Fun Facts About Lilybits, a Versatile Blogger

It's time for another blog award, but this one is pure fun!

Lily and I were nominated by a very versatile blogger, who has been on the A to Z Meme blog hop along with me, Lisa Betz. Thank you, Lisa! I hope you will be blessed by her blog as I have been!

The Versatile Blogger Award simply requires that I share seven facts about myself. The seriousness or significance of said facts was not specified. So I decided to opt for silliness. And the epitome of

silliness is Lilybits at the helm!

But first, the rules for those who are nominated:

1. Show the award on your blog
2. Thank the person who nominated you.
3. Share 7 facts about yourself.
4. Nominate 5 blogs.
5. Link your nominee’s blogs and let them know.

Lilybits here: I had to wrestle the MacBook away from Mom, but she finally conceded that seven interesting facts about me would be more engaging, more fun, etc. Here we go:

1. I am a recovering tuna addict. Let me explain this for you, because I’m an unwilling recovering tuna addict. Mom doesn’t open cans of tuna as often any more, because I yowl like a siren passing down the street when she does. I fuss and scream, begging for tuna as though my life depends on it, just hoping for a mere taste. Indeed, at that moment, it seems my life depends on ingesting a taste of that canned delicacy. The mere scent of it sends me into fits of rubbing my ribs on the corner of the kitchen-island and following Mom obnoxiously. Unfortunately, I must eat only special canned food. Blah, blah, blah, blah. Boring!

2. I don’t have a tail. You may have noticed this in my photos—or not. I have been cruelly deprived of that proud appendage, because of an injury and infection. Eventually, because of all the pain my beautiful ringed tail was surgically removed. Hence, I am sometimes referred to as “Lilybits, the Tail-less Wonder.” Why not? 

3. One of my best friends, in my old life, was a dog. The crazy cat lady who brought me to Pet Smart, that fateful day, when Jack and Kathy became my adopted, nearly hairless parents (well, I am their fur baby), I rode in a cage with a dog! The rest of it has become fuzzy (no pun intended), since I’ve become the center of attention. Besides, the drugs they gave me when I had my surgery made me kind of confused. All I know is that if I came to Pet Smart in a cage with him and I wasn’t hissing, so he must have been my buddy.

4. I speak a few people words. The one I practice the most is “Mom.” This comes out more like a pitiful “Mrowm” and works well when I want something to eat, which is most of the time when I’m not sleeping. I’m pretty good at saying, “no.” I sound especially sassy when I don’t want to be picked up. I also will throw in an occasional “what” when I am fully engaged in watching the birds at the bird feeder and Mom calls me. I sound pretty sassy when I say that too.

5. I have a pretty sweet deal when Mom covers my pill pockets with pieces of freeze-dried chicken. I know she’s trying to get me to take my tummy medicine more easily, but sometimes I eat around the pill and spit it out. Then she works harder at covering the mushy pill pocket with freeze-dried chicken treats, since she hates pilling me, and I wind up with an extra treat! Hee hee!

6. I am apparently a dilute tiger tabby. Mom always refers to me as her little gray tabby, but I am more complicated than that. I have lovely tiger stripes that can be hard to see. And while my undercoat and belly seem to be a creamy taupe, the tips of my fur on my back, sides and legs are darker gray. I believe that’s called ticked. So I’m not sure if I’m a dilute, ticked, tiger tabby or just a tiger tabby with ticked fur. Hmm . . . What do you think? Mom reminds me I am of mixed lineage, while Dad is happy to refer to me as a mutt.

7. I don’t like chocolate! Mom was so worried about my getting poisoned by getting into her vast hoards of chocolate, but that icky brown stuff is no temptation for me! I suppose Mom thinks she enjoys eating chocolate so much everybody should love the stuff. Not! My tastes are much more discriminating. Give me meat, poultry or fish or perhaps a piece of fine melted cheese and given a chance, I won’t turn my nose up at bacon. But that chocolate stuff is not for me, unless it’s an M&M, which conveniently falls to the floor, so I may play with it. Chocolate in that form makes an excellent toy.

And for the Versatile Blogger Award, Mom and I nominate:

Patty Wysong

Karla Akins

Tom Threadgill

Rick Barry

Karin Beery

Wednesday Whimsy - The Valentine Cat!

The Valentine Cat 

Kathy here: Five years ago my youngest son left home for military training. He was the last to leave the “nest”. After being a stay-at-home mom for many years, our house seemed awfully quiet. Two different people, my sister and a dear friend of mine, kept telling me I needed a cat to keep me company! While I enjoyed being around my sister’s cats, I was married to a card-carrying member of the Cat Haters Society. Well, okay, Jack wasn’t that bad, but he didn’t think cats were absolutely adorable the way I do. After telling my husband how badly I wanted a small dog or a cat—the decision was his, he decided a cat would be less work and we went to the local PetSmart where they host Last Chance Rescue. We went during the Valentine’s Day weekend. 

Here’s Lily’s alleged side of the story:

I had been waiting awhile to pick my humans. Being the runt I had to toughen up and not get pushed around by other cats. Consequently, there’s no love lost between me and my feline brothers and sisters.

What was that I heard them say to Doris*, one of the cat rescue ladies I was staying with? Mom looked so sad, actually rather pathetic, when she said she was looking for a lap cat. I licked my paws pretending not to listen. When I casually glanced at Mom, her eyes said, “I am looking for a gray tabby.” I could just tell from the way she studied me and the big old lug of a male cat in the cage next to mine. He was a gray tabby too. Besides, there is nothing quite so adorable as a gray tabby!

Me, relaxing up north, on vacation.

She asked to see me! When we went into the little “get acquainted” space, I ran over to one of the cat cages, stood on my hind legs and hissed for good measure. After that I was content to jump up on my mom-to-be’s lap first and then carefully charm the cat hater by placing my front paws on his lap. I could tell right then and there I had won her heart. His would take a little longer.

Just to seal the deal, when I was put back in my cage, a little girl was watching me, so I turned sad green eyes on her and she stared at me for a minute. Mom had that panic-stricken look as she observed our exchange. I was sure that I saw her lip quiver. No doubt she would be back next weekend for me. To my surprise, she called Doris that night and asked if she could bring me home the next day! Sure enough, that Sunday, her and Dad came to get me.

Me with one of my friends. "What's that, you say?"

When I arrived at my new home I took in the strange new smells. It smelled like people instead of cats! Mom took the pet carrier into the laundry room. She let me out and showed me the litter box. Ugh! Like I wouldn’t have found the sandbox eventually! Anyway, I squirmed out of her arms and hid behind the washing machine. She went in the other room and left me alone. I meowed. It was a big new world out there. Finally, I came out into the family room to say a tentative “hello”.  I wandered around, inspecting one room and then the next. To my surprise I made a most wonderful discovery. There were no other cats! I had just come from a house where I had lived with two-dozen others. (And they say cats can’t count.) Mom insists I was so happy I purred for nine days straight.

Would you believe I get
cranky sometimes?

Since then I’ve even managed to earn great affection from Jack and I have both of my humans quite well trained, though they often have to be reminded to fetch my treats or canned food at a specific time. They also take very good care of my house and make sure I have lots of toys to hoard and ignore as well as soft spots to sleep on. The big guy even puts bird feed out in the feeder, so I have birds to watch during the day. I guess I didn’t do such a bad job picking out my adopted mom and dad that fateful Valentine’s Day weekend five years ago.

Next month I will have to share the story of why they call me the "Tailless Wonder", or as I like to call it a “Tail of Woe” . . . or perhaps, “A Tale of No Tail”. Stay tuned!

*Not real name.

Time for a snooze.