Princess, The Queen Of The House

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“Human, if I wanted to be in the picture, I would tell you so.  You see this face? Am I satisfied with it? No. And what do you think about my today’s lunch?! You call that a meal? Oh, come on!”.

The Princess is an unsatisfied cat. Always.


As I was preparing the lunch for us, humans, she was just lying in the middle of the living room, without intention to move.

She was still disappointed.

Her lunch, as she considered, was disastrous.


“What can I do?”, I thought in despair.

The Princess has to be happy. She is the Princess, after all!


My chicken soup on the stow was almost finished.

But the Princess was lying there for an hour as an act of rebellion. That meant she was extremely mad at me.

I was planning to go to the pool today, but how, oh how, could I leave my Princess in such state?!

I started to pet her. She was not purring. Or moving.

“Oh, what the heck. Cats will be cats…I’m going to the pool!”.


My beach towel was somewhere in the closet.

As I was trying to find it, I completely messed up everything inside.

I just couldn’t find it anywhere. “Damn!”.


Princess came, walking her lazy walk, entered the closet, although she knows how I hate it and how I forbid her to do it.

With a blink of an eye, she nested herself on the pile of the wardrobe, ready to fall to sleep.

“Princess, come on, get out! No sleeping in the closet!”.

Trying to pull her out was comparable as trying to make her eat broccoli.

No way in the World I could do it.


“And what about my towel?!”, I thought.


Then, I heard something strange noise in the kitchen.

“Oh, the hell, my soup!”. I removed it quickly from the stove.


As I was bothering about the Princess, the towel and the closet, the soup has turned into something unrecognizable.

I have never ever messed up any meal!

I am a pretty good cook, and now, I’ve accomplished to ruin the soup?!


This day was turning into a complete chaos.


And then, slowly, Princess walked out from the bedroom, dragging the beach towel with her.


“There you go human. I see how incapable you are. So, where is my proper lunch?!”, asked my pretty Princess with a look worth of the Queen Of The House.



Crazy Cat Lady Laughing

catattack I have never laughed so hard,  as when I saw this picture. It is an actual call to 911, from the poor family attacked and trapped by-  THE CAT.


As a cat volunteer, cat adopter, cat owner of three fluffy four-legged loves, I cannot imagine this happening!

A large Himalayan cat is a pretty large.

No, they are large, but with a temperament of a fluffy petting ball!


Himalayan cats are known as perfect home cats,with gentle temperament, playful and surely not aggressive:

They are gentle, calm, and sweet-tempered, but they possess a playful side as well.

Like the Siamese, Himalayans love to play fetch, and a scrap of crumpled paper or a kitty toy will entertain them for hours.

Himalayans are devoted and dependent upon their humans for companionship and protection.

They crave affection and love to be petted and groomed“.

Source :





But what the heck could make that cat so angry to do something like this?

I blame it on the owners!


As with dogs, you actually CAN teach a cat certain ways of behaviour, although when they have their moments, nothing will stopping them for example, going into the fridge or biting your toes.

Probably the owners did something that made this fluffy big ball full of love, to transform into a wild panther!


I really hope that the police rescued the terrified family from the Himalayan gone crazy!

Or maybe even the firemen and EMT’s had to intervene, as well.



Mylo, The Secret Behind The Smile




Mylo The Cat.

Adopted from a cat shelter
Saved from a certain death on the streets of my town.
Without the mother, he was feed with the bottle until he was able to eat the kitten food.
He found his home in my home.
He found his love inside of my heart.

He is The Mylo, The Smiling Cat.

My Superhero In The Clouds

The Phone


You were the one who taught me what a car is.

You taught me how to disassemble it completely

And assemble it again wholly.


You brought my passion for driving into the life

Bringing the speed, and the gasoline into my blood.


You cherished every moment we spent,

Even if you said some harsh words ’cause I climbed the apple tree so high,

I know you really never meant it.


I loved your hands covered in motor oil,

And your heart full of compassion and tearful joy.


I took care of your cats when you were ill,

Making them happy until you return and put them loose to do what they want, on their free will.


I followed you through all my life

As I did through your last days.


Spending days and nights by your hospital bed,

Watching you sleep, and kissing your cheeks.


You were so happy to hold my hand,

With the last strength that you had,

And smile back at me with love at the end.


Every day I remember you and your words.

You were my grandpa, my loving bliss.


May you rest in peace.

Until we meet again, don’t worry, I handle my car pretty well.


Introverted Society


Ok, this is actually not my car sticker, but I would be so proud if I had one like this.

As making a life more and more into car dwelling in the middle of the road jams, it would be so amazing looking at the other cars stickers, and instead of getting pissed off, you could actually have fun.

Or, eventually adding your FB profile sticker to it, to make more friends while waiting in the traffic somnolence.

Am I too crazy with this idea? Am I going too far?

Are the people ready to share some joy and maybe add a new friend out of nowhere?

