I can pee like a sprinkler (in a circle)!

This is a little embarrassing, but here goes.... I've made so many strides over the past several weeks with regard to my people skills, but Marcymommy realized after my last trip to Fuzzy Friends that I had attachment issues. Well, of course I do, royalty can't just be friends with anyone! She decided that Pauldaddy should do more bonding with me, which involved him taking me outside and feeding me and holding me without Marcymommy always around. So for the past week Pauldaddy is insisting that I respond to him with love as much as I do with Marcymommy. They're saying I don't generalize my affections from one person to another. I didn't think it was a problem, but I seem to be losing my grip on my castle lately. So this morning Marcymommy suggested to Pauldaddy that he really wanted to bond with me this morning by letting me out of my crate and taking me out to potty--all by himself.

I'm more than happy to greet him as he opens the door, but only because I expect Marcymommy to be around the corner. This morning I know she's not, so I back into a corner and use my most assertive tone of voice with Pauldaddy. Who knew he could fit half his body into the crate?! I bit him on the finger (gently, of course) but he grabbed me anyway. He's so clueless. I screamed as he took me outside because I knew Marcymommy would hear me through her window. But she didn't come outside and I couldn't hold it anymore. Pauldaddy picked me up to bring me back inside (I have legs, man, I can walk!). He brought me to see Marcymommy, and I thought my world was right again. I even let Pauldaddy cuddle me some more (well, Marcymommy threw me into his arms). As she was getting ready for the day (i.e. breakfast without me) I realized I had to go potty again. The bathmat is really lush and since I don't see a wide range of colors, how was I to know I wasn't supposed to go on it? I thought it was part of spoiling me. I start circling, looking for the perfect spot, when Marcymommy looks down and actually uses the word, "no." I mean, really. She picks me up and swings me around to face away from her, and I think it must sort of be like the Six Flag rides that go in circles and you just let loose, accidentally. I personally think that people should not be allowed to laugh at you when you make such an error, but she called Pauldaddy to come get me and I could hear her screaming with laughter. Worse than peeing on the floor, she said, was picking me up mid-stream, swinging me around, and realizing that's I could pee 360 degrees on the walls, closet, and sink counter. Bust out the clorox wipes!

the disciplinarian

I have always considered myself to be a natural leader. Since I've generally mastered being bathed and combed and am learning to play without peeing in fear, I thought it was a good time to begin close monitoring of my insubordinates. Marcymommy makes every attempt to maintain order in the castle, but monsters aren't always very cooperative. Case in point--they know they aren't supposed to bark savagely at the sliding glass door when people walk by. Or when leaves skitter by. Or when a new rock suddenly appears on the patio. So one day I took matters into my own hands and strode purposefully and firmly (i.e. like a bunch of scattering marbles) over to the monsters. I bounced, I dodged, I nipped at ankles and tips of tails, and never noticed Marcymommy shouting at the monsters to quiet down. But she meant everyone, including me. Can you imagine that?? I'm only trying to help but she actually said the words, "you are not the boss, let me take care of it." I refused to believe this so several times I have loudly lectured the monsters at various times and, while they get in trouble, I also get disciplined Cesar Milan-style, with a quick tap on my neck. Instead of my usual bugging-out of my eyes in anger, I now roll over in her arms so she can apologize by rubbing my belly. I suddenly understand, and it's ok. She wants me to delegate the discipline to her so I'm free to pursue other, happier activities, such as kitten wrestling and hall racing. What a generous thought.

news flash: I am NOT a squeaky toy

I may have to get a new writer. Marcymommy only devotes one day a week to my blog when in fact I should be a priority. Oh, well. So this past couple of weeks she thought it would be a good idea, or funny, or morbidly cruel, or whatever, to allow the small household monster to enter my domain at will. When I say small, I mean that's Marcymommy's description. I'm a petite four pounder and this behemoth weighs at least 50. The only thing I'm bigger than is the kitten, and I'm told that's temporary. You take what you can get sometimes, though, because my other options are either 80 pound monster. So I'm on the bed in the morning while Marcymommy gets ready to go to work and earn money to spend on me when the "little" monster bounds into the room and onto the bed. Marcymommy usually carries me around to prevent such intrusions so I ran to the edge of the bed and raised up on my hind legs, waving my front paws at her. It was not to be. She has this evil smile she gets when she's trying to introduce me to something that she says will be good for me. Moving on, the monster is on the bed getting closer by the millisecond. Did you know that I don't need wings in order to fly?!?! Now, when I'm on the couch, Marcymommy doesn't let the monsters up, so I feel a little safer and will dart around, barking at them. On the bed, however, I discovered that I may need to invest in stilts. Monster towers over me, leans her head down, and puts her entire mouth around my middle. So I did what any self-serving royal does in times of distress--I screamed my fool head off. I thought surely Marcymommy would realize the error of her ways but she only said that Monster was part lab and had a "soft" mouth meant for retrieving, not biting. Excuse me, I do not need to be retrieved. This went on for what seemed like days to the point where I had to stop playing with Monster when Marcymommy would look in our direction so she wouldn't think I agreed with her idea of a good time.

Most days I carry my head and tail up, and make my eyes extra bright and shiny. I rarely yell at Marcymommy or Pauldaddy when they pick me up, even when I'm surprised. Marcymommy makes a good nap pillow except when she's faking it so she can take my picture, none of which I've noticed have ended up on my blog. Hmmm...duty calls.

