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Do I need to research Lord Dudley Mountcatten’s family tree?
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I do not. But kudos to the marketing genius who came up with this. I’m sure they’re making a fortune.
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I do happen to be a Rolling Stones fan, RIP Charlie Watts, but that’s a big no on the lips and tongue bottle of whiskey.
And on further examination? It’s a good thing I don’t want to add one to the man cave bar.
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65,000 euro? Holy guacamole Batman… that’s a seriously pricey sip!
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Last week my husband came home from the store with a leash and harness for Lord Dudley Mountcatten. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea… and neither was Lord Dudley Mountcatten.
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Have you ever tried to put a harness on an uncooperative feline? It’s a lot like herding wombats, only bloodier.
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And while his Lordship has wanted to go outside since we got him…
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I doubt this is quite how he envisioned it.
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If looks could kill… we would have been dead on the spot.
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My husband quickly learned that walking a cat requires an infinite amount of patience.
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For every 10 steps Lord Mountcatten walked?
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He spent 10 minutes sitting, biting at the harness and glaring up at us as if to say this contraption is robbing me of my dignity, not to mention my will to live.
Making the decision to keep him housebound was hard, as all our other pets were free to roam outside. But after losing one to a speeding car and then watching Dudley run right for the road the one time he got loose, I was okay with him being under house arrest.
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I mean really, it’s not such a hardship to be waited on hand and foot by your human staff and pampered with an endless supply of catnip.
The whole walking on a leash scenario seems like the ultimate tease to me. A taste of freedom without being free. But the husband thinks it’s wonderful and plans to continue. Time will tell…
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When you’re a housebound cat, squirrels on the patio furniture are the ultimate tease.
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So close!
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Poor Dudley.
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Even Momma Red got in on the game.
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His Lordship was actively cackling when she showed up.
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So close, and yet so far.
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Do I love a good baked potato? Of course… please pass the butter. But do I need someone’s face on my tater?
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I definitely do not.
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Best gift ever? Clearly some people don’t know how to shop.
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Whaaaat?
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Let’s wrap our minds around the idea of someone actually applying for a patent for water soluble panties in a can.
🥴
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They’re right. I love cats… but I do not love that. Not even close.
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Because sadly we’re still here.
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Yay! I’m in the clear.
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Sorry, I had to.
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This was quite a letdown.
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Preach, sister.
Preach!
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Cats. They’re always way ahead of the curve.
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Sink or swim. That’s pretty much where we are…
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This is an aerial shot of my little Maine town and I dare you to say it’s not a beautiful place to live.
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This is Lord Dudley Mountcatten and he’s a bit of a goober.
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He could tuck his tail beside him, or move farther down the window to accommodate its length…. but does he? No.
Because he’s a goober.
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Our neighbor and his two teenage boys came over last weekend and ended up at the man cave pool table. Poor kids, my husband and their father were both telling them how to play and they couldn’t have been more confused.
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Does Lord Dudley need a Princess Leia donut hairdo wig?
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The answer is no.
But his mother is seriously considering the Storm Trooper catnip mice….
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Because, come on… what’s not to love?
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten is a good cat…. for the most part. When we first adopted him he had an annoying habit of scratching the furniture but my purchase and rapid deployment of a tiny water pistol solved that problem lickety split. His highness does not like to get wet.
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Well, it wasn’t swift. But lately, I have to say…. it’s been quite thorough. Instead of scratching the furniture? He’s decided to unravel our Berber carpet one loop at a time.
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Every morning I wake up to new section of destruction….
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And I have to say, I am not pleased.
Lord Dudley?
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He denies everything and points at my husband.
We don’t have a dog… the cat has to blame someone.
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*Warning- this is really just a Dudley photo dump and has little (okay, absolutely nothing) to do with the Olympics*
I love to watch the Olympics, sometimes with Lord Dudley Mountcatten by my side. So with that in mind, I bring you…
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His Lordship’s favorite event is the feather ball toss.
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He practices daily.
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And is in gold medal contention for his bat it under the couch and then howl until the human recovers it routine.
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If looks could kill?
Ouch.
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Nice squashing form!
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No, I’m not through taking pictures yet.
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Caught in mid swipe…
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Time outs must be taken for fly hunting.
And then?
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A nap on the ball.
Athletes be tired.
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Come on. You know you want to…
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I am seriously and utterly screwed.
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My only weapon is the tiny water pistol I use on his Lordship when he scratches the furniture. So unless zombies melt like the Wicked Witch of the West?
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I’m screwed.
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When your human puts an air conditioner in your favorite bird watching window….
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You have to jump up there and perch to make your displeasure known.
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You howl, you mewl, you bat at the offending object… but when your pesky human doesn’t remove the noisy vibrating box?
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You give up and settle in to watch the birds.
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And while up wasn’t a problem, down proves to be a bit more troublesome. Your human is no help whatsoever, laughing at your maneuvers for at least 5 minutes before she thought to film you….
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And for this infraction…. I’m sure there will be appropriate and commensurate revenge.
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River's world..... 