I Like To Drink From the Sink

2004-06-02T07:33:00.000-07:00

There are some strange animals staying under the stairs... more as soon as I find out what the fuck they are....

xo
Snowball.

2004-04-14T15:43:00.000-07:00

Is this thing on?

Ahem. My life at home. A picture book. By Snowball.

My name is Snowball. I write online. I like to drink from the sink.

This is Young Black.

He is for sale because I have decided I am tired of his prescence. Why, you may ask? Let's take a look.

Class...

Ass...

Gas...

I'm here. I'm dear. I will not dissappear. This has been a blog by Snowball. Thank you.

2004-04-02T10:54:00.000-08:00

This dog truly is an incredible animal. Lately, she's taken to whining all day, when the girl is home, and when the girl is not home. Girl just taps her and says "That's enough!" As if that's going to quell the vocal passion in canine's throat. OH ALAS! Poor are my ears for hearing such rancidy sounds, like acid draining my skull of it's contents!

In an uh... unrelated story, would anyone like to buy a stocky load of meat, ready to be prepared for the horse of your choice?

2004-03-23T08:45:00.000-08:00

The bathroom box is in shambles.
Young Black trails excrement across the floor, directly in the path I walk. Does Girl notice? Not usually, I'm sorry to say. While I had captured his attention, with a ball on a string, the other day, I gacve him a stern warning. This will be the last time he will make shambles out of my bathroom box. The bathroom box I allow him to use. He has already made a mockery out of feeding time, needing to eat every minute. Picking upon my dish when his is complete. Girl agrees, and has made a pact- although with who I'm not sure- that she and Young Black are now on diets. She seems to be trying, filling herself with water, when she feels hunger approach. Too bad she has such a large salt intake, and isn't aware the combination will bloat her like a pig before a roast. Young Black however, has come to sitting under the food pantry and yelling. He is quite a disgrace.

Girl has been having an unusual quantity of men over. Men I have not yet spoken to, or received letters of their intentions. This does not seem good at all. Also, the other night, the small talking box emited it's song, and when she picked it up, and greeted it, her face became pale. Whatever the talking box had to say stirred such emotion in Girl that her eyes turned to liquid, and after a moment, she dropped to the floor. Since that moment, she's been writing a lot. More than usual. And searching through old pictures, and shoeboxes, as if submerging herself with her former days. It's curious behaviour. I have my eye on it.

Oh PS! The birds have begun to come and fest from the food box that hangs outside the window, more and more by each passing day! Their colors and the spread of their flying instruments excites me so! Oh how I wish I were capable of ending their patterns. Seizing the moment of their departures. Freezing it in time, and making it my own. Holding, in my own paws, that which contains the powers of the wind. Lucky creatures!

Till Another Day
Snowball

2004-03-19T11:01:00.000-08:00

Here I have returned!
Good grace to all the wellwishers, for cancer has left my system. I am, however, severly dehydrated, says the doctor. Girl has been putting water in my meals, which is fine for the first few minutes, but later turns into a soggy, disgusting mess. I choke it down little by little, because it hurts her frail feelings so, should I choose to go malnourished that eve.

She has also developed a system regaurding my face. Each morning, as the sun shines brightly through the venetian blinds, and stirs my senses to awaken, Girl looks down at me and says "It's time for your meds, kitty." That's when I know to promptly find the nearest exit to escape the hellish experience that thus then occurs. She chases me and once obtaining me, holds me down across her lap. Once I am pinned down, she grabs my face, holding it up and sticking some sort of pole into my mouth. This pole releases a fluid down into my throat, which tastes like fucking crap, and then she puts me down. It happens very fast, I just don't see the point. But alas, there's more!

When the stick-in-bottle excersise is complete, she goes into her litter room and jumps out with yet another stick on the end bristles coated with a gel-textured gunk, which she always reminds me "will taste like chicken." It never does. She proceeds to once more pin me down, rubbing the bristles across my face, and yelling till my mouth opens, at which point she thrusts the stick into my mouth, rubbing it around. I don't see the point in any of this, and the Mother certainly never did this, so I'm not sure I understand what's happening. Young Black and the Dog just look on as this occurs, not even coming to my rescue.

