Miss Sugar’s Day Out
Lest you believe the life of a house cat/indoor princess is predictable and boring, I am here today to relieve you of that fallacy.
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Animals
Little Lavatory Laments
I perceive myself as a lady, a delicate flower, a feather-light being who flows through the world like a gentle breeze. So I’m not likely to engage in discussions about crass and vulgar topics. I keep my bathroom habits private. Well, I used to, until recent developments made it impossible. But I assure you, my little rosebuds, that there are no gross landmines ahead in this post.
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The Cat on the Socks (With Apologies to Dr. Seuss)
The sun did not shine. I was too tired to play. So I laid on the bed like I do every day.
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Miss Sugar’s Holiday Highlights
This holiday season has been filled with so many wonder-fur moments! The gifts, the joy, the long cozy naps. My world has been full of delights and activity, coupled with respect for my personal space.
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There’s No Cat in Christmas
The most wonderful time of the year? I beg to differ. If it was so wonderful, I would be invited to participate in it.
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My Spirit Human
You’ve heard of writer’s block? I had a severe case of the feline equivalent – blogger’s paw – while my people were on their California trek. I did not feel the urge to share my thoughts, and I couldn’t reach the keyboard on my own.
…It Never Rains in California
If you’re old enough, you might recognize today’s title as a song lyric from the 1972 soft rock hit, It Never Rains in Southern California. Albert Hammond wrote and sang it. And if you know the song, it goes on to say: It pours, man, it pours.
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Fortnight Hibernation
It’s Father who breaks the news to me. First, he calls me his Little Sweetie. Although he does it often, it always brings a smile. Then, he marvels over the beauty of my little face. Again, nothing new. He rests his forehead on mine so I can take in a deep breath of his scent – these days it’s a mix of a wood fire, CK cologne, and of course, bacon. And just when I’m purring like a motor and reveling in his attention, he tells me he and Mother are going away for two weeks.
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What’s News, Pussycat?
Hello there, my cherished can-openers! How is every little thing in your world? Really, I’m only asking out of excessive politeness. You’re here to learn what’s new in my world. And this week, it’s all about my exceedingly generous heart.
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Cat Day Afternoon ~ by Miss Sugar
I’m already bored with calling my weekly blog Tuesday Sweets. I’m feeling a little sour today, actually. Annoyed. Fur in a knot. Deeply disappointed. Like someone else caught the mouse even though I did all of the chasing to tire it out.
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Tuesday Sweets With Miss Sugar – October 29
My people have never attempted to dress me up for special occasions. I think they know better. They wouldn’t dare force me to wear something spooky on Halloween, nor will they adorn me with a fuzzy sweater or boots this winter. (I don’t venture outside, after all.) But there is one item I wouldn’t shake off if placed on my perfect head: a cowboy hat.
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Tuesday Sweets with Miss Sugar – 10/22
I understand that there was an election last night. I haven’t paid a lot of attention to the issues since all feline-related questions were overlooked in the campaign. So, the candidates can talk to the paw as far as I’m concerned.
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Tuesday Sweets With Miss Sugar 10/15
This week, I’ll answer a reader’s question. Yes, I get mail! And I get Facebook and Twitter comments, delivered to me by my second-favourite human: Mother.
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Miss Sugar’s Final Moving Diary
Not to worry, my beloved treat dispensers. This doesn’t mean I’m giving up on my blog posts. It just means that, so I’m told, this is my last entry before a move that I’m led to believe will possibly be the last one for some time. Maybe. It’s hoped!
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Miss Sugar’s Moving Diary – Entry #9
Malcolm Gladwell claims it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert at something. As a result, I’ve decided that next week, ten blogs will make me an expert blogger. I am a cat, after all. We convert knowledge into expertise much more quickly than humans do.
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Miss Sugar’s Moving Diary – Entry #8
I love Father more than treats, my bacon toy or kibble. Perhaps you know the history, perhaps you don’t. Mother adopted me on her birthday a few years ago. She waited for me to get well because when we met, I was wearing an ugly cone and experiencing some gastric distress. When I finally came home with her and laid eyes on Father, I knew I’d found my protector and BFF for life. Mother says tiny hearts flew up like sparks between us. But I have to confess that I’ve developed a crush on another man.
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