Doors and hearts and Saturdays!

After reading about Bob, but still not having any job, Mommy thought about that we should write a book, not a blog. She could be our producer and we would write it and get a lot of money. Unfortunately there would not be enough people buying it, most likely. After all cats don't have any real education or degree, nobody would believe a book written by cats could be any good. Well, on the other hand, I think most cats would not be able to indeed. It takes a bit to be as eloquent as me and Phoebe, not to brag or anything, but... you know.
So probably we don't write a book. I am still moping, because nobody asked for my autograph, so why would I entertain you with a book anyways? Pfff.

I started enjoying Saturdays, by the way. Saturdays are a great thing. Last Saturday proved it... we got two times yummy food. First some exquisite pate and then chicken hearts. They were fun to carry around and stuff.... unfortunately Mommy didn't like the idea of me carrying hearts through the flat for God knows what reason, so we had to stay in the kitchen eating with a shut door.

Shut doors is another thing... I don't like shut doors, you know? You can't see what's behind them! For a long time I was not sure if there is a bedroom existing in the new flat. There were more rooms when we arrived as there are know, if that sounds any bit logical. But it is true.
We found out why: the door is closed. Sometimes Daddy would carry us in there, so we could have a look around, but we were not allowed to walk. There is a big pile of interesting things and boxes and bags and blankets and it would be a lot of fun to dive in there and have a look around... I really wonder why we can't walk around. On one day the door was open and Mommy and Daddy took the pile apart and looked into boxes. Phoebe was jumping around between the boxes and made Mommy laugh, because there was always just a lot of stuff and Phoebe's head sticking out of it. I can see the comicality in that. Phoebe likes to stick her head out of things. Or her tail. Like in Daddy's birthdaygiftbox. But that's another story...
So anyways, Phoebe had fun jumping, exploring and sticking her head places.
I was not so sure about the situation. After all, we were usually not allowed in there. And Daddy called my name in a very weird way.... like they usually call my name when we have to go to the grim reaper or in the boxes or into another country... or something. It HAD to be a trap. I could feel it in my whiskers.
Too bad it turned out it was no trap, as Phoebe came back in one piece, all excited without having been in the box, at the grim reaper's or in another country. Rats! Missed out on all the fun. It could be years until the door opens again. Oh, well.

I'll go wait for the door to open.

-Ruska


P.S.: I need dis.

 

P.P.S: Dis too.

P.P.P.S: With a lift, so I don't have to climb up, that'd be exhausting.

P.P.P.P.S: This blog is lacking readers. What am I doing this for? Tell your friends!

P.P.P.P.P.S: Bob, will you marry me?