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Routines…routes…Peace out.

My,

easy to follow a staunch routine when it comes to others. For myself? Nope. Routines are erratic, completed by convenience, routines disguised as promises broken, no follow through or follow up-sounds like my childhood.

Coffee

Bustelo coffee, brew the same way, everyday

Mind you,

attachment to mom, my mom is akin to that of a momma and baby bear where the roles flip flop as a fish on dry land.

Oh boy,

this writing started out as a five-minute morning routine I seldom follow and of course, forgot to set the timer. Five minutes tops, not a minute under or over.

writing

The writing desk with all the idea prompting chutskies.

Well now,

guess this writing turns into a post about routines, easy to establish, impossible at times to follow. Routines are predictable structures set in place by the grandest of intentions, never veering from its designated path, constant.

Alrighty then,

let’s give a cheer for the routines I follow when it comes to others, but nope, not for myself.

-cinco minutos a escribir-(NOT)

Big E

The feline furs demand the 6am breakfast-6pm dinner.

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Cats rule my world!..or  I’ve totally lost my sanity to cats.

Cats rule my world.

That is…the cats in my household.

Tara-Habby rules the first floor. (Queen Bee will have a blog entry of her own,very soon.)

My second floor apartment is home to three cats.

Three cats who rule my world.

Of course, words cannot describe their rein over my abode but pictures, yes, pictures are visual proof.

Beds

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My bed.

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Big E’s Bed. 

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Fate’s Bed.

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Winnie’s Bed.

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Big E’s Napping Chair.

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Fate’s Day Pillow.

Chairs

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My chair.

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The Cats Chair.

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The Cats Chair.

 

Gym

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My gym.

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The Cats Gymnasium.

 

Scratching Post

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The Cats Scratching Post.

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My scratching post.

 

Groceries

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The Cats Groceries.

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The Cats Groceries.

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My groceries.

Cabinets

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My medicine cabinet.

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The Cats Medicine Cabinet.

 

The visuals could go on, and on…it stops here.

Yes.

My cats rule my world. (sigh)

 

I Would Do Anything for Love…

Yeah right!

Still single so how could I?

But…

I would do anything for love when it comes to my fur babies.

I’m already doing it. My salary is theirs. Working for the  six animals in the household. Four require serious and not so serious medication while the other two are thriving.

Health report of the fur babies:

Tara-Habby-Queen Bae.

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Big E-Leader of the upstairs pack.

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Winnie-Herpes

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Fate-Fibrinous Anteriour Uveitis in both eyes-FIP suspect

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Fate- 9 months

Pi Patel-aside from a career as a Mulberry model –possible liver cancer/dermatologic issues

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Toby-cataract and liver issues

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The caretakers:

Me-increased consumption in wine and trying to be a runner as well as trying to be a Buddhist,  trying to be an Episcopalian, while pretending to be a Catholic.

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Mom, my mom-bitchin about the fur babies!

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It’s all good.

At least, I keep telling myself, mantra style.

I’m gonna brag a bit.

No.

Not brag about the restaurants I visited, the vacations I had, my PR running time or even the enormous amount of weight I lost.

I’m a gonna brag about the Furbabies.

The Furs.

Home Cooking:

Anti inflammatory recipe for Pi Patel and now Tobias thanks to my dear neighbour Karen!

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This is how they roll…in the house of course.

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Tara-Habby’s throne

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The Habby’s private bathroom and rooftop lounge

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Private gym and library

Ok.

Enough of the brag.

 

Confrontation at the Watering Hole…(aka-the bathroom sink)

I thought bringing a second cat in the home would have many benefits.

I thought Tara-Habby was in need of a sister, another cat who could share in the tormenting of the two mini schnauzers, whom she deemed privileged to live with her.

I thought two cats are better than one.

I thought Tara-Habby and Winnie would be the best of friends, grooming each other, playing and getting stoned on catnip together.

I thought…

WRONG!

My household is now a battle ground between two female cats, one who wants to play and the other bent on showing the other one who’s the boss.

Hissing, meowing, chasing, racing, climbing, catnip stonage used to refuel the hissing, meowing, chasing racing, climbing!

Why can’t they just get along?

They do. In their own way.

The hissing does not require my spray water bottle intervention.

The meowing does not require the use of my strong voice mode of ‘Stop It!’

The chasing, racing, climbing just requires my getting out of the way.

The catnip stonage…yeah…I admit to being their catnip dealer.

Tara-Habby and Winnie’s relationship is a work in progress and they may never be the BFF’s I’d hope them to be.

And that’s absolutely okay by me.

Gathering at the watering hole

Gathering at the watering hole

 

Are you challenging me?

Are you challenging me?

Back down kitty!

Back down kitty!

 

Bring it on!!!

Bring it on!!!

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