Celebrating My Pooties

Pooties: I didn't make up the name. It's popular on the DailyKos, a political blog I read most every day where several times a week someone posts a pootie diary. I read those diaries pretty religiously and always intend to post pictures of my own pooties, but never do because I never have pictures. So. I decided over the last couple of days to try to get some. I confess to only minor success. I took about fifty photos, only a few worth salvaging. I'll try again another day. Cats, I discovered, move.

I also confess to not being able to write a decent diary about my pooties. It reminds me of my mother's Christmas letter, which always made me cringe. So forgive me—this is total self-indulgence, though it does reflect how I entertain myself.

I treated my pooties to a new adventure yesterday; I brought their old cat tree in from the garage. They hadn't seen it in about six months when I got tired of the way it looked and dismissed it from our reality. They were absolutely overjoyed. I haven't seen them that happy in a really long time. They played on it all evening and played with each other and pretty much with everything, which may have had more to do with the catnip than the cat tree. Nothing like cats on drugs.

I am very happy to be reunited with my cats. They make me laugh and though I couldn't really get pictures of just how funny they are, I did get a few that move in that direction.

They're Maine Coons. The real deal. They're sisters and about four years old. Mostly they like each other, but they do compete and on occasion fight. Péle, the bigger of the two (she weighs about 19 pounds) can be a pistol, but in all honesty, Sélène's been starting the confrontations these days.

Smaller though she is (weighing in at about 16 pounds), Sélène has a fierce little fight stance, which Péle walked away from last night, rather than fight. I was surprised. (I think Sélène was too.) Sélène is the more social of the two. When company arrives at the house, she's always ready for a meet and greet. She's also a classic paper-sitter, no matter what I'm working on, whether it be the keyboard or the kitchen, she likes to be in the middle of it.

Péle, for all of her bravado and size is actually shy. She comes across as miss-impressed-with-herself, and I believe she is pretty convinced she's a perfect specimen. The world does truly revolve around her and she spends far too much time in front of the mirror. I've also caught her with my earrings more than once, but at least she hasn't tried to wear them yet.

So. There you have it. It's really true that when I'm not writing or taking care of the business of my life, I can usually be found indulging my cats, which admittedly are counter-walkers and totally spoiled, and why not? They earn their keep; they help me write. In fact, some of my best ideas have come from them. Not only that, I swear, since I added all the accents to their names, they've started speaking French.