YUCK! I didn’t know it tasted like THAT!-
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What a cutie!!!!!!
Can’t believe I am first to post!
ACK! An action shot! Look at that little pink tongue! And the spotty tummy!
No more blue cheese dip for you!
That’s not tuna flavored… FUZZ
Yo adriane im cleaning here……
polka dot belleeeeeeeeeeee!
he’s cleaning his fat belly!!! love his colors!
What a cutie pie he gave me a big smile this morning.
………..*AHEM*……………..this is quite possibly the Louchest pose ever!!……………………………………………………………..
*SUPER LOUCHE*
Tee Hee! He gave me a much needed chuckle!
He’s a cutie pie..
That kitty could join KISS.
Rock ‘n’ roll fuzz?
He’s got a Gene Simmon’s tongue. KISSZZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!
http://www.infotecbusinesssystems.com/wildlife/index.asp?ch=Wildlife&sh=hummingbirds
The above link is for a live-feed Hummingbird cam. They are beautiful!
I’ve been watching from time to time. Many more hummingbirds there than come to my feeder. Had to replace my Jones for the Eaglecam somehow!!
I know! I miss watching the eaglets. I wonder how they are. I hope that site gets the live bear cam up soon….
It didn’t say exactly where the hummingbird cam is….
Not only has he got the tongue motion down pat (pat pat pat, he’s so cute…) but has anyone noticed he’s playing air guitar???
What a sweetie!
I see the airi guitar - definately! And the tongue effect is definately KISS inspired!
ROCKY ROLL FOREVER FUZZ
Absolutely he is playing an air guitar! Totally delicious baby!
*Hi Usedto have a kitty* That is one sad name, hope it changes to *Just got a kitty* soon. :))
I’m so proud of MY KITTY!!! Actually, Rocky turned out to be Roxie!
Thank you all for the kind comments. She’s a real charmer. She’s discovered the faucet now and is a true water baby!
curt she is also a Bengal ! a proud very indipendant, affectionate breed, she is a queen of feline I have 15 of them and never been happier
Warning: this is a (happy) tear-jerker….
*My Mother’s Cat*
By Renie Burghardt
When my nineteen-year-old mother died two weeks after giving birth to me, I inherited her cat, Paprika. He was a gentle giant, with deep orange stripes and yellow eyes that gazed at me tolerantly as I dragged him around wherever I went. Paprika was ten years old when I came into this world. He had been held and loved by my mother for all ten years of his life, while I had never known her. So I considered him my link to her. Each time I hugged him tightly to my chest, I was warmed by the knowledge that she had done so, too.
“Did you love her a lot?” I would often ask Paprika, as we snuggled on my bed.
“Meow!” he would answer, rubbing my chin with his pink nose.
“Do you miss her?”
“Meow!” His large yellow eyes gazed at me with a sad expression.
“I miss her, too, even though I didn’t know her. But Grandma says she is in heaven, and she is watching over us from there. Since we are both her orphans, I know it makes her happy that we have each other,” I would always say, for it was a most comforting thought to me.
“Meow!” Paprika would respond, climbing on my chest and purring.
I held him close, tears welling in my eyes. “And it makes me so very happy that we have each other.” Paprika’s orange paw reached up and touched my face gently. I was convinced he understood me, and I knew I understood him.
At that time, we lived in the country of my birth, Hungary, and I was being raised by my maternal grandparents because World War II had taken my young father away, too. As I grew, the war intensified. Soon, we were forced to become wanderers in search of safer surroundings.
In the spring of 1944, when I was eight, Paprika and I snuggled in the back of a wooden wagon as we traveled around our country. During the numerous air raids of those terrible times, when we had to scramble to find safety in a cellar, closet or ditch, he was always in my arms - I absolutely refused to go without him. How could I, when one of the first stories I was ever told as a child was that of my dying mother begging her parents to take care of her cat as well as her baby?
After Christmas in 1944, when we were almost killed in a bombing of the city we were in, Grandfather decided that we would be safer in a rural area. Soon, we settled in a small house neighboring a cemetery. Here, Grandfather, with the help of some neighbors, built a bunker away from the house. In the early spring of 1945, we spent one entire night in the bunker. Paprika was with me, of course. Once again, I refused to go without him.
Warplanes buzzed, tanks rumbled, and bombs whistled and exploded over our heads all night while I held on to Paprika, and my grandmother held on to the both of us, praying the entire time. Paprika never panicked in that bunker. He just stayed in my arms, comforting me with his presence.
Finally, everything grew still, and Grandfather decided it was safe to go back to the house. Cautiously, we crept out into the light of early dawn and headed toward the house. The brush crackled under our feet as we walked. I shivered, holding Paprika tightly. Suddenly, there was a rustle in the bushes just ahead. Two men jumped out and pointed machine guns directly at us.
“Stoi!” one of the men shouted. We knew the word meant, “Stop!”
