Snow is wonderful. For some reason, canines seem to have discovered this, and yet a lot of felines remain in denial.  Too many cats cringe at the offer of an open door to the snowy wilderness.  Sure, some may venture out a few feet, only to perform that domestic dance.  You know the one I'm talking about, the same one that those same cats perform during the after-rainy period when they're willing to go out once again.  Each paw does a little step-shake, step-shake, step-shake as they walk.

Frankly, I find it a little embarrassing. It's one of the few times that my species shows any kind of weakness. Here, I think some tough love might be in order.You really can't sugar coat a talking to with a cat.  To be completely honest, we don't care enough to listen.  As long as you aren't petting or feeding us, you will be granted about a three second attention span, and that's when we're feeling generous.  So I urge you humans to help steer the weaker members of the feline race into growing a little braver.  The next time you see one of us do the little step-shake because of something cold or wet getting on our paws, lovingly gaze at us to show your devotion (not for too long though, remember you only have three seconds tops), and use your guttural human sounds to chastise the pussy-cat, and call it a "Princess".

You will find this technique will be especially effective with mousers, bird catchers, tomcats, and any male cat that still has his cojones in tact. Either way, you'll be pleasantly surprised by the results.  On the one hand, the cat might squint at you and will then sulk away, unimpressed by your name-calling.  You have won!  There will be no more step-shake to his gait.  Sure he might show you his discontent later by clawing your french doors, or hocking up a hairball on your designer pillow shams, but you should be proud of yourself for lowering the number of tender-foot kitties by one.

The other possible outcome to this scenario is that the cat will realize that you are right for calling it a "princess", and will turn tail and hurry back inside your warm domicile. Then, because it's happy-outside-time has been interrupted so rudely, he or she will need comforting.  Your cat will rub against your legs (especially if you are wearing black pants), and may hop up on the couch for a nice brushing or petting.  Again, you have won, as you have proven yourself a good provider for giving your cat, well, whatever it desires.

So for now I will enjoy the outdoors.  I will frolic in the snow mounts, catch falling bits of snow from trees, or track imaginary mice that may or may not actually be under the snow.  I will spend some quality outdoor time with my humans, and prove to them that I can still climb trees even when it's sub-zero weather.  Perhaps I'll have that cuddle when my humans go in.  They might brush me, give me treats for being adorable, play laser pointer, feed me treats for being cute, play with a string and let me give chase, or feed me treats because I'm not a "princess". They will appreciate my snow play, and be amazed by me (and who wouldn't).  Just remember, when you're all tuckered out and have run out of treats...feed me.


* If you have enjoyed my blog, please check out my other work at www.reillybooks.com, www.reillybooks.weebly.com, or search for my channel on youtube.

Eat your heart out! This month comes with lots of red.  Red and hearts. Now, I admittedly am not an expert on shapes, (The only shape I as a cat need to worry about is if that shape will fit into this mouth), but I have learned that hearts are delicious.  They also evidently lead to more food...let me explain with a poem, (something else that runs rampant at this time of year).

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Whatever you do,
I'll try to do too!
~ the mini humans.

So when my older humans lovingly attempted to arrange food for me in the shape of a heart (another common happenstance in February for large humans everywhere, I hear), the mini human decided to "help". Therefore, firstly, I was given a heart-felt meal. Now, there are cats that would turn their noses up to a meal delivered on the bathroom floor, but let's face it, I drink out of the porcelain bowl. Besides, those cats have no variety in their lives.  You know the type, they only eat Fancy food delivered in a clear crystal dessert bowl.  These yuppies (and the irony that it rhymes with a young canine is not lost on me), might get what humans think is the top-of-the-line food, but it's so expensive that their humans can only afford to feed them once a day, and that's it.

I prefer getting a choice of foods. A bowl of kibble here, a can of something at every supper, and when I am super cute around the mini humans, treats on top of that in three different flavours!  Now that's what I call love.

On this special occasion, I got the heart of kibble, and of course the mini human had to copy the old one.  It toddled over to the kibble, pulled out a giant handful (okay, well, it's hands were only so big, but it was going back for more, so my first description stands).  These extra helpings of kibble got dropped in and around the primary shape, and voila! A sublime Valentine.

