The life, times, and learnings of the Dippy Cat. Cruising through life one catastrophe at a time.
Dippy was an abandoned kitten, raised for the first four weeks of her life in a Tupperware tote in a car. Once freed, she never looked back.
Dip is one of a kind, and this is her blog.
The Dippy Cat
Wednesday, June 29, 2016
I Don't Care About Waldo- Where the Hell is Dippy?
Bedtime at our house is a family affair. A family with two toddlers- one teething and one in the terrible twos.
It normally is simple. We lay down. There is a lot of angry yowling.
Then there is running.
Then Dippy jumps on the foot of my bed with all of the grace of a hamstrung buffalo and flops over on her side and begins to chew on my toes. Nike jumps lightly and gracefully onto my bedside table and meeps. I move the blanket.
If I do not move the blanket, he will begin to pet my face- running his foot from my brow down over my lips and back again until I relocate the offending fabric, and he lays down against my head, and all is right with the world. He drools.
This morning at 4am I woke up. My glasses are in the bathroom. The room is full of fuzzy silhouettes. I feel no cat on my feet. There is no cat on my pillow.
Suddenly I hear running feet, and a hippo on roller skates bounds onto the bed. It yowls, and burrows under the covers, head first.
It stretches out down my bare leg, and puts all four paws against the skin.
I do not know which cat it is.
I edge sideways seeking escape. The paws wrap around my leg. Someone is licking my kneecap. As it is not Brian, I am in serious trouble.
I shake my leg softly. I now have a cat with it's arms and legs wrapped completely around my thigh, conveniently near my femoral artery.
I begin trying to remember if I have made funeral arrangements.
A cat leaps lightly up on my bedside table and begins to knead my pillow. I still cannot see.
Oh dear God. It is Dippy under the blanket.
I wonder if last rites can be successfully self-administered. I begin a combination of the Lord's Prayer and a Tibetan Prayer for the Dead. I wonder if this t shirt will make a tourniquet.
The cat on my pillow bites my ear- hard- and steps onto my forehead. She proceeds to shove her foot into my mouth, and begins using my tongue for a pull toy. I have found Dippy.
The cat on my leg begins to drool.
And you wonder why I don't bother to go to bed early.