Languid cat....

I don't drink martini's. First of all, i don't like gin, second, i don't like vermouth...so what you have left at that point is lemon peel and olive...i guess i'll take the olive.

Blog ideas of late have been a bit martini-ish...dry. I don't like to write if i have nothing to convey...sometimes i'll have an arid run and just post some vid's or music or somesuch. Actually, i'm rambling now, for the same ingredients...and its making for a great martini. Its actually quite like a new word i've come across a couple times in the book i'm reading...The Prince of Foxes by Samuel Shellabarger...languid. With that said...

Earlier this fine evening, now closing with languid golden and purple rays softly lighting the genial air...ok enough of that, i'm just not in that zone... I checked the Royals, who had finished picking through their Beef Stroganoff supper and quickly disappeared into the front yard. They have been playing with this stray cat all day. Its friendly enough, I watched it closely at first to make sure. I'm not really a cat guy. I've actually been known to try NOT to miss them on the road...i wouldn't go so far to say that i actually have cat crosshairs embedded in my windshield...but i have been known to...drift... a bit in their direction. It's big, mostly black with a couple paint strokes of white, long fur, long tail. They've carried it, shot it with water guns, pulled its tail, chased it, all the stuff kids do...within reason...and it has passed the test. Pretty relaxed. So, i'm good with it. Shockingly, i even allowed a couple strokes on the head earlier. I have caught it a couple times strolling leisurely into the Domicile...that doesn't play here. A simple "FSSSSST"! and he got the message.

Anyhoo, i was checking them to make sure they weren't playing traffic cones in the street. I did, however, find a couple of them standing on the curb, which as Article 12 Section 17 Paragraph 2 of "The Governance and Statutes" states, "...the curb...is only to be utilized in the procurance of mail from the mailbox..." So a blatant violation was being perpetrated by none other than His Highness, who was diligently scanning, yea, interrogating the yard on the far side of the street for, you guessed it...the cat. P2 was an actively participating accompliss.

So i called them back, and The Prince proceeds directly INTO the street, walked, no, strolled to the driveway and came in...bad move. He is well versed in Article 12 and the contents therein regarding..."The Street"...and he knew when he looked at me he was in...DEEP. I met him halfway, he received a pop on the undiapered leg and was lead directly into the house. I gave him no further direction, other than to stay in the house. I then returned to the kitchen where i had been helping The Queen with the cleanup.

About ten minutes later, we had neither seen nor heard of him once he stopped crying within a couple of those. I thought that he had crawled up on the couch and was watching the Rangers/Astros game. Due to the quietness, i decided to check on him.

Rounding the bar into the living room i found him standing, ever so patiently, with his nose in the corner. An occasional push on either wall with his hands but never moving his nose from its contact point. I whispered to The Queen and with dripping dish foam on her hands she rounded and smiled the same way i did at the sight...."awwwww." I told her that i never told him to do that...he did it on his own. So i went over, sat down in the chair and called him over.

He came around and smiled...i expressed to him the importance of never going into the street, he gave me a dip of the head and a hearty "Sah!" which is 22-month old for "Yessir!" I offered my lap and he immediately climbed up, placed his head on my chest and we were both contented. So i held him close...while i still can.