So for now I will leave you with one last Valentines sentiment:

Shall I compare thee to a cat at play? 
Thou art lovely but temperamental: 
Small hands do lift the kitty every day, 
And patience's lease hath all too short a date: 
Sometimes too loud the voice of mini human chimes, 
And in the dark is human's vision dimm'd: 
Yet every hair from the coat that's feline, 
Is unmatched like nature's cat claws untrimm'd; 
And my purring slumber shall not fade, 
Till my possession of that can thou owest; 
Cat food breath touchest thou, but be not afraid, 
When near eternal times of petting growest: 
So long as I share my shelter with thee, 
So long live you and remember...feed me.

* If you have enjoyed my blog, please check out my other work at www.reillybooks.com, www.reillybooks.weebly.com, or search for my channel on youtube.

The sub-zero stormy winter rages on.  Fences and fence posts are a wonderful way to travel.  They afford footing well above the copious mounds of snow, which for most cats, is icky to have to try to walk through. (Especially when the snow is higher than one's body). I was lucky enough not to have to deal with it today, but my fur is so thick and lush that it doesn't normally bother me anyway.  This cemetery across the street from my living space is a perfect place to hang out, I mean everyone else here was just dying to get in, and I live for that kind of exclusivity.

I am agile enough to walk across even the thinnest fence or gate, but the fence posts allow for a stopping point.  I suppose the stone markers inside would also make a good place to rest, they're certainly wide enough, but somehow, I feel that using them might be a grave mistake.

I found a new favourite spot today, on top of the centre fence post.  Now that the snow is gone, (for the moment), I was able to stretch out and enjoy the sunshine.  The top of this particular fence post is big enough so that I can roll around on it without falling off, which lets the sun at my belly and allows me to show off how super cute I am.  It is also high enough that I can see up onto the porch of my house, which helps me keep an eye on my humans.

I can see if they are about to come outside, go inside, or more importantly, are getting ready to call me in.  I have them trained now, you see.  If I see that they are about to ask me to come inside, I can disappear quickly so they can't see where I am. (I like to make them beg.  It's nice to feel important and appreciated). When they call me the first time, I wait.  Little do they know, I can see the house, and am able to discern when they are becoming desperate to have me in by the tone of their calling voices.

First, it's a long and sing-songy "Booooone-sieeee."  This happens a few times, getting slightly louder each time, until a slight edge enters the voice.  Then the calls become a still sing-songy, but slightly irritated and shorter "Boo-ooones."  Then the cold starts to get to them.  After all, this whole time, they've been hanging out the door into the winter, and let's face it, they're as furless as naked mole rats.  Now the calls come even shorter, and with more urgency.  "Bones! Here Bones!"  I still don't move, of course, because now the humans are in the right state of mind.  The door shuts for a few moments, and this is what I've been waiting for.

I use the opportunity to silently move closer to the house, so it will be a quick leap up onto the porch when I am ready.  Then, it happens.  The door opens with the human's last ditch effort to bring me inside.  This time they pull out all the stops.  I listen in the night, ears cocked toward the door. Sometimes the sound I'm waiting on is hard to hear through their now desperate attempts to call me, but then, between their frantic hollering, I hear it: the sound of the treat packet being shaken.

That's it!  I bound up onto the porch in one leap, run right past them into the warm house, and wait for them to follow me in to shower me with treats for being such a "good girl" for coming when called.  I love my humans in times like these.  First they give me treats, and then later...feed me.


* If you have enjoyed my blog, please check out my other work at reillybooks.com, reillybooks.weebly.com, or search for my channel on youtube.

Getting into the middle of whatever the humans are doing is a great way to get attention.  If I feel that I haven't been receiving enough petting, (or attention in general), I simply become one with the furniture, particularly the piece they are working on.   This forces the humans to work around me, and I often get some choice petting.  The older humans think that by petting me vigorously for a few moments, they can coax me off of the paperwork they are tending to.  I like to let them think that they are doing well, and I will teasingly raise my back end.  I sometimes even stand up and walk around on their work in tiny circles, which makes them really excited, and raises their self esteem.  Just when they think I'm going to jump down, I'll sprawl out again, sometimes even having a good stretch to let them know that I have won this round.

