Needy Kneady Kitty Feet
Flopsie, our black and white female, the little piggy piggy who was our “mews” (get it?) for MeowSpace®, loves to knead. It’s pretty cute the way her little eyes get that “I’m on drugs” look as she pushes and prods her little paws into her object of kneading. And herein lies the rub (pun intended); it’s where she kneads that’s the problem…on me. Sometimes I think she has appointed herself to be my personal fat guru. Yes, cat kneading could help me lose my tummy fat. Yogi Flopsie practices the “chi” exercise known as “The Crane” on me on a daily basis. She picks the perfect spot on my poor stomach, appears to inhale and exhale deeply, and begins the ritual. Push push press press claws ouch press push claws ouch again and on and on for as long as I can stand it, or until I have to go to the bathroom, whichever one comes first. I’ve noticed an intelligent pattern to her kneading. She spends about 5 minutes all over my stomach, then moves to my thighs for more »
Bed, Bath, and Bondservant – Cats Rule
I’ve been slowed down a bit this week by a chest cold, which has given me time to notice…well…little things…about which I usually don’t give much thought. For example, I’m finally realizing the reality of my purpose in this household, other than my MeowSpace work. You see, I always thought I was the revered human; the one who, when coming home from afar, is greeted at the door by my adoring cats. I’ve always assumed that they are simply lost without me, which is why, when I walk through my front door after a long excursion to the mail box and back, they meet and greet me with a fervor only reserved for the beloved Master of the House. Not so. In my state of chest cold induced slow-motion, I’ve had the opportunity to observe, more closely, the reality of my situation, and it isn’t pretty. The aforementioned adoring looks I assumed I was receiving were not at all adoration, but looks of expectation rooted in entitlement. The greetings I’ve received from my cats were not in the least those more »
