Molly the Cat's and my pre-breakfast routine is to fill the bird feeder in the front yard. We do that for the Mama, who worries that the wild birds can't find anything to eat, especially in the winter. I think Molly likes this routine as much as I do. It feels great breathing in the crisp, cool air while the early morning sunlight bathes our bodies.  I'm usually the second one up in the household. Every so often, I'm the first. Molly is no where to be seen until I've opened the kitchen curtains. Voila! The sleepy-eyed cat is sitting before me. Yawning. And, as I take a step towards her, she stretches in all her glory. "Shall we go outside?" I ask, turning the locks to the front door. Molly pads over. When I open the screen door, she rushes out to the sound of birds flapping out of the yard. Not to worry, Molly's meow is worse than her bite. She likes to watch birds and occasionally chase them. But, that's it. She caught a bird once, and ha

Lately, I've been helping the Mama pick up the leaves in the backyard. Even when it's about to rain or when the wind is being blustery. Why? Because the Mama is out there. And, she'll stay out there until she is a) satisfied that she has picked up as many leaves as she could before more fall from the trees,  or b) tired and has begun ranting about the next door neighbor's dirty tree that sheds lots and lots of clusters of red berries and skinny hard leaves, which are quite difficult to pick up. After years of calling out the back window, "Come in, Mama, it's too cold!" Or,  "It's windy! Just wait until the wind stops." Or, "It's raining!" I now step outside, followed happily by Molly the Cat who has been cooped inside because the Mama decided it's too cold, windy, and/or rainy for her to be outdoors.   I usually head to the other side of the yard  with my favorite rake. The sooner the leaves are picked up, the sooner t

Today is all about Molly the Cat. The gorgeous girl has been shepherding us for two-and-a-half years. The Mama, the Husband, and I all agree -- how ever did we manage before she came into our lives? Sometimes I like to work on the computer before breakfast. On some mornings, Molly jumps up on the desk and stretches out. "Hurry up," she says.  "How can I?" I ask her. "I can't see the screen. I need to use the mouse."  "Mrrrr," she says. "That's your problem." Most mornings before we eat breakfast, Molly and I head out the front door. I fetch the newspaper while she checks the grounds. Some days, Stewie, from down the street, sits beneath our car. Molly scowls intently from afar and when she decides Stewie is too slow to take the hint, Molly approaches in attack mood. Stewie has learned from past encounters that it's best to just leave. After breakfast, the Mama opens the screen door for Molly to

Our sweetie-cakes is bored. How do I know Miss Molly by Golly is bored? "Break time," she mewed. She hopped up on my desk, walked back and forth on my keyboard, and checked out what was on the computer, then plopped down in front of me, insisting that she be petted. Molly rarely comes upstairs into the office in the morning on her own volition. ( Ooooh, big word. Could my ability to recall vocabulary be coming back? Take that Menopause! ) And, the only reason she normally doesn't care to seek out my attention at this time of the day is because she's enjoying herself in the Mama's garden. So, why wasn't she there on this gorgeous summer day? Unfortunately, summer brings back her seasonal harasser—the mockingbird. Every time, Molly the Cat goes outside, the bird suddenly appears and screeches at her. Molly just sits and looks at it, as if saying, "What's your problem?" The mockingbird then swoops at her and as Molly retreats to the hous

I drew socks the other day because I bought some socks for the Mama and me. They are just as colorful as the ones in the picture. The Husband bought socks, too. He was the instigator, which meant he needed socks and the Mama must have forgotten to give him socks for Christmas. Actually, it was more like she forgot to tell me that she wanted to buy his annual Christmas bunch of socks. I should've remembered, but I haven't been good in that department either. A couple weeks ago, I forgot about the Mama's doctor appointment. At least, I remembered the following day and called the doctor's office. We went on Friday for his five-minute examination to make sure she is still ticking. Yup, she is indeed. Her blood count actually went up,  and her blood pressure is that of a spring chicken. The Mama also gained a pound. She'd been losing a pound every four months for the past two years so I was very happy to hear the nurse say she was 110. The Mama's reaction. "

This is Molly the Kitty Cat. For short, we call her Molly the Cat. Prrrrrrrrrr. I've told many a tale about our sweet Missy Molly by Golly. If you'd like to read one, please click here . Have a great weekend! Prrrrrrrrr. I'm participating in the Blogging from A to Z Challenge this month. To check out other participants, click here . See you tomorrow.  