At this point, the large humans think that they have now formulated a strategy for removing me from their work. They are wrong, but who's keeping score? (I mean besides me). The petting starts again, this time with extra scratches in the places I like most.  Here, they are trying to acheive that perfect amount of affection that will cause me to stand up again.  They think that by doing this, they will be able to pull their precious paperwork out from under me, and I let them think they can.  I will stand and walk in small paths, back and forth, or even in a circle as they pet me, always being careful to keep at least two paws on the work.  (If I grow careless, and only leave a back paw on their work as I make my passes back and forth, then they really could pull the paper out, and then the petting will be through).  By repeating this sequence, I can sometimes get up to a full half hour of petting,  and if it happens to be late at night, and my human is kind of exhausted anyway, sometimes I can even get them to give up on the paperwork in light of cuddling up on the couch, with me in their lap.

The little humans are less cunning, so they require little to no cat psychology. They are still learning basic skills like walking and balancing as they play.  For the little humans, if I want a good petting, I only have to lay down, preferably near the edge of the table.  This way, the small humans have to lean over me, and I get incidental pettings by arms and bodies awkwardly trying to maneuver around me. If I can position myself so they have to reach over or across me to reach something, I can raise my tail and tickle their little armpits.  Then they notice me, and I can get all the true petting I want. The only warning for other cats out there trying this is: watch out for thrown wooden toys.  Mini humans seem to be very fond of making them fly, sometimes at you."

So at the moment, I will settle down at the edge of the train table, one of the more popular places for the mini humans to play.  For now, they can pet me, then later...feed me.

* If you have enjoyed my blog, please check out my other work at reillybooks.com, reillybooks.weebly.com, or search for my channel on youtube.

I didn't just sit here because the colour of the walls does a nice job of bringing out the gorgeous green of my eyes.  Rather, I was trying to send a message to my humans, who seem to be constantly passing right by the cat restaurant without so much as serving a single meal.  Alright, I suppose the bowl of kibble counts as a single meal, but one doesn't even need opposable thumbs for that.  (I have managed to chew a rather nice sized hole in the kibble bag, large enough for my whole upper body, which negates the need for opposable thumbs in the endeavor of attaining kibble).  Cans are a different story.

Right now I am sitting on and amid thirty-two choice meals, and there isn't a single human getting the hint.  I don't worry, fret, or even get frustrated...I get even.  I will sit here prettily and bide my time until one of the humans comes in.  Hopefully at this point, they'll get the hint and open a can.  If they at least pet me, (and who wouldn't, I mean look how cute and appealing I am), then I will let them off the proverbial hook.  However, if they seem to be breezing in and out of the room as they are wot to do, I will nonchalantly kick over a can.

I have found that the practice of dispersing my cans will generally have one of two effects.  The first, is that one of the mini humans might be the next to enter, and the little things might trip on the can left deliberately in the middle of the doorway.  This is the worst case scenario, because then the large human will come running, and won't be focusing on feeding me at all.  Also, the little humans let out this annoying screechy sound and leak at the eyes.  I hate wet, I hate that sound, and there's no food involved for my troubles.  Enough said.

The other possible outcome is that I can aim the falling of the can so that it hits precisely on the tipping point of the edge of the bowl.  If done correctly, (and I have honed this skill), the bowl of kibble will tip with the weight of the can, spilling the dry food across the floor.  The humans will rush in for one reason or another, and will come across the shall we say, art.  Humans, I have learned, detest having things stick to the bottoms of their feet.  I believe this is likely linked to the disability of having no hair growing between their toes.  We cats are used to having things stick to our fur, and so unless it's wet, we don't mind.  (In fact, most of us have learned how to grind kitty litter in there well enough to be able to track it around the house)!  But I digress.  Upon seeing the "art", (or walking across it on their rushed way to the porcelain bowl), there will be new vocabulary I only hear during rare and loud occasions, which will be paired with restoring the bowl of kibble.  Lastly, they must pick up the can of food to place it back on the box and bam, often this means suppertime!

So now I set my trap and wait.  Hopefully a human will come in soon and pet me at the least.  Until then, I will call to them. Here, human, human...feed me!

I have been working on one of my large humans, and I find that it is willing to cave in and give me what I want if I am especially annoying.  This is cat reverse psychology, and it works amazing well on the mini humans and weak minded alike.  At its core, the fundamentals of cat reverse psychology are: 1. Humans have things that they love and cherish, and that they don not want broken, 2. The cat is valued even more than these things, 3. Humans are perfectly capable of having both, as long as they do what we want.

