Posted in trying something new, Uncategorized

r is for … ringo

Day 33:365 Gratitude Challenge and April 21st A to Z Challenge

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It’s me, Ringo, the real blogger extraordinaire!

Today my Mom is grateful for me, Ringo, the kitty cat. I know this because I am the best kitty cat in the whole wide world. I am so good that I have hijacked her blog so that she doesn’t have to worry about posting today. I know that she is going through a lot right now and I want to help her any way I can. Plus I wanted to tell my side of the story after my twin brother, Oreo, told his.

Oreo seems to have fooled everyone into thinking that he is all sweet and innocent-like. But I know better because I am the older and wiser twin by a few minutes which, by default, makes me the authority on all things Oreo. Sure Oreo is a cute little feller all right and he curls up really nice for a cuddle with our Mom but he causes a fair amount of grief in this house which everyone seems to overlook.

I know you know about the alien invasion he staged in the middle of the night on top of Mom’s Willow Tree Angel display case. You also know that he nearly gave Mom a heart attack by flying from the loft to the sofa bed. Then, he broke her reading light which I think he broke on purpose because he doesn’t like her reading as much as she does. I mean, who does that to their Mom? He has not only fallen into the tub on several occasions but he has fallen behind the deep freeze in the basement more than once. A search and rescue operation had to be performed each time because the space behind the freezer is too narrow for Oreo to get turned around to climb back out. He has to stay there until Mom figures out where he is. Heaven help him that he meows to help her find him.

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I do love my brother, really, I do.

I do agree with Oreo about some of the things he wrote about in his guest blog post.

  1. Our father, the old tom cat, is dead to us. He is an asshole who took advantage of our biological mother and left her to care for six illegitimate children all on her own. How rude.
  2. Our human Mom and Dad are the best. They take amazing care of us and they especially helped our biological mother through a difficult and stressful time. We will be eternally grateful for that. Plus they always buy the kind of litter we like best.
  3. Miss Kitty is most definitely not a bitch. She adopted us like we were hers and showed us the ropes about living in this dee-luxe apartment in the sky.

However, I do have some issues with a few things Oreo blogged about.

  1. My name is Ringo. He should not be calling me Ringo the Dingo or Dingo for short behind my back. It is R-I-N-G-O.
  2. He is not as sweet and innocent as he lets on. I think he just has his head stuck in the clouds all the time and isn’t paying attention. That’s why he gets into so much trouble. “Get your head outta yer ass, little brother!”
  3. Oreo may think he is a ‘blogger extraordinaire’ but I beg to differ. As the older twin, I should be given that title simply by default.
  4. I was not being smug when Oreo told our siblings that they were going to be adopted out to their purr-fect furr-ever homes because I already knew that I had been adopted by Mom, Dad and Miss Kitty. Sometimes my compassionate face can be mistaken for smugness or even as a resting bastard face. I think it has to do with my solid white nose. Does this face look smug to you?
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  5. Oreo neglected to tell you how he quite often wakes Mom up in the middle of the night wanting to be petted. He claims that it is because he has had a night terror about being abandoned by our asshole father again but I think it is because Mom enables this type of behaviour. Miss Kitty and I would NEVER wake them up to be petted. We know that our place on the bed is at Mom or Dad’s feet or along their sides. (There was that one time Miss Kitty woke Mom up by serving her breakfast in bed [a dead mouse] but it wasn’t in the middle of the night. Mom should have been up already anyway.)
  6.  Every time Dad has called Oreo a little bastard, he deserved it. Big deal that he watches baseball with him; it’s just another ploy to suck up which is what he does best.
    Oh look at me. I watch baseball with Dad. That makes me Oreo the A-dor-e-oed one.
  7. Oreo ‘suggested’ that I was a trouble maker by pushing him in the tub on one occasion; however, you don’t hear me whining about the time he pushed me into the tub. I told Mom about it but all she said was, “Let it go, Ringo. You’re both even now.”
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At least Mom wrapped me up in the plush towel

So you see, not everything is as it seems. I may sound somewhat bitter but really I am not. I am a cat who likes to deal in just the facts, sort of like Sergeant Joe Friday. I see things in black and white (hey, just like my fur coat); there are no grey areas in my life, except for the kitty litter. You’re either a little bastard or not which, technically, I suppose both Oreo and I are because of our asshole biological father. Maybe I should give human Mom’s Aunt Phyllis a call and and ask her to adopt us like she did our Mom because, as we all know, Aunt Phyllis doesn’t want any little bastards in this family.

Just kidding (see I can have some fun)! I agree with Oreo. We have already been adopted by the best darn parents two illegitimate little bastards could ever have asked for.

Ringo: 1
Not a Dingo: 0

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Mom and me rocking the black and white look.

 

 

12 thoughts on “r is for … ringo

    1. Ringo says ‘thank you” for the compliment. I’m way behind in all my reading and commenting, too. It’s been quite a week but the one coming is going to be the hardest. 🙁

  1. Awwww! I love the CUTEST photos!! The boys sleeping piled together and Ringo wrapped in a bath towel. And I laughed at the mental picture of Ringo stuck behind the freezer – not because I am a heartless bitch, but because cats just seem to have this way of getting into trouble, even if it’s the same trouble over and over again. When we were kids we had two cats but no cat door so the way they’d let us know they wanted to come inside was to climb up the outside flyscreen door and hang there meowing. They’d keep going until we opened the door (with them still hanging on it) and lifted them off because their claws had got stuck in the mesh. Every time.

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