I understand that I am a cat and that because I am one, I think differently than a human does. Cats will do what cats do. I am a cat, and I am glad my human lets me be one. My human had a plant for a few days, and I drove her crazy as I adamantly tried to get to the plant, stressing my human as well as scaring her. Some plants are poisonous to us cats, and I was continuously told that the plant was something I should not eat, but because I am a cat, I tried to get to the plant. She had to get rid of the plant. She took away my need to be a cat, but I understand she was stressed and loved me at the time. I do forgive her for taking away the plant.
Here I am, sitting next to my human. She got some hugs and kisses from me while, in return, I got kisses and pets from her. I am purring up a storm, according to my human. I am always purring because I am happy.
I know it has been a while since I have last talked to my human to write in my journal here. My human has been very busy with dialysis and other appointments while I have been getting ready for spring to arrive. This winter season has been tough on my human. Her time with me is often. When she spends time with me, she puts down her phone, closes her laptop, and gives me all the attention I am deserving. My human is terrific.
I want to welcome you to my page. Hello, my name is Bing Noel-Nuggles Crosby Karnopp. My human is Kristi/Ksmiley, and she has made a journal for me. It is all mine. It is my place. I am a cat who happens to be 14 1/2 years old. My human adopted me from the Rock County Humane Society in Janesville, Wisconsin, on December 18, 2006, one month and four days after Emilee Marie Cuddles Karnopp passed away. She was her first cat. I am her second cat since she has been on her own. Anyway, welcome to my page, and I hope you enjoy my stories, my human writes as I talk. I believe my human is indeed creative. It is after 6:30 AM, and I am already meowing my discontent of not having a fresh bowl of water and food at my beck and call.
I want to welcome everyone to Bing Crosby’s journal I have created. Bing is going to be fifteen years old this summer, and I have had a wonderful fourteen years with him this far. When I speak for Bing in this journal, I will be speaking as if he is telling his story himself — in the mind of a cat if he could talk like a human. I do not know how long I will have Bing to this day, but I cherish my time with him and wonder if he could think like a human, what he would be saying — as if his meows were certain words. Welcome to Bing’s life from this point forward.