Thursday, May 10, 2012

Cuddles and Kisses

I think the worst part about having this surplus of kittens in the house has been the additional surplus of affection. (Affection not directed at me, that is.)

My Minion has been the worst of the lot. He has been especially taken with his little niece, and I am CONSTANTLY finding him all gushy over her! It's pretty horrible.

An evening groom.

All right, all right, "Uncle Monster." I think she's clean enough.

Even the kitten looks disgruntled here!

And, as if he hadn't gotten her washed up plenty last night, I caught him at it again today.

You'd think minions would be a little more resistant to fuzzy-cuteness than all that. It's disappointing. That's what it is. Disappointing.

Of course, you except these tiny beasts to be cuddly amongst themselves.

Wait a minute! What am I seeing? That kitten in the middle isn't part of the original litter, is he?

WHAT THE WHISKERS, ANNE ELISABETH!!! Do you think you can just sneak a new one in without my noticing?!?! How many kitties are you going to INFLICT upon my DOMAIN?!?!

Yeah, don't try to be cute.
I'm not accepting you.

The most horrible thing, of course, is seeing my own beloved Rohan falling under the fuzzy-cuteness spell. I thought he at least would have the strength to resist! But, I mean, when the house is brimming with cuteness, even the mightiest will fall.

Alas, Sweet Rohan, that it
should come to this!

I, however, have managed to keep my aloof dignity intact. As ruling despot of Rooglewood, someone has to keep her head on her shoulders, no matter the squeeeing of the household staff.

See? Aloof distance.

Scamper scamper scamper


What? No! Really! I didn't kiss it!

Okay, maybe once.

But, I mean, I am SURROUNDED BY BITTY BABIES! How long must I be strong? How long must I resist?

I don't know if I can last much longer . . .

Monday, May 7, 2012

A Month of Woes

I know you all have been pining for my return to the world of blogging. And I'm sure none of you will be surprised to learn that I have been most unkindly prevented from my return by that wretched creature that calls herself an Anne Elisabeth and somehow believes that she--she--has primary right to the computer.

Life is hard for Household Dictators. Make no mistake.

But here I am at last to update you on all the terrible woes that have filled my life in this last month, often leaving me to question the very point of existence.

First of all: These things.

Ugh. They got bigger.

Don't let this picture fool you, either. They're not so easily contained as all that. What's worse, my Minion seems have to have sided with them!

That's right! He calls himself "Uncle Monster," and he sneaks into the Kitty Nursery all the time to, like, groom those things, or something. (I think it's more likely he's sneaking in to snitch their kitty food, but he insists his motives are pure.) What's more, he has learned how to open the Nursery Door, so if he gets in there by mistake, he'll open it up and release the foe beasts upon the whole of Rooglewood!

But dey're kinda cute, Minerva!

He's obviously been brainwashed. It's horrible.

So there's that woe. And then there's this other woe that I can scarcely bear to consider even now, and which has necessitated my expression of displeasure via the Knocking Things Off Things Until Something Shatters method. (Sometimes, only drastic measures will suffice.) What is this terrible woe, you ask?


No, I'm not crying. Dictators don't cry.

They took--

It's really all Anne Elisabeth's fault. I told her not to do it.

They took my--

And without even any warning! Though Anne Elisabeth says she's been moping about it for months, so I shouldn't complain. To this I say: Whatever.

You see, they took my Molly away.

My Molly.

"I don't know what's going on . . ."

I've always had my Molly. I'm not saying we always got a long, but I've always had her! From before my great dictatorship began, we battled over boxes and rattle balls.

We endured the torment of several moves, the loss of the Queen, and the addition of far too many new siblings.

Though one or two of them turned out okay.

We've always eaten together.

Even when dining got a little crowded.

And I've always had Molly's assistance in the ongoing endeavor of Backyard Surveillance.

And then, last month, some dude came out of nowhere saying, "Molly! My kitty! I've missed you!"

Wait a minute, Mr. Dude. Whose kitty?

"It's true, Minerva," Anne Elisabeth told me. "We've just been babysitting Molly for the last four years. She actually belongs to my big brother, but he couldn't have her while he was stationed overseas. Now that he's married, he and his wife can take Molly home to live with them."

And that was that. They took my Molly away!

It must be Anne Elisabeth's fault. I don't care if she went and cried in the library after they took her! I don't care if she tells me Molly is happy in her new home and shows me pictures of her sitting on some fancy-schmancy kitty castle! It's her fault, and I won't forgive her for it until I'm jolly well ready to!

I think I'll go smash something.