Pussy Puke

Oh the things my pussy does to me.

It started like any other Saturday. I groggily awoke with a slight hangover from five too many Skinny Pirates the previous evening. Ted was screaming meows at the top of his teeny lungs for breakfast, so course I filled his bowl to the brim with his fancy schmancy duck and green pea food.


Roaring his brains out.

As I was adjusting my eyes to the mid-morning light I realized Mr. Ted E. Bear had an appointment with our fave vet, Dr. Bowling for his yearly check-up in about 30 minutes (we live a half hour away from Dr. B’s office). Shit.

I threw on some clothes as the Bear inhaled every morsel of his breakfast, then scooped him up, put him in his blanket and swaddled him like the 9-year-old baby that he insists upon being.

Let's roll.

All waddled up with somewhere to roll.

Ted has always enjoyed a car ride. He doesn’t make a peep, often takes a nap if the sun is coming in our window and typically tries to help me drive.


Road trips – one of Ted’s hobbies…aside from napping and eating.

But this was not either of our lucky days. In the hurried state I was in to not be late for our appointment, I got lost and unfortunately there were about four roundabouts I kept driving through. Which in turn, made the happily full of breakfast Ted regurgitate his morning meal.

In the middle of me driving 50 mph.

All over the place.

Projectile style.

Car sick.

Covering every inch possible with puke.

While this was taking place and I was unable to pull over on the highway, I kept saying this to myself…

chant. chant. chant.

On repeat in my head.

When I finally got the chance to pull over (and trying to avoid having a moment like Chunk in The Goonies), I assessed the damage.

Tedstar had it on his wrist, I had it on my pants, in my sock and under my shoe.

On the paw, my leg

Didn’t miss a spot.

It was in all crevices of my steering wheel and because I was turning a corner as he began upchucking, all over the back of the driving device as well.

Every mother f'ing nook and cranny of the steering wheel.

Every nook and cranny covered.

It was in my hair (don’t ask), my vest pocket, on my cell phone, the volume nob for the radio, all over Ted’s blanket…

Blank stare.

Duck and pea food is very fragrant, unfortunately.

It even found its way into my purse…

Purse contents.

Oh here’s my credit card. And warm piece of cat food for you.

We finally made it to the office, where the nurse gave us a trash bag, a new blanket, wet wipes and paper towels. When Dr. Bowling (who has said she’d like to come back in another life as one of my cats – oh snap!) entered the exam room, the look of trauma on our faces made her laugh.


What the fuck just happened?

She took one look at us and said, “Cat moms are real moms too.”

You can say that again.

And again.

And again.

I’m just relieved TB didn’t shit his pants (or rather, his blanket)…how do moms of humans do it?



Whiska Lickin’ Good

Ted was ultra pissed off at me last night when I opened a nice bottle (well, box really because I’ve lost my wine opener in my own mini manse and still can’t find it) of Pinot Grigio and forgot to pour him a glass as well. He gave me the finest stink eye in all of the South.

Cattail 4

Forgot me? Forget you!

So after suggesting we share, he had to think about it for 30 minutes as I held the glass low enough for His Royal Highness to decide whether or not to take a chug.

Cattail 6

I don’t want a drink now that you want me to have one.

After our cowboy stare down passed and the tumbleweeds rolled by, the stubborn kit cat caved.

Cattail 5

Well, I can just smell it…

Cattail 1

But then again, maybe a taste wouldn’t hurt, either.

Cattail 2

Hmm…lip smackingly good.

Cattail 3

But wait, I thought that was Captain!

After our disgruntled wine tasting experience, Mr. Bear concluded he prefers Skinny Pirates over white wine (takes after his Captain Morgan loving mother – my heart is bursting with pride only a cat mom can understand).

Whatever the happy hour has you guzzling tonight, we hope it’s whiska lickin’ good! We’ll be sticking to Skinny Pirates – and yes, I’ll be pouring two glasses.




How to Throw a Party For Your Pussy

Oh the joys of being a cat mom! Parties aren’t just for folks who have human children (yawn) – us crazy cat ladies can find just about any reason to celebrate our love of pussy.

This May marks the fifth year Teddy B. and I have been in a relationship (I’m not going to lie, it took a little coaxing early on to persuade him to have his world revolve around yours truly but now he can hardly breathe without glancing my way for permission – oh wait that’s the other way around. I look to him for direction – I forgot I was talking about a cat there for a second) and why not acknowledge our happiness together?

First one must have a theme for a pussy party and I thought since we were celebrating our fifth anniversary, why not call it Cinco de Teddy?


Doesn’t he wear a sombrero well?!

You then must decide on party attire for you and the guest of honor.  I played along with the theme by wearing a T-shirt that captured what everyone in attendance was thinking…


Who, moi?!