I think the society closes itself more and more each day. No interactions in real life, or little interactions in real life.

One day we will be just sitting behind our screens, doing our jobs without the need to leave the house.

And the friends will be holographic presentations in the middle of your room, if you want to talk to someone.

A phone call will be an FB, Skype, or whatever other program available for social interaction, with holograms interacting with you.

I have no intention to live in a world like that.

I should probably start an initiative called : “Interact with me, but face to face, while enjoying your favourite drink!”

So, I’ll make a car sticker with twenty cats, and a sentence below:

“Real life means more than just staring into my car window. Let’s get some coffee later. Psychos are excluded. ”

What do you think? Am I bat shit crazy, or the society needs to pull out of the traffic jam?

Crazy Cat Lady Braging




I’m a person who is incapable of receiving a compliment.

I don’t know how to answer if someone tells me, for example, that I have nice earrings.

Also, I never ever brag.

But I could, if I would.

I have done a lot in my profession, got a PhD, but you see, I’m embarrassed talking about it, because for me it is unimportant.

And why? Because I did it, I made it. But I’m not important, so are neither my accomplishments. Hello BPD again, so nice to see you, glad you have spoken your opinion on this topic too!

There is only one thing I love to talk about with other people, as much as I adore to chit-chat about the quantum physics, molecular biology, recent research in the field of medical devices, tattoos and burritos.

That thing are my beloved cats. Three of them. They have adopted me, they rule the house.

I am a humble servant in the cat society, can opener, butler, and the device that makes a cat go purr.

As I volunteer for a cat S.O.S. organization and a cat shelter, I have brought the kittens home. One by one. A little purritos, all cuddled up in the blanket, small and powerless. Losing their breastfeeding cat mother meant death for them unless…someone takes the responsibility to help them and give them a chance to stay alive.

When they came, each one of them was so small, that they had to be fed on the bottle every 2-3 hours. And warmed up, under the lamp, in the blanket. Just like babies. And they were my babies, in a way.

Today, they are grown up masters and rulers.

Night is their time. In choosing on which side of the bed I will sleep, and will I get a pillow or not. When they settle, then they need a little cuddling, then purring, then licking my nose, then…ah..the list is long.

My house panther, the black cat named Karl, he just usually lies on my chest. He’s big. He’s heavy. It is sometimes hard to breath as he’s laying on me like a big black hairball, but it doesn’t bother him much. He chose the spot for chilling, and that’s it.

Morning awakenings are unusual. Either the smallest one grabs my feet under the blanket, or my Princess licks my hair. I think she perceives it as a regular maintenance of the Cat Mother.

So I brag shamelessly.

I am a Cat Mother, I’m a perfect Crazy Cat Lady.


The Childhood Lost And Found



A little plush bear pushed into the corner of a dusty, grey, dark basement.

Talking to the spiders and rats, sometimes cats if they come around, but cats as cats, they usually minded their own business, and were not interested in the chit-chat.

Teddy, once called The Muffin, as he barely remembers, was someones favourite toy.

It was a girl, he recalled, with the dark hair and a funny laugh. She used to put him in the bed before sleeping, tucked him in, hug him. When she was afraid, her hug was tight and trembling. He gave her comfort. The Muffin.

Now, dusty and forgotten, all that has left was his ripped fur, one eye and some memories of a better days.

How many time has he spent in that abandoned corner? He couldn’t tell. No one was coming into the basement for ages.

At first, he felt abandoned.

Then afraid of loneliness.

At some point he got used to it. A little sunshine spark woke him up every morning. That was a thrill, knowing that outside the Sun still exists.

One day, his peace was disturbed by abrupt door opening, running steps down the stairs, and harsh male voices.

They were complaining about the amount of trash that needs to be taken away.

Muffin heard a word “selled”. The house was selled. And where is he going to end?!

The rumbling started. Piece by piece, every part of the basement was cleaned up.

All the stuff he used to look at so many years just vanished in boxes.

As same as he did. Thrown into the box, together with the broken porcelain doll, old newspapers and an old radio.

The steps carried him out into the sunlight. Blinded, he breathed the fresh air, forgotten scent of open space and a freshly mowed loan.

The truck was roaring and the boxes were literally flying into it. The guys weren’t kidding, they have cleaned up every corner in an instance.

And then, in all that noise and turbulence of sounds, he heard a voice. Known voice who once tucked him into the bed. The voice was grown now, but still, it was the same laugh, the same tone.

He could not speak or move, but he wanted so desperately just to see her again.

One of the workers started arguing. The other was shouting at loud. Soon, they pushed each other, starting a fight.

The box flipped over in that mess.

Porcelain doll broke apart. The radio ended up on the grass, the wind lifted the old newspapers right into the air. But the teddy stayed laying on the pavement. The Sun was directly shining into him.

The voice said through the light, stunned and delighted in the same time: ” Muffin! Oh, my little fluffy Muffin, there you are!”

And the familiar hands lifted him up into a hug never forgotten.