Sunday, March 09, 2008

My Name is Brumley

Hello! My name is Brumley. I own the person who normally writes this blog. However, when she told me about the topic that Janice wanted her to address, I told her that I was writing this post. I know that my pet human has owned other animals including those despicable dogs over the years, but she does not need to document them. I'm the only owner that matters. She thinks it is really cute when she tells how her first cat was named E.R.M. because she was learning to spell at the time. I was smart enough not to adopt a family with kids who would give me a dumb name like that and then chase me around the house. No, when she showed up at the A.S.P.C.A. shelter there in Cincinnati, I was immediately drawn to her because she didn't have kids. I didn't give any of those kids who were ooh-ing and ah-ing over me the time of day. Then she tells about Wichita, the black cat that she got from her brother's cat's litter when he was stationed in Wichita, Kansas. I'm tired of hearing of poor Wichita's demise at the mouth of her neighbor's awful chihuahua. (See, I told you dogs are despicable.) Then there was the dog she had that howled every time the "Mississippian" came down the railroad a little over a block from the house in which she grew up. Granny always tells about that dog howling the time the tornado hit Hatley, just a little farther down the road. Dogs are not unique to alerting pet humans to impending disasters. My pet human had purchased a new washing machine when we moved from my home state of Ohio to this wonderful state they call Tennessee. She put some clothes in the washer and went upstairs to do a little more unpacking. I stayed downstairs. I'd never seen one of those washers except the night my pet human took me to the basement when there was a tornado coming over our house in Cincinnati, but it wasn't on that night. However, I instinctively knew that it should not be sending forth water and bubbles all over our kitchen, and I ran and got my pet human to come and take a look. She immediately obeyed me. She knew who was boss! She turned off that washing machine and then had quite a time cleaning the kitchen. Of course, she then invited a stranger to the house to come check out what was wrong with the new washer. It turned out to be some hose was closed or something like that. Then there is the dog Floppy who died on the same day that Elvis died. She says she was more broken up by Floppy's death than Elvis'. I can't imagine why anyone would be that broken up about a dog who had floppy ears. Dogs are stupid! Then there is Cissy. That was Floppy's mom, I think. Cissy was given to the family by someone who worked with my Granny. Later on, I think that Granny and PawPaw and my pet human took in her nephew's dogs Honey and Priscilla when they moved and were renting and couldn't have a dog. Those are the ones I've heard my pet human mention. Granny has also mentioned a dog named Sam, but my pet human was too small to remember him very well. She doesn't need to remember any of them--just me! By the way, the picture is of me camping. This was my favorite spot in the Minnie Winnie until Granny and PawPaw sold it and quit letting my pet human drive them and me on camping trips. I will say that Granny was having a very hard time getting in and out of the camper without my pet human helping push her in, but I just really hate that I don't get to go camping any more. We went to such interesting places. I didn't like Georgia because they had these little bugs called sand fleas. My pet human made me wear a stupid collar that I didn't like. Florida was very nice. They had such interesting plants. I'd never seen anything like them in Ohio or Tennessee (or Mississippi). I am the only owner that my pet human needs to remember! Now, she'd better get me some catnip for taking over her blog for the night.

1 comment:

Janice said...


Thank you for this wonderful story. You obviously have trained your pet human well.