The liquid in the small bottle is almost done, so I am hoping this will end soon. To make up for the atrosities upon me, Girl returned home one day with a small wooden box. She proceeded to fill it with tiny grainish balls, then she went outside! OUTSIDE! My favrite place! She returned around the side by the window I sit at, and placed the box on a branch. When she returned to the house, she started screaming something incoherent (she really must work on her communication skills) and grabbed my face (THIS also must cease) to turn it around. Oh but what did my wondering eyes spy upon! Flying animals feast from the box! How I love to see the, outside, with their wings, running around, luring me to their world! And now I watch them all the time, for they come so close to me! Girl must love me afterall.

2004-03-04T17:34:00.000-08:00

Meow all.
I regret that I have not posted my thoughts from the previous day, you see, I have a very troubling problem.

I've had a pain on my neck for some years now. Nothing that bothered me terribly, but just enough to make me aware that it's there. Well, I'm afraid the bump has turned very ugly and very large, and possibly cancerous.

Girl is extremely troubled, and has made a doctors appointment for me, for tomorrow afternoon, and cleared away her Sunday, if she should need to bring me back. She cries a lot now and makes me promise I won't go to be with mom, but I can't make that promise. I really don't know what will become of me, but I'm not scared.

I know Girl and I both have many options to consider, if this does come up cancerous. Truth is, I'm not a kitten anymore, and surgery may not be the best option for me. I suppose we'll have to wait, and pray, and see.

God be willing, I'll return to blog another day.
xoxo

Snowball.

2004-03-02T08:42:00.000-08:00

Today Girl left very early. I don't know exactly where she goes, but she goes every Tuesday and Wednesday- all day long, and leaves me in charge of Dog and Black. Dog cries a horrible amount and always wants to eat. I refuse to feed her, but I do sit on the pink cushion near her bowl, and stare.

The Black one brought me the bell toy and I threw it up and down the steps for him to bring back. It's shiny and it rings, and it's beautiful. I'm hoping Girl will bring home the new Britney Spears CD because I watch it on TV and it looks good.

Last night I learned something very important. When the gates to the washing/dryingm achines are open, I can crawl behind them and get to the basement window. I quickly reported back to Black Taylor; and him and I are now working on creating some sort of opposable thumb, out of matchsticks and Purina, so that we can explore the world on the other side of the glass.

One final note: Oh how wonderful it is to sit in the sunbeams! The shiny warmth has made my day!

2004-02-29T16:54:00.000-08:00

This is the intelligence I live with every day.

2004-02-29T15:16:00.000-08:00

Girl went missing last night, never returning home. When she finally did get home, there was blood around her ankles from a cut she had neglected to properly take care of. Serves her right. Also, there was a male in the house. The one we used to like, and now don't. The dog gave him a stern barking to, but he assumed she didn't know who he was. Oh, we know who you are buddy, we know all about you.

Anyway she left again ten mns after she came home! Girl, that is, and I spent the day taking pictures of my companions, and dining on hard food till Girl returned from the place she goes with the red smock.

I grow tired of this machine. My nailsare too long to be clicking away on this white, plastic keyboard, and the bright apple shape keeps blinking in my eye.

Discovery today: I can't reach the faucet on my own.

2004-02-27T08:23:00.000-08:00

Growing exausted with Girls lack of time with me, I've logged onto the white block, listened for the groaning through the line, and found my way over to blogger.com. Once there, I typed in her password, she is extremely uncreative, and has never changed a single password in her life, and viola! Here, I am, with my own thoughts, as published online.

I am of pure white, and was born in the woods just outside of Sherman, Connecticut. I have lived in this family since I was six weeks old, and consider it my only family. I enjoy simple pleasures in life. I like to drink from the sink. Water tastes better from the faucet, simple as that, although when I sit by the counter and request my liquid nourishment, Girl yells something to the extent of "leaks! yaba daba No! yaba daba!" Whatever. I also enjoy when Girl opens the patio door so that Taylor, and the Dog and I can sit in the sun. I'm ammused at how excited she gets when she see's the three of us sitting in the same five by five plot of carpet, and she runs over to lavish us in hugs for a good solid ten minutes. But this is how humans are, and I am excepting of it. What more can I do?

Reguardless, here I am, and I can assure you my daily adventures are more exciting than listening to Girl whine about the large notebooks she brings home, or when she stares at the color picture box and yells "Carrie and Big! Carrie and Big!" Don't get me wrong, I love the my family dearly, and understand, since the passing of Mom, it is my job to watch over the family... they just make it so hard, and never listen to me. I will keep trying anyway.

Sincerely Yours,
Snowball