I think it's raining

I know I'm posting alot in one day, but I demanded that my scribe play catch up, regardless of other chores today or carpal tunnel syndrome. This morning I heard quite the commotion as the monsters started roaring for their morning walk. Why Marcymommy doesn't just turn them loose and lock the door, I don't know. My life would be so much easier, which is really the point, right? Anyway, I took another short snooze before she came back to let me out for my morning duties. She cuddled me and brought me into the bathrooms with her so I would be safe from the monsters while she got ready for the day. I hung out with the big yellow monster because she and I have an understanding--I don't bother her, she doesn't bother me. Either that or she didn't know I was there because she was asleep. At any rate, I was innocently surveying this section of my castle when Marcymommy grabbed me and a bottle of something I hadn't notice before. All of a sudden I thought there was a hole in the roof of the castle because I was getting DRIPPED on!!! But I look up and lo and behold, Marcymommy is directing the source of this rain right on my head. Ok, so I know royalty must maintain a certain standard of hygiene, but I really wasn't prepared for a bath this morning. I bugged my eyes out at her to show her I meant business, but she just smiled at me, poured some shampoo on me, and gave me a wet, soapy mohawk. Very funny. Now, I'm not saying I enjoyed the process, but after the leave-in conditioner and a gentle combing, I felt downright estatic--you know, as if I'd been dropped in a vat of my favorite treats! I'm a great candidate for fluffy hair. I'm sure that the model agency will be booking me soon. Life is good.

leaps and bounds, part 2

Also this week, Marcymommy either thought she could intimidate me or that it would be funny to put me on the floor when the monsters (resident dogs) were inside. I darted and dodged, yelled and charged. And then I realized I was talking to their feet. The big male assumed I wanted to shake paws, I guess, but he's clumsy and hit me on my head. Insubordinate. I'm going to have to see about having him imprisoned for that...or at least get his treats transferred to me. The big yellow female gave me a dirty look and walked off; clearly she knew her place in my castle. The little female--and I use the term little very loosely--keeps mistaking me for her favorite beaver chew toy. I understand we're about the same size and color, but that beaver doesn't have any stuffing, and I'm certain I do not appear that deflated. She obviously is a special needs dog, if she cannot recognize me as her queen. I will have to see about getting her some services for the visually-impaired. Marcymommy has a friend whose husband works in that department. So many things on my to-do list. Anyway, I refused to interact with those heathens for the first part of the week, instead choosing to chase the new kitten up and down the hall. She also hit me on the head like the big monster did, but it didn't feel so bad. She seemed miffed when I sat on her, especially when Marcymommy told me I was a good girl because I was learning to play. Throughout the week we got along better and better.

Later on in the week I allowed the small female monster to be on the same surface as me (I kick her off the couch, but Marcymommy keeps letting her on the bed when I've clearly already claimed that territory). She wisely lay down in an attempt to bow to me, so I went over to have her kiss my feet but she stood up and started barking and licking me. Marcymommy insisted this was called playing, but I object to loud noises and slobber as part of a social interaction. Plus the monster insists on sniffing me all the time. I'll ask Marcymommy for a muzzle...or maybe just a pillowcase to put over the monster's head. Nevertheless, this one seems nice albeit obnoxious. I may give her a chance.

Leaps and bounds, part one

This past week I've been making progress by leaps and bounds, according to Marcymommy. Of course, it's easier to leap and bound when your toenails aren't digging into your paw pads. Marcymommy spent two days cradling me and playing with my feet until my eyes quit bugging out of my head in indignation. Then she brought out scissors to trim the fur on my feet, and I tried to have a conniption fit like last time at Fuzzy Friends. But all the blood had run from my brain to my tummy because of all the treats. So I couldn't concentrate on arguing. Besides, she keeps misinterpreting my dog-speak. Marcymommy did tell me that real queens get pedicures all the time, that it's a real sign of pampering. While she was telling me this story she's filing those pesky dewclaws of mine and then clipping them with her own toenail clippers. I think I'm really growing up. Except for the part where I ran around and around in circles on the bathroom floor because I knew there must be a treat for enduring the toe-nail guillotine--pedicure my foot!

Is there a writer's strike?

So, people may think that I only have a writer because I don't have thumbs with which to type. The truth is, is that I really just believe my thoughts flow better if I can dictate to my subjects (i.e. Marcymommy). I hesitate to complain about the long gap between the last entry and this one. I'm told that I can only be pampered so many ways in one day, which is just the silliest thought ever. The past several days she has taken up brushing me as her new hobby. I admit, I want to look good and stay youthful, which means smooth and shiny hair. I made sure she knew by my wide-eyed stare that she had better be careful with that wire slicker brush. One little hair pull and there was going to have to be some vigilante justice. I thought maybe there was a magnet in the brush because she kept popping it up and down lightly over my tangles (it's rough maintaining the wind blown look), claiming that doing so would help get me used to the brush and also attack the tangles in a gradual way. I could have fallen asleep (don't tell her that) but I stayed alert. I have so much more to dictate, but Marcymommy claims she has to go to work to afford to take care of her resident monsters. As if that should shorten my contribution. The service around here has got to improve...although I still am enjoying my filtered water. Gotta stay positive.

Love to all my fans/subjects at Fuzzy Friends, especially my Angelamommy!