Some stories start with “If I were king…”  In my case, I don’t need to because I already am. Of course, my “queen” constantly reminds me that there’s only one reign in this house and that it’s not mine.  Humph! Humans…so naive! But then again, I’m happy to leave her to her regal illusions, since she does always tell me that I’m such a “perrty perrty cat!”

I admit I do enjoy the cooing she does over me, even though I don’t have a particular tendency to express my appreciation for all her caring.  But then again, why should I? Kings don’t owe anything to anyone and frankly, I can’t bear the thought of having to reciprocate all this lovey-dovey stuff.  I mean really…  I do have better things to do!

For instance, the reason I’m so perrrrty is because I make sure I get enough sleep.  Too much strenuous activity is terribly detrimental to my feline good looks.   And of course, as part of a healthy lifestyle, I also make sure I eat regularly.  I’m very fortunate that, my “queen” provides me with quality food, but I don’t understand why I have to meow relentlessly to get her to fill up my bowl first thing in the morning.  For some reason she thinks it’s more important to go pee in the bathroom while I wait by the door, instead of feeding me immediately after she gets out of bed!

Another part of my healthy regimen is getting enough fresh air. I so enjoy going for a short stroll on the balcony. It has such a pretty view and it’s so perfect for my many necessary naps. But my jolly gallivanting doesn’t seem to please my “queen” as much. She keeps repeating that she has other things to do than having to open and close the door at my every beck and call. She claims it’s almost like having a part-time job on top of all the other things she has to do. I really don’t understand why she has to gripe so much about having to open and close the door for me.  Why, all she has to do is leave the door open.  So what if the cold air fills the house?  Grow some furry balls and get over it already!

It’s clear she totally misunderstand the meaning of being at the service of one’s king!

Submitted by Luma

Approximately 17 years ago, my roommate at the time came home with an orange tabby kitten. He fit in the palm of my hand and had a tail so long that you could wrap it around him 3 times. I persuaded her that he should be mine (she already had 2 cats) and named him Edmund Fitzgerald Orange after my favorite soap opera character (Edmund Gray on All My Children) and The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. His nickname from the beginning was Eddy but he is also referred to as Pumpkin Boy, Adventure Boy, and Houdini.

On September 4th, 2008, my sister sent me a picture of an abandoned kitten. My roommate Kim and I decided that we would adopt this tiny, fluffy gray puff-ball. When we first brought her home, Eddy was not overly thrilled. There was the gnashing of teeth, hissing, and what Kim and I refer to as “the paw of justice” where Eddy would thwack her on the head every time she came near him. We named her Kalypso because we wanted a Greek goddess name and I threw Jean Grey at the end because I figured she deserved a middle and last name like Eddy. Her official nickname is Kalli but she’s also known as The Kitten, Kalli Keeten (I like ees), Pumpkin Girl, Football Cat (she is roughly football shaped), Portly Princess, and “Kittens do not belong in the washing machine!”

Almost 4 years later, Kalli and Eddy are the best of friends. Eddy used to be neurotic and whiny. While he still sounds like a grumpy old man (especially if he wants food), he is very active and happy. Kim and I recently moved from a city apartment to a house in the suburbs and the cats discovered stairs and Nature for the first time. In the picture, they are enjoying one of their favorite activities “deck time.” Eddy insists on walking along the railing (he’s not allowed to go near the walls since he keeps trying to get up on the roof) and Kalli will either watch him or try to catch bugs.

Love is a four-legged word to me because nothing brings me more joy than being owned by cats. No matter how bad of a day I’ve had, coming home to Kalli and Eddy makes it okay.

 

Submitted by Dana

When N. is having a really tough time, it can be very tumultuous and loud and frightening.  Sophie will seek him out, when he is really not doing well he will scream and push her away, crying and kicking and flailing.  But she persists, her big chocolate eyes lock onto his and she keeps pushing forward until he relents and she loves him.  As he begins to calm down he realizes what has happened and cries, to lower his anxiety he will rub her ears between his fingers, he says they feel like velvet, I never knew he was aware of velvet.   She lays with her head in his lap and lets him calm himself and when she feels that her job is done she moves on.

Behind each of her ears is a bald spot from his anxious rubbing.

When I see them together, this goes through my head:

Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.


Submitted by Michele

Our very own special girl, Dexy.  She has crossed the Rainbow Bridge on 26th December 2011.   She was only 2 years old.  You can read more about it here.

Dexy

Love… is a four-legged word because it makes everything perfect!
Submitted by HRB

Excerpt from a Dog’s Diary:

8:00 am – Dog food! My favorite thing!
9:30 am – A car ride! My favorite thing!
9:40 am – A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
10:30 am – Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
12:00 pm – Lunch! My favorite thing!
1:00 pm – Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
3:00 pm – Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
5:00 pm – Milk Bones! My favorite thing!
7:00 pm – Got to play ball! My favorite thing!
8:00 pm – Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
11:00 pm – Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!

 

Excerpt from a Cat’s Diary:

Day 983 of my captivity…

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets.

Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.

The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.

Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a ‘good little hunter’ I am. Bastards.

There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of ‘allergies.’ I must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.

Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow — but at the top of the stairs.

I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released – and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicating with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe. For now.

Stand up against Breed Specific Legislation!

Check out this post of eight pictures of jowly dogs… just seeing it you feel the need to wipe yourself!

I just had to share this, just read that post, it’s worth your time.

 

Email me a picture (jpg or gif format) with a small caption explaining why love is a four-legged word for you at: stinkypaw@gmail.com

It’s your time to share the love you have with your four-legged friend…

  • I could walk around the yard barefoot in safety.
  • My house could be carpeted instead of tiled and laminated.
  • All surfaces, clothing, furniture, and cars would be free of hair.
  • When the doorbell rings, it wouldn’t sound like a kennel.
  • When the doorbell rings, I could get to the door without wading through fuzzy bodies who beat me there.
  • I could sit on the couch and my bed the way I wanted, with out taking into consideration how much space several fur bodies would need to get comfortable.
  • I would have money, and no guilt to go on a real vacation.
  • I would not be on a first-name basis with 6 veterinarians, as I put their yet unborn grand-kids through college.
  • The most used words in my vocabulary would not be: out, sit, down, come, no, stay, and leave it ALONE.
  • My house would not be cordoned off into zones with baby gates or barriers.
  • I would not talk ‘baby talk’. ‘Eat your din din’. ‘Yummy yummy for the tummy’.
  • My house would not look like a day care center, toys everywhere.
  • My pockets would not contain things like poop bags, treats and an extra leash.
  • I would no longer have to spell the words B-A-L-L,, W-A-L-K,, T-R-E-A-T, O-U-T,, G-O,, R-I-D-E,, C-O-O-K-I-E
  • I would not have as many leaves INSIDE my house as outside.
  • I would not look strangely at people who think having ONE dog/cat ties them down too much.
  • I would not be as happy!