Paul Drake lost his collar under something or other. One of these days, we’ll hunt it down but for now he’s a nekkid cat:
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Category Archives: Catblogging
Friday Catblogging: Blast From The Past
My Now Be Thankful holiday piece is about loss and renewal. It got me thinking of the dynamic duo of Oscar and Della Street who were together from 2007 to 2017. I still miss these two even if the tuxedo cat always had a bad attitude.
Friday Catblogging: Face The Face
Dr. A messed with Paul Drake by obliging him to face the face of a fake feline.
The last word goes to Pete Townshend:
Friday Catblogging: Throwback Grooming
We all still miss Della Street. Here’s a picture Dr. A found on her iPad of Paul Drake grooming his big sister.
Friday Catblogging: Beggar’s Banquet
Paul Drake is food driven even for a cat. He knows the sound of the refrigerator door opening and shows up just in case there’s something in it for him. Life is a Beggar’s Banquet for PD:
Since I stole the title of my favorite Rolling Stones album, it’s only fitting to post a song from Beggar’s Banquet:
Tuesday Catblogging: New Toys
Thing One and Thing Two here have been INCREDIBLY obnoxious the past couple of weeks due to having exhausted the fun possibilities of their scratchers and toys, so we got them some new ones to keep them OFF THE GODDAMN TABLE SLADE:
A.
Friday Catblogging: Box Within A Box
You’ve heard of double-dipping and double-bagging. Paul Drake is into double-boxing.
Sunday Catblogging: Our Heroine
Last week I wrote that post about what a bitch Ada was and how she never shuts up about anything ever, so I basically deserve what happened yesterday.
It had been raining all day so Kick and Mr. A and I took advantage of being forced indoors to clean out closets and prep the house for an onslaught of holiday visitors and figure out where the mates to all our gloves had gone over the summer. The cats get profoundly, comically offended when we clean, as if us moving things is a personal affront to them and they were very, very close to the dust bunnies we just cavalierly hoovered up.
Which is why it took me a while to figure out something was up with Ada. She was yowling. Not her usual “hey, pay attention and pet me” yowling. She was YOWLING. “Hey IDIOTS something is WRONG here” and so I spent a good 60 minutes roaming the house with her at my heels. Was her brother trapped in the bedroom? Had she shoved her mouse under a closed door? Had a critter gotten in somehow? What was happening?
Finally I went down into the basement to see if her food bowl was empty again somehow and the moment I stepped off the bottom step onto the floor … squish.
Our basement had flooded before after a torrential downpour, but the rain yesterday wasn’t anything like that. And this wasn’t really a flood, just a damp-ish spot near one wall. Mr. A and I checked the perimeter of the rest of the basement. Nothing. Just this one spot, and Ada looming above it, meowing her best “YO MORONS WHAT DO YOU THINK I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU” indignancy.
We couldn’t figure out if the water was coming in or up. It didn’t appear to be spreading, so we went outside, walked the perimeter and discovered a whole-ass swimming pool’s worth of filthy rainwater that was backing up because its normal route out was clogged with leaves and roots and dirt. Mr. A and I got flashlights and shovels and a bucket and started digging and bailing, and pretty soon, all was well.
We might have to replace a small spot of carpet pad, but thanks to Ada, that was it. Our heroine, still not ready to stop saying I TOLD YOU SO:
A.
Friday Catblogging: Undercover
It’s finally cooling off in New Orleans so it’s time for Paul Drake to decamp to the bedroom and investigate the bedding.
Friday Catblogging: In The Bag
Paul Drake’s love of boxes is well-known. He also likes bags.
Friday Catblogging: Too Cool For School
Dr. A bought a large cloth tiger head. I had hoped that it would be of interest to Paul Drake. He wasn’t having it. PD was all like: “I refuse to co-operate with your pitiful scheme, human.”
This is the first in a series. When it comes to messing with my cats, I’m persistent.
Sunday Catblogging: Lick Lick Lick Edition
Slade HATES being brushed. Just hates it. He tries to bite the brush, runs away, yowls as if being tortured, whereas Ada will come running if I wave the Furminator and say “brushy brushy!” The result of which is that she has absolutely no hairballs and a lovely plushy coat and he sits in the corner angrily licking himself and making hork motions.
Dumbass. I love him so much.
A.
Friday Catblogging: Vintage Della Street
Dr. A discovered a lost picture of the late, great Della Street on her iPad. This is so Della:
Tuesday Catblogging
Look at this idiot and his floofy tail and his fat little feets.
A.
Sunday Catblogging: Courting Ada Edition
Ada had a visitor yesterday:
This orange fellow is Remy. He lives next door to us and prowls the neighborhood during the day, then in the evening reappears to yowl incredibly loudly until his people let him in to eat.
Because we live in Mayberry, well-meaning neighbors often post pictures of him on Facebook and declare that he is lost and they’ve taken him in to feed him, and then when somebody says he’s an outdoor cat, it’s 567 posts about how terrible it is for cats to be outside. If the half a bird I saw him dragging into the yard the other day is any indication of his skills, Remy can more than hold his own with what passes for wildlife around here.
He’s friendly as hell. He follows Kick around begging for pets whenever she’s outside, and Ada desperately wants to go on outdoor adventures with him and thinks it is the height of injustice that she isn’t allowed. Remy is street-smart and Ada could lose a battle of wits with a dust bunny so for now they are star-crossed lovers Romeo-and-Julietting through the back door.
A.
Friday Catblogging: The Carpet Crawler
It’s not really carpet, it’s a rug. It’s Paul Drake current favorite spot. You’ll see why I call it a carpet after the picture.
A double-barreled last word goes to Genesis:
Not Everything Sucks: HORF
Go read this wholesome dumb animal thread.
I live for wholesome dumb animals because two of them live with me and they’re so stupid, look at this idiot:
I’d die for her without a second thought and if she wasn’t cute somebody would have turned her into mittens years ago.
A.
Friday Catblogging: Feline Fundraising Edition
I originally called this post Feline Tin Cup Rattling but begging was not the late, great Della Street’s style. She never begged when she could demand.
I’m more polite than my much missed mouthy tuxedo cat. Please donate to our annual fundraiser. Click here for details on how to do it from our publisher.
Saturday Odds & Sods: Dark Star
Flying Eyeball by Rick Griffin.
Dr. A and I went to the batshit crazy Saints season opener against the Houston Texans. The game had everything: bad calls, great plays, and a crazy ending. Most importantly, the Saints won with a 58 yard field goal by Will Lutz. It was his career long. The crowd was stunned in a good way. My personal streak of the Saints always winning when I sit in our friend Fred’s end zone seats was imperiled but it’s intact. Stay tuned.
This week’s theme song was written by Jerry Garcia and Robert Hunter in 1968. The music of Dark Star is often credited to the entire band, which seems only fair as it’s the ultimate jam band song.
We have two versions of the Dead’s Dark Star for your listening pleasure. First, the single version, which clocks in at a modest 2:44. It’s followed by a more typical second set medley that commences with Dark Star. It comes from the 12/31/78 closing of Winterland show that my younger self attended.
It’s time for a visit to Dismbiguation City with a swell song written by Stephen Stills and recorded by Crosby, Stills & Nash in 1977.
Now that we’ve bathed in the glow of the Dark Star, let’s jump to the break before the Dead go into The Other One. “Coming, coming, coming around.”
Friday Catblogging: What Do They Have In Common?
Paul Drake and Omar Little both like Honey Nut Cheerios.
Here’s a clip from The Wire:
