Posts Tagged ‘Miss Mia Sopaipilla’

The cat’s meow

March 14, 2017

Flower child.

Miss Mia Sopaipilla reports from the field that spring has sprung, no matter what your calendar may say.

Also, she adds, you needn’t worry yourself sick about health care. Whenever Mia gets the vapors, a sick headache, or the jim-jams, some two-legged type takes her to the vet and picks up the tab.

Apparently this good Samaritan also provides nutrition and sanitation, likewise free of charge.

Mia recommends we all get ourselves one of them there.

 

Meow mix

February 25, 2017
The Turk loves him some velour blanket and sunshine.

The Turk loves him some velour blanket and sunshine.

Remember the good old days, when there were commies under your bed?

Now it’s just cats. And they’re both under it and on top of it.

Mia goes to the mattresses. Well, to be specfic, under same.

Mia goes to the mattresses. Well, to be specific, under same.

Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment) generally pitches his command tent atop the bed, where he can enjoy a panoramic view of the inside of his eyelids.

For purposes of security, his adjutant and aide-de-camp Miss Mia Sopaipilla favors a (mostly) undisclosed location.

I’ve wondered more than once whether they’re solar-powered. If so, their batteries should be topped off nicely.

Despair

May 31, 2016
Life. Don't talk to me about life.

Life. Don’t talk to me about life.

Miss Mia Sopaipilla contemplates a month without Live Update Guy. Colorless. Forlorn. An unscalable wall of gloom.

Wake me when December ends

December 1, 2015
Cold outside ... must ... conserve ... energy.

Cold outside … must … conserve … energy.

Proof positive, as if any were needed, that cats are smarter than us.

You won’t catch a cat outside of a warm bed at dark-thirty on a brisk December morning. Not once breakfast is over, anyway.

The Gentrification Blues

February 11, 2015

Giving thanks

November 27, 2014
Mister Boo is thankful for monocular vision, but says the Cone of Shame can get lost pretty much any old time now. Turkish and Mia are thankful that nobody has tried to put Cones of Shame on them lately, and so are we.

Mister Boo is thankful for monocular vision, but says the Cone of Shame can get lost pretty much any old time now. Turkish and Mia are thankful that nobody has tried to put Cones of Shame on them lately, and so are we.

That time of year again, is it?

Mister Boo is thankful for monocular vision following successful surgeries to remove one bad eye and repair one not-so-bad eye. Also for the delicious bits of chicken breast that accompany his four-times-daily rounds of post-op medication.

Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment) and Chief of Staff Miss Mia Sopaipilla are thankful for full bowls of top-shelf cat chow that for some reason are on my kitchen counter.

Their staff is thankful for paying work, a flat roof over their freshly New Mexican heads, and the sod firmly underfoot where it belongs. Here’s hoping Thanksgiving 2014 finds you likewise.

And a special thanks to everyone who keeps popping round to check on us, despite the irregular posting of late. We’ll be back on track before you can say “Happy holidays.”

Meanwhile, you still can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant, kid. Don’t forget to pick up the garbage.

Best. Cat toy. Ever.

October 2, 2014
All it takes to entertain Miss Mia Sopaipilla is a pile of wrapping paper the size of a former Amazonian rain forest. Thanks, Mayflower!

All it takes to entertain Miss Mia Sopaipilla is a pile of wrapping paper the size of a former Amazonian rain forest. Thanks, Mayflower!

Print window

August 1, 2014
A study in black and white.

A study in black and white.

Got myself a new multifunction printer. Came with a cat and everything.

When shopping for electronica one must consider whether the device can bear the weight of a largish feline on cool days. Miss Mia Sopaipilla, for example, likes to toast her po-po on our DSL modem. And Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment), pretty much sits wherever he wants, because he can. Paws that look like tennis balls studded with X-Acto knives lend one a certain air of authority.

So while I was stalking the aisles of Best Buy I was thinking: “Will that feed tray snap off if the Turk uses it as a springboard? Is the top uncomfortable enough to send Mia elsewhere for a nap?” That sort of thing.

Thus I went with the Epson XP-810. It’s a cute little dickens, $129.99, accessible via wifi whether you’re using a desktop, laptop, phone or tablet, and the only thing that makes me nervous cat-wise is the tray that catches completed print jobs, which sticks itself out like a big black tongue the first time you use it.*

Herself has already blasted plenty paperwork through it, and so far the cats have largely ignored it, though the Turk is slightly annoyed that it takes up some of his prime napping space. Thanks to everyone for the recommendations.

* Turns out you can push that rascal right back in, and it’ll pop out again — brazzzzzzz! — next time you print something.

Life used to be so hard

April 22, 2014

two-cats-04212014

Everybody sing!

The big six-oh (no)

March 27, 2014
Pikes Peak as seen from the Yucca Flats dog-walking ghetto at Palmer Park.

Pikes Peak as seen from the Yucca Flats dog-walking ghetto at Palmer Park.

I awakened with a start this morning to someone singing “Happy Birthday” and a giant furry creature sitting on my chest.

“Well, that’s that,” I thought. “The devil has finally come to collect. At least things will be warm from now on.”

But no, it was just Herself (singing) and Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (sitting). The former was off to work and the latter was interested primarily in my bedside glass of water. Miss Mia Sopaipilla and Mister Boo, being junior staff, were on perimeter duty.

I got up, grabbed a cup of joe (first things first) and checked the mirror. I didn’t look any younger, but I didn’t look any older, either. We must take these little gifts as they are offered.

This being March in Colorado, I jumped the gun and rode my age-to-be yesterday, in kilometers, when it was shorts-and-short-sleeves weather. Today looks a little iffier, with a high in the mid-50s, a chance of rain and plenty of wind.

It was the sort of ride I’ve come to relish in my declining years — a blend of city streets, gravel paths and single-track, taken on a weirdomobile, the Voodoo Nakisi with its triple crankset and 700×43 tires. It’s spring break, but I managed to avoid breaking anything, despite a ragged parade of homeless zombies on the southern end of the Pikes Peak Greenway and rush-hour traffic on the trails in Palmer Park.

Afterward I cycled over to Ranch Foods Direct and picked up a steak to grill for birthday dinner, which included mashed Yukon Golds, steamed asparagus and a big bowl of ice cream. We watched Stewart and Colbert, walked the Boo in a light rain and that was that. A fine time was had by all.

I’m still waiting for wisdom to arrive, but I haven’t seen the UPS truck yet. Let’s hope it beats the devil here.