Tag Archives: minx

I Get No Respect, or Nobody Knows the Troubles I’ve Seen

This is a tale of two pugs…one good and one extremely bad. Surrounded by treachery, deceit, and disrespect I am forced to dredge up Rodney Dangerfield’s most famous tag line and apply it to my situation. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating…Lizzie is a sly puss, a tricky little minx, and not the innocent everyone believes her to be. She is the enemy, make no mistake about that, and even though I am physically limited (hence my undoing), I have experience, intelligence, and patience.

Let me explain. Last week, on a particularly boring afternoon, one where napping and restless pacing weren’t a viable option for either of us, Lizzie decided she would violate the holy of holies, that she would take the one sacred object of mine which even my parents are loath to touch…my little bear. If you recall, from an ancient blog, I have honed my shaping skills to such a fine art that Little Bear sports an exquisite belly Mohawk of unyielding stiffness. He is a prized source of comfort and release. Lizzie is well aware of his revered and inviolate status, and yet, on this day, she chose to transgress.

In her perversity she made a subversive foray into Little Bear’s safe zone, i.e. my bed. Snatching him up in her foul little mouth she trotted across the living room to the ottoman, where she nimbly sprung up onto its surface. Knowing full well I can no longer perform that maneuver due to the degeneration of my hindquarters, she proceeded to maul it wantonly in my presence. Horror of horrors…I thought my heart would burst with pain and anguish. How could she be so cruel? How could she defile this precious object with such casual abandon? At that moment I wished only to save Little Bear from her vile mouth and then destroy her. Unfortunately I could do neither.

At the appointed time of Mom’s return from work, that little she-devil pranced to the door, wagging and wiggling wildly. Mom, of course, greeted her effusively asking what she was so excited about and, I can scarcely believe it as I retell it, that evil strumpet led Mom to the ottoman where Little Bear lay. Mom wanted to believe, for a split second, that I had regained the use of my hind legs and had been able to make the leap. She was sure Lizzie was excited about my recovery. But, as you and I both know, Lizzie of the black heart and treacherous soul was seeking approval for the coup of her lifetime.

I am down but certainly not done. Vengeance is mine and I need only to wait for the perfect opportunity to rain down a revenge of epic proportions on this false pug. Patience and time.

Respectfully submitted,


Pure bliss...Little Bear and I sharing a moment


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Cat On A Hot Tin Roof, or I’m Not Interested in What You’re Selling

Ah, dear reader, I did have misgivings about writing Monday’s blog but I am both moved and touched by all of your incredibly thoughtful words and good wishes. You must believe me that I had no intention of inspiring such an outpouring when I wrote it. I am as happy, fulfilled, and hungry as I could be, so no more concerns about me, please.

I must disagree with Sigmund Freud who said, “Time spent with cats is never wasted.”  Today, I am addressing an issue, which I introduced earlier, and have let drop for much too long, and that is the silver tabby named Zoë. I hoped by ignoring her she might disappear or even just fade into oblivion. But no, she is here to stay and is certainly an ever-visible presence.

She reminds me of certain people and dogs who cannot respect or recognize boundaries. I am sure you know to what I refer when I say that their concept of personal space differs vastly from yours or mine. Zoë, I even shudder using her name because I don’t wish to make her real, has no sense of propriety, nor does she understand that she should always defer to me. She has no sense of class or species separation. At any opportunity she will approach me, try to engage me in play or repartee, and today’s behavior was an affront to my dignity. While I was lying in Grandma’s office, with my harness and leash on, since we were leaving soon, she had the audacity to lie beside me and begin playing with my leash! She took it into her mouth and between her front paws, and then tugged at it wildly. Thinking she had enticed me, she then proceeded to roll into me. She laid on her back in wanton abandon while batting at me with her paws. The nerve of that cheeky minx! I was horrified, tried to avert my gaze, and still she persisted. When I got up to remove myself, she again seized my leash and started pulling me. She even grabbed hold of my front leg! Fortunately, Grandma had the good sense to look down and see this spectacle unfold; however, she laughed out loud saying, “Oh Zoë, you clever little puss…look at you and Mason” as if I were a willing participant.

I had a good mind to cuff her but decided instead to take the high road. Oliver, their other cat, would never cross that boundary. He and I are close in age and in temperament, so that we have an innate understanding of one another. He respects my space and I his. Zoë needs a good lesson taught her, but she is still young and undeniably cute, for a feline that is.

Respectfully submitted,


I am sleeping peacefully while little Miss Thing is alert and plotting her next move.

I am sleeping peacefully while little Miss Thing is alert and plotting her next move.

I like this because it shows her cunning nature and brazen look.

I like this because it shows her cunning nature and brazen look. Also, check out those eyes. They are just wrong!

Here you can how close she has gotten. I know it looks like I've moved but it is she who is encroaching my space.

Here you can see how close she has gotten. I know it looks like I've moved but it is she who is encroaching into my space.


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