One of my humans draws, paints, and uses the laptop quite often, and this she calls WORK. I believe it means Worrying Over Responsibilities (that are) King-sized, as the human often gets stressed when doing it, and there always seems to be a lot of it.  I have come to know my humans' moods and habits pretty well, which helps make cat reverse psychology all the more useful and effective. If I want to go outside, which I always want to do if I'm not napping, and the human will not open the door despite my half hour of yelling at her to do so beside the door, (Really, I don't know what they think their opposable thumbs are for,) then I will turn to cat psychology.

I used to nap on the laptop almost constantly, until something called the "L button" was damaged with my doing so, and my older human had a mild break down.  I would have enjoyed this whole process as very entertaining, except it put an end to my favourite napping place.  Now, if I even look at the laptop, I am reprimanded before even jumping on it with a "No, Bonsie!", and this, I can assure you, is not fun.  So now, I lay on a the game system that is hardly ever used.  The down side is that it's not warm and cozy like the laptop, however the upside is that there is a buffet of cables that I have recently taken to nibbling, but I know that I must be discrete about this lest I lose my new napping spot too.  So, the laptop is out of my cat reverse psychology repetoire...but the sketch book isn't.

I have worked at it and worked at each of the coils that bind it together, lovingly with my teeth.  Not only is this an enjoyable activity, but I am really quite proud of the fact that I have removed the cover and several WORK pages not once, not twice, but...Oh look, the door is opened!  Worked like a charm.

I have worked this way on my human so effectively, that now the door opens freely, often at only the fifth meow, and today I was able to go outside with the mini humans and large humans alike. They have something called a SLED: Sliding Lumber that Ends-up Downhill. I tried it, it didn't move.  I did notice that they had to WORK to get it up the hill, so perhaps it's for the best.  Instead, I just enjoyed being in the great outdoors in close proximity to my human clan.  This is one of my favourite things, so I will hope that they stay outside for a good long while, and when they all come in...feed me.

* If you have enjoyed my blog, please check out my other work at reillybooks.com or reillybooks.weebly.com

When humans come to visit, they sometimes bring their own felines and canines too. I suppose they think that because they enjoy each other's company, that we should also be subjected to the company of others as well.  Cats just simply don't think this way.  We are very territorial, and know to respect the hierarchy of a family.  The food chain goes as follows: Cat on top, then the humans that feed me, then the humans that don't feed me.  The dog doesn't really factor into things, unless it tries to eat my food, and thus displays a death wish.  

Now, when another cat is brought to visit, it by all rights should also be on the highest rung of the food chain.  We establish a pecking order, I eat first (of course), then Tribble, then the guest.  So the new feline understands this, I begin by venturing into the room where it's carrier is.  This is the only piece of furniture in the house that I haven't either slept on or used as a means to get to another piece of furniture.  Therefore, it is the only thing in the house that doesn't already smell like me.  My first job is to claim it.  There, now everything smells like me.  For good measure, to show the new cat who's boss, I will sit by the supper can long after I am finished eating, until I am ready for my nap. This way, the cat will understand it's place in my home, and respect my authority like any good guest should.

Now, the dog is a different matter.  You can't reason with a dog the way you can with a cat or even a human.  The dog only really has two thought processes: "Oh good, my favourite!" and the far less exuberant "Oops, I just peed on the floor."  Now, the latter has it's obvious down side.  No one wants wet paws that smell like the filtering of last night's kibble.  On the other hand, you have to be careful that you or your favourite places to sleep don't fall into the dog's first frame of mind.  When a canine enters the home, it is full of unnecessary excitement.  "Oh good, more humans, my favourite!", "Oh good, mini-humans' toys to chew on, my favourite!", "Oh good, a chair to sit on, my-" Now wait right there, buddy, this one is MINE."  

A cat exudes it's authority by placing itself in a spot that prevents another animal from being there.  Many cats have made the mistake of fuffing at a canine, and all that does is excites them to the point of insanity.  "Oh good, a furry chew toy that wants to play AND makes noise, my favourite, favourite, favourite!" chomp. This fatal mistake never ends well for anyone.  Instead, one must take an almost nonchalant approach with the dog.  They expect a good chase.  I say, don't give them one.  In fact, if you want to really show them who's in charge, I say lie down and take a nap.  Your humans love you enough to keep you safe, so why not let them do the work.  This will drive the dog up the wall, especially if you sit in what it thinks should be it's favourite chair.  So for now, I'll take a very unexcited stance on our guests, and remain at the top of your food chain.  Speaking of food...feed me.