“Russians!” Grandfather whispered. “Stand very still and keep quiet.”
But Paprika had leapt out of my arms when the soldier shouted, so, instead of listening to Grandfather, I darted between the soldiers and scooped him up again.
The tall, dark-haired young soldier approached me. I cringed, holding Paprika against my chest. The soldier reached out and petted him gently. “I have a little girl about your age back in Russia, and she has a cat just like this one,” he said, smiling at us. I looked up into a pair of kind brown eyes, and my fear vanished. My grandparents sighed with relief. We found out that morning that the Soviet occupation of our country was in progress.
In the trying weeks and months that followed, Paprika’s love made things easier for me to bear, for he rarely left my side. He was my comfort, my best friend.
By the fall of 1945, Grandfather, who had spoken up about the atrocities taking place in our country, had gone into hiding to avoid being imprisoned as a dissident by the new communist government. Grandmother and I prepared for a solemn Christmas that turned into my worst nightmare when I awoke on Christmas morning to find Paprika curled up next to me as usual - but he was lifeless and cold. I picked up his limp body, and, holding it close to me, sobbed uncontrollably. He was nineteen years old, and I was nine.
“I will always love you, Paprika. I will never give my heart to another cat,” I vowed through my tears. “Never, ever!”
“Paprika’s spirit is in heaven now, with your mama, sweetheart,” my grandmother said, trying to comfort me. But my heart was broken on that terrible Christmas Day in 1945.
Grandfather stayed hidden until the fall of 1947, when we were finally able to escape our communist country by hiding among some ethnic Germans who were being deported to Austria. In Austria, we landed in a refugee camp where we lived for four years. These were difficult times for me, and I longed for Paprika often. I saw other people’s cats and knew it would be so comforting to feel a warm, furry creature purring in my arms. But my loyalty to Paprika - mixed up in my mind with loyalty to my mother - never wavered. I had made a vow, and I would keep it.
A ray of hope pierced this darkness when, eventually, we were accepted for immigration to the United States. In September 1951, we boarded an old U.S. Navy ship. We were on our way to America.
That year, we spent our first Christmas in the United States.&n bsp; The horrors of war and the four years of hardship in a refugee camp were behind us now, and a life filled with fresh possibilities lay ahead. On that Christmas morning, I awoke to a tantalizing aroma wafting through the house. Grandmother was cooking her first American turkey. Grandfather, meanwhile, pointed to one of the presents under the Christmas tree. This gift seemed alive, for the box was hopping around to the tune of “Jingle Bells,” which was playing on the radio. I rushed over, pulled off the orange bow and took the lid off the box.
“Meow!” cried the present, jumping straight into my lap and purring. It was a tiny orange tabby kitten, and, when I looked into its yellow eyes, the vow I had made in 1945 crumbled like dust and fell away. I was a new person in a new country. Holding the cat close, I let the sweetness of love fill my heart once again.
That Christmas day, I do believe my mother smiled down at us from heaven approvingly, while Paprika’s spirit purred joyfully at her side.
What a beautiful story and yes I am still crying some happy tears some sad. Thanks for sharing.
What a beautiful story! I still have tears in my eyes.
Beautifully written story..suggest submitting it to Cat Fancy magazine, perhaps? Please keep writing–you have a gift.
rainingwolf—
I wish I could take credit for the beautifully written stories, but I just post them….I always include the author’s name…
that was a good story, eh?
Roxie is too presh for words! You should post pics of her many siblings. :o)
OMG, what a cute little goofball! Look at the spotty chest! Wanna tickle? ? ? Love her always!
very cute! love the tounge. I wish i could capture my cat and her “peanut butter mouthful face” lol.
Actually, yesterday’s ERIC is Roxie’s brother! Plus there’s one more, Bob. Maybe his turn will come up soon!
HEAVY METAL FUZZ
bad joke, coming up….
*Cinderella’s Three Wishes*
Cinderella was now 75 years old. After a fulfilling life with the now dead Prince, she happily sat upon her rocking chair, watching the world go by from her front porch, with a cat called Alan for companionship.
One sunny afternoon, out of nowhere, appeared the Fairy Godmother.
Cinderella said “Fairy Godmother, what are you doing here after all these years?”
The Fairy Godmother replied “Well Cinderella, since you have lived a good, wholesome life since we last met, I have decided to grant you 3 wishes. Is there anything for which your heart still yearns?”
Cinderella is taken aback, overjoyed and after some thoughtful consideration and almost under her breath she uttered her first wish: “I wish I was wealthy beyond comprehension.”
Instantly, her rocking chair was turned into solid gold. Cinderella was stunned. Alan, her old faithful cat, jumped off her lap and scampered to the edge of the porch, quivering with fear.
Cinderella said “Oh thank you, Fairy Godmother”.
