Ways for Kittehs to Ruin Christmas!

Hello, reading-type Hoomins

 

Welcome to another lame version of Life in Rehab,

brought to you by The Feline Overlord Clowder.

I am BlackBerry, better known as BB,

The Grande Dame of the crew at 11 years of age.

And that's just counting THIS life.

You can tell I've entered the room by the puff of smoke 

and distinct scent of sulfur right before I retract my black leathery wings.

 I do not "belong" to The Redhead.

 My faraway glance of love belongs to The Large Bald One with Thumbs,

whom I allow her to borrow as long as she continues to open cans.

When this ceases to exist, so does she.

 

 I tolerate this ridiculous outfit and affront to my dignity yearly for one reason...

look below:

 I long ago realized The Redhead has no taste and will do anything for a laugh.

These boots are indeed paired with a hospital gown that makes

her look like she's being chased by two giant marshmellows.

I hear the hospital staff was in more stitches than her.

But while she was enjoying the view from her gurney on her way

to have her gall bladder

~which she refuses to bring home for us to eat~

removed, she asked us to pick up the slack and do the blog.

Judging from some of her previous useless content,

she should have asked a lot sooner.

This could have been a good blog.

Without further adieu, 

The Feline Overlord Clowder

proudly presents~

Ways for Kittehs to Ruin Christmas!

You Haz nice day, k?

Thanks, bai!

What's Blooming?

OH HAI!

 Iz Smidgeon, cutest and favorite of the Feline Overlord Clowder.

You may has heerd The Redhead with Thumbs Who Opens Cans

(we likes her much!)

is at the vet.

We suspects she is having the horrible "fixed" thing happening.

The Minions and the Bald One are aways more, and The One with Wheels 

cannot get to the tunas cans, so we iz issuing an open plea...

Someone comes and opens cans?

The nasty dry crap is okay, but Caturday is long overdue.

 Each year, The Redhead has us dress up for "Catmas."

She thinks this is clever and cute.

Then we shreds her.

This is more clever and cute.

It teached her nothing though.

But just to lend a paw, we are commandeering blog thing for the week until she is "fixed."

By the time we iz done, you will miss her more than us.

Today, we brings you an instructional manual for Feline Overlords everywhere:

Ruining Catmas for Dummehs.

Pays attention, and hack up a hairball in the first pair of Santa slippers you see.

Happy Sunday.

Going Shopping

 

 Day Two of my Captivity:

I'm making no points with the nursing staff here.

They keep insisting I'm in pain.

I'm not.

They keep insisting I'm throwing up.

I'm not.

I asked as they brought me a second dinner tray last night at 10:00, only

to whisk that one away again, proclaiming it would cause me to throw up again,

"What year of Nursing School do you people take a class in Sadism exactly?"

 THIS is my dinner.

 Sam smuggled me some salt.

They tried to make me take my capris leggings off.

I told them I'd take off my pants if they bought me dinner.

I waved the packet of hot chicken water powder at them.

I still have the pants.

I haven't eaten since Thursday. 

The first reader to pop in here with a cooked turkey under their shirt 

gets a panda hat.

I'm Cranky, Grumpy, Hungry, and 4 other dwarves I can't list on a PG-13 blog.

And all of you, DO NOT wear a thong to the hospital.

Nurses with needles don't even have to warn you.

I'm just sayin'.

Have I mentioned I'm claustrophobic?

Like, I can't even use a regular stall in a ladies room.

The MRI machine is proof positive to me that 50 Shades of Gray is all garbage.

Sam standing there, holding my hand while I tried to break his fingers,

intermittently chirping, "Oh Baby, this is so COOL!!!"

did not help.

I'll be looking for plastic shark toys, his greatest fear, to start slipping into unexpected places.

 As soon as I finish my breakfast

~which is the "nutrition" dripping out of this bag~

I'm putting on my slippers, unplugging this beast to drag it along,

and making a break for it.

Don't rat me out.

So....

Heading for the hospital gift shop.

BRB.

If not back, avenge death.