Morning Meditation

Crosby’s Log – 3 July 2013

My familiar sits and meditates.  As my familiar sits and mediates, I watch.  I watch intently.  Her job is to serve me.  My job is to remind her.  Which is why I watch her.  Take a breath. Inhale.  Start slowly pulling in the air deeply to the first Chakra.  Red is the color that grounds a familiar to her body.  The earth.  It is also very similar to the color of salmon flavored treats which is very desirable at the moment. I transmit that thought.  She nods slowly.  I let her take another breath.  Orange.  The second Chakra housing emotions and passion.  I am orange. I am her passion.  I could use a good scratch behind my ears about now…  I transmit the thought.  She nods slowly.  Next we move to the third Chakra. Yellow.  Power.  I am cat. I am the power.  I transmit the thought.  She nods slowly.  And then after a few breaths, we move silently into the fourth Chakra.  The heart.  I purr.  The familiar purrs. Green and pink swirl the air. We purr in unison and then transition into Blue, the fifth Chakra…Chakra of communication located around the throat. Communication isn’t all in the throat and then I remember that the familiar sadly doesn’t have a tail.  My condolences.   I transmit my thoughts.  The sixth Chakra, the Indigo, is alive with information for her, mostly from me.  I send her my food order, desires and other expectations for the day to her third eye.  She nods her head.  I am pleased. And finally the seventh Chakra – Violet connecting to the divine. The connection is oh so sweet….rolling in and out as if on divine catnip, so hard to give up…but alas, it’s time…I bat her on the head and after a short scratch behind the ears, we head to the treat cabinet to start our day.

Interview with an Allergic Lady

Phoebe’s Log: 10/21/12

Mocha stopped by our house today.  She is the shortest little Big Cat we’ve seen that is considered “full grown.”  I love her.  I’m not sure why.  I sit in the corner in awe as she deliberately makes her way to the wooden chair.   Crosby struts in after, takes his place directly across from her. 

“Hey Mocha,” he shouts and then softens to a coo, “Come over here and sit beside me and let me purrr in your ear…”

“I can’t Crosby, I’m allergic to you.”

“Really, so sad…is that why you are a short little Big Cat?”

“No Crosby, I can’t blame that on my allergy.”

“What happens when you are allergic to cats?”

“My eyes get red and I can’t breathe”

“So this means I can’t touch you?”

“No”

“Not even a little?”

“No”

“Oh, how terrible, when did you figure this out?”

“When I was 12, my parents got me a kitten.  I loved her very much, but I became sick at home and I was fine at school.  It didn’t take long…we had to give up the kitten…Her name was Melinda Sue and she was black and white….”

Oh, black and white – a mini me.  I fluffed up my soft and fluffy self, and looked at her again with my round green eyes as if I was her Melinda Sue.  Such a sad story.  I knew what I had to do…I went and rubbed against her legs…back and forth about three really good rubs before she just sort of got up and went to the bathroom breathing heavy and possibly sobbing…

I jumped in her chair, and sat, just as she, across from Crosby

“You think I killed her?” I asked him.

Cat Call: Pumpkin Latte

Phoebe’s Log – 6:45 AM, Monday.

He sits in the window waiting. Slight twitch in the tail as the faint sound of a door closing outside breaks the silence of the early dawn hours.  I know it’s her – The Lady Next Door. Red coat and all, easing slowly down the front stairs and then at the bottom, she pauses to take in a few breaths and surveys the land….silence. silence in the dark morning that brings forth the new workweek….and then….the silence is shattered.

Crosby’s Log – 6:46 am

Hey Lady, 

Kinda nippy out here. Come on over here to my window and get toasty warm with a bit of this here Pumpkin Latte – yeah that’s me….Pumpkin Latte – a little creamy, swirly, orange and smoooooth. Come on you sweet thing, I’ll make your morning toasty!

Ms. Nicole & Crosby

No one could miss her exquisite beauty as she walked into the room. Her angelic voice sing-singed a greeting as she glided into the kitchen floating to a rest against the kitchen sink counter. I was enthralled, neither by her beauty nor her voice, but of her stinky and smelly knee high rain boots which I gloriously rubbed, rubbed & rubbed against. Crosby, on the other hand, had other thoughts as he stared longingly into her eyes. She swept him up and he look at her, and she at him as he whispered, “Hey baby, I’ve got a tongue like sandpaper, you like?” ~Phoebe’s log 8/18/12

We are Puuurfection

A symbol of puuurfection (or puuuhfection if you are a Massachusetts born cat), the Patron Saints Cat medallion reminds the Big Cat of the awesomeness of cats. Some say it’s best for a cat to bury the medallion in the backyard (if you are an outdoor cat) or in a potted plant (if you are an indoor cat) to bring an abundance of feathers, treats, or fresh rodents to hunt. But we chose to give the Medallion to the Big Cat, for as we said earlier, it reminds her of our awesomeness, inspiration, and well, as a reminder to keep the treat cabinet well stock…because she, uh, well, screwed up once and forgot to get us treats…and well…there wasn’t any…and uh, well, let’s say she will never forget to bow to our Awesomeness again. ~Crosby’s Log