of the bed or in her chair. So far, there hasn’t been much intra-feline growling and spitting, though there is the occasional bite to my nose and hands, thanks to the kittens. If I hide my hands under the covers, they just go under the covers to pursue the biting, which results in their ejection. They just boomerang back, though.

They have also become inventive in their choice of toys.

The other day, Clyde appeared with something in his mouth, making that “Hey, I killed something! Aren’t you proud of me?” noise. On closer inspection, it turned out to be half of a battered mussel shell. I have no idea where he found it.

He enjoyed the clattering sound it made when he dropped it on the wood floor and batted it around much more than I did.

This morning, Roscoe showed up with something unidentifiable in his mouth, which was one of my woolen gloves:

Apparently, he found the basket where I store my gloves, hats, and mittens and helped himself. No matter how many times I put the glove away, he still finds it.

Finally, here’s a picture of Clyde relaxing on Sunday afternoon:

Doesn’t every basket of clean laundry need a nice, healthy dose of cat hair? Black is the new black.

*You can blame Candi for my blogging in the first place. She set it all up and got me started almost ten years ago, saying, “You have things to say and should have a place to say them.”