Life With Lizzie: The Good Life Being a Foodie Cat

Look at those eyes!

Look at those eyes!

Mewwo. Mom’s been busy so she hasn’t let me blog for a while. What’s up with that? She leaves in the morning and sometimes is gone until long after dark. She dances around singing things like “I’m Too Sexy For My Cat”. Excuse me? Should I take that personally?

And get this ~ she got the idea to let me blog . . . from a dog. A dog! Now, I’m all about making friends, and I’m sure Charlie Bear is nice and all that. I mean, he doesn’t look too big. In fact, he’s a little like the human sister’s owner at the grandparents’ house. But he’s still a dog. And I’m beginning to sense that Mom might be liking him. What’s a cat to do?

At least she still lets me cuddle up with her at night. When she was gone to her Writers Conference last month, the fur sisters decided we should all get along better. We thought maybe Mom had enough of our sqaubbling and toilet paper tantrums. She was gone for quite a while.

But she came back and we’re all good again. Don’t tell her, but I missed her. That’s why I lick her face each night. And bop her nose when she snores.

And to show that she missed us, she bought us new food. Not just new as in fresh, but new as in type.

She used to feed us the cat food with the four-letter word on the label. So it’s not the same four-letter word that humans use, but for me and my fur sisters it may as well have been. The four-letter-word food caused us upset stomachs and hairballs even though it was supposed to be for older, indoor cats.

Instead, she now gives us the Good Life.

Good Life vs. Four-Letter Word Food

Good Life vs. Four-Letter Word Food

She said something about real food, which is good because we’re Real Cats. Realy, we are. [Wait for it . . . There yah go. Realy.]

I’m going to tell Cousin Zoey about it. Maybe her people will spoil her. If not, well, that’s something to talk about at the next family reunion.

It tastes great. It fills us up faster, so we don’t each as much. Which means less upchuck and hairballs. Lots less. Which makes our mommy love us even more.

It’s a win-win situation.

I guess I’ll keep her.

Lizzie Love

Lizzie Love

And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!

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Life With Lizzie: My Mom Can Be Crazy
Meet Zoey

Life With Lizzie: My Mom Can Be Crazy

Lizzie Cat

Lizzie Cat

Welcome to Life with Lizzie: a new weekly feature here at Frankly, My Dear . . .

You know me. I’m Lizzie Cat. I’m the oldest of five at Catford Manor. Now that the Human Sister has grown up and moved out, Mom is left alone with us. She calls us her FurFamily and I guess that’s right. I mean, we are family. And we are furry.

Does that make her a Crazy Cat Woman?

I’m her favorite. I know this because she tells me. Oh, she loves Berry Sunshine, Little, Sparkles and Iris just as much. But different. Mom and I? We have a bond. I’m her favorite, and she’s mine.

I steal her stuffed animals when she’s not looking. I don’t hide them or anything. I just claim them for my own. C’mon. . . she leaves all day and they’re just sitting there. Out in the open. Someone has to snuggle with them. Am I right?

She calls me her writing partner. I like that. I like when she’s got a great idea, how excited and animated she gets. I like that she leans over and kisses me (but don’t tell her that). Mostly I love sleeping next to her. She complains that she can’t get any work done that way, but I think that’s a lie. She always manages to do just fine.

Writing Partners - Molly Jo and Lizzie Cat

Writing Partners

Mom’s different since the Human Sister left. Sometimes she’s sad, so my sisters and I sit closer to her. She doesn’t cry much but I think she wants to.

Sometimes she’s happy. She dances more. Not in any particular pretty rhythm. But she does okay when she thinks no one is watching. She turns on the big black screen and it thumps. Loud. I don’t like that, and try to tell her so but she doesn’t listen so I just go to the other room until it’s over. She sings, too. Loud. I do like that, for the most part. We used to sing together but that was years ago.

She doesn’t eat at home as often. I guess I don’t mind because I don’t eat her food anyway, but Berry Sunshine is a little sad because she likes licking the plates. Mom’s friend Tania brought pepperoni pizza the other night, and we all took turns eating the crumbs. It was pretty good. I think Mom should have people like Tania over more often.

On the weekends, sometimes, she lets me go play in the yard. I like to roll around in the sand because it’s nice and cool, but when I come in she yells at me for getting the coffee table dirty. But she was the one who opened the door! See? A bit crazy there, I think.

She talks to herself once in a while. Or to people who aren’t there. When she’s writing, she yells at her computer. She calls it Babycakes which is strange because it’s not a baby and none of us can eat it. She pets it, too, which I can’t imagine being comfortable. It has no fur.

My favorite part of the day is bedtime. I can always when it’s time because she folds up her silver Babycakes, grabs her bottle of water and slips her flip-flops on before walking back to the bedroom. As soon as she sits up straighter from the recliner, I know all those other things are about to happen so I always try to race her to the bed. If I get to the pillow before she does, I make her scrunch her neck and shoulders around me. Once I’m settled, I’m settled. It’s her fault for staying up later than me, right?

Uh-oh. Looks like Mom’s getting ready to go in now. I better get there before she does, or else I’ll have to find a spot at the foot of the bed.

I’ll be back next week with more stories about Mom and my sisters.

Until then, have a mewwy great week!


And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!

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Catford Manor in Pictures
How a Bird Bath Destroyed My House
Lessons Learned: The Domesticated Cat Edition