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Caturday Pootie Diary: In which one of us is very rude [1]
['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.']
Date: 2025-01-04
I gave Freddie his two post-insulin shot treats and sat back to watch him eat them. We were on the couch together, following our morning routine. He eats, then he comes and finds me on the couch, the furry blanket on my lap, ready for him to sit on me and get his shot. I usually tried to stay for him as long as possible before getting up to get ready for work.
Today, Freddie had other ideas.
He ate his treats then stood, stretching.
“Gooooood stretch but where are you going?”
Without answering, he jumped to the floor and meandered off.
“That’s rude!” I called after him.
A gentle reminder of how we do things: 🐱🐶🐦 Do not troll the diary. If you hate pootie diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul.
Please do share pics of your fur kids! If you have health/behavior issues with your pets, feel free to bring it to the community.
Pooties are cats; Woozles are dogs. Birds... are birds! Peeps are people.
Whatever happens in the outer blog STAYS in the outer blog. If you’re having “issues” with another Kossack, keep it “out there.” This is a place to relax and play; please treat it accordingly. There are some pics we never post: snakes, creepy crawlies, any and all photos that depict or encourage human cruelty toward animals. These are considered “out of bounds” and will not be tolerated. If we alert you to it, please remember that we do have phobic peeps who react strongly to them. If you keep posting banned pics...well then...the Tigress will have to take matters in hand. Or, paw.
Shivering, I stepped into my bedroom wrapped in a towel, still damp from my shower. I sat on the edge of my bed and picked up my hairbrush.
Freddie walked over from the corner of the mattress. I lifted my arm so he could settle in next to me, his warm, soft body pressed to my thigh. I dropped my arm and squeezed him a little. He started to purr.
This was another routine.
I quickly brushed my hair and used deodorant on my arm pits. I put on socks, then stood to finish getting dressed.
“Human, no,” Freddie said.
“Sorry, pal, but I have to get dressed so I can go to work and earn your kibble.”
“Cold,” he muttered. “And also rude.”
Fully dressed, I added some jewelry, then picked up my water bottle to take downstairs. “I have to go,” I told him, sadly.
He watched me silently, and I could sense some disapproval.
I reached down to pet him. “Be a good boy,” I said. Before my hand reached his head, he snapped at it and swiped one paw at me. It was a halfhearted effort, but the sentiment was there.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said. “That is very rude.”
I tried one more time to pet him, yanking my hand back before his teeth could close on it. Rolling my eyes, I left the room.
"I’m sorry,” I told him, watching him watch me from between the steps of the stairs. “I don’t have time to play right now. We’ll play when I get home.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, then dove across one step, reaching for me.
I took a step back so he couldn’t grab me. “I’m sorry,” I said again.
He rolled around, energetic, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I have to go to work,” I told him again.
“You’re being so rude,” he sniffed.
I sat on the couch, eating my dinner. Freddie sat next to me, watching my every move with rapt attention. He reached out and tried to touch my food.
“Nope,” I said, moving my quesadilla out of his reach. “That’s very rude.”
“Want,” Freddie said, simply.
I shook my head. “You’re diabetic. No people food for you. But you can sleep on my lap,” I offered.
He jumped off the couch and left the room.
“Rude,” I said, shaking my head.
As I had promised in the morning, we played together. Mostly, I chased him until he climbed up on something; the couch, the tower (the old one. He still ignores the new one), and I would ‘get’ him by rubbing his fur with both hands and telling him he was caught.
“I’m coming for you!” I called out, laughing.
Freddie made eye contact, then turned and ran into the living room. I gave chase.
“I caught you!” I said, rubbing him all over. He cheerfully clawed the upholstery of the chair he’d jumped on. I rolled my eyes, backing off and looking at my watch. “Are you hungry?” I asked.
He jumped off the chair and ran toward the kitchen.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” I said, following.
To my surprise, he ambushed me as I left the living room, taking one clawed swipe at my ankle, then running into the kitchen.
“Rude!” I said, laughing.
I set the plate on his mat in front of him, giving him one long stroke as he stepped forward like I always did. He waited for it, then fell on his food. “Hungry, I guess.”
He didn’t answer, simply ate his wet food in the loudest way possible. “Such a boy,” I murmured, leaving the kitchen. “Rude eater.”
The sounds of a happy cat eating enthusiastically followed me as I sat on the couch, pulling the furry blanket over my lap. He’d come find me once he was finished.
The sounds of eating stopped and I knew I’d be seeing him soon. I smoothed out the blanket in my lap in anticipation. The morning lap sit was always cut short by necessity, but in the evening we had all the time in the world.
I waited. Then waited some more.
He didn’t come to me.
Frowning, I got up. “Freddie?” I called out. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
I found him, sitting in a box left over from Christmas. “It’s rude to break the routine,” I lectured. I leaned down to pick him up. He tried to escape before I could grab him, but he was too slow. I carried him to the couch, then set him down so I could get situated.
As soon as the blanket covered my lap and I was properly reclined, he climbed onto my lap and stretched out in the space he made between my legs. “That’s better,” I said, appreciating the routine as much as he usually did.
That was when I felt it.
“Uh, Freddie,” I said.
He looked over his shoulder at me.
“I need the bathroom.”
He huffed out an annoyed breath. “Rude,” he said.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! This was almost exactly our day today (Friday). He is a very rude cat.
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