NEW YEAR’S EVE 2010

Meow, meow, meow (that’s cat for my, my, my) it seems we’ve made it to the end of 2010. If you’re reading this, you are indeed a 2010 survivor. Seeing as how tonight is the last opportunity to spread my words of wisdom-ness for the year 2010, I thought I’d best be posting before the old ball drops. Get that last word in, donchano?

While a lot of you have parties and celebrations to attend the other half of us cool cats stayed home and ordered pizza. My peeps did while I enjoyed a plate of ocean whitefish & tuna in sauce…..ahh, good times!

As we look back on the year, and you know we’ll do just that, we’ll recall the good, the bad, the ugly. No matter how bad the bad was and no matter how ugly the ugly was, let’s hope we can pull the good over both and look ahead instead. Yesterday is done so remember... looking ahead rather than back prevents walking into walls so much. Cherish the good memories, keep them in check. Forgive & forget bad and ugly, move on, focus on the now.

The clock’s ticking, the midnight hour approaches,

It’s soon to be a new year for all us cats,

Farewell 2010 and hello 2011...

There’s simply no going back.

So to all I wish a grand new year

Celebrate 2011 and have no fear.

Keep a smile on your face, love in your heart

If life hands you crap, remember where I’m at.

It’s sistervc2@gmail.com

E-mail me your troubles and stay calm.

Nothing too big, no problem too small

I’m here to listen so confess them one & all.

Blessings,

Sister Very Catty

'Twas the Night Before Christmas...

...and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, specially not a mouse!

The midnight hour is upon us and I’m anxiously awaiting Santa’s drive-by with high hopes of some good chow, chow, chow.

So to all out there in blog land we wish you a very merry and all the Friskies you can eat.

Fa La La, La La La La!

Sister Very LovesSanta Catty

GOBBLE, GOBBLE, GOBBLE

Yeah, yeah, gobble, gobble, gobble
It’s once again that time of year
People got people comin’ over
And turkeys runnin’ in fear.

There’s probably pumpkin pies to bake
Potatoes to peel and veggies to steam
Stuffing to make & gravy needs to thicken
Oh, hairballs I think I’m gonna scream.

Amidst this major state of commotion
I plead with you not to forget me
Eat all you want, visit all you want
I smell that bird, don't make me plea.

I’m letting you know one and all
This holiday is filled with gratitude
Let’s all be thankful quickly please
And get right straight to the food.

I pray you drop one simple little turkey patty
In that dish just for Sister Very Catty!
Happy Thanksgiving and to all a good burp!

FOR I AM CAT

A couple canines from Kansas wrote me asking if I thought it was normal for a neighborhood cat to sit right outside their fenced yard, a mere three feet from their noses, calmly cleaning herself. This cat is free to roam the entire area and seems to know we are fenced in the yard. Both of us barking our fool heads off, throwing hissy fits, yet she continues to sit there giving us this "have a nice day" stare. She doesn't seemed threatened at all that she's taunting a large retriever/chow mix and a short, older wiener dog.

Signed,
Just curious, Shorty & Stashe


Dear Curious in Kansas,

Just what part of C-A-T don't you get? You're lucky she wasn't sitting within two feet of your nosy little noses and swiping them with a front claw between cleaning licks.
Haven't you heard? Cats Rule...and I mean the world! They will strut their stuff wherever, whenever. I mean, c'mon now...what better entertainment could a feline have than to sit a spell, calmly bathe herself while watching a couple of barking dogs go completely ape-shit all because of her. My, my, my... all that attention just for little ol' me?

So it's a little bath time at the fence, a little free entertainment complete with sound track, and then a nice stroll off to wherever.

Yes, little doggies of the world, it is indeed normal. All that neighborhood cat is thinking is how it sucks to be you and how it's good to be her!

Blessings!

THE PERAMBULATING BLUES

My in-box brought me quite a plight from a very frustrated female who's only trying to do a healthy exercise by taking daily walks in her neighborhood recreation center. Unfortunately some of the regulars have annoyed her to the point of her having actually nicknamed the culprits. She refers to them as donkeys because they'll walk three abreast very slow, thus blocking the path while holding a gab fest along the way. Some that don't flap their jaws instead are flapping arms that tend to smack other walkers when trying to get past them. After receiving such a descriptive e-mail from this frustrated walker I was inspired to compose the following. Oh by the way, should anyone out there happen to recognize themselves in said inspiration, kindly pull to the right and let others pass. Don't make me blog you again!!

THE PERAMBULATING BLUES

Not so long ago and not so far away
A little walk I take nearly every day.
Here inside my neighborhood rec center
Comfortable in summer or come winter.

Oh yes, it's pounds I'd like to lose
But I've got the perambulating blues.

Around the three lanes we like to go walking
Works just fine 'cept for all the talking.
For three walkers in a row means all lanes blocked
And all they wanna do is talk and talk.

Oh yes, those lanes I'd so like to cruise
But I've got the perambulating blues.

Sometimes my walk finds me behind the Boxcar
A very short, very wide load so I can't get far.
Partnered with Methane and her Mr. Avon
For obvious reasons I really must move on.

Oh yes, I should have stayed home to snooze
For I've got the perambulating blues.

Isn't it enough my feet hurt so bad I could gasp
When Bulldozer steps on them as she walks past.
Next thing you know I dodge a punch to the eye
As I attempt to pass Madame Butterfly.

Oh yes, walking is all I really wanna do
But I've got the perambulating blues.