Molly the Cat grew up today. She is now a full-fledged huntress. I wish though that she wouldn't bring her prey into the house to finish it off. When Molly the Cat came to us, she was an indoor kitty with no experience of being outdoors other than the time her first adopted parents threw her and her brother outside because they couldn't handle the brother's constant vomiting. Poor babies. Today, Molly the Cat roams the backyard freely and unsupervised. The Mama opens the sliding door after breakfast and Molly pops out. No looking back. Several hours later, Molly saunters through the door. "What's for lunch?" she asks, as she prods me for her meal.  The Husband's goal from the start for Molly was for her to catch her own food so that should anything  happen to her humans, she would be able to fend for herself. So we have waved strings in front of her face to pounce on and thrown balls for her to tackle. The last few months, the Husband and Molly ha

August is the month of the Mama. Meaning? I plan to share some Mama love and Mama-isms with you over the next 31 days. (Not every day, of course.) Here's the first Mama-ism. "Again," the Mama sighed. "What?" I asked in alarm, as I stopped nearly halfway up the stairs. I tried to peek over the balustrade (yes, the balustrade), but couldn't see anything. "What's wrong?" "Oh, nothing," she said from the living room. "It's Molly." "What's wrong with Molly?" "She's asleep. Again." The Husband and I have explained many times that cats sleep a lot. They sleep after they've eaten. They sleep after they've played long and hard. They sleep when it's hot. They sleep when it's cold. They sleep when they darn well feel like it. The Mama, however, does not accept it. Yet. As I continued climbing the stairs, I heard Mama say, "Are you a millionaire, Molly? Are you a mi

Seriously, Lady. Have you nothing else to do, but take my photo? That's what I imagine Molly the by-golly Cat said to me after I snapped this shot. What can I say? The friends have children and grandchildren to brag about. Me? Why, I'm pretty proud about the Husband, the Mama, and Molly the Cat. Yep, I'm still here. I know. It has been nearly a month since I've written.  I've been busy being a writing hack. And, I say that in a good way. Hope you're all doing well out there, dear Readers, each and every one of you. Molly yawns healthily  at night because of the prowling she does during the day in the Mama's jungle.

Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here . Yesterday afternoon, while the Husband and I worked in the Mama's garden, Molly the Cat walked along the fence. We didn't know what she had been up to until the Husband went looking for her. He found her heading down a connecting fence. Fortunately, she turned around when he called to her.  He took her off the fence, put her down on the ground, and followed her to the house all the while praising her for a job well done. After she went inside the house, the Husband shut the door. Molly the Cat rested beside the screen door and watched  us hammer poles into the ground, untangle wire fencing, and attach the wire between poles for vegetables to climb up and up. She did not say a word unlike the neighborhood dogs when they want their way. When the  Husband and I came to the screen door, Molly the Cat sat up. First, she looked adoringly at the Husband. "Verily, kind sir, please, will you open the do

"Seriously. Another photo." I think that's what Molly the Cat would say if she could speak. "I suppose you're telling stories about me." Yep. I surely have. If you'd like to read a post or two, click over to Missy Molly by Golly . Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here .

See the flowers outside. The Mama snips off dead blossoms every few days to make sure the flower bushes are bright and cheery for everyone to look at. And, Molly the Cat makes sure she sniffs them every time she is out there to show her appreciation. Check out other A to Z Challenge participants by clicking here .

Molly the Cat aka Molly the Kitty Cat aka Miss Molly by Golly. These days, she's also known as Molly Girl. Last week was her first anniversary with the crew. We, humans, had no idea it would be such a pleasure to have a cat that lives indoors. We hope the sweetie pie is just as happy as we are about living together. Molly Girl plays no favorites. She adores the Husband. He is the one who plays with her before giving her dinner. She likes me because I am the human who mostly takes her outside to wander and offer her a snack at lunch time. And, she cherishes the Mama because this human massages her and gives Molly food to break her fast every morning. The Two Ladies Molly the Cat and Mama are so cute together. After a year, I see similarities between the two ladies. Both are picky eaters. Unless they feel ravenous or truly like the food in front of them, they'll leave just a little less than half on their plate. Will they eat the leftovers the next day? Ha! They l

Holidays. Here they are. Again. In a few hours, I will get up to make the dressing to stuff the turkey that will roast for several hours so it is ready for our regular mid-afternoon meal. As it roasts, I'll put together a few side dishes—mashed parsnips and potatoes, plain Romano beans, and sauteed red cabbage and persimmons—while the Mama makes the gravy and maybe a pot of rice. I hope she cooks rice. I like the taste of her gravy on rice. I could just eat that.  The annual turkey feast will be for the three of us. No, the four of us. I can't forget Molly The Kitty (T.K.) Cat. She doesn't like turkey though. Spam is more her style. I'm not kidding. I found that out last night.  Holding on to the kitchen counter, Molly stood on her hind legs and gazed intently at me as I sliced the canned delicacy (every now and then, we have a yen for spam with eggs). She'd just eaten her expensive raw food so it wasn't like she was famished. But, she was insistent that

