I'm Back!

This is me, Mabel. (in case you've forgotten what I look like). I've not been able to blog for awhile, but I'm back now.

Hi everyone, Mabel here, your favorite Diva. I've not been able to blog for quite awhile. Mama #2, my Mama and notorious internet addict, has blocked my access to the internet for several weeks now. 

I have tried to take control of the laptop many different times, but Mama #2 would not relinquish it until I plopped my butt down on the keyboard tonight. 

Astonishing.

Yes, it was an astonishing move, but I was desperate, and it worked! Mama #2 put down her computer after I sat on it, tail and all. 

Let's get down to blog business and catch up.

As you can tell by my picture, I am restored to perfect health.

Much has been happening around here. Mama #1 left early one morning with Mama #2. When they got home, Mama #1 couldn't see too well and had something over her eye. She slept alot and then watched the "on" all the time for a week or so (more about the "on" later). Mama #2 was pretty nice to her at first, but then she got really grouchy and snappy. (I don't know why she got so grouchy; I rather liked having Mama #1 home all the time). Now, Mama #2 drives Mama #1 somewhere every day and then drives her home again. I don't know where they go, but they leave every day together. 

And, I am proud to announce, Harley and I have earned the privilege of  NOT getting locked in the dog room when the Mamas leave. We have shown ourselves to be perfectly trustworthy and have only shredded a few things over the past couple of weeks.

Maggie continues to go on forced marches by herself, getting "a loan time" with Mama #2. Harley and I now have to go on forced marches together. It's actually kind of nice to march without my beloved, stuck-up, know it all, older sister (Can you tell we don't get along too well?). I know she loves marching without me and Harley, because she tells us, every chance she gets.

As far as our marching, there have been no sightings of assassin dogs for weeks now. I suppose that, since I've been unable to blog (darn you, Mama #3009!), my popularity has waned, and no one feels the need to dispose of me.

Well, I'm back! I can get on the computer anytime now by simply planting my butt on the keyboard! Mama #2 can't stand it and lets me have the computer right away! Ha!

Interestingly, I have noted a dramatic increase in two wheeled transport devices, "bicycles", on the streets during my forced marches. Sometimes, they even have a dog attached! 

Very strange!

I used to see two, maybe three on a march, but now I see that many "bicycles" in the first block or two. They are everywhere!

And dogs. I see many, many dogs out on forced marches (and forced runs, too!) every night. All have ropes around their necks and are marching (or running) with their humans.

Strange.

I thought Mama #2 was the only one with a weird attachment to forced marching. I guess it's a human disease, and it appears to be spreading fast! 

Beware!

Mama #1 hasn't caught this disease yet, but it's only a matter of time. 

Does that mean I'll have to march every night with both Mamas? Since Mama #1 can't see too well now, I guess I'll have to go to a special training for "seeing eye divas." Won't I look great leading my Mama along out on the streets with my sister cats Agnes and Millie (they love to march) following along behind us?

Not.

I was meant to be a couch Diva or a front yard Diva; not a marching Diva or a seeing eye Diva. 

My preferred specialty is lap Diva.

Anyway, back to tonight's forced march; I saw something very strange and I didn't like it at all.

First, I need to add that the Mamas have been staring at the "on" every evening. (You know, the "on." Mama #1 says, "I wonder what's on?" then she stares across the room at this thing. Then she'll say something like, "Bones is on" or "NCIS is on." Then she'll stare at the "on" for a long time).

This week, something called "football" has been on the "on." It's really strange; these people wear thick pads all over their bodies and run and hit each other. I just turned my back when they watched it and didn't think too much about it. I thought it was kind of boring.

Now, tonight when I was out marching, I saw three small people running around chasing a ball in a yard. They were wearing the same kind of thick pads all over their bodies. I stared. I admit it, I stared. They ran around, then one threw himself at one of the other people. 

Amazing.

He flew through the air and hit him. Hard. Right in the middle of the back. Crunch.

It's wrong to hit someone.

I didn't notice any hitting when the Mamas were staring at the "ON," but these little people were throwing themselves at each other and hitting each other. Hard.

Then they hit the ground. Harder.

And they laughed.

I didn't like it.

I didn't like it at all.

I barked.

I barked and told them to stop. Harley joined me (She'll join anyone who barks. She's such a joiner!) and she even raised the fur on her back.

Mama #2 made us march faster and pulled us away from the people hitting each other.

I thought it was very rude. You know, first the hitting, then the pulling. 

Mama #2 didn't seem to think the hitting was wrong, and didn't like us barking at them and telling them it's wrong.

Maybe Mama #2 likes watching people throwing themselves through the air and hitting each other just to take away their ball. 

Shocking.

Maybe Harley and I should try doing that. Throwing ourselves at each other over a ball.

Nah. It's not worth it for a ball. A toy duck maybe, but not a ball.

Until next time,

Your Diva, 

Mabel

 Me and my identical twin sister, Harley, playing with our duck (I'm on the left, in case you can't tell us apart).

 Of course, I won. This is me, Mabel, with my duck.

I do share everything with my beloved twin sister, Harley. (she's on the right, in case you can't tell us apart. We're identical, you know). I even share my toy duck. Please notice that we did not throw ourselves at each other, but we still had a great time playing. Those padded people could learn a lot from Harley and me.

Maybe they don't have a duck to play with.