Rosie & Roseanne:
2much 2fer

2muchCuppa, Not Enough Caffeine…

David Bowie was already living in our neighborhood when we arrived, though we didn’t see him for several weeks. One day, headed for the laundry room, I found him passed out on the stairs. I said hello and he opened his eyes…how beautiful! Even in the shade, he was squinting. But I could see one bright blue and one bright green eye. Wow…Cindy Crawford’s hanging out in the alley — and David Bowie enjoys a siesta near the washer. But our friends say they don’t understand why we would want to live in this neighborhood? I offered my hand, and Bowie let out a low growl. Obviously, he was hoping for anonymity, and being a very private sort, myself, I took no offense [but did take my leave]. Continue reading “David Bowie: Ace Oddity”

What is it about the kitchen? It’s everyone’s favorite room in the house, and, for some inexplicable reason, the hard, plastic dish rack is their favorite place to grab a few winks. Many will sleep on top of glasses and mugs and bowls, often finding a “pillow” in the cutlery. When we do dishes, there’s always someone to dislodge. Several times. No one takes us seriously until the laws of physics leave them no choice.

They do seem to have some sort of honor among sieves [har har]. Everyone gets a turn. Ten minutes after we’ve finished, whomever feels “next” stands at the ready, and begins notifying us that the dishes are dry enough. If one of us doesn’t jump, the violins begin to play. It’s a very good thing we’re “parenting” cats and not children, or we’d be raising manipulative little monsters. Luckily [for all concerned], in cats, this sort of behavior is adorable! [Couldn’t you just puke?]

We often play Infomercial. “It’s a dish rack — and a hammock!” Bro’s been trying to figure out how to rig one with a revolving door. [Who’s Yer] Daddy and Greylian are more respectful than most, but they do expect us to take a hint…

BadCat Richard Branson Reaches for the Unknown

Little Dickie Branson began his career with us as a three-week-old virgin wunderkind. Wild yet regal from birth, he was the child of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, and Who’s Yer Daddy.

Elvira had been abandoned, and, in seeking comfort from new humans, quickly learned to fear us all. It took more than a year and three litters to gain her trust.

Capturing Branson and his siblings, however, was an adventure which required subterranean crawls and the dismantling of concrete barriers, but we had no time to waste. Someone in the neighborhood was mutilating and killing cats and kittens, and they’d already gotten to one of his brothers. When Elvira brought his lifeless body to our door, we knew they couldn’t stay where they were…so we nabbed her. Continue reading “Richard Branson: Virgin Visionary”

BadCat Paul Newman Babysitting John Cleese

Paul Newman and John Cleese went out for adoption, but both were back in record time.

Paul arrived with Barbra Streisand and a few others who’d been held captive by a bunch of teenage boys, and used for target practice [among other things]. He couldn’t have been 6 weeks old. He and Barbra were pure white [after a bath], and the most adventuresome kittens we’d ever had. But they were also the sweetest. Continue reading “Kids, These Days!”

2much_HaHaHa. Click to Discover
why this is freakin’ hilarious!

We love all creatures…even humans, though they sometimes test our patience.
As Elvis once asked, ”what’s so great about peace, love, and understanding?”
I don’t know, but I’d sure like to find out…

2much BadCat Wanda Sykes:

Dangerously Anti-Social? or Possessed of a Refined Sensibility.

Nothing quite like a cat to keep one humble. Luckily, [as long as our delusions remain in check] they’re also willing to make us feel loved.

We seem to suddenly be recovering, emotionally, from the annus horribilis which was 2007. Accepting the losses sustained and the things we cannot change. Awakening to the reality that we’re still surrounded — and that our bummers are their bummers. Bummer! But the fog is lifting…

We’ve received more than $200 in donations through our BREAD 4 BREAD campaign, over the past few days, and though we’re still swimming in red ink, the kindness of strangers has definitely given us hope and lightened our mood. Our heartfelt thanks to all who have been so very generous [and our pleas remain active for those who might be so inclined, now].

Mea culpas have been given to the critters, for whom the abject self-pity party must have been mortifying. Thank God they don’t have a webcam. It wasn’t pretty. Rather than being thankful for those we’d been given for a while and appreciating those we still have, we were blinded by grief, aware of only those we had lost. How embarrassing.

All better, now! They did an intervention on us, we made our amends, and we’re livin’ in the moment. Takin’ it one furball at a time…

As there are parents who should never have had children, doctors who should never be allowed to practice medicine, teachers who should never have access to young and impressionable minds, and members of the fourth estate who should never be considered journalists, etc., ad nauseam, so, too, there are animal-rescue workers, galore, who are equally unsuited for their task.

We met the best and the worst, straight out of the gate. Cindy Crawford started introducing us to all of her friends…not the glamorous crowd, mind you — her fellow street urchins. They were dirty and unkempt, woefully uneducated, and aspired to nothing more than running wild, eating lizards, fighting, getting hit by cars, and boinking like bunnies. It was hardly our place to pass judgment on their lifestyle, but neither could we allow them to pass their torch to succeeding generations of innocent children. Continue reading “Wanda Sykes: Beloved Beyotch”