(Not So) Wordless Wednesday

Welcome to Carol’s blog. Thank you for visiting. My name is Violet and I am Carol’s eldest sister. Eggnog asked me to host this week’s Wordless Wednesday, in spite of Sherman’s protests. Unlike kids these days, I’m not very keen on using the computer – especially with my poor eyesight and arthritis – but since Eggnog so graciously asked, I obliged.

As I approach my 19th birthday, I find myself reflecting on life, and so I thought I might take this opportunity to put pen to paper. Or, more accurately, paw to keyboard.

My awkward teenage years.

When I was a kitten, the world was a much different place. For starters, cats didn’t have blogs. We played with yarn and fake mice that scared our humans when they tripped over them in the middle of the night.

Little Mom says I was a very serious kitten.

When I had a fight with my sister, I didn’t take to social media to belittle and humiliate her. Rather, I did what cats have done throughout history: I bit her.

Life was so simple.

Sure, there was violence and drugs and gangs, same as today. But even then gangs had a code of conduct. That’s why I worry for Steve. He’s so young and impressionable. The thugs of today aren’t the gangsters of my younger years. Heck, they can’t even spell gangster properly.

Eggnog-y Nogg in some strange get-up that I don’t understand.

And what happened to respecting your elders? Carol steals my bed and does run-bys, whacking at my backside as I amble down the hallway. Steve pounces on me from atop the dryer and steals my food when no one’s looking. I don’t require deference; mere courtesy would suffice.

Youth fail to appreciate that aging is not for the weak. My joints are stiff – just walking across the room can be a chore. What I would give to be able to jump on top of my moms’ bed and lounge like the old days. Lying in a patch of sunlight, stretching my healthy limbs.

A painting of Little Mom and me hanging out on the bed back when we were both much younger.

But other than when my moms are reading and pick me up to join them, I pretty much stay on my own bed to nap these days. [And with Ethel’s rants, it’s sometimes best to pretend to sleep even if I’m not particularly tired.]

I believe you’re familiar with Ethel.

I take lots of medications and supplements: Little Mom maintains a chart just to keep up with them all! Plus I have this cyst in my throat that has to be drained every week [apparently there are concerns about doing surgery at my age with my health conditions]. So that means weekly trips to the vet’s office.

This vet routine is old hat.

The obligatory weigh in. At least mine goes better than Sherman’s.

I also find myself having more moments of forgetfulness and confusion. I get up to get a drink, and by the time I’m in the kitchen, I’ve forgotten why I’m there. I see the water fountain and figure I must be in there for a drink. Then I see some dog food the furry beasts have forgotten, and think maybe that’s why I’m in the kitchen! [As a side note, it’s interesting how one’s taste buds change over time – I can barely taste cat kibbles anymore. Furry beast food, on the other hand, is strong and yummy!]

One of the worst things is that it sometimes seems like things are missing or not in the place they should be. For example, the litter boxes seem to be moved around a lot. I could swear one of them was in front of the kitchen door at one time. Maybe it’s there and I just can’t see it? My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be, but they’re not that bad. Anyway, I relieve myself in that spot regardless. I feel better, although the floor gets all wet and I have to step around it.

Why do things keep getting moved around? Why is stuff missing? Why can I remember sometimes and not other times? It’s just so confusing. If only these eyes would work like they used to. Then I might figure out where they are hiding the boxes from time to time. Anyway, all of this writing about food and litter boxes makes me feel like I need to go. I wonder where the litter boxes are now…