Bring It!

I know this is where bacon sometimes happens. Now it's just a matter of waiting.

-Shane

Correction

It was <ahem> "sweet" of the woman to try to set the record straight (as she put it) about our personalities.

She was (of course) totally wrong, though.

How's this for setting the record straight: she didn't catch me playing all those nights when she stayed up late. What she did was interrupt my steady and relentless quest to lose all of her hair ties down the return air vent. So far there are 47 down there, and only 2 left in the drawer.

How's that for 'kitten-like,' lady?!

- Princess

Setting the Record Straight

Just thought I'd pop in quickly and set a few things straight, lest readers get the wrong impression of our cats. I sometimes wonder if their posts alone aren't really a fair way to get to know them.

Shane is, to be fair, a bit on the slow side - both in intelligence and movement. But, he more than makes up for it with his larger-than-life attitude. (Which, coincidentally, matches his larger-than-life belly.) He's sweet, loveable, and definitely the funniest cat in residence. Not a day goes by that we don't find ourselves chuckling over something he's done. Or eaten. (Sorry - couldn't help myself.)

Charles, I'd say, does the best job of representing himself though his writing. He can be a little bit of a curmudgeon when he's offended or feeling tired. (He IS a Siamese, after all.) However, his general sweetness and dignity more than make up for this recent trait that's come with old age. He is a friend to all, and a perfect gentleman. I can honestly say that he's got the most agreeable and easy-going personality of any cat I've ever known.

Princess is probably the least understood of all of the Farrier Felines - by our readers, and by myself. She is reserved, and a bit on the shy side, but not nearly as mean-spirited as she makes herself out to be. Often, when I stay up late, I've even caught her playing near the bottom of the stairs in our living room. It was almost kitten-like! She's far more bark than bite, I'd say. And, though she doesn't dole out the attention all that often, she's always genuine and 100% attentive when she does. She is very loved around here, despite the fact that she makes herself sound like such a toughgal.

So, I hope you're enjoying the Farrier Feline Files, and that this post helps give you a little more insight into the personalities of our crazy cats!

 - Andrea

Me No Likey

I am not a big fan of being picked up.

-Shane

Is This Better!?

It has recently come to my attention that some readers find my posts too 'wordy' for their liking.

It's bad enough that modern American television has dumbed much of society down to the point of practically being illiterate. I didn't think my readers would be part of that trend as well.

Well, here goes my attempt at what apparently passes for modern literature:

Hi. I am a cat. I am a nice cat. Will you pet me? I like it when you pet me. Purr purr. Meow.

<ignorant Cretins!>
Charles

Hide and Seek

Ha ha! I'm hiding. You'll never find me here!

-Shane

"Back"ademia

Well, it's back to school time. (Which is why I chose to title this post in such a witty way.) As a cat with an impressive pedigree (biologically and academically), I often wonder why the modern American educational establishment continues to keep to a 19th century schedule in a 21st century world. Not that that's the only part that baffles me, of course.

Whatever happened to the Socratic method? Why is classic literature no longer considered required reading? What is 'new' math? And what on earth is a Liberal Arts degree good for, anyway?

It's bad enough that education is in shambles in the world around me. What you may not realize, however, is that I am forced to watch dangerous experiments in pedagogy (the art of teaching, for those of you who aren't familiar with the term) being played out all around me in my home as well.

No, I'm not talking about Shane. I wouldn't even offer any theories about how to try to educate a box of rocks like him. What I am referring to is the method of instruction used by the lady of the house. That's right... she's a home schooler. All three of the children, whom I've seen grow up from infanthood, have been educated at home.

At first, I was shocked and appalled by what I assumed would be an egregious decision with a disasterous outcome. Instead, however, I've been forced to admit that  this experiment has been amazingly successful. The children are well-behaved, well-read, well-rounded, and well... smart.

Not that I'd recommend this for everyone, mind you. But, so far I've been impressed, and that is something which doesn't often happen.

So - here's to 'back to school' - whether that means a rambling ride on a bus, or merely ambling down the stairs. Goodness knows the world can use a little more learning, and we should be happy to get it whatever way we can.

Now - chop chop. Time for you to hit the books. As for me, I've got a bit of napping to get back to. Study hard, young people. Study hard.

-Charles

Card Shark

Yesterday I played cards with Princess. She won. Then she threw all the cards at me and yelled, "52 card pickup, loser!"

I didn't like that much.

When I was done cleaning up, I asked her why I lost. She said it's because I was stupid. So, I asked Charles.

He said it was just because Lady Luck wasn't on my side.

I don't know who Lady Luck is, or why she doesn't like me, but I tore up her card.

Take THAT, Lady Luck!

I think I'll stick to playing the piano, instead of playing cards.

-Shane

"Oops"

This weekend the woman shut the door to her room, leaving me locked in there all day long.

