Well, I know that is not really correct at all because a rock cannot rock because it is already a rock but my rock and I, well, we rock. It is only recently that I have discovered that on top of old Smoky (not his name, his real name is, well, we haven’t named him yet but if you have any ideas, I’m open to anything) I am near an air vent that blows warm air over my little svelte (haha) body and so I have chosen this peak on which to perch. And purr. A peak on which to perch and purr and ponder and procrastinate and pout and…okay, okay, I get carried away sometimes.
I even have my kibble up here sometimes although mama thinks it’s pretty high up for me to go when perhaps the exercise I get climbing has exacerbated my tiny touch of rheumatism (whatever that is and exacerbate? Uh, oh).
BUT, I have insisted that I hang out up there because of the nice warmth in this truly disgusting and way too long winter weather and if I can still climb, I climb. I am, after all, from a long line of climbers–lions, tigers, bears.
NO, Loulou, you are not from a line of bears!
Okay, okay, scratch the bears, but my rock is my exercise and I climb it religiously just like mama does her pontes in the morning in bed. I think they are bridges in yoga-speak, but she says it gets her rigid-overnight-starched-bones-and-joints moving better when she finally hits the floor. I mean her feet hit the floor, not mama.
Hey, we all do what we can for exercise, right? And when I can’t climb My Rock, you’ll know about it.
What’s mama doing? If she thinks I’m going to use whatever that thing is, she is mistaken. She can just bring my food to me up here.
And my nip toys.
And my quilt.
And my String.
And my hairbrush.
And my malt paste.
Loulou, dinner’s ready!
Uh, oh, on second thought…I’m outta here.
Going down is a lot easier that going up!
So I see my shot of vodka, but where’s dinner? AND WHERE’S THE OLIVE?
*****
Oh, mama just came in to remind me that she wanted to share THIS with you. One of my Italian cousins is in this film. Maybe he could get me a walk-on.
Wowza!! That rock is IN your house? OMC!!
Yep, that Mr. Rock, or rather My Rock. I do need a name for him/her. Any ideas are welcome.
Wow! So THAT’s where you get warm – maman explained to me that heat rises – but being a terrier, I prefer to snuggle UNDER things. Then sometimes I dig. But that is not allowed and it doesn’t get me anywhere anyway, in the house. Except maybe under a blanket. that works!
Love those snuggle-cats who have learned how to get attention. All I have to do is just look like my cute self and maman and papà melt and cuddle me. Bet that’s all you have to do TOO to get whatever you want, non?
Yeah, mama wishes it would work for HER!
OMC LouLou, You scared us to piddle a little. MOL We thought dat big ole rock was outside and really high up. And you were so close to da ledge, we worried you might fall. We are so happy to see it’s not dangerous. But dat’s really cool dat you have a big ole mountain in your house. MeOWwww Hope you have fun. Big hugs fur all.
Luv ya’
Dezi and Raena
Scared to piddle!!! Love that, Dezi. You must be a southern kitty. The only trouble with The Rock is that when it rains, a little river comes down the rock and is carried away outside…pretty weird. There’s a channel for the water, thank heaven.
You had us worried for a moment when we looked at that first picture. We thought you were on the edge of danger. What a neat rock to have in the home. Does your mom climb it too or is she a ladder only human?
Mama does NOT climb the rock, on orders from papa and from ME. You have to be a mountain goat to get up the face.
WOW-is that rock in your house?
Yes, it’s in mama’s office. I’ll send more pics on a blog one day as it is pretty cool. But the people who had the house before us built a room around it. It WAS outside.
Wow ! That fabulous mountain is in your house ? How wonderful ! If all mountains were near warm air vents, I might get interested in hiking !
And the Italian kitties are lovely. Which one was your cousin ? A couple of them seemed to have a family resemblance.
Bon appetit !
That little cutie tuxie who jumped up to be in his anthro’s arms. So darling. I don’t do that.
You look content and confident on your rock, Loulou. The least your Mom can do is bring you your accouterments!
Yes, well, she’s in training but she’ll get there…