(For more, visit http://www.stuffonmycat.com)
Hey! Cliff and Buddy here, taking a break from our interweb-thingy surfing. Since we’re sure our human mum is always talking about us, we decided to post our profiles so everyone can know more.
Name: Buddy Katrick
AKA: Buddy, Buddycat, Bud, Budley, Boo, Big Old Boy, Budmeister, Fuzzyguy.
Age: Somewhere around 8 or 9.
I like: being petted, being brushed, being held, sitting on laps, chasing the Cat Dancer, playing with my Panic Mouse 360, chasing the laser pointer, drinking out of faucets, beating up on Cliff, Combos, having my tummy rubbed.
Other things you should know about me:
I give kisses and hugs.
I drool when I’m being petted.
I have a range of voices for meows, but I like to use a two-tone meow for most purposes.
I give happy paws like a champ.
Catnip makes me mean or so my human mum says.
I have very, very soft fur and it makes me very handsome.
Human mum says I’m an affection sponge, whatever that means. I know my favorite place to be is in her arms.
I shed a lot, often in clumps, and I love leaving these “Buddypuffs” all over the house.
Name: Clifton James
AKA: Cliff, CJ, Ceej, Buddy(?!), Cliffycat.
Age: Somewhere around 4 or 5.
I like: eating, chasing Mardi Gras beads, chasing the laser pointer and the Cat Dancer, begging for food, looking out the window, sitting on my cat tree, being cute, napping on the bed with my human mum, tortilla chips, veggie sausage, being around people.
Other things you should know about me:
I get into everything.
I like to steal ponytail holders and chew on them.
I have a serious string fetish.
I’ll eat anything, even my toys.
I give kisses when asked.
I wake my human mum up by giving her kisses, and I keep her awake with meows, chirrs, and trills.
I whine quite a bit.
I’ll eat almost anything, and I love floor junk and stove leavin’s.
I’ve recently started getting the night crazies.
The photographer was at work today for a bunch for who-knows-why photos. He needed people to be in the pictures, and, as he has before, wanted me. I agreed, so long as I had a few minutes to fix makeup, hair, and stuff like that. He showed up with a shirt for me to wear to make it look official.
Camera guy: I have a bit of a problem. These shirts were washed, they’re the ones we always use, *shows me the distinctive don’t steal me sharpie letters at the bottom* but it’s missing a button. *shows me where the button is, indeed, missing*. You can staple, or glue, or whatever you –
Me: *tuning him out as I start digging in my backpack and whip out a travel sewing kit* I have this.
Me: The button won’t match, but –
CG: *whips out a knife and hacks off one of the extra buttons that are always sewn on the inside bottom of shirts.* Are you a mom? You’d be a good one being prepared like that”
Me: Nope, just prepared and organized.
CG: *picks up needle and thread and proceeds to sew button on* This thread is pink, but I don’t think you’ll notice.
Me: Yeah, I had to fix my sweatshirt earlier this week.
The shirt was a men’s large, much too big for me. (If I had to guess, I’m a men’s small. I know I have white t-shirts that are boy’s large, and they’re a little on the big side. So… yeah. Whatever.) The photos came out cute, though, and I hope I get to be on the background of an often published document.
That’s all for now. I’m off to work at the ARL later, even though I REALLY want to go out.
A very, very simple favor. A favor that will cost you nothing and will help my good friends at the Homeless Cat Management Team raise money for their program. All you have to do is use http://www.goodsearch.com as your internet search engine. Type in “Homeless Cat Management Team” in the box that says “Who do you search for?”. That’s it. Simple. (And it’s powered by Yahoo, so you’ll get the same quality search that you’re used to.)
The more people who use this site, the more money the HCMT will get. And if you feel so inclined, spread the word to your friends and family.
To see what the HCMT does, go to http://www.homelesscat.org
Maybe if I didn’t whine so much my mood might improve? Nooooooooo.
Maybe I’m just in a very bad funk and have been for a while now? Shhhhhh.
Maybe if I slept well I’d be able to function a lot better? Probably.
To: The ring finger on my right hand
I’m sorry I burned you last week. And I didn’t see the hole in the glove when I had to chisel the ice from the car, so when you went numb, I didn’t think it was as serious as you acted. Can you please stop hurting and regrow a normal layer of skin?
To: The residents of building 100, excluding apts A, C, D, and F
Re: Parking lot
You people NEVER leave me a spot in the “residents only” lot. Now that my spot in the visitors lot is free of snow and ice (thanks to me), you take it, too. You (collectively) = jackasses.
To: The chipmunk that lives in the wall outside of my window
Little one, those tunnels you’ve made in the snow are absolutely adorable. Is there a pattern? Could you write my name? And ignore the cat looking at you like you’re dinner. He’s harmless.
Somewhere around ten years ago, I met and became very close friends with an exchange student from Sweden. We vowed to keep in touch when she returned home, and for a while, we did. We were college-aged kids, though, and life quickly got in the way. The last time I remember sending an email was the summer of 98 or 99; our last phone call was sometime shortly thereafter.
So a few weekends ago I was driving around and heard this song on the radio. Immediately, I thought of the hearing it in my Dad’s old car, with her. I don’t remember where we were going on that warm summer night, only that when it came on, her face lit up and she leaned over, cranking the knob to turn it up. I became angry at myself for letting our friendship slip away and an awful melancholiness settled over me at the idea of being too late to do anything about it. This wasn’t the first time I’ve felt this way, only the worst. I couldn’t get the thoughts of her out of my head and I promised myself I’d try to do something about it, thought I didn’t know what.
I started with the internet and after an hour of searching, I had a small list of addresses associated with my friend. I sent messages to all of them.
A few days later I received a reply.
Some things are just too easy.
I was worried that she wouldn’t remember me; it’d been a long time. That wasn’t the case at all and she laughed at me for thinking it. She has a photo of us taken at the airport on the day she left still hanging on her wall.
I’m absolutely thrilled at this whole thing and I’m in the early stages of planning a trip to Sweden. A trip to Sweden that’s eight years overdue. I may be late, but I’ll be there. In my heart a part of me already is.