It’s all About the Gibbs


Mom?  When are you going to get up? It’s 6:00 a.m. Saturday morning. You were up by 5:20 a.m. the last five days. What makes this day different?  Sleeping in, you say? Ummmm, No. Get your backside out of bed and put food in my dish. If you happen to have roasted chicken in that big white cold box, throw some of that in my dish too.

If you decide to choose otherwise, I will go over to the window and rattle the blinds and then I will bound across the bed, over to your dresser and push something onto the floor before I whap your hanging necklaces with my paw and push something else off your bedside table.

A hungry cat does not take prisoners.

You’re getting up? Gee, thanks mom.  Ziva thanks you too.

Oh man, that kibble was sooooo yummy. Mom, now that you’re out of bed and my belly is full, I guess I’ll take a quick catnap so I have the energy to play later.


(Thirty minutes later)

OK, enough of that. I wake up and direct my claws and butt-in-the-air stretch toward the couch instead of the scratching post that is attached to my napping place. Mom, why are you yelling at me? I do this all the time when you’re not home. What’s the big deal?

Wow, mom appears to be really, really mad. Her behavior is nothing like when she picked me out of the line-up at the shelter. She was smiling and cooing and she let me sit on her shoulders. I summoned mom into my shelter room by sitting at the wood-paned glass door, giving her my “please take me home, pulleeze” look. She was easy then, not so much now. “Gibberrrzz!” she yells. Mom tells me I’m a naughty boy for attacking the couch and I sulk away to one of my hiding places.


(Thirty minutes later)

Well, what’s next mom? Are you going to change the sheets on the bed? If you are, Ziva and I can help by holding down the middle of the bed.  Are you going to open the patio door and let me outside? I promise I won’t make you mad again by climbing onto the railing. Are you going to stand in the kitchen and do the strange things you do with stuff from the big white cold box? If you are, I’ll jump from the table to the china cabinet to the top of the kitchen cupboards and watch in the hopes you will have another piece of roaster chicken for me.

Oh, it’s time for you to get cleaned up and leave us to fend for ourselves? Yeah, what else is new? You do that almost every day.  I don’t know where you go or what you’re doing, but it can be a little boring here while you’re gone.  Ziva and I sleep a lot and half-heartedly play with the toys that are meant for moms to dangle and toss.

In any event, while you’re in the shower, I’ll take it easy here in the sink and occasionally yowl at you to let you know that I don’t approve of you drenching yourself in water.


(Thirty minutes later)

Mom, I know you’re heading out the door soon.  I cannot guess the reason why.  Just know that Ziva and I miss you when you’re away.  We cherish and love the care you give us.  We may not always like the toenail clippers, trips to the vet, being scolded, or that big noisy thing that picks up our free-flying fur, but we do love you.  Please come home soon.  We can only nap so much and my stomach can go only so long without kibble and roaster chicken.

Your buddy,



11 responses to It’s all About the Gibbs

  1. Allison says:

    Hi Gibbs! You treat your Mom the same way I do mine. She must love it, because she always gives me chin scritches and catnip.


  2. M. R. says:

    Lovely, just lovely. When I was single I always had 2 moggies, so they could, as do yours, keep each other company. And when Chic became the other half of me, we had just the one; and that was fine, too. But me alone with one cat …? – Lui Stringer is N-E-U-R-O-T-I-C beyond belief. I don’t recommend 1 cat per 1 person. Oeuf course, it could be me … sighh …

    • bikerchick57 says:

      My first cat was an only child. I swore that I would always have at least two after him. When the husband and I would go away for the weekend, he would get really mad. He would wait for us to return and then go poo on the bathroom rug. Every time. He was a good kitty other than he didn’t want to be left alone.

      • M. R. says:

        Lui is never alone – well, only for short periods; it’s just that when I first got him I was crazy with grief, and it’s more than merely likely that it rubbed off. So, in truth, I shouldn’t complain about him. 🙂

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