I split up the dozen bagels I had bought into two freezer bags and after moving a few things around, actually found room for one of them in the freezer without squishing my breakfast for the week after next. And with that, I was done putting away my Costco haul. I turned toward the family room and stopped to laugh.
The boxes I had tossed on the ground had made a perfect little playground for Freddie. He was sitting in one and leaning out to sniff another. “Those aren’t staying,” I warned him. He ignored me to jump from the first box to the second.
You know how this works, but as always, a gentle reminder:
Pooties are cats; Woozles are dogs. Goggies are dogs, too, and moggies are cats. Birds...are birds! Peeps are people. PWB Peeps are Pooties, Woozle, Birds People. No trolling the diary.
- If you hate pootie diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul.
- Share any and all pootie/woozle photos or issues that you would like .
- If you have health/behavior issues with your pootie or woozle, feel free to bring it to the community. We just may have someone whose experience can help.
- Whatever happens in the outer blog STAYS in the outer blog. This is a place to relax and play; please treat it accordingly.
- There are some pics we never post: snakes, spiders, creepy crawlies, any and all photos that depict or encourage human cruelty toward animals. These are considered “out of bounds” and will not be tolerated.
- There is no such thing as stealing a photo around here, but if you would like a pic from the comment threads, please ask the poster. He/she may have a copyright to those pics. Many thanks!
- It should not need to be said, but ANY/ALL photos that imply or encourage human violence against an animal will be considered verboten! Whether it is “comedic” or not
I decided not to take the boxes out immediately so he could play for a little while. Moving past him, I settled onto the couch, exhausted. Trips to Costco were no longer the stressful ordeal they had been during the height of the pandemic, but it was still not an easy errand. Too many people, too big a space, and I tend to get overstimulated and overwhelmed. A nap was in order.
I reclined back and closed my eyes, but sleep did not come immediately. I sighed and opened my eyes. Maybe some noise would help. I looked around for the remote.
“What are you looking for?” Freddie asked from next to me.
I startled slightly, and looked over at him. “I thought you were playing in the boxes,” I said.
“I was. But it looked like you were napping.”
“I was trying to,” I admitted. “Have you seen the remote?”
He looked over at the tv tray. “That one?”
“No, the little one,” I said.
He looked at the side table. “There’s one over there,” he said.
“That’s for the DVD player. I need the little one for the tv.”
He leaned over to lick his front paw.
“I bet you’re sitting on it,” I said.
He leaned further over to groom the fur on his back.
“Can I check under you?” I asked.
He stopped grooming and curled up in a ball.
“Freddie, I think the remote is under you. Or maybe under the blanket. But I need to move you for like one second.”
He let out a sleepy, contented sigh, and closed his eyes.
Carefully, I reached under him, feeling for the plastic remote. “There are too many of them,” I told him. He ignored me.
I couldn’t feel it under his paws so I reached deeper.
He stood and glared at me, then jumped off the couch.
“Don’t go!” I called, and then noticed what his movement had revealed. The remote! “Aha!” I exclaimed, triumphant.
I turned on the television and scrolled aimlessly through my options. I finally settled on the found footage horror movie with the young couple living in a house with a demon. “Freddie, come cuddle! Let’s nap!” I yelled up at the ceiling.
Nothing.
Resigned to napping alone, I picked up my phone to check Twitter real fast. I scrolled for much longer than I meant to, then forced myself to set the phone down. My eyes felt tired and grainy. A little sleep was what I needed.
Freddie hopped up next to me and plopped down on the furry blanket. I looked over at him. “I’d given up on you,” I said. “And you’re lying on the phone,” I added.
He yawned and closed his eyes. “You said ‘nap,’” he said.
“I did. But I’d prefer you not scratch my phone.” I reached under him and retrieved it as gently as I could.
He stood and stretched, then looked around. “Are you looking for something else to lie on?” I asked, dryly.
He made a circle then looked at me.
I laughed a little and reached over to the side table. I had ordered a t-shirt and the packaging was still on the table. I set the plastic shipping bag on top of the furry blanket. Freddie leaned down to sniff it. “Don’t eat it,” I said, as he settled onto it.
Some time later, I jerked awake, startled by my own snore. My eyes opened and my vision landed on Freddie’s furry butt. He was draped across my torso, his head facing my feet. I rubbed my eyes, sleepily, and grumbled, “Do I really have to look at your butt?”
“Need to see the room,” he muttered back.
I looked past him and saw the plastic bag on the floor. “Did you have to throw it off the couch?” I asked.
“It was slippery,” he said, his tail twitching in my face. It caught me in the mouth and I sputtered, shed hairs stuck to my lips.
“Alright, get off,” I said, giving him a gentle push. He stood and walked down my body, coming to a stop at my lap where he plopped down again. “You have several beds,” I pointed out.
“I fit here,” he answered.
“You do fit there,” I agreed. “But I gotta pee.”
I reached down and hit the button to decline my seat. As soon as it started moving, he jumped down.
When I tried to close the bathroom door, he shoved his body in the way and pushed past me. I didn’t have time to shoo him out; my need for relief was too great, so I allowed it.
As I sat, taking care of my business, Freddie wandered around the bathroom, finally stopping to look in the trash can. “Are you going to climb in there?” I asked.
He shoved his head down toward the bottom of the small, wicker basket. It was empty, thankfully. “Maybe,” he murmured. “I could probably fit.”
I finished up and washed my hands, then looked over at Freddie. He had his head and a paw in the trash can. “You can’t fit there,” I said. “It’s too narrow.”
“I never tried before,” he explained to the bottom of the basket. “I might fit.”
I walked away, shaking my head and laughing little. I grabbed a drink from the kitchen and headed back into the family room, realizing the television was still on. It was the same movie, now almost over. I settled down to watch the end, popping the top on the can of diet soda. I slurped a long gulp and reclined my seat.
Freddie joined me once I’d gotten completely comfortable.
“How was the trash can?” I asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, curling up against my hip.
“I’m glad it was empty,” I said, running my fingers through his fur.
Happy Caturday, Peeps! Freddie has quite a few beds because I love buying them for him, but I think his favorite place to sleep is the linen closet. Because he’s a cat.