Master of the Mini Manse

It seems just like yesterday that I welcomed the furball love of my life Teddy Bear into my mini manse.

After the first feline object of my affection, Nicodeamus passed away (and I truly thought I would die of a broken heart), I laid eyes on Ted via the Nashville Cat Rescue’s website.  He’d been saved from a one bedroom apartment full of 30 cats (I thought I was a hoarder) and when I went to take a look at that sweet little face, it was love at first meow.

Instantly wrapped around his paw.

Upon bringing TB home, I had a partially screened in porch.  My new little prince had such a sweet, timid demeanor I allowed him to relax on the porch alone, taking in his new surroundings.

Soaking up the sun.

After a few months, Tedstar suddenly came out of his meek shell, morphing into a tiny lion, deciding that he was King of the Jungle Porch. One evening while I was letting Calgon take me away in a bubble bath, His Royal Highness ‘presented’ me with a beautiful, live cardinal fidgeting around in his mouth.

Feathers flew.

I screamed bloody murder at the horror of seeing a blinking bird in the jaws of my supposedly shy Teddy Bear. Then I thought my poor pussy’s muzzle was going to break because his mouth was open so wide. I stood there naked, sopping wet with trauma tears (because I didn’t want to have to feed Ted through a straw the rest of his life due to breaking his face trying to release and save our feathered friend that most likely carried bird flu) streaking down my face when he wouldn’t let the cardinal go until a towel was thrown over his head. (For those of you holding your breath or shedding a tear over the bird, it lived).

You guys, the bird! Teddy’s jaw! My BATH!

A very relaxing, spa-like evening indeed.

Once Ted had a whiff of wildness, he got very daring after The Great Bird Incident.  One afternoon Bear attempted to escape the awful prison I keep him in by leaping off the porch to a nearby bush (about four feet away) which turned out like this:

Body outline of my ferocious feline.

He’d climbed to the porch railing and apparently thought the bush was sturdy enough to hold him (Teddy sometimes has blonde moments like his mother) but alas he sunk all the way down to the bottom.  It was super fun trying to get a hysterical cat out of the tangle of limbs.

After his failed prison break, the porch was promptly screened to the ceiling, preventing my blue blooded attack cat from parting ways with yours truly (he obviously loved his new home).

My detainee’s private jail cell.

Of course Tedstar continually looked for a way out but much to his dismay, I locked that shit down like Fort Knox.

Does curiosity kill?

Presently in my mini-catsle, I’m the evil queen happy to keep my royal subject Ted preserved behind second balcony porch bars, knowing that I won’t have any unwelcome gifts or a clumsy cat stuck in a bush.

Still trying to leave me.  Good thing his fur isn’t as long as Rapunzel’s hair.

Trying to persuade my fave pussy from walking the second story proverbial plank, I christened the porch in honor of Mr. Bear.

Properly named perch.

Highly unimpressed with a 2 x 4 wood sign, Teddy still thinks there might be a chance to break free, walking on the backs of chairs like he’s a high wire act in the circus.

Now that I’ve introduced three new court jesters into our royal family, I have a feeling they’ll be putting their furry noggins together to thwart my attempts to keep them behind my gated tower.

The new pussies on the porch prowl.

Now, who’s the real master of the mini manse?

I think we all already know the answer.

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Titans Style

A Nashville weekend for CBXB complete with a little kit cat time, preseason NFL football and a whole lotta lazy in the sun.

The number of cups equals the amount of fun had at a Titans game, FYI.

Friday called for a little relaxation out on the patio of my mini manse.

Fridays taste so good!

I was trying to unwind under my bright lights that annoy the piss out of my neighbors (someone had to be the Clark Griswold of the neighborhood!) but the incessant whining from some little furball inside made it impossible for me to concentrate on reading my People magazine and chug my Skinny Pirate. So I let the little whine calf out.

Who wouldn’t wanna party here?

And I immediately regretted my decision as Teddy sprinted to the end of the deck, dramatically putting the front half of his body out over the ledge and meowed (what he surely thought sounded like a lion’s roar, but sounded like a sick goat) to announce his presence to no one. I thought, “Great. My family is going to have a heyday with this story when the apartment complex calls telling my folks that I broke my neck jumping off my second story deck to save my cat, Mr. Bear – who would of course walk away unscathed.” So instead of freaking the F out and yelling at him, I casually pulled him in and yelled “NO!” once he was back on all fours of the appropriate side of the deck.

You go, I go you little shit.

