A Kitten's Tale

Hello, hi there, hey y'all! Guest posting today on the blog is your one and only AJ Tiger John Wayne. That's me, right there, the suave and handsome guy in the photo.

Got that? Suave and handsome. I don't want to hear anyone even breathe the word 'cute' in my presence. There are many other 'c' words at your disposal such as 'cool', 'confident', 'charismatic', and a brilliant sense of humor.

That last one is actually not a 'c' word. I just wanted you to know.

It's a hard life around this place for sure. *yawn*

So I moved in with the O. Family about a month or so ago and have gotten along rather well with everyone. Pretty much. Have you seen the furry lump they keep around this place that might as well be a vegetable instead of a feline?

Uh huh. Him. Oliver. No, I'm not sharing a photo of him. I noticed he gets enough space of this blog devoted to him already. Me, I sort of have a love/hate relationship with the guy. My immediate thought when I first saw him was 'Country Bumpkin Pumpkin.' So I told him so. And that seemed to get our introduction off on the wrong paw. But I was just being honest. He does look like a big fur covered pumpkin.

I do like him well enough, especially as he makes a great fluffy punching bag and will occasionally put his paw around me when he's having a good day. Which isn't often.

To put it bluntly, the guy's a grump.

Case in point, I snuck up on him yesterday as he was doing what he does best: sleeping. (I really think he believes it to be an extreme sport). I decided he wasn't losing any pounds just lying there like a blob, so I grabbed him around the neck with my paws to heft him up. It wouldn't be an easy task for the average kitten as the guy has to weigh at least ninety to five hundred pounds. But you'll notice in the above photo that my paws and claws are made of steel and could easily rip through the leg of an antelope with a single swipe.

My middle name is Tiger, after all. I'm pretty sure it's what I'd be doing if I'd ended up on the Serengeti instead of this place.

Anyway, I hefted his head up with my mighty paws and was met with hisses, growls, and yes, even a snarl. 

Well, excuseee me for not seeing the 'No Touchy' sign, pal. Just go ahead and gain more weight lying there all day.

It's true. Yesterday, he slept in the same spot beside the front door for eight hours. *taps microphone with paw* Eight hours, people. Now if I were to pull a stunt like that, my owners would scoop me up to pat me and shake me and hug me while contemplating why I was so lethargic (their word, not mine). I know. It's happened before. A guy like me can't take a nap around here without his health being questioned.

The constant attention can definitely get a bit stressful. Earlier, I was trying to decide who had placed the rug upside down on the carpet. The tags were showing and it looked tacky.

 That's when I felt eyes...or something...on me thanks to my keen awareness abilities.

Abandoning my contemplation of the tacky rug, I glanced up to find Erin pointing that camera of hers in my direction. Again. 

Sheesh. The paparazzi never ceases. I have someone looking at me or holding me almost every second of the day. Between you and me, I believe that Erin and her sister, Elisabeth, are experiencing 'Youngest Brother has Grown and There is no Longer a Baby in the House to Cuddle' syndrome. Don't laugh. I've heard it's common. 

The fact that they're relieving their anxiety by coddling me has its perks and pitfalls.

 A perk? They'll do anything I ask. I have them trained that well. Illustration of my point? The youngest sister, Ellie, has a violin stand with little metal stringlike things that swing when brushed against. I saw it from below and was staring at it, thinking how much fun it would be to bat with my paw.

I heard an 'Awww' from above and was suddenly lifted to my destination.

One kitty going up.

I explored the stand to my heart's content and was only put down when I told my flunky- I mean, when I told Elisabeth she could do so.

After I was lowered, I scampered off to another corner of the room. That's when I heard Elisabeth say that I was so cute. (I'm used to it as I hear the word about every waking moment). And Erin remarked that she hoped I'd never do anything dumb like run into the road. I thought she was being considerate until she added, "Especially not after the bill from his last veterinarian's appointment."

Maybe she was being humorous, I don't know. I thought it rather morbid and uncouth of her, but didn't say so. Given time, I'm sure she'll learn one important fact of life:

The cost of flea treatment is overshadowed by the payment of pure love.

Does that make sense? It sounds good. You have my permission to add it to your collection of inspirational quotes or to use it as a Facebook status. I've got a million of 'em.

Come to think of it, I should share it with Erin using my best John Wayne impersonation (oh, yes, I do a mean impersonation of 'The Duke.'). That should make it resonate in her soul and take root. She sighs at anything he says anyway.

Now, I hear you asking what's one of the pitfalls to the constant attention I receive and I'll tell you. 

Nicknames. The names I've heard myself called include (but are not limited to):

Mongoose

Baby

Chuckles

Muzzy

Maxwell

Sweetie-kins

And last, but certainly not least:

Mr. Muffle Puffles.

If they were only embarrassing me from my ears to the tip of my tail, I could handle it. But when someone outright offends my masculinity... I mean, one of my names is John Wayne, after all. You wouldn't hear them calling him Chuckles or...Mr. Muffle Puffles.

So yes, it's a life filled with grumps, kitten huggers, and blush-worthy nicknames, but I've learned to be patient with the individuals in my life for the most part. I mainly just keep silent about their faults. What's done is done and you won't hear me bringing it up again.

But for the record, I don't chuckle. I purr. I meow. I roar.

I don't chuckle.

It's anyone's guess where they got that one.