The Fairy Godmother replied “It is the least I can do. What does your heart wish for your second wish?”
Cinderella looked down at her frail body, and said: “I wish I was young and full of the beauty of youth again”.
At once, her wish having been desired, became reality, and her beautiful youthful visage had returned. Cinderella felt stirrings inside her that had been dormant for years and long forgotten vigor and vitality began to course through her very soul.
Then the Fairy Godmother again spoke “You have one more wish, what shall you have?”
Cinderella looked over to the frightened cat in the corner and said: “I wish you to transform Alan my old cat into a beautiful and handsome young man”.
Magically, Alan suddenly underwent so fundamental a change in his biological make-up, that when complete he stood before her, a boy, so beautiful the like of which she nor the world had ever seen, so fair indeed that birds begun to fall from the sky at his feet.
The Fairy Godmother again spoke: “Congratulations, Cinderella. Enjoy your new life.” And, with a blazing shock of bright blue electricity, she was gone.
For a few eerie moments, Alan and Cinderella looked into each other’s eyes. Cinderella sat, breathless, gazing at the most stunningly perfect boy she had ever seen.
Then Alan walked over to Cinderella, who sat transfixed in her rocking chair, and held her close in his young muscular arms.
He leant in close to her ear, and into her ear breathed as much as whispered, blowing her golden hair with his warm breath, “I bet you regret having me neutered now, don’t you?”
The oldies are the goldies. How do you find so much time to post all these goodies?
What a smart kitten! I thought that long tongue was her I’m a frog impression. What a sweetie!
My job entails that I sit in front of a computer almost all day….I have dozens of animal sites bookmarked….and I type fast!
Moose Feets!!!
Beautiful markings …..
I’m sharing the e-mail I just received from The Humane Society with everyone. See what a difference we can make!!
*Yesterday was a truly historic day for the seals!*
I am writing from Strasbourg, France, where the European Union has just adopted a Resolution calling upon the European Commission to ban all trade in harp and hooded seal products. This is a crucial step toward achieving legislation that will save millions of seals from a horrible fate.
The news is already spreading across Canada – now help us spread it across the world!
In the 1980s a European ban on the import of products from newborn seals brought Canada’s commercial seal hunt to a virtual standstill. Tragically, the Canadian government subverted the intention of that legislation, allowing sealers to slaughter baby seals when they are just a few days older. After a brutal death, the pups’ fur is traded in European fashion markets.
A European Union ban on the trade in all products from harp and hooded seals—regardless of the age of the animals—would eliminate a major market for the Canadian commercial sealing industry.
I’ve witnessed horrific cruelty at the seal hunt for eight years. But yesterday was about hope. Real hope for the seals, because Europeans no longer want to provide a financial incentive for commercial seal hunts. In passing this declaration, the European Parliament is observing the will of its citizens.
The writing is clearly on the wall for the Canadian sealing industry. And from here in Strasbourg, the future looks good for the seals.
Rebecca Aldworth
Director of Wildlife Issues
HSI Canada
Learn more about the campaign to stop the seal hunt at protectseals.org.
THIS CAT REMINDS ME OF MY FRIEND BEN-HES JUST WEIRD LIKE THAT
otherwise.. its SUPER SUPER SUPER cute, and it looks wayy rad
BRI!!!!!!!!!! OMG it does look like ben lolzzzzzzz!!!!!!!
AND ITS SOOOO CUTE TOO!!!!!!!!!!
What a funny picture! I just had to laugh. In case anyone wants to know about that stray tom cat we had in our neighborhood, well, I never caught it in the cage. I got it by hand one day and took off the collar, there is a ring around the cat’s neck. My neighbor thinks she can catch it by hand and put it into a cage and take it to the vets to get it neutered and then she said she’d feed it, so I guess it found a home of sorts. Anyway, if she can get to it, and she may, the cat will have a happy life from that point on. Thanks to all for your advice on how to catch it in the cage, the cat was smarter!
Oh good. At least you got the collar off. It’s going to take your neighbor a long time to get that cat to come to her after the abuse it’s already suffered.
I’m glad, too. After the start in life this poor cat has had, he deserves to be treated like a king.
I think this furbaby is just beautiful. Roxie looks like she’s having fun playing the air guitar for KISS.
*Rocky Raccoon fell back in her room only to find Gideon’s Bible FUZZ*
Rocky is practiceing his singing to be a rock star.
Sure got my giggles in this morning! Rocky is adorable! And that pink tongue! Love the action picture.
Keep them fuzzy babies coming! They really make the start of my day the best.
Rocky is wicked cute! love the stripes and the tongue! too funny!
what a beautiful baby bear! kittens make the world go around!
very precious…….
you stole my cat pinky! gggggggggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
SOOOOOOOO CUTE!!
do you need some peppermints kitty,cause i don’t think that was tuna flavoured
he shoud stop eating fish and licking him self.
So beautiful