Ishmael Will Still Wear the Pants

"Walter?  Who is he?  Oh.  These are his 3-month shorts?  Then, how do I fit them?  I am 7 years old, and I weigh 9.2 lbs.  How much is Walter going to weigh?  Oh.  We will wear the same size?  At least I have a new bassinet out of this whole thing.  Oh.  Walter's bassinet.  Well, I still wear the pants in this family."

Does this make my cone look big?

Morning Mantra

Loves Daddy, Loves to Dance.

Protect This Mouse

In spite his dutifully good manners and slight sashay, Ishmael knows how to be a feral beast.  

Sometimes it is him swiping a neatly tied beef tenderloin ($57) off the counter and then letting the blood drip down his chin as he swings it from side to side. 

(I washed the piece he didn't eat and retied it, thank you very much.)

But, more often, he runs around proudly with a piece of "can I have a little to-go bag for my cat?" tuna sashimi hanging out of his mouth or an Ishmael-size portion of the center of Mommy's ribeye.

Twice, however, he's had the joy of hunting and killing a mouse and then playing "keep my [prize] away from Mommy."  

This includes:

1.  Hiding the mouse under the ottoman and then sauntering casually away as if nothing's happened.  

2.  Maniacally throwing the mouse into the air and then swinging his arm like a bat about 5 times in a row.  

3.  Attacking Mommy like a wildebeest with no recognition of the parental-cat bond in hopes of keeping the [prize] for a little bit longer.

Wait, what?  There is a mouse by my bottom?  

Pepper Steak

Last night Daddy called me his little pepper steak.
Then, I had a little lick from his toothbrush.

Too far, Ishmael, too far.

A Reunion

Ishmael missed Daddy so much while Daddy was on his business trip.

Now, let's get back to our business, he says.

Batty for Electronics

Ishmael loves his new paperwhite.

In fact, it's Daddy's paperwhite.

Mommy must have taught Ishmael about sharing.

Chore Day Tuesday

Tuesdays get to be too much for Ishamel.

It's chore day, 
and his responsibilities range from 
composing and performing six sad songs, 
to nibbling the orchid buds,
to taste-testing the butter.

Later, he'll trade one of the sad songs for a damp washcloth and a blowout.

Ode, based on prose by Rudyard Kipling

by Daddy

Forth Ishmael come 
pavisanding 
like a peacock - 
stuff, 
ruff, 
stomacher and all.

A Rare Compliment

Daddy told Mommy that I was the equivalent of roughly 4 to 6 cats.  
"That's right, old man," I said.

Light Reading

Since finding out about the arrival of his human baby brother in 20 weeks, Ishmael has taken up a new hobby.  

This was his first selection.

Mom's Hero

Mom's Hero, a.k.a. King of the Castle, Lord of the Tail, Got Ruff?

That's right.

Guest Blogger: Puzzle Machine

I do my puzzle. I lay in the box.
I do my puzzle.
Oh, your puzzle? Yes, I do your puzzle.
I lay in my box.

Bathroom Rules

 

ISHMAEL'S RULES:
The Bathroom

1. Come in; I sit on your lap.
2. You will not lock me out.  This is my time.
3. If you don't let me sit on your lap, I practice my spins and twirls at your feet while I sing my sad sad songs.
4. If you hush me or refuse to pet me, I make toilet paper confetti.
5. I help you pet me by grabbing your hands with my hands.
6. Before you leave, please put me on the scale. My ideal weight is 9.2 pounds.
7. I drink out of the toilet on occasion, but you are not to observe me.  It's the "found water" concept, and you need to respect the hunt.

8 More Days

Just a reminder:  the Baltimore Ravens are Super Bowl Football Champions of the World for 8 more days.
Love, Ishmael

Black beans, humility.

 


Daddy says my toes look like the black beans at Chipotle.
Oh, the degradation.

No Hats. Just Limin'.

 
Ishmael relaxes with Daddy.
Mommy learns about Legal Professionalism.
Only the tip of Ishmael's tail misses Mommy.
The rest of his body clearly does not; he is taking up her entire couch cushion.