Guest Bloggers: Rosie & Jenny, Felines Extraordinaire

Greetings, friends of our human. We're Rosie and Jenny, the feline (i.e., superior) members of Psalmist's household. She told us that we could blog for her while she's getting ready to leave on a short vacation. Hah! "Told us we could." As if she can really give us permission, or forbid us, to do anything. After these 7 years with her, she ought to realize that cats RULE. Dogs may have owners, but cats have slaves. Some are smarter than others.

Oh, now we've gone and done it. She's giving us "the look." Next will come a loud hand clapping, which hurts our sensitive ears. Then some blah-blah-blah-de-blah that sounds like "You bad cats!" or some other nonsense. When she gets this way, we merely ignore her and wait till she's out of the room to continue doing what we like.

Anyway, since you humans quite rightly appreciate feline beauty, and since our lazy human hasn't got any pictures of us on her computer for us to upload to Blogger, let us describe our lovely selves.

I, Rosie, am the senior cat in this house.

[Jenny: Are not!]
[Rosie: Am so; I had the human all to myself for a whole week before you begged her to bring you home with her and make my life miserable ever since.]
[Jenny: Some cat you are! She had to find a prettier and smarter one because you couldn't cut it.]
[Rosie: She just felt sorry for you because no one else wanted you. She's too sentimental for her own good...or mine, either.]
[Jenny: You are such a snot!]
[Rosie: Better than a big hairy old drooler like you!]
[Jenny: HISSSS]
[Rosie: Scratch]
[Jenny: Growl HISS - HISSS - Scratch]
[Psalmist: Will you BAD CATS just knock it off! Can't I do ANYTHING without you two fighting? You're worse than little children!]

Worse than CHILDREN? The young of the human species? Now THAT'S an insult, indeed. We'll leave off the fighting and show this arrogant human a united front. We cannot tolerate insults from our slave.

[Jenny: I'll poop in the bathtub while she's gone.]
[Rosie: I'll find the most valuable and least cleanable item I can reach and barf all over it.]

Yeah, we'll show her.

Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Describing our beautiful selves. We won't get into the whole seniority squabble again...at least not while Psalmist is still here.

Jenny: I am the gorgeous one, with long, luxuriant silky white fur. I have a noble face, rather like a lion's, with one gold eye and one copper-colored eye. I guess God couldn't decide which was more beautiful to place on the lovely face of the most beautiful cat ever. I am a big cat, though much more fit than Rosie. Psalmist says she chose Rosie (out of pity when she was just moping around in her cage), but I chose Psalmist. It's true. I was surrounded by over 20 other cats and a foster-human who tortured me by pulling out stitches and cleaning a wound I got from a horrible car fan belt, so I needed to make my escape fast! Psalmist was the most likely prospect, but she said she wasn't interested in a long-haired white cat, even one with soft bunny fur. So, I jumped up on a book case and waited for her to walk past. Then I jumped down right into her arms and started to purr. She caved in two seconds. Little did I know that she was also the human who adopted that insufferable Rosie. All I knew was, Rosie was gone--hooray! She didn't play well with others. Then I went home with Psalmist (with a detour to the vet, who hosed me down because I'd messed in my cage--hey, I hate cars! I have good reason. I *hate* that vet, too!), and who was there, acting like she owned the place, but the brown and white beast! But anyway, enough about mean Rosie, and meaner vets.

Rosie: I'll get you for that one, AFTER Psalmist leaves. As for my weight, my curves are part of my adorable charm, just the way God made me: perfect. I am the undisputed cute cat in this house. I'm a short-haired brown tabby with white socks and part-tabby, part tortie, part white throat and tummy. I am actually very tiny, which is why an extra pound or two shows so easily on me. I have lovely green eyes, though Psalmist says I live up to them whenever she forgets that I am the top cat and is fussing over Jenny. Psalmist felt so sorry for me when she adopted me, because I was still kind of knocked out from my "surgery" and was so malnourished. She fed me all I wanted that first week, and I filled out nicely. But then she brought Jenny home (the big, fluffy odd-eyed freak) and I had to be sure to eat all I could so she wouldn't steal my food. I quickly established myself as the alpha cat. One must do what one must do to ensure survival.

Jenny: Well, I finally had enough of the hairy pig's bowl-guarding once Psalmist decided she needed to go on a diet, and I figured out if I stood up to the little bully, she'd let me go first. So that's how we do it now. We wake up Psalmist every morning, sounding pitiful and staring at her, so she'll put a much too small amount of kibble in the bowl, then I scarf down enough to be sure Rosie doesn't hog it all.

Rosie: You are such a drama queen. I actually agree with Psalmist about my needing to diet, but so does she, and she's not doing it! It's important to set a good example for one's slave. So as much as it hurts me, I am eating less. But let me tell you...if we had opposible thumbs and could reach the car pedals, we would rule the food container, this apartment...and the world!

Rosie & Jenny: Bwahahahaha!

Well, it's about time for Psalmist to get a little sleep so she can get up early in the morning and finally leave us alone. The bowl will be super full, the litter box clean and empty, and the self-filling water bowl contraption will have plenty of fresh water. Then we'll have the whole place to ourselves. She'll be gone till MONDAY - HOORAY!

We may just have to check out the other RGBP blogs and see what other cat masters are blogging for their humans. We met Whistle the Kitten a couple of weeks ago, when Psalmist was spending too much time on the computer and not enough with us. Whistle, you're very young yet, so you don't know any better, but do *not* get sucked into writing any more essays. It's St. Casserole who should be in trouble, not you. You make the rules. However, since she's using food to manipulate you and Fish the Kitten, we do sympathize. We have ordered our human to buy us some greenie cat cookies. So far, she's returned home empty-handed. Stupid human. Still, we must be patient. Training humans takes perseverance.

Oh, and tell Fish the Kitten that TRUE cat divas would not settle for Star Jones's seat on THE VIEW. It's Babs's spot or nothing.