You know that I live with dogs. Well, Onyx, the Schipperke, turned 15 ½ years old and got really sick. Mama was crying and using this word called stroke. It was kind of scary. He was walking in circles with his head tilted funny. Mama checked his eyes and ears, (he's kind of blind and deaf) and then cleaned out his ears. He didn't seem to mind that. Mama rushed Onyx to the Vet and found that he didn't have a stroke, but had an old age syndrome and an ear infection. He's on an antibiotic and ear drops. He's doing OK now and Mama isn't crying any more. Onyx is the one dog that we felines like. He doesn't bark much. He never chases us. He eats, sleeps, and goes outside to a few times during the day. He doesn't bother us and we don't bother him. That's the kind of dog to have.

I'm now officially three years old. My brother, Barnaby, and my sister, Farrah Bear, shared my birthday. We didn't have cake or ice cream. Mama got us some special food and treats. We got new catnip toys, paper towel rolls, and balls with bells inside. It was a fun day. We played and had a great time. I like birthdays. I think that I'll have one every month. That would really be fun.

I watched a big red bird hopping around under the bushes. I was fascinated by the color and the movement. It hopped around looking for food, maybe a seed or two. It stayed for a long time so that I could be entertained. My tail twitched and my body quivered as I imagined slowly creeping up on the bird and then pouncing quickly. I got a little carried away and when I pounced in my imagination, I bumped my nose on the window. I don't think that anyone saw me. Mama checked me out and once she knew that I was OK, she left me to watch the jungle outside.

Next, came an animal that must be pure evil. Before it crossed into the yard, it lowered its head and surveyed the lay of the land with its beady little eyes. It reared up on its back legs and sniffed the air. Its tail bushed out and it looked all around, hoping for some unfortunate creature to cross its path. Slowly, it lowered its body and scampered quickly to the tree. I craned my neck to follow its trail. I went into my predator mode and hunkered down. Once again, my body was quivering with anticipation. I sat in the window as still as could be, watching every movement of this horrible thing. The creature turned and saw me in the window. He got up on his hind legs and looked at me. Then that dumb squirrel turned his back and waggled his tail at me. The nerve of him!

I must say that my window is much better than Mama's TV. My window has my favorite channel all of the time.

Holly, The Evil One, is still causing me trouble. Every once in a while, she comes after me and we have a fight. I think that she's jealous. Holly isn't perfect like me. Holly has only one ear. Well, she actually has two ears, but only one works. Holly had this thing called a po-lip (polyp) growing inside her ear. When Mama tried to clean Holly's ears, she could only do one and the left one looked funny. The Vet said that it was a po-lip and off Aunty Susan went to OSU. Holly had to have surgery to get rid of the po-lip. Now she has two outside ears, but only one inside ear. (The polyp went all the way down to the inner ear.) So she has one normal ear and one tilted at half-mast. Aunty Susan tells Holly that she is beautiful. Well, I don't know about that, but Holly isn't perfect like me. That's for sure.

Patches is the other female that causes trouble for me, another not quite perfect cat. She has al-erh-gees (allergies). That means that she has a runny nose and goopy eyes a lot. She sometimes loses her hair from over grooming. What that really means is that she's not perfect like me. She occasionally torments me by coming by and jumping on me and swatting at me. I do not like that one bit.

Sherman is the worst. He is a big black cat and he says that he loves me, but he comes up close and stares at me. He'll jump in my basket and stand over me in a menacing way. Once he swatted my tail and made me bleed. This isn't love. He's a stalker and I don't like him at all.

You know what's funny? All three of them are Aunty Susan's cats. How can someone so nice love three terrorists? I don't understand that at all. Do you suppose that she's been brain-washed? I'll have to watch her.

It's hard to be a beautiful kitty.
I know that for a fact.
It's hard to be a beautiful kitty,
When others seem to lack
     My beauty and charm.

It's hard to be a beautiful kitty.
Other females are terribly jealous.
It's hard to be a beautiful kitty,
When females make such a fuss
     That it can cause me alarm.

It's hard to be a beautiful kitty.
The males make a big to-do.
It's hard to be a beautiful kitty,
When guys chase after you
     And get in a harassing mode.

It's hard to be a beautiful kitty.
I'm on stage all of the time.
It's hard to be a beautiful kitty,
Often I think it's a crime,
     Carrying a difficult load.

It's hard to be a beautiful kitty.
I'm loved and adored by most.
It's hard to be a beautiful kitty,
But I cannot boast.
     I just do the best that I can.

By Belle

This month's Feloga, Feline Yoga, is all about stretching. Find a comfortable spot. Make sure that you have a pillow close. Lie down on your left side. Stretch out, first one front leg and then the other. Curl the toes on your back feet and then relax them. Flip your tail in a circle. Relax. Breathe deeply and then flop over on your right side. Repeat all of the movements. Afterwards, take a long nap. That's where the pillow comes in handy.

My name is Belle and I’m three years old.