Fat Bottom Girl Said What

Cleopatra

***UPDATE–Miss Cleo was waiting for me when I got home last night!!  She’s got some scabs on a back leg and is hobbling around–she mumbled something about a bar fight–but other than that she seems to be no worse for the wear.  Of course she’s grounded, but it doesn’t seem to be bothering her at this point since she’s getting canned food to help her rehydrate. Thanks to everyone for the kind words of support!!

This is my beautiful girl Cleo, short for Cleopatra, because even though she was the runt of the litter, she acted like a queen from the moment she entered our home, so the name fit her perfectly.

She’s my indoor/outdoor cat.  I prefer to keep my cats indoors, but there was no keeping this one in!  She’s stubborn and has a mind of her own, and absolutely adores being outside except when it’s rainy and really cold.  Even with snow on the ground, she will venture out to soak up the sun if it’s shining.  If I’m outside, she loves having the company, and will follow me around the yard while I weed flower beds, or lay on the patio table trying to get my attention so I will scratch her head, or give her air kisses.

She weighs in at about 8 lbs, and is petite, but won’t back down from a fight with the other neighborhood cats, which has resulted in a couple of abscesses, and scars on her ears. She keeps Mac, my other cat who is double her size, in line, and loves playing with Simon the dog.

And I miss her.  I haven’t see her for almost 7 days.

She sometimes stays out all night when the weather is nice, and last Wednesday, after a 70 degree day, she didn’t want to come in when it was time for me to go to bed, so I left her out.  Usually she’s there the next morning and waiting at the door when I put the dog out first thing, but this time she wasn’t.

I still haven’t given up hope she’ll return, but each day I lost a little more.  I go to the door still expecting her to be there.  I imagine I hear her meowing.

She’s been part of my life for the last 9 years, and I don’t want to let her go.  The hardest part is not knowing what’s happened to her.

Ode to Friday Night

GUEST POST: Ten Ways To Drink All The Time And Not Look Like An Alcholic

Yesterday I came up with some Top Ten Lists that I’d like to see, and my blogging buddy Fat Bottom Girl Said What agreed to a guest post.  She picked the best topic, one I hold very near and …

Source: GUEST POST: Ten Ways To Drink All The Time And Not Look Like An Alcholic

Unlovable

I drink too much and cuss like a sailor and sometimes I smoke and I can be a procrastinator and I’m a blurter and I’m too independent and I’m ADD and OCD and I have too much history and not enough patience and I pop my gum and. . . and. . .

and you look at me as if I’ve lost my mind

(they always look at me as if I’ve lost my mind)

I tilt my head to the side and look at you, quizzically, like I’m the dog and you’re the master

not understanding what you see in me

it’s like you can’t see all the bad stuff

Why don’t you see all the bad stuff?

Because I want you to.

I want you to see it all.

First thing.

Right off.

I want to scare you with the bad stuff (because you scare me)

frighten you away from this thing that is me.

Because no one can love this.

You couldn’t possibly.

What’s to love about this?