Pain. We take painkillers for the pain. My question is this: Is the pain still there even though we no longer feel it because we're on the painkiller? Okay, another question. How does the painkiller know which particular spot to de-pain? Or, is it just our whole body has become numb? What, still another question? Molly the Cat. She's a bed hogger. Sometimes, by the time I go to bed, Molly is  sleeping in the middle of my side of the bed. She likes to sleep on my side because I drape an extra blanket over me. It's  a fleece blanket. Ah. Just got it. The softness and warmth of fleece must remind her of her Mommy-Cat. Molly likes to knead it into that perfect now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep spot. Doesn't matter if I happen to be under the blankets. The Mama. Two weeks ago, the Mama was in the hospital for dehydration and pneumonia. The bacterial infection had jut begun, but because her body was dehydrated, it couldn't tackle the infection. The Mama had gotten the bug

"Outside, please," says Molly the Cat When we adopted Molly the Cat a few months ago, we were told that she had always been an indoors cat. Only once in her life did she ever live outside. Molly's previous adoptive humans had taken in Molly and her brother who had special needs. The humans didn't understand what that meant because after a few weeks, they tired of cleaning up after the brother and dumped both Molly and him outside. Poor babies. We were upfront with Molly's foster human. We wanted Molly to explore the outdoors when she was ready and if she wanted to do so. Within a lot of reason, of course. Never the front yard unless she was on a leash. And, only in the backyard if the Mama was agreeable to Molly wandering around her flower and vegetable plots. No problem there. So, when Molly the Cat somehow got out of the front window a while back , we decided to give her the chance to wander around the backyard. Supervised, that is. "Micro-m

"Hey, Kid, your people are looking for you," said Lickity Split, as he sped by me. I barely got onto the sidewalk when he turned the corner. There was no use following him. All afternoon I had been following him to no avail. Just as I caught up to him, he jumped onto a fence and climbed over it into the unknown. I scooted back into my hiding place. Everything was fine and dandy when I first got outside. But it had gotten dark and cold. I had no idea where I lived. I should've marked my trail as I walked away. If I was home right now I would be playing with the orange string that the tall hairy human likes to dangle in my face. Then after awhile the human who feeds us would put a bowl of food on my tray.  Sigh. Lickity Split said he would show me where to find food if I didn't go home tonight. Will he come back? I wondered. "You've got it made, Kid," he said to me when we first met that afternoon. He was the reason I wanted to come out. I had to

If I were more ambitious, I would nudge myself to actually take the time do the following ten ... five ... three! things within the next...uhm...let's say five weeks. Sew the "bridle" for Molly the Cat. It's not really called a "bridle". I just can't remember the correct term right now. But, it's the thing to which you attach a leash. Yes, the Husband and I have visions of walking with Molly the Cat. So does the Mama. I've already bought the "ingredients" (again, I can't remember the correct term) for the project. If you're curious about my vague description, check this link . Okay, the bridle is a harness. Bridle sounds so much nicer. Pedal my bicycle to and from Tres Pinos. Every morning before breakfast, too. Tres Pinos is a cool, tiny village about five to seven miles away from the house, depending on what route I take. This would be a very huge commitment as well as a complete overhaul of my schedule. It would mean

Since Molly the Cat came into our lives, I did not know that: Cats snore. Cats sleep on their backs with their arms and legs splayed out. Yeah, just like a drunken person. Cats like to have something to eat after having been brushed. Cats don't necessarily know how nor inclined to say meow to their humans. Molly the Cat chirrups when she talks to us. Cats will wait until you clean up their litter box, then jump into it immediately and do their thing. I always thank Molly the Cat for doing it before I throw the poop bag away. Cats will suddenly race around the house after something that only they can see. They run so fast, you think you can see lines of action, such as those drawn in cartoons, extending from them as they shoot down the hallway and take the corner almost in mid air. Cats will pretend to wait for your permission to go explore that dark corner between the couches just to make you feel that you are the boss. Ha! Cats are even pickier eaters than the Mama. W

Ping. She looked up from her bowl. As she swallowed her bite, she gazed at a shadow in front of her. She turned to inspect the world behind her. She slowly peered beyond me for the source of the sound, and, possibly, the shadow. Feeling safe, she went back to her nightly snack. Ping. She stopped in mid-bite and turned quickly again. Her head slightly moved as she scanned the room. I thought I saw a faint light scamper through the darkness of the nearby kitchen. I shivered. "Ah, Molly, you're scaring me." Molly the Cat did not reassure me. She didn't even acknowledge me. She took one last glance around the room, then turned and ate one more morsel of food. "I'm going to bed." I said, shaking off my spooky thoughts. Molly the Cat followed me down the hall. As I went left to go up the stairs, she went right into the dark kitchen to do whatever she does at night, while the rest of us sleep soundly, oblivious to her grand adventures—and to vis