Friday Cat Blogging: Step Away, Walk Away Edition

The other day, I was reading around the Blogosphere, as I am wont to do, and this made me spit my Joint Juice:

I’m going to guess that “men” (and by men, Gallagher also means several women, none of whom count because hey look ocelots. [sic]

Long story short, men have a culturally bred higher tolerance for risk which has a lot more to do with generations of expectations that men go out and risk themselves to provide while women stay home and tend to what’s provided. Except when women do it, which again doesn’t count because jungle cats!

Naturally, I resented this because Resentment is my middle name. Also: Frances. See how those go together? Anyway, the thing I learned was that we’re not looking at enough adorable ocelots, so here is one.

I feel smarter already.

Yesterday, I stayed home from work, where they get very distressed when I lie on my cubicle floor and complain about my back, not to mention my shoulders, my neck and that I’m not allowed to drink delicious, painkilling scotch on company time. But that’s not important. What is important is that I was at home, trying to hold very still when the doorbell buzzed. Sharkey hates my doorbell. He says it sounds like Dad got the wrong answer and here come Richard Dawson’s lips. Anyway, I grabbed a kimono because it was Grandma’s and who was more modest than Grandma and answered the door. My hair was standing up straight. The super asked if he could show my apartment so he could, you know, rent it. I looked at him. I looked at me in foundation garments, a cotton nightgown and my grandmother’s kimono and said, “Gimme ten minutes” knowing full well that if I hadn’t been there, he would’ve marched the people waiting on the sidewalk right through my door.

After the people left, I could not find Topaz and Drusy. Hang on, then –

Ocelots are the cutest thing since pink noses. Sometimes they have those! Anyway, I hunted for the invisible pussycats all over the one bedroom apartment. I searched the bathroom and the litter boxes. I searched the kitchen near the food. Nobody came running! I searched the carpet-covered cat-scratchy pillar o’ cat fun thing. I searched the top of the curtain rods, the laundry shelves and the dryer. I searched windowsills for inflatable stairs like for plane emergency exits. No dice! Topaz and Drusy had gone Full Kitty Invisible. There was nothing to do but wait for my darlings to reappear.

As I’ve moved things out of the apartment, new kitty resting spots reveal themselves – to the cats, anyhow. Drusy’s new favorite place to nap is the top shelf in my closet. I looked there. You’ll note this closet, pictured, is empty of anyone resembling Drusy or Topaz, but this is not my closet so that’s not really a surprise. I’m at work, where I don’t have digital images of my closet. Do you? Duh!

Anyway, after about half an hour, the Invisibility wore off and there was Drusy at my feet, making that adorable bugling sound that refers to me. I believe the cats all call me “Shep” but it’s a family name so I don’t mind. And there was Topaz, reflecting light again. I didn’t even ask where they’d gone. I was just glad to have them back.

Also: I called the super and told him to make an appointment next time. If I’m surprised I might be wearing something very high risk.

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