Today at BlackBeary Condo – Stones Concert

IMG_20140214_100544It’s 3am at BlackBeary Condo, the perfect time for BlackBeary to sing the songs of her people. The quiet hallway allows her perfect pitch to resonate all through the condo, thus providing maximum appreciative value to anyone who can hear her.

“I don’t get all the naps that I want. I don’t get all the treats that I want.”


“But if I sing all night,”


“My human might”

“Oh geeze, not again.”

“Finally do what I want.”

“BlackBeary! Please stop that.”

“I don’t get all the naps that I want. I don’t get all the treats that I want. But if I sing all night….”

When BlackBeary hears her human sigh and rustle the covers, probably pulling her pillow over her head, as she is wont to do, BlackBeary decides to nap for a few moments. To rest her voice. There’s still time. The next round will start in about a hour, as soon as her human has drifted off to sleep again.




Today at BlackBeary Condo – All the Gravy is Gone

BlackBeary’s human is standing in the kitchen, just gazing into that weird box that puffs out cold air when she opens it. What she doesn’t seem to be aware of, is totally oblivious about is that BlackBeary’s food dish is empty. For heaven’s sake, all the good bits are gone, especially the gravy. All the gravy is gone. The only stuff left is the icky-not-worth-eating junk.

“Hungry.” BlackBeary nudges her human.

“It’s only four o’clock,” her human says, not even bothering to look at the effectively empty plate. “I fed you at eleven.”


BlackBeary’s human pulls the peanut butter from the cold box and something green that has to be yucky. Most of the stuff in the cold box is yucky. And green stuff is especially yucky.


“You’ve got a full bowl of dry food.”

“And? Fancy Feast?”

The human proceeds to slather peanut butter on some long green disgusting vegetable looking thing, and then–and then, oh my god, she puts it in her mouth. Ick. So nasty. It crunches as she chews sending waves of repulsion through BlackBeary, making her want to run away. The sound of crunching vegetable is repugnant.


“There’s still food left from this morning.”OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

“Wha?” Obviously the crunchy vegetable thing has made BlackBeary’s human delusional. “Are you serious?”

“You didn’t eat what I gave you this morning.”

“I ate the edible stuff.”

BlackBeary’s human looks at the cabinet where the Fancy Feast is stored, as if pondering.

“Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.”

“Okay. Geeze, you’re demanding.”

“Sooooooooooooooo hungry.”

“Okay. Okay. Just stop that. Please.”

Still crunching the awful vegetable, the human puts the leftover Fancy Feast plate in the sink, pulls a clean plate from one cabinet and a beautiful can of Fancy Feast from another cabinet. The snick of the can opening eases BlackBeary’s worried mind. Starvation has been averted once again.

“There you go.” Her human places the plate on the floor.

“Love you, Mom.”

Today at BlackBeary Condo

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERACarrying a bowl of yummy-yogurt and yucky-peaches, on clumsy feet the human pads to the stinky-new-smelling recliner and sits, pushing at it to get it to recline. BlackBeary knows her human thinks it’s nicer than a regular recliner because, sure, it looks like one of those fancy wing back chairs that one sees in old mansions, but it just smells bad, too new. Humans can be so dense.

“Mine,” BlackBeary says, wanting the yogurt. The peaches can go hang.

“Well, get up here.” The human pats the seat beside her. Fortunately she is one of those humans thin enough to share. But no self-respecting cat wants to share a seat on a fake-antique-ish, wrong-smelling chair.


“Well, get up here.”


“Well, get up here.”

This goes on far too long. Over and over again. And over again. So BlackBeary pulls out the heavy artillery. “Mine,” BlackBeary says giving her human the round, sad kitty eyes. So hungry. For yogurt. Greek honey-vanilla yogurt.

“Come on. I know you can jump that high.” Her human pats the chair seat beside her again.

“Mine.” More sad kitty eyes.

“Well, get up here.”

Letting her eyes narrow, BlackBeary walks away. “Fuck you.”

Long, painful minutes later, the human puts the now mostly empty bowl on the floor, leaving BlackBeary the dregs of the yogurt. Thankfully all the peaches are gone. Ick.

With much disdain, BlackBeary saunters over and inspects the bowl, takes a few licks.  “Bitch.” It tastes like peaches.