I’ve got too much to do at the agency and at home these days to update my blog. But the time will come again, soon. So today I just want to show you what kind of activities keep me busy when I’m not working. And I can already hear you say “No, please spare us with another boring cat story.”
I just did this pic with my Mac Photo Booth. Can you see the scratches on my cleavage? Little bitch Feia did this to me today. I had let her and Atze play outside in the garden. But Feia got bored after a while and went one of the at least 2-meter high garden walls up to be closer to the little birds. We don’t allow her to be up there, because on the other side is our neighbour’s garden. And this particular neighbour has a dog, and I don’t want this dog (and with him his owners, too) to go crazy and mad because one of our spoilt cats wants to take a stroll in his territory.
So, what we usually do as soon as Feia jumps on the wall: we call her, convince her with treats or – if nothing else works – go over to her with our water pistol, shoot some water at her, and she comes down. But today none of that worked. Before she could even think (I actually doubt that she has the ability to think), she slipped and fell from the wall – unfortunately, onto the other side. Damn it!
So I put on some shorts and flip flops, went out on the street to our neighbour’s garden and called for Feia. I could see her sitting in a bush. I couldn’t enter the garden though as it was closed. So I had to knock on the door, and our poor neighbour, who was just taking a shower opened (wrapped in a towel) and let me into her garden. As you can surely imagine – Feia didn’t want to go home. She was save in her bush, so let the sweating creature (I’m talking about me here) keep on talking. I think Feia didn’t even recognize me, because she was all puffed up. And when I finally got her, she tried everything to free herself and escape. I’ve never seen her that mad. (The one time she went missing for a whole day, she must have been too weak to resist.)
I know what you’re thinking: “Freakin’ cat woman, not being able to hold her spoilt little rats.” Maybe you’re right. But it’s still love. What can I do?