What's a girl to do in a situation like that?

I love it that I pooped on their floor, and she had no choice but to blame herself for it. Now THAT'S what I call entertainment.

-Princess.

What's That All About?

Sometimes in the middle of my naps mom will send one of the kids in to put a mirror under my nose. I don't understand why. Do you?

- Shane

Back At It Again

Well. I suppose nothing is sacred in this modern world of internet accessibility. I've read many articles about the danger of confidential medical records and information being leaked by nefarious elements. I just never knew it would happen to me.

Since the secret of my recent bowel discomfort has gotten out (thanks to Princess!), I have decided to address it straight on. After all - there is no shame in the normal bodily issues that accompany old age.

Yes - I have suffered from constipation. It was unpleasant (as I'm sure you can imagine), and I was relieved (no pun intended) beyond words when things finally got moving again. Unfortunately, the cure is almost as bad as the ailment, and involves a dropper, mineral oil, and some rather undignified scrambling.

The vet said that I might continue to have occasional bouts of slow bowel function, and will probably need to keep taking the mineral oil every few days. But, I refuse to let it slow me down. I might be old, but I've still got a lot of life left to live.

On another note - it seems to be a trend in these posts to make some sort of comment on the way the household now functions since Nimrod took his pastoral departure. Things are more quiet, to be sure, and there is less danger of exposure to toxic gasses since he's no longer cooking up dangerous, explosive concoctions. I will say, however, that I find myself missing his occasional bouts of manic activity. They were far more entertaining than Shane's slothfulness, and far less frightening than Princess's unbridled bitterness.

Still... I have more quiet time to read now that he's gone, and no longer have to fight for my spot in the bed. Plus, I know he's blissfully happy with all that land to explore, spare parts and old machinery to scavenge, and access to power tools and a welder. I can only imagine the trouble he will manage to get himself into.

Gentle readers, it's so nice to be back in communication again. And, though I wish the topic would have been less <ahem> sensitive, I do love sharing my life with you.

Yours,
Charles

Life is Different

Life without Nimrod is strange. I mean, it took me a couple of weeks to notice that he had gone, but once I did, it was just plain weird.

First off, there's more food in the bowl. That part is nice. Plus, now no one jumps out and attacks me when I'm trying to use the litterbox.  I'm really glad about that. I think that the wall, the floor, and my mom are pretty glad about that too.

But, I do kind of miss him coming in and smelling like the outdoors. I liked that. I would wait until he fell asleep, and then sneak up and sniff him. I tried sniffing the people's shoes last week, but it wasn't the same. They just smell like dirt. And feet. That's not as nice.

All in all, though, I think it's better for him, and for us, that he's on the farm now. Princess says I've gotten fatter since he left. Maybe that's true, but she's gotten grumpier. At least fat is fun to cuddle with. No one likes grumpy.

I've got to go. It's almost time for my evening nap, and if I don't get the chair first, Charles will take it. Then it will smell like old man for days.

- Shane

Let Me Catch You Up...

Did you miss me? What a silly question. Of course you did.

It's been a few months since you voyeurs have peeked into the windows of our lives. Let me catch you up. 

Nimrod went to live on a farm. Good riddance, I say. Leaves more room on the bed for me. We are still finding secret weapon caches and coded messages.  Idiot.

Shane has been diligently applying himself... to getting fatter.  It has gotten so bad that he has to prop himself up in the chair to take a bath. Otherwise he can't reach his back legs around the enormous girth of his belly. Seriously - I think we could charge admission. It's that grotesque. And I have to live with him.

The people finally found out why Charles was throwing up. It gives me infinite delight that the cause is even more embarrassing than the symptom. Turns out he was just constipated. Like, really really constipated.  Hold on, I'm laughing so hard I can't type. <.........> Ok, I'm back. Anyway - that's cleared up now, so it's only his academic regurgitation that we have to deal with. I don't know if that's better or not.

As for me, well, if I had wanted you to know what I was up to, I'd have been posting all this time. So, welcome back, and mind your own business, will you?

-Princess

Annnnndd.... They're Back!

Me again - Andrea. (Or, as Princess calls me, 'the woman'.) It's been a long time since anyone's written. Sorry about that. We started this blog on a lark, and had a ton of fun with it. Somehow, however, life got busy, and "the cats" <ahem> didn't have much time to post.

I am amazed at how many people (my children included) keep telling me how much they miss the Farrier Feline Files. So, what's a girl (I mean, a group of cats) to do, but start writing again!

This evening I lined the kitties up (you can imagine what a challenging task *that* was), and gave them a stern lecture to let them know that their adoring fans are demanding more posts.

It didn't go over well with Princess. I fear there will be litterbox repercussions in the days ahead. (She has a habit of pooing right next to the box whenever she feels upset, which is her default mood.)

