Semi-Flightless Yellow Rubber Water Fowl

The humans sat in my big drinking dish the other night in the watering room. I'm always quite concerned for them to be sitting there. I know, as a Turkish Angora, I'm supposed to like to swim, but, I am anxious at the edge of the big water dish - but I do find myself walking around the ledge of the big water dish often.

I was captivated by something pink, a cloth, floating on the top of the water. It looked like a little island; I felt an urge to step on it.

Then I noticed something yellow bobbing on the water's surface. It was a type of water fowl. As it floated toward the edge, I put a paw over the edge and smacked the yellow bird. It submerged, but then popped up to the surface. I knocked it a good one and yet it still floated. I tried to claw the bird, but could not get a purchase on its slick surface. I trilled angrily and jumped onto the floor; I couldn't help sulking.

One of the humans put the water fowl on the ledge. I trilled and knocked it twice for good measure and it flew through the air and then plummeted onto the floor. It had no opportunity to hide from me.

One of the humans again returned it to the ledge. I repeated my previous attack on the water fowl.

The results?

Semi-Flightless Yellow Rubber Water Fowl: 0

Crash: 2

Crash

Finicky Felines

I'm not such a finicky eater. I like my Kit'n'Kaboodle with a sprinkling of Greenies on top. One time, the Primary Human didn't put the Greenies on top and I had to yowl at her until she did. I'm happy with the occasional can of food, too, particularly if I've got post-dental treatment fang discomfort.

If the humans are partaking of water-packed tuna, I'm happy to accept a teaspoon or two - but I find oil-packed tuna unacceptable. I am quite fond of helping myself to the Primary Human's tomato soup, but chicken broth will do in a pinch. I have also helped myself to the Primary Human's lettuce, corn, carrots, and peas. The humans also recently ate some pre-cooked turkey. I don't like warm meat, however.

I consider it quite rude for a human to eat without letting me have a good sniff of what it is they're partaking.

As you can see from my Interests, I like eating grass - I like foot long blades from the field. Unfortunately, the farmer mowed the grass and alfalfa the other day. (On the other hand, following a haying, the birds do fly around the fields more, which is not without interest.)

Here's an interesting article about cat food preferences:
Felines Finicky about Food-

But, no, I'm not at all particular about my food.

Crash

It's All in the Attitude

Last night, I endeavored to slip outside. The Nose-Wiping Kitty Carrier Incarcerator had turned to grab the shrimp off the counter, leaving the deck door somewhat ajar. As opposed to previous attempts in which I stuck my head around one of the humans' legs or ran across the room in a mad dash for the open air, I utilized an alternative methodology: I sauntered out the door as if I'd been doing so daily for the past year.

The N-WKCI, of course, caught me before my rear paws hit the wooden planks of the deck.

This was the most effective strategy yet. I had successfully lulled the humans into thinking I no longer had any interest in the Big Room. I shall return to my plotting.

Crash

Thinking Inside the Box

I came across a new box today. I had to climb inside. Why?

Can I not resist the lure of a dark place?

Do I feel compelled to hide?

Is it the potential that there will be a new scent there?

What if string or a mouse or a fly is hiding in the box?

What if the box held more boxes?

I should go think about this more.

If anyone wants me, I'll be in my box.

Crash

Bad 'Nip Trip

The humans gave me some 'nip last night while I was working over my cardboard scratcher (one that's big enough for me to sit on so I can use my weight to hold down the resisting cardboard).

Don't get me wrong. I like 'nip.

As I was giving the cardboard scratcher a vicious scratching, I noticed there was something moving just out of the corner of my eye. I whirled, trilled as terrifyingly as possible, but whatever it was moved at the exact same time I did. I caught the tip of something white. So, I threw myself to the opposite side, trilling angrily, and saw just the tip of something fluffy before my cunning opponent disappeared from sight. White and fluffy, like me. I rolled over onto my side, pressing my back against the door, but my opponent disappeared. I ran across the rug, my opponent following me, stalking me, but when I turned, it disappeared too.

The Primary Human came over and picked me up, saying, "Crash, you're having a bad 'nip trip. It's okay. It's just your tail."

As if.

She carried me up the stairs and I spent the rest of the evening staring at the walls until finally falling asleep.

I didn't see my fluffy white opponent again.

Crash

Nap-tastic

The Primary Human reported with amusement that, during my 1:30 to 5:00 p.m. nap, I engaged in sleep-grooming.

I really don't see what's so funny.

Crash

P.S. But the Humans did bring home a new cardboard scratcher that I must sink my claws into. I cannot resist its siren call.

I've felt especially meowy today. I have more vocalizations than most cats and have utilized most of them today. Ppprrrtttaaaa.

My humans aren't sure what I want today.

That's okay. I'm not sure what I want.

Crash