I’m not picky, I’m particular

 I don’t believe it’s wrong to want what you like enough to wait for it to appear. I think if you settle for second best, you always ponder how wonderful it would be if only you had what you really want. And doesn’t that short-change your life, in the long run, when you settle? Let me clarify, I’m not saying that if you have a crush on George Clooney you should wait for him, instead of dating the nice man from accounting. If you’re waiting for George Clooney to ask you to marry him, you’re delusional, plain and simple. Even if you’re dating George Clooney, he won’t ask you to marry him.

I just like things a certain way. For example, I do enjoy being brushed, but only on the bathroom counter, only after my person has taken a bath and only with her man-person’s hair brush, I don’t like it any other way. I like basking in a sunbeam, but only in a specific bedroom. I like the expensive cat food, but only in chicken (I loathe fish). I will snack on the tidbits of food that have fallen to the floor, but I will not eat the exact same thing if you try to hand it to me. I will only lie on my person’s lap and I don’t like strangers. It’s very simple, it’s just specific.

I’m a true proponent for trying new things, new things are wonderful until I throw them up.  And then occasionally I will need to be reminded that I don’t like something when I’m sticking my nose in it. That why I keep my person around, she makes sure I don’t ‘retry’ a new thing.  

If people wonder why I’m difficult, I’m not. It’s their perception and their opinion. I can’t take that from them.  

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.*

 

One might think, because I am so attractive that I can’t see beyond my own beauty and find another attractive. Alas, that is not the case. I was once in love, if you can call it that. We never dated or spoke much, I never knew his true feelings, but I knew mine.

He was an all white Canaan dog. Strong and silent, never caught his name. Occasionally he would come over into the space I lived in and I would rub against his legs. He really didn’t know how to take it and I didn’t care.

By the way, you read that right – dog, he was a dog. I don’t feel the need to explain myself and I was surprised as to my reaction to this dog when I met him. Open your mind and don’t judge.

Anyway, the Canaan dog moved away, or that’s what I tell myself. Just one day he was gone, no explanation, no note, just gone. I didn’t cry because, to be honest I didn’t realize he hadn’t come by in a long long time, until it was a long, long time – by then I didn’t care. So don’t cry for me, I’m fine. 

*Quote from Kahlil Gibran

The Sophie Loren Of Cats

Hello,


My name is Stella, and I am a very attractive cat. I am 11 years old and for as long as I can remember, I have been an attractive cat.


I live with my person and her man-person. There is another cat here, her name is Cleo and she's not as attractive as I am. She is a very cute cat, but not beautiful per se. It's like comparing Sophie Loren to Shirley Jones, both are appealing, but very different 'attractive' wise (and if you don't know who these actresses are, look them up on IMdB). I'm the Sophie Loren of cats. Chances are high I will post a picture or two of Cleo, I enjoy her company and she keeps me fit by chasing me around the house. 


Anyway, I thought I should get my face out there, I don't want to deprive the public of such attractiveness.


Included is a picture of myself and Cleo. Yes, she's upside down and a little daft at times.