Charles immediately began ruminating on which subjects are ripest for discourse. He has disappeared to dig among the bookshelves. I saw him poring over an open dictionary, so I'm guessing there will be some big, new vocabulary words coming your way.

Shane got so excited at the thought of being loved and adored and getting to write again that he jumped up and down four and three-quarters times, then collapsed in an exhausted heap. I expect he won't wake up until mid-morning tomorrow. I hope his heart can handle the stress of such exertion.

Of course, Nimrod has gone to live on a farm in the country. (No. Really. I mean... he lives on my parents' farm. Honest. It's not just a euphemism.) I expect that he will have some comments to make occasionally, though his days are pretty full chasing mice, snoozing in the sunshine, eating (and throwing up) grass, and spraying every square inch of the 120 acres he now calls home.

Thank you again for your overwhelming response to our blog. Please enjoy the previous entries (to re-acquaint yourselves with the famous Farrier Felines), and I promise that you have some more posts to look forward to in the days to come.

-- Andrea

See Ya, Losers!

Ha HAH! It took almost 14 months of constant vigilance and scheming (409 days, 22 hours, 56 minutes, and 23 seconds, to be precise), but I've done it at last. I've convinced the people to let me be FREE!!

As I type, we are on our way to a farm. A real, honest-to-goodness, chickens, pigs, and 90+ acres farm. It will soon be mine. Aaaaaallllll mine. (Sure, there are other cats and some <shudder> dogs as well, but it'll still be all mine. That's how I roll.)

I shall spray on everything that doesn't move. Heck, I might even spray on the stuff that does. I shall drink dirty water from puddles, sleep under the stars, and climb every tree that catches my fancy. I shall, once again, become the mighty hunter that destiny has called me to be.

The vehicle is slowing, so I must be brief. This is my goodbye, though probably not my last one. I will write as often as possible. That is, when I'm not belly-deep in green grass or busy catching rodents. You understand, right?

Let it be said - my captors might have been strict, but I do see that they love me. I know will be hard for them to carry on without my leadership and strength of character to keep the house running well. (Heaven knows what the other Farrier Felines will do without me!) However, perhaps it will make things a bit easier for them all to know how I feel. So, here goes (and let's never speak of this again):

Thank you. Thank you for snuggling me, and letting me snuggle you. Thank you for changing my litter box, cleaning up my messes, giving me ice water (even when I was a pain in the rear end about it), and for putting up with all the hair I left on your pillow. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Despite my complaints, I know that you did your best to make me happy, including making the very difficult decision to let me live on the farm. I will miss you. And, though I will deny it to my dying breath if you ever bring it up again, I love you.

<ahem>

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a wilderness to subdue. Toodles.

-Nim

Working Hard, or Hardly Working?

Thinking they would reward my diligence by letting me out, I decided to help in balancing the checkbook and doing some filing.

Turns out, sorting receipts and entering data is really boring. So, I quit. Even time outside can't be worth that drudgery.

Paperwork does make a comfy bed, at least.

-Nim

Guest Post : McCoy the Fish

Whazzup!!?? I'm new here, and I think I'm going to like it. At first I was all, like, "whoa! I'm in a net. Now I'm in a bag. Now I'm moving around a lot. Now my bag is floating in a different tank than I've ever seen before. Now I'm swimming in new water, dudes!"

But now, I've, like totally come to love my new home. There's another new fish who came here at the same time I did (and in the same bag!). He doesn't say much. But, I'm totally digging my new tankmate Amy. She's like, superhot. A little bit of a bubble brain, maybe, but I'm not one to complain. Best of all, she's nice. And funny. She does this thing where she pretends she forgets where she is and what she's doing.

Hi.Lar.I.Ous. For real. Though, it is starting to get a bit old...

Anyway - later dudes. I'm going to go catch some O2 in the bubble curtain and then do some laps through the castle.

Peace Out.

- McCoy

Poke!

For some reason the people have this thing about poking my belly. I can't imagine why...

-Shane

Take That!

Ha! Nimrod has made snide comments in the past about my age, and some of the habits and symptoms that are associated with being older.

Guess what I heard him doing the other day... That's right - snoring! Looks like being fat and pampered causes similar side effects to being old.

Maybe I shouldn't take so much joy in this, but I'm going to keep doing it anyway.

-Charles

Grueling Grooming

Nimrod got outside today for a few minutes. While he was out there, he rolled in the dirt. He was filthy when he came in. Then he touched me, and I felt filthy too. So, I had to give myself a bath.

I don't think he appreciates how much fur I have, and how long it takes for my grooming. I had to take three naps in the middle of the process, and kept forgetting what had been licked and hadn't. It was exhausting.

I wish he would just be happy being inside. Or, at least quit touching me when he is dirty.

- Shane