Cute Overload :D
Gizmo is told very clearly not to touch the hazel nut.
Gizmo does not care.
Submitted by Carol W. Owned and filmed by Margery C.
OK, who’s got a Big Red Button?
I am gobsmacked by his beauty! What a gorgeous kitteh. And funny too? What a package!
Memo to self: work the word ‘gobsmacked’ into a post this year.
I am personally gobsmacked by the word gobsmacked!
Well, so long as you’re only gobsmacked, it’s okay because you can recover. Once you’re discombombulated, well then you have to go in for treatment…
Is gobsmacked not a common term up your way? It’s fairly common here in NZ. That and hobbit-holes. And car-driving doggers of course.
This is CO. Readers are discomBLOBulated on a regular basis.
Discom…what???? *Rushes to grab the dictionary. Finds the discombombulate in it. Is discombombulated*.
At the Milwaukee airport (General Mitchell International or something like that) they have designated “Recombobulation” areas just after security. You know…for recombobulating one’s self.
He was probably also told very firmly *not* to get into the shoebox.
Or to customize his shoebox. :)
I totally adore his “Whatcha gunna do about it expression.” I’m thinkin’ he pulled it when he got in the box too.
Vanessa, PLEASE tell me what’s a “hobbit-hole”? And are “car-driving hoggers” the same as road hogs? I’m discombobulated about this.
We have an entire village dedicated to hobbit-holes. Have a look! http://www.hobbitontours.com/. And then also we’ve taught doggers how to drive. You can check that out here..http://www.youtube.com/user/TheDrivingDogs . We really are quite different here with no-nukes and all that! Love it.
What a beee-YOUUUU-tiful babay!!! I just want to smoosh his face….
Giz would bite you SO hard if you smooshed his face!!
“I touched the hazelnut, Mom.”
Giz also chews on shoe boxes. I’ve seen this around my place as well.
Anybody who’s ever been owned by a cat saw that coming a mile away. :)
Whoa, watch out, we got a badcat over here.
Yup. Cat. ;)
Perfect pink nose in a perfect white triangle! What a beauty. Tag, you’re it, hazelnut.
Don’t touch the hazelnut! *bing*. Whadda ya say?
What the cat heard.”Gizmo,Giz,,Blah blah blah blah blah,bah blah blah blah.:
The Cats always know how to push all my buttons.
But do they push your hazelnuts?
OK, wait, that didn’t sound quite the way I meant it
All this lacks is the “PTTHPPTHHT!” at the end. :P
I admire his restraint, my kitty would’ve totally knocked it right off the counter, but Gizmo was satisfied with a simple one-toe poke.
Anyone heard from Fird?
I second that question.Where is Fird?
Doesn’t the lady’s voice sound like the lady who brings us Teddy Bear the porcupine?
No, but the lady who does Teddy Bear sounds just like Ellen!
*snicker* so typical CAT!
:lol: Yep :lol:
This is exactly what my neighbor’s cat (who is a regular visitor to my backyard) does when she comes over to supervise her kingdom/ my laundry drying in the sun. The other day I put out a mesh drying tray on the floor with a cardigan on it and the bugger running comes over to check it out. I told her, “see no touch Kiwi!” and in less than 10 seconds she puts a paw on it.
“You said do touch this hazelnut, right? Not that it matters because it’s so obviously meant for me to touch, but that is what you said, right?” LOL Yup, Gizmo’s a cat!
This reminds me of a game I used to play with our cat, Kit. Like so many cats, she loved to make a running dive into/under things like newspapers, throw rugs, etc. So we developed a little game where I would say, “Kit! You leave that rug alone!” and she would promptly dive into the little rug my parents kept at the front door. Then I’d run at her, she’d make a half-hearted attempt to get away, I’d catch her and ‘beat’ her (which she LOVED) while she howled like she was being skinned alive. All part of the game.
So . . . fast forward some years (Kit lived to be 18). I moved out of state when Kit was about 5, she stayed with my parents, and I visited every 1-3 years. Now, Kit was afraid of strangers, but she was never afraid of me when I visited, so I always knew she remembered me, at least enough to recognize me was ‘safe.’ So one time I came home after 3 years without a visit. I had only been in the house a couple minutes, was still standing around chatting just inside the door when I saw Kit just a few feet away from the rug. She was looking at the rug . . . looking at me . . . looking at the rug . . . looking at me. Naturally I said, “Kit! You leave that rug alone!” My mom said, “Oh, she doesn’t do that anymo–” and before she could finish, Kit was diving into the rug and I was taking off after her.
She hadn’t been playing her little game with anyone else, but she remembered it, and she recognized ME as ‘the one who plays that game.”
That is seriously wonderful.
D’aw! Now that’s a sweet story. And a lovely memory to keep forever.
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