Accompanying the darling shirt was a pair of leopard print jeans – I know, fitting right?


You can call me crazy but at least I’ll look cute…I think.

My kit cat’s giddy up was a perfect match for Cinco de Teddy – complete with a sombrero and poncho.

Ted's attire

As you can imagine, Ted could hardly wait to put this on.

To get your pussy pumped up, decor is a must for the party and I included balloons in this category.  Excitement coarsed through TB’s bod as he tried to claw a balloon open to suck on helium (he’s such a little party animal).

Who knew Ted loved balloons

Wondering if the balloon would hold him in midair…

Once I thwarted the helium heist, I showed Ted the other party elements like his serving bowls – which to his delight held three times the amount of food he’s normally allotted (while already a ‘big boned’ cat it was his party, so he deserved the extra helpings, yes?).


Double the pleasure, triple the food fun.

Other decor should include snaps of you and your pussy’s life together.  Grandma CBXB has a Teddy Bear Meow scrapbook she keeps in her classroom (see, I’m not the only crazy in the family – she proudly displays the love of her grandpet daily…ahhhh!), which I accompanied with our most recent Christmas card and a gift from our fabulous blogging friend, The Buxom Gourmand.


Yes. It’s true. I’m the best cat mom ever.

Look at this painting that my ultra talented gal pal from The Buxom Gourmand crafted for Teddy! How much more puurfect could this be?! We are proudly displaying our new favorite artwork in our mini manse. We love and thank you, Bronwin!


Ted, martinis and pink leopard print? Oh MY!

It’s important to capture the calm before the storm (in this case, shoving a cat into a poncho and sombrero), so be sure to snap a pic prior to the start of the party.


If he only knew what was coming…

Before traumatizing Ted with his party attire, I let him sniff around the treat table…


Gimme a cupcake!

Sometimes dressing a pussy can take some liquid courage, so I worked on mine outside while Ted explored the party fun inside.


I think he might hate me…but oh well! Gimme another Skinny Pirate, please!


I’m thinking of all of the paybacks coming my way…


And yet I keep the photo shoot going…

Siesta time

Until Teddy was so embarrassed he pretended it was siesta time.

In order to perk your pissy pussy back into a party mood, get out the sweets!


Gma CBXB baked goodies.

I think I like

Turning Ted’s poncho frown upside down!


What sombrero?

Feels so good when it hits the lips (or whiskers in Ted's case).

Feels so good when it hits the lips (or whiskers in Ted’s case).

Enticing your feline with cat cupcakes will make all of the clothing cares disappear… (yeah, right. I will be punished for the next five years over this party).


Thoroughly enjoyed.

Be careful after all the sugar rush because you’re sure to have party poopers crash after consuming.


One cupcake and it’s couch time?!

Teddy was so exhausted from all of that licking, he had to pass out with his back to party goers.

Party pouting = FAIL!

Party pouting = FAIL!

I suggest you heckle your pussy back into the party spirit if you catch them napping.

Fiesta time Ted!

Fiesta time Ted!

If that doesn’t work, mocking the sleeping beauty will totally do the trick.

Mockery will totally win this feline over.

It’s exhausting being the life of the party.

The combination of heckling and mockery will make the silently sleeping cat love you more than life itself.

He's so over me

He’s so over me.

As the party is winding down, you’ll find it hard to keep the party attire off of your pussy.


I have this sneaking suspicion that I will be losing sight in one eye to a claw…

And that folks is how you throw a party for your pussy (or dog, bird, rat, snake, ferret, rabbit, snail, fish, etc…)

Party on!



A Mother’s Guilt

You know how mom’s talk about feeling guilty and torn leaving their kids, while going to work? I often thought they were f’d in the head for not wanting time away from their children until my little one starting pulling this shit whenever I try to leave in the morning (and yes, my baby is a cat. Stop judging).

Ted has a perch right by my front windows that allows him to look over his mighty kingdom of the backyard. As soon as he hears the clink of my ring hit the doorknob, he immediately engages me in a stare down.

What? Where do you think you're going?!

What? Where do you think you’re going?!

He then quickly tip toes like he’s prancing on a high wire over the windowsill with high hopes of preventing my exit.

Sneak attack

Tricky Teddy’s balancing act with no safety net. So daring.

A blur of gray appears before my eyes.

The mad dash

The mad dash.

High hopes the door swings back open.

High hopes the door swings back open.

And then, I regretfully look as I draw the door shut. That face. Oh how the guilt washes over me as I gently shut the door.

Last ditch attempt with a strong paw

Last ditch attempt with a strong paw…

Is it too much to dream about being a stay-at-home cat mom? I mean, I would be the best one ever. Just ask Teddy.