People for Cats

They may not know what they stand for, but the crowd at OCCUPY have already offended Fuzzywiggle Furrypants Roo with their billboards declaring PEOPLE FOR PEOPLE, so much so that she had me pose with a more appropriate sign …

 

A Message from FFR


 

I thought it should read PEOPLE FOR ANIMALS (as that encompasses all of us) or better yet PEOPLE FOR ORGANISMS (as we wouldn’t want to exclude plants, fungi, parameciums …), but she said that if the OCCUPY folk were going to be omnipotent, then they may as well be schooled in who the true Goddesses really are (yes, just Goddesses as she tells me females rule the feline world).

Now all that aside, can someone please explain me the point of OCCUPYING the financial district on a weekend?  Seems to me they are missing their actual audience on the weekend and just irritating the neighbours and tourists.

So I Wish I Could Make TV

I’m loving my temporary life as Being Brie.  I think it pops off the lips much better than Being Emme!  Despite all the clutter around me, I am also enjoying cat sitting, I mean goddess visiting, for Emme.  There have been many times when I have thought that Emme was a little cheesy with her adoration for Fuzzywiggle Furrypants, but having spent so much time her, I must say that there really are no words to express the qualities she posesses.  It is entirely possible that the Fabulous Feline Royal has hypnotized me because now I want to make her a star!  There is a So You Think You Can Make TV? contest at Paperny Films and I was planning to make an entry for a new lifestyle show about modern day cats that reign.  This was going to be one of many surprises for Emme to come home to.  Unfortunately, I am not between the ages of 19-30! It really is too bad because I’m sure this would have been the winning shot:

Stunning, I know

A Love Song From Ireland & Stephen Maguire

One of my goals with our little romantic travel adventure is to get men (and women) all across the world to serenade us.  And without even divulging this secret wish, it’s already begun, although sadly not in person this time:

Yep, that Irish Stud, Stephen Maguire, sent me a love song from across the pond in Ireland.  Well, in truth, his beautiful wife, Tera, sent me the love song, but she’s just as hot as he is, so works for me.

Next up, gotta get Stephen to serenade me in person.  That and get that sexy sweetheart Richard Yearwood to serenade Brie and I in person and on camera – he’s already done it once over the phone, but Fuzzies accidentally walked over my iphone and clicked delete.

I’m really rather fond of the goals I have in life.

Kisses,

Emme xoxo

The Power of the Nuzzle

My two-legger is almost always taking her nap during the dark-sky time. When she finally gets down to her nap it is a pretty long one, but that’s fine by me, as I like getting a few extra zzz’s next to her (she does make for a warm sleeping companion, which I appurrciate).  More beauty sleep means I am more beautiful in the morning – if indeed I could be any lovelier still. Even so, I never take chances and so never say no to more nap time. Good thing for my two-legger I am so accommodating of her odd napping style.

However, sometimes, during these dark but cozy hours, I am awoken by a deep kitty wisdom – a wisdom I know is as old as the world and as true – when the sky is still dark and the stairs are cold to the paw. Don’t ask me to explain it. As sophisticated as my cognitive powers are, I cannot be expected to articulate complex messages from the Beyond. It’s rather special that my little body can pick up supernatural currents like a purr-operated radio, even if the only message it communicates to me is a growly belly and a springy energy that tells me it is time to leave my boudoir (and for my two-legger to follow). I never argue with wisdom from the Beyond, especially if it thinks an early breakfast is of utmost importance.

A good sleeping companion makes all the difference (Photo by Jackie Fritsche)

Unfortunately my two-legger is rather skeptical of the Beyond and my interpretation of it. I would be offended by her reluctance to obey the power behind my growling belly if I didn’t know she was a dullard as far as the dark-sky currents of kitty wisdom are concerned. She just doesn’t know any better. And so I must patiently persuade her to emerge at a darker hour than she is wont, though she may grumble and groan sleepily. My persuasion strategy involves announcing my wakefulness repeatedly in a pitch she cannot ignore, and when all else fails, I nuzzle her. My nuzzles have a curious power over my two-legger, and they are very useful at times like these. After a few well-administered nuzzles we are invariably padding down the stairs towards my favourite cupboard.

As I enjoy my breakfast, I hear the clink of cups and things in the kitchen, which means my two-legger is joining me in my ritual! I pat myself on the back. I am training her well. Soon she will bound down the stairs with me for this divinely ordained ceremony. I am happy. I will nuzzle my two-legger for this.

Launching Rescue Mission for My Two-Legger

As a goddess who treads this earth but is in no way limited to it, I am ruled by no earthly power – the very idea of such a circumstance is worthy of my most withering look. I especially disdain that meager contraption that elicits such fear and trepidation from my two-legger: what they call “the clock”. One glance at this piddling trifle sends my two-legger into a blogging frenzy, leaving me – ethereal goddess of immaculate perfection – short on my daily offerings of love and libations of exotic liqueurs. As you know, I am partial to the cool sweet milky stuff, but no sign of it for days! The priorities of bi-pedals go so easily awry.

A Withering Look From a Feline is a Force to be Reckoned With - Photo by Eva

I will not stand the denial my rightful shower of love by that unimpressive pseudo-deity they call “the clock”. At its unspoken command, my two-legger appears to be engaging in a face-off with the blogger machine. As her sole proprietor and role model, I believe the task to detach her inferior claws from the clickety-clack at the blogger falls upon my sleek and lustrous shoulders. She must be reminded, yet again, of her duties to me, and that there are now sunny spots aplenty to cuddle me in.

I will make this two-legger led astray an offer she cannot refuse. I will station myself in all my feline glory in front of her blogger screen and pontificate at length about the evils of not preening oneself many times a day. My divine apparition will demonstrate all she is missing by ignoring me. I would not invest in the education of most two-leggers. Between daily preens and sleeps there are only so many hours in a day for such philanthropy; I must admit, however, a minor chink in my goddessy armour: I do have a soft spot for this one.