Once every nook and cranny was checked out, it was time for tricks.

Acrobatic show off.

And while practicing his balance, TB acted as if he was doomed to be on the porch forever,  trying to claw at the window screen.

Outside looking in.

Once again yelling “NO!” (you see how scared Ted is of me?), he tight roped down the chair and settled in for a nice, long cat nap.

F You!

Four minutes of curiosity makes a feline tired.

Worn out after the circus tricks of the prior evening, I hauled my lazy ass up to the pool on Saturday. Where I continued to be lazy. All. Day. Long.

All I was missing was a tan.

A spontaneous invitation to go to the Tennessee Titans game produced all kinds of fun with my First Mate and her hubs. Although, as I was rushing to get ready, she reminded me that you can’t take a purse bigger than your palm in to the stadiums anymore. WTF?! Where am I supposed to put my sunglasses? My bootlegged liquor? My lip gloss? My ticket won’t even fit into my purse without having to be folded! The horror!

Teeny tiny purses didn’t deter from fun.

I was still able to mix cocktails in the bathroom bar by smuggling in my spirits.

Can’t stop this classy girl!

Although, we were forced to be assholes wearing our sunglasses at night because we had nowhere to put them.

Yeah, we know we’re cool.

While we started out with our vodka and beer, First Mate and I HAD to have a glass of wine once we saw the container it came in.

Reusable AND it has a lid!

Cupholderific!

The mixing of liquor, beer and wine gave us a really good idea for a blog post. I’m going to try out to be a Titans cheerleader next year and First Mate will document my uncoordinated experience. You’re welcome in advance and I am not eating solid food until after tryouts next April (but I refuse to give up my Skinny Pirates).

All I need to make the cut is fake boobs, three more inches added to my legs and the ability to make it through a cheer without giggling. I got this.

Parched as we were, a stop at our fave bar Dalts was required before calling it quits on a fun Saturday night. Can’t you tell Hubs was just having the time of his life?

Leaning tower of blondes.

With the best of intentions of going to hot yoga on Sunday, I decided to sweat out the shenanigans of Saturday night by holding a day long savasana pose by the pool.

Perfect end to the weekend…while gaining a teeny tiny tan.

While I sat on my soon-to-be-a-Titans-cheerleader-dreams-dashed-hopeful-ass by the pool, I also studied pics of my niece and nephew practicing their favorite poses.

Happy Baby.

Plank.

Not only do they look cuter doing yoga than I do, it seems as if they have better form too. Show-offs!

Here’s a big cheers to a great week!

CBXB

King of the Catsle

About five years ago, I welcomed Teddy Bear into my life.

I found him at the Nashville Cat Rescue where he’d been saved from a one bedroom apartment full of 30 cats. And he was obviously the low cat on the food chain there, as he didn’t dare jump on any furniture, never ever meowed about anything and was scared to let me hold him even for one second (my how times of changed).

At that time, I had a partially screened in porch. My new little Prince Teddy had such a sweet, timid demeanor, I would let him sit on the porch alone and was thrilled he was happy to sit on the chairs and relax in the sun.

Soaking up the sun.

And then after a few months, he suddenly came out of his meek shell, deciding that he was King of the Porch (or maybe even the jungle) and this happened –

Feathers. Not fur.

King Teddy ‘presented’ me with a beautiful cardinal while I was soaking in the bath one evening. First, I screamed bloody murder. Then I thought the poor cat’s jaw was going to break because his mouth was open so wide. And finally, I freaked when he wouldn’t let the bird go until a towel was put over his head. (The bird lived, which I was also in worried tears about, naked, soaking wet in the bathroom). Ultra relaxing five minutes.

His Royal Highness got very daring  on the porch after the Great Bird Incident and he attempted to escape to a nearby bush (about four feet away) which turned out like this:

Body outline of my Bear.

He climbed a top the railing and apparently thought the bush was sturdy enough to hold him up (Teddy sometimes has blonde moments like his mother). It was super fun trying to get him out of the damn tangle of limbs.

The porch was promptly screened in all the way to the ceiling for my blue blooded attack cat.

Teddy’s own private jail.

But of course, King Ted was always looking for a way out.

Does curiosity kill?

Now in my cozy mini-catsle, I’m the evil Queen happy to keep Ted preserved behind glass windows, knowing that I won’t have any unwelcome gifts or a clumsy cat stuck in a bush.

Behind the screen, right where a King belongs!

From our Kingdom to yours – Happy Friday!

CBXB