Hey, human playthings. What's up? I'm Bruno, and I'll be your guest blogger for today. Yeah, that's me in the picture. Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, okay? It takes long hours of relaxation to get a belly like mine. I know, I know. You wanna touch it, right? Everyone does. Lucky you, I'm into belly rubs. No poking, though. I still have my claws. The pet human chose wisely and let me keep those. Unlike some other things that I'd rather not talk about.
So normally I don't blog, being that cat humor is a little too refined for you human types. Well, and also that my claws stick in the keyboard. But I took mercy on my pet, because she's starting to look a little rough these days, muttering about something called a deadline and writing in her pajamas all day. I mean, the leopard print pajamas show very good taste, don't get me wrong, but I really need her in top condition to feed me and rub my belly and hang out with me and, uh, feed me. After a quick look at your site, here, I can see you're all just as nuts as she is (all this working, ugh), so thanks for being her support group. I don't know why she doesn't just follow my example for better living, but she's been difficult to train in that area. Oh well, more couch for me.
I can see that a lot of you have dogs. I live with a couple. I suppose I get the appeal. I mean, hey, my human's mother's dog has had the hots for me for years, and I'm okay with that (though I wish she'd get that I am not impressed by the fact that she can fit my whole head in her mouth). But there's nothing like a cat companion. Take me, for instance. I'm a paragon of felinity, the absolute pinnacle of what a cat should be. Oh, don't give me the eyeball, my human tells me what a handsome, fabulous kitty I am every day. She even says it on days when I've chewed up some of the flip flops she ccontinues to insist are hers, so she totally means it. It's not surprising that she can't keep her hands off the bod, though. I'm a purebred Siberian, which I'm told looks something like a Maine Coon, only, you know, way better. My human's mate is still complaining about how expensive I was, and I want to be like, "Hey, you wanted a cat that didn't bother people's allergies, dude. Do you hear any sneezing around here?" But he doesn't listen very well. My human seems to like him, but he doesn't toss socks at her, so that's probably why. I will never understand why he minds me tasting the chair legs. It's not like I'm chowing down or anything!
Anyway, I won't make you insanely jealous with the details of my four years with my human (deluxe scratching post, ahem), But I've gotta say, it's good to be the kitty. Especially when you're bigger than the dogs you live with. Hey, looks like I've got another nap to catch, since my human is going to sit in the big comfy chair. I know she got it because the back is such a perfect bed for me, but she seems to like it there pretty well too. She'll be wanting me to sit with her, of course. Women of all species go crazy. It's like a curse. But my human also appreciates my talent. I practically ghost wrote that Dark Highland Fire thing she's got coming out in October. I mean, yeah, it LOOKED like I was just laying on her lap while she typed, but honestly, humans can in fact absorb a little bit of cat genius through osmosis. Just a little, which is still, like, Einstein level.
No, seriously. I think they proved that a while ago.
Gotta run...well, okay, amble, because running would totally destroy this tummy I've worked so hard on...but you're very welcome for me showing up to use my mad typing skillz today. Never let it be said that I ignore my public. Drop me a comment and show some love, willya? I'll be in all day. Because she's eating ramen noodles and mumbling about plot resolution again. Though this is, I admit, far more entertaining than a laser toy. Plus I can sit still for this. Oh, wait...I sit still for the laser toy too.
P.S. Whoever wrote that Cat Star Chronicles thing, I'm bummed. That was going to be the title of my autobiography!