Tuxie Tuesday

It has been really crazy around here lately.
First there were people painting in the kitchen and the sunroom.
Then they rearranged the furniture.
They even put our cat tree away for awhile.
That's bad. Real bad.

Then strangers started coming by when Bernie and Blondie were gone.
They thought I would be re-assured if they gave me lots of toys.

Frankly, I think this is just weird.
I wish all the toy mice would stop looking at me.
It's like they are trying to hypnotize me or something.

Personally the only toy that I care about is my fish. They are two black and white fuzzy fish connected with a cord. I get the cord between my teeth, and walk the fish to wherever Bernie is, making my special "I caught something" throaty meows.

He thinks that is really neat.

It is the least I can do.
Tiggie usually hauls a silver cord, a crinkly bug, and sometimes some other thing into their bedroom every night.
Frankly, I think that is just over kill.

Well, that's all I can think to write about right now.
I'll let you know as soon as I figure out what is going on around here.
Meantime, Tuxie Tuesdays are cool!

Tuxie Tuesday

Hart found out about Tuesdays being "Tuxie" Tuesdays. He suggested I let him write on my blog on Tuesday. I thought was a great idea, so here he is, posting on his first Tuxie Tuesday.
Tiggie

I wanted all the Tuxie cats out there to see how high I can climb!
I was chasing a squirrel at the time.

Of course climbing isn't the hard part.
(I got a little scared, and Blondie came out and talked me down.)

Tiggie always comes down trees tail first. I just can't do it that way. Maybe going tail first is easier because you don't have to actually see how far down down really is.

It took a bit, but I made it down to the fence.
I think tree climbing really isn't for me.
Especially since the squirrels go so much faster up a tree than I do.

Father's Day

So today is Father's Day.

I never really knew my old man.

(Hart: I didn't know mine either.)

Mom said I looked a lot like my Dad.

She said he was a big orange fellow that she met on a fence one night during a full moon.

She said they made beautiful music together.

And that his name was "Tom."

(Hart: That's funny...that's what my mom said was my dad's name too...)

Maybe one day we'll see our fathers out there.

If we just keep looking out the window, maybe one day he will come by.

Maybe.

You just never know.

I did not know they could do that....

Hart and I were out in the garden the other day and he knocked over the empty white pot.

This critter was hiding underneath it!

It started hopping like crazy, but I caught it!

It fit in my mouth, all except the feet. They stuck out a bit, and that made it hard for me to let Bernie know I had CAUGHT something!

I ran from window to window trying to get his attention. Then all of the sudden....bleech! there was an awful taste in my mouth.

I had to spit the thing out...my mouth was all icky tasting. Later on Bernie said that when frogs get scared they pee.

NO!

NO WAY!!!!

Gross!!!! I would have NEVER tried to catch a frog in my mouth if I had known that. Why don't frogs come with warning labels or something?

Since it was still early in the day, Hart and I decided to pull up a piece of shade and just chill for a bit.

That didn't last long.

There he was again, that friggin' squirrel. Sitting on a branch just over us, flicking his tail and daring us to do something about it.

Well, I wasn't about to put up with that. I was off like a shot.

The nutcase squirrel raced ahead of me....

Ah ha...now I've got you, you little monster.

It was a stare down.

I kept looking at him until he finally lost his nerve and left.

Me: Still King of the Yard.

Tuxie Tuesday

I think I've mentioned that Hart really never thinks too much about where he naps. Sometimes he just disappears under the chair, but forgets to pull his feet in.

I'll admit, his back feet toes are kinda cute.

I'm still recommending an artful pose when in repose.

Sometime the two of us sack out in the same place. "Joined at the hip" they say. That's just how it is sometimes when you are comfortable with an old friend.

Listen to the birdies sing....

I saw Hart loafing on the bench outside yesterday. He looked like someone had let the air out of him.

He is a great hunter, but pretty lax on keeping up with his outside snoopervising duties.

Hart is way too involved in baby bird catching. It just about wears him out racing up and leaping to the bird feeder, then running when Bernie knocks on the window and yells.

Baby birds are too easy; they sit near us and look at us like they don't know what we are. They learn though...

I personally caught a Carolina wren and brought it in to show Bernie. He was ticked off, and took the bird away from me. The dumb wren now sits on the patio chair and smirks at us.

I wasn't going to hurt it or anything,; I just wanted to show Bernie that I could catch a bird if I wanted to.

I got going on my rounds..,..everything was just fine. The raccoons had stopped by and left some trash behind, but that isn't my problem.

I am allowed to hunt snakes though. Inside snakes. Ones that are knitted by Grandma, and have 'nip and crinkles and bells inside.

Man can those things fight.

I have to re-kill them every day.

Another Tiggie-Snake trophy shot.

It is a lot of work killing snakes. I always work up a bit of sweat, and my fur gets all tangled. A nice long bath followed by a good nap makes for the perfect end to a successful hunt.

Brushing privilege

I got thinking the other day about all the people who I have allowed to brush me.

I prefer red haired people to brush me. They understand my fur type.

She was really good at brushing Hart and I at the same time.

This woman I only met once. She owns several famous hair salons out in California I am told.

Well now she has something else to brag about.

She has brushed me.

Did a good job too I might add. She got all the way down on the rug to do the job.

Let's see...

who else?

Jeff

The Swedish girl

Bernie of course.

Blondie

"Grandma"

and the other Grandma

Crystal

Jennifer

Uncle Scott

There are probably a few more people that I can't recall right now. I suppose they will be upset with me that I have forgotten them.

My apologies.

I sent the Swedish girl some of my fur. She thought that was very nice of me. I thought so...I haven't heard a lot about Sweden, so I thought perhaps maybe they needed something special like Tiggie fur over there.

I am considering sending my fur to other parts of the world that could benefit from a touch of my special orange fur.

After all, Blondie just acts all disgusted that I usually shed out a nice ball of fur every time she brushes me. I think she just doesn't appreciate my fur as she should. If I started sending it out to other places, maybe she would start being more respectful.

Anyway, that is what I am thinking about today.