Hey everybody, I’m back.

I know it’s not Wednesday, but I just couldn’t wait until next week.

I want to wish you the happiest of holidays.

And tell you about my latest indignity.

What is it about aging anyway?

Haven’t we paid our dues?

Aren’t these supposed to the be “golden years?”




Here’s what happened:

I was going along, minding my own feline business, when my peeps noticed some little bumps on my chin. Well, it scared them. They immediately went to the dark side and worried that my skin cancer was back. So they stuffed me into a cat carrier (against my wishes I might add) and drove me to the vet.

She poked and prodded and examined me from top to bottom, and then proclaimed loudly in front of everyone, “It’s a zit.”

I’m not kidding, she actually used the word, “zit.”

I was mortified.

And then to add another layer of insult, she squeezed it – popped that little bump.

I mean seriously, is that any way to treat an aging cat?

A grimalkin?

No it is not.

To my credit, I maintained my dignity even in this rather undignified situation.

I did yowl a bit, just to make it perfectly clear that I was not a happy cat.

In the end I guess it worked out okay.

My peeps were hugely relieved that it wasn’t cancer.

And well, I was too. Another surgery wasn’t looking like any fun.

So now I have to have icky tasting medicine spread on my chin twice a day.

They tell me not to lick it, but really…

I’m a cat.


P.S. If you’re looking for the acne in the photo above, you can stop. You can’t see it! Though I am giving my best “glowing eye” stare.


Here’s hoping Santa is good to you!