We've got Mz. Harley and her Sidecar
Once behind them you won't get far.
A true road-hog with her skinny mate glued at the hip
If only to pass them, maybe I should try and skip.

Oh yes, sometimes I may bruise
For I've got the perambulating blues.

And not to forget our little June Cleaver
In her tightly belted dress, she's quite the keeper.
Then dressed to the nines Marlena D, many face lifts and never sweats,
Out to snag her a rich old dude, I'd be willing to bet.

Oh yes, just listen to my clues
For I've got the perambulating blues.

In a little black dress blocking the way it's Granny Goodwitch
Changing tapes in her 8-track she makes me start to twitch.
Along comes Mr. 2nd Amendment displaying wrinkled bare arms
Drooling over Marlena expounding all his charms.

Oh yes, is walking the exercise I should choose
For I've got the perambulating blues.

Mustn't forget Mr. Chippenfail adjusting speed again and again
Barely in a speedo flirting with a chick he'd like to win.
Last but not least say hello to our nautilus man Jack LaPain
Constantly stretching in hopes height he'll someday gain.

Oh yes, I'm afraid it's all so true
No wonder I've got the perambulating blues!

Blessings!
Sister Very Catty

EYES AHEAD PEOPLE!

When did this become a once-a-month blog....what's up with that? So this month's post will be in response to a recent note from one who seems to be at a crossroads:

Dear Sister VC,

I have finally made my way out of menopause only to find myself once again in puberty at the age of 59! For example: developing a crush on someone unattainable; revisiting old childhood hurts!! Please don't tell me to get a pet...I am a world traveler and can't be tied down right now.

Any thoughts?
Perplexed in Pennsylvania

Dear PP,

Curious....who's steering the course on your ship's Tour de Life? Occurs to me, a neighborhood traveler myself, that maybe you need a new route master.

I'm sensing that by making your way out of men-o-pause you temporarily chose a single life and are now entertaining the possibilities of having a relationship.

Puberty at any age basically sucks...get over it. Does the upcoming number '60' bother you? Get over that, too. Absolutely nothing you can do about it and if Cher can't turn back time, neither can you. Maybe puberty isn't the issue any more than menopause.

Did you forget you're the captain of your own ship? As a cat with most of her nine lives still in tact, I'm feeling the need to spell it out, for you who has but one life.

You claim YOU, a woman of free will and sound mind, allowed yourself to develop a crush on someone unattainable. Allowed being the key word here, not crush, not unattainable. Has it not occurred to you that maybe this crush came about with someone unattainable because of that factor? Subconsciously you fear re-entry to the dating scene with an available someone? Face it, should the unattainable someone not be on board with you the ship will never sail anyway.

Concerning the old childhood hurts...ah-hem...you did say you were 59 years old, right? Way past time to don the big girl panties and get over that too! C'mon...old hurts? To the cat box with the scat I say. Huge waste of time on your part to dwell on things of that sort. Besides the fact that if you keep looking back you may very well miss what's ahead. Next thing I suppose you'll tell me you're a recovering Catholic.

Now regarding you're not having a pet....that's just wrong. Where would Thumbs be today if I had not wanted a human? A pet should be your very reason for existence and I highly recommend a a cat!

Blessings & Bon Voyage,
Sister Very Catty

BLESS the REMOTE

Anybody else notice what was on TV this past week? A golden opportunity to watch some real golden oldies, that's what. I'm talkin' bout old black and white episodes of the Andy Griffith Show in tribute to their 50th anniversary. That's right...a fifty day vacation in goofy, sleepy-old Mayberry. What a treat to revisit Andy, Opie, Aunt Bea, Barney, and their quirky small-town pals.

While I'm not going to meow on and on about the good old days, or how things just aren't what they used to be, blah, blah, blah...I am going to squawk a bit about what's happening on the boob tube currently. Of course, nothing stays the same, we all know that. I mean who would really want to remain in the fifties or sixties anyway? Got to keep moving forward...progress, people! It is nice, however, to reminisce from time to time and seeing Sheriff Taylor certainly stirs up some happy memories of yesteryear...you know...when watching television was actually enjoyable.

On the rare occasion a good program comes on these days, its life expectancy is short. On and on they go about the exciting new season opener and next thing you know, four or so episodes later, it's the season finale. Bait you, hook you, and you're back sucking pond-water.

For the most part it seems television has traded the good old days of the hour long variety shows of singing, dancing, and comedy skits for the dislikes of say 'Project Runway', for instance, where you gaze at angry, emaciated waifs sashaying down the runway. Holy cat claws! Who will be our next top model?...WHO GIVES A SCRATCH! (Just once I'd like to see one of those skinny bitties do a diva dive off the end of the runway...stilettos flying...now that might be worth watching!)

Nowadays you've got your choice between the Bitchy Housewives of Wherever, Keeping up with the Kardashia-who's, or a miscellaneous assortment of attention-starved bozos. I mean, seriously, who are these people? Does anyone watch this crap on purpose? If only Deano was still around crooning 'everybody loves somebody sometime'...

I could go on and on, let loose with a few more well earned insults toward the situation, but then I'm only a cat so I'll leave it at that. Instead I give much deserved kudos to The Weather Channel, The Cooking Channel, The History Channel, The Discovery Channel and my personal favorite - Animal Planet featuring Cats 101. Now that's entertainment!

Blessings & Happy Channel Suffering...'er I mean Surfing