Tagged? Nah, Dogs Get Tagged, Cats Get Titled !

My pal, Julie, gave me a task to do. It's something called tagged and it comes with a whole bunch or rules. Normally, I don't perform "tasks", I assign them to my pet, Jimmy, but since Julie's owner, Zoey (pictured), is a pal, I will complete some (but not all) of the assignment. The rules are as follows:

* link to the person who tagged you - Not sure how to do it but I'll try

* list 6 random things about yourself - Easy enough

* tag 6 new people - Nope

* let each tagged person know by posting a comment on their blog - Ok

* link to the 6 people you've tagged - Nope

* let the person who tagged you know that you posted - Betcha wont say that to a shark!

Ok, here's the deal. Although I have waived my right to remain silent, anything written below is considered hearsay and is not enforceable in a court of law. Please stop by Julie's New Journal for the original rules and a fun read. Here's the link: http://juliasnewjournal.blogspot.com/

I started out as a kitten. Somewhere in my early weeks of life, I was lying there taking the occasional swig of milk from my mom and boom! Darkness.....! The next thing I know I'm behind a restaurant all by myself, in a dumpster. So I check it out. It's two lid job, and one lid's always open so, it ain't too bad as a temporary home. Whoever dumped me (no pun intended) at least left with me with a little shelter. Hey, and there's food in here, too! Later, at night, I got scared and started to cry. That's when Jimmy found me and adopted me. Hey, it ain't Vegas, but he's an ok guy!

I had an operation. I used to like to sing and as any cotton picking idiot knows....wait, I can't say that any more... it's not politically correct, especially nowadays... sorry, democrats. As I was saying I always liked to sing and as you know, it's best to sing underneath someone's window at say, two or three in the morning.

Well, the next thing I know, we're in Jimmy's car and we're going somewhere. Jimmy said we were going to the zoo but that wasn't true. I met a nice man in a white coat, he gave me some medicine and I went to sleep. When I woke up and tried to sing, my voice was much higher. Jimmy tries to sing too and if you want to hear him, there's a link on my sidebar to his My Space Karaoke site. He'd better get all that singing out of his system soon, cause you never know , one day, he too, might meet the nice man in the white coat.

I have some cool pals and they have pets as well. Zoey's pet is named Julie. Sheeba (she's a he) has two pets named Bucko and Beth, Mr. Michael's pet is Krissy, Shanti's pet is Nancy and Gabi, who's real cute, owns Linda in rainy Washington. Pickles is a cool dog with special magic powers that help Indigo to hear. My favorite pal was Luke the Wonder dog. Luke's pet is Anne, but Luke got sick and passed away. I miss Luke a lot!

I have a lot more pals, but I can't name them all right now. Maybe one day, I'll just sit down and write about each and every one of them.

I have seven toes on each of my front paws. I don't know why, I just do. It's one thing to have paws that are a little different from other cats, but for some uncanny reason, mine have to be highlighted by white boots. It's sorta like having a zit with its own spotlight. Cats of my ilk are referred to as Hemmingways, after the well known author, who had six and seven toed cats as well. Over 100 descendants of Hemmingway cats still live in Key west.

So, Jimmy named me Possum 'cause he says I have the look of an Opossum (He dropped the "O" because he didn't want me to be in the "O" category, if you get my drift...Opossum.. Obama.. Ohellno). The "Hemmingway" moniker is now obvious, which leads us to the middle initial "S". You'd think it might be short for Stanley or Stuart or even like Harry S. Truman, whose "S" stood for nothing, Nope, It's short for Shithead! Yep! Clever, isn't he? It could be worse, I guess, he used to call me Numbnuts until my operation.

What is a Cat? Cats do what they want. They rarely listen to you. They're totally unpredictable. When you want to play, they want to be alone. When you want to be alone, they want to play. They expect you to cater to their every whim. They're moody. They leave hair everywhere. Conclusion: They're tiny women in little fur coats.

I am far more intelligent than my pet, Jimmy knows. He works, I don't. He buys groceries, I eat them. He cleans our house, I watch. He goes out, I go to sleep. He has girlfriends come and visit. I sit in their laps and they pet me (and then I watch). It's a rough life, but I manage.

Stray Tuned !