Santa Pookie

Many of you who read my blog know about the black mangy cat that I live with. Pookie. He's my buddy. I have several names that I adoringly call him: PookieSnack, Snack-N-Poop, Big Black Beast of Burden, Sweety, Hey you, "Get off the table", Mr. Vocal, Gato Lindo (beautiful cat in spanish), etc. And I'm sure if Pookie could talk he'd have a few "names" for me.

It's not like he's doted on or anything. He lavishes in the attention he gets from me, when he wants it. He sleeps on soft cushy furniture and or bed. Has an eternal trough of food and water. He really has it tough. Just ask him, he'll tell you. Poor neglected kitty.

Then there are days like today in which I'm sure if he could talk, he'd have nothing pleasant to say. I have to admit something to you, my lovely readers. I like to torment my cat occasionally.

Today was just that occasion.

Stopping at Rite-Aid on the way home to buy a Santa hat for tomorrows Dudley Manlove Holiday show, I saw this cute little, miniature Santa hat for dogs and cats. AND it was on sale. Well, then. "It's adorable," I said to myself, "I Must buy." As I got to the cashier she asked what kind of dog I had. When I explained that it was for my cat, she directed me to Aisle 2 for band aids. Silly woman, Pookie's de-clawed for JUST this reason.

I giggled all the way home thinking about putting it on the cat. Well, maybe no giggled, but laughed with an evil slant to it. I had to plan it just right, or he keen sense of smell would tell him something was up.

I nonchalantly entered the house. Put everything down, and out came the screaming banshee out of the room. He's a talkative sort you see. Ask anyone who knows him...he's got a lot to say and say it he does. I'm convinced he actually has the answer for world peace, but since I don't speak cat, no comprendo.

I followed my normal routine so not as to cause any suspicion. All the while, Mr. Vocal following me throughout the apt. "meow" - Changed clothes. Meow - went potty (too much information?). Meow - got myself something to drink. Meow - pulled out the tri-pod... wait, what the...? ...tripod? I could see the suspicion welling in his eyes. But still, Mr. Not So Smart didn't leave my side. He still had so much to tell me. "Meow" ( I slept in.) "Meow" (then I ate) "Meow" (then I slept again) "Meow" (Then I stretched and slept some more), etc.

I set the tri-pod up and a chair in front of the Christmas tree. Putting his new little costume on the chair, I figured I'd have plenty of time to put the hat on him and sit and smile for the picture.

Making sure everything was right, I went for it. Started walking toward him, as he started walking away. He stayed one step in front of me, just out of grasp the entire time. Stupid cat. Or rather, maybe smart cat. Finally, I grabbed him. He protested the entire time I carried him to the chair. I thought myself quite smart to have the darling, little hat ready to put on him though. But Mr. Squirm-butt was having none of that. So this was the shot.

Yah, you see where this is headed, don't you?

Attempt number two resulted in me attempting to herd the cat, put the hat on him, all the while, "him" being a slippery as a greased pig. I know his fur is all nice and soft and everything, but slippery? Whodathunk? He was wise to what was up at this point, so I figured I had two more good opportunities to get this photo or he'd be hidden for days.

So this was attempt 3:

If looks could kill man. I'd be dead.

But the crafty little bugger got away this time. So I did what any sane cat owner would do when the feline won't come when you call. I opened a can of tuna. What? Like you wouldn't have done that. See, Pookie isn't THAT smart. He thought he was getting treats. AH-HA. Grabbed him. Hatted him. Hit the timer and got this:

So I think I'm going to stop while I'm ahead. Pookie and I send everyone a happy holiday's shout out. I gotta go check my shoes. Pookie might have left me a "lump of coal", if you know what I mean.