Welcome to Glogirly Greatest Hits. This is Glogirly's new and improved way of slacking. And my way of sharing some of my favorite blogs from back when many of you didn't even know me.
So, without further adieu, I bring you -
Hi everyone, Katie here.
Every cat should have their own label maker. After all we are neat, clean and orderly animals. We like a place for everything and everything in its place. Glogirly brought a P-Touch home today and I've been hogging it ever since she pried open the plastic blister package it came in. She used some pretty questionable language getting it out of that package and rustling through the spanish and french instructions.
I've been working hard to identify all things in the townhouse that are mine so as to alleviate any confusion over whose stuff is whose.
The P-Touch keyboard is very similar to the computer's. My typing experience on my blog has prepared me well for this labeling task. It's a lot of work labeling all things that are mine in this townhouse.
There's my food, my water, my poop box, my room (actually rooms.) There's my frog, my fishing pole, my windows, my chair (actually chairs.) Maybe I should just label the few things that AREN'T mine. Like the shampoo and shower gel.
On second thought, I really just need ONE label for the front door. Katie's Townhouse. That should cover it.
The whole Wordless Wednesday thing has not been working out. I'm just not a cat of few words...never will be. Glogirly and I have reached a compromise though. I call it:
WHAT'S THE WORD WEDNESDAY
So here's the deal. I'll give you a photo of me. And you can write a caption. Just remember, I'm not one for sugary-sweet-let-me-cuddle-with-you-I-love-you's. I'm Katie. I'm sarcastic. Often judgmental. That's just how I roll.
Learned a valuable lesson this past week. Be careful who you call SMELLY.
Turns out my cat sitter has been secretly reading my blog. Can you believe the nerve? On top of that, she even came over to the townhouse when she wasn't supposed to. Glogirly and Gloman were BOTH home! Something about a party, yada yada whatever.
So the cat sitter is downstairs whooping it up with Glogirly and Gloman. (I believe alcohol WAS involved.) And I'm stuck upstairs hiding, I mean guarding, under the bed. Word gets out that I've called the cat sitter SMELLY and she's not happy. The cat sitter claims she actually smells like sunshine and rainbows. Yeah, whatever. I suppose she's got a spray bottle of THAT at home.
Glogirly says I have to do something nice. Sigh. So to keep the peace I made this -
When I die, God will likely greet me at the pearly gates and shower me with compliments about what a wonderful cat life I've lived. He'll be quite pleased with how friendly and loving I have been. Even towards dog people.
Sure, I've inappropriately hissed on occasion. I'm a cat. I just can't imagine I'd be sent back to earth for a second run at heavenly worthiness. But just in case, I've decided that in my next life, if necessary, I'd like to be a maid or a hooker.
You see, I love beds. I love everything about them. I love making them. I love playing in them. I love pillowcases. I love flat and fitted sheets alike. Laundry day is the best day. It's like a party. I love twirling in the sheets when Glogirly is trying to tuck them in. I try to help in any way I can, just like any good maid would.
Now I don't know much about hookers. But I hear they spend a lot of time in bed. And they get paid to be in bed. Well I spend a lot of time in bed and I've yet to see a paycheck. So I'm thinking there might be a future for me in this field.
Back in May, Glogirly and Gloman road-tripped it out west. They spent time in some of the national parks of Utah and Arizona. Did they bring me? No. Did they miss me? Probably not. Did they leave me with the smelly cat sitter? What do YOU think?
Here's Glogirly with Utah's famous Delicate Arch in Arches National Park. She had to drag Gloman and his camera for 2 miles up an extremely steep hike to get a glimpse of the famous landmark.
My magical powers (Photoshop) made it possible for me to still be part of the action. That little pile of rocks in the photo at the top is called a Cairn. It's a trail marker. The Cairns kept Glogirly and Gloman from falling off the gigantic cliffs.
This is Antelope Canyon in Page, Arizona.
It's a slot canyon.
No, you can't win anything playing in there. It has a tiny slot in the top that light shines through. At exactly noon, a magical beam of light slips through the slot and onto the canyon floor.
It's REALLY magical.
I would get in serious trouble if I didn't mention Gloman's amazing photography. If he knew that Glogirly photoshopped me into the canyon....well, let's just say my kibble would be at serious risk.
In my continued effort to dazzle, amaze and confuse Glogirly and Gloman, I've incorporated a watchdog routine into my daily repertoire.
I've identified a specific spot on the living room rug, adjacent to the sofa they seem to lay around on all the time, as my designated guard post.
From this spot I have a clear view of all possible points of entry, should an intruder make his/her way into the inner sanctum of the townhouse.
I can sit and stare (I mean guard) for hours. I limit my food and bathroom breaks while on post to emergency situations only.
Glogirly and Gloman believe I am protecting the townhouse from intruder insurgence. Truth be told, I'm just messing with them. Even though I sit motionless staring off into space (I mean guarding) I'm able to take in their entire dialogue. It's better than any show on TV.
"Look, she's guarding us again."
"Does she hear something?"
"No. Do YOU hear anything?"
"I sure wish I knew what she was thinking."
"We can't possibly be THAT smart."
"Why does she always sit in exactly the same spot?"
I know. I don't call. I don't write. I don't blog. I'm still here. Still beautiful. Still smart. Same old, same old. Let's just move on shall we?
So, big experiment in the townhouse today. Glogirly and Gloman, they just think they're so smart. Gloman thinks he's got me trained. Glogirly just rolls her eyes. Yeah, right. I'm a cat.
First, a little background:
Gloman has "trained" me to keep off his stuff. I don't help him with laundry. I don't help him with packing. I never EVER touch his camera gear. Doesn't matter if it's a pile of papers on the floor (tempting indeed) or a warm stack of neatly folded t-shirts. I may perform certain acrobatics around these stacks and piles. But I always keep my paws to myself.
Glogirly's stuff is another story. Fair game. I fur up her laundry stacks every chance I get. I always help with bed making and suitcase packing. Invited or not, I am there.
I sleep on Glogirly's pillow whenever she's not.
Sometimes even when she is.
But I never EVER touch Gloman's pillows.
This morning before Glogirly left for work, she switched her pillow with Gloman's. They wanted to see if I'd notice. If I'd follow Glogirly's pillow to Gloman's side of the bed. The plan was to come home and inspect the pillows for evidence. You know, the telltale divot in the middle, the remnants of my furs, maybe even a speck of litter. (Not than I'm a slob or anything.)
Seriously? Do they think I can't tell the difference between Gloman's stinky manly cologne and Glogirly's stinky sweet perfume? Duh. I'm a cat.
So I decided to mess with them. I slept on Gloman's pillow ALL day. Made a giant kitty divot. Left some fur. And carefully positioned one granule of litter. hehehe.
They thought I was smarter than that. I'm just smarter than them.