(C) Daily Kos This story was originally published by Daily Kos and is unaltered. . . . . . . . . . . Caturday Pootie Diary: New Cat's Day, 2024 [1] ['This Content Is Not Subject To Review Daily Kos Staff Prior To Publication.'] Date: 2023-12-30 “Are we going to the human bed?” Freddie wondered. We were lounged on the couch, half asleep, New Year’s Eve festivities playing on the television. I yawned. “No,” I said at the tail end of it. “We have to stay up until midnight.” Freddie looked around, frowning. “What?” I asked. “Who’s making us stay awake?” A gentle reminder of how we do things: 🐱🐶🐦 Do not troll the diary. If you hate pootie diaries, leave now. No harm, no foul. Please do share pics of your fur kids! If you have health/behavior issues with your pets, feel free to bring it to the community. Pooties are cats; Woozles are dogs. Birds... are birds! Peeps are people. Whatever happens in the outer blog STAYS in the outer blog. If you’re having “issues” with another Kossack, keep it “out there.” This is a place to relax and play; please treat it accordingly. There are some pics we never post: snakes, creepy crawlies, any and all photos that depict or encourage human cruelty toward animals. These are considered “out of bounds” and will not be tolerated. If we alert you to it, please remember that we do have phobic peeps who react strongly to them. If you keep posting banned pics...well then...the Tigress will have to take matters in hand. Or, paw. “No one,” I explained. “Just tradition.” He looked at the television and then back at me. “It’s New Cat’s Day,” he said, remembering. “It’s when we decide to become new cats.” I nodded. “Resolutions, yes.” “I don’t think I need to be a new cat. I’m a pretty good cat.” I rubbed between his shoulder blades. “You’re a very good cat. Perfect even!” “So no new cat. Just old cat. We can go to bed.” He stood and stretched. I looked over at the single can of the sweet rum cocktail I had purchased to drink at the big hour and shook my head. “We have to stay up until it’s 2024. Then I’ll kiss you. Then we’ll go to bed.” He looked at me, horrified. “You have to kiss someone you love at midnight,” I explained. “That’s tradition.” “I hate when you kiss me,” he said. “I’ll ask permission first,” I said, petting him until he settled back down. He tucked his paws under his body and loafed, happy and comfortable. “What kind of new cat will you be?” he asked. “I’ve decided to only make resolutions that will be a pleasure to keep,” I announced. “You’ll give me more treats,” he said, blinking confidently. “Your stomach hasn’t gotten any less sensitive,” I said. “So same amount of treats, same amount of barf.” He gave an unsatisfied little harrumph! but didn’t argue the point. “I’ve decided to spend more of my time off work enjoying myself, and less preparing to go back to work.” “Naps,” he said, sagely. “I want to go more places, see more things,” I said. “We aren’t far from Los Angeles and there are amazing museums there. Sometime this year, I’d like to go see some cool things.” “I’ll stay home,” Freddie announced. “Of course,” I said. “But I’ll take lots of pictures and see if the gift shop has any cat toys.” “Why wouldn’t they?” he wondered. “I think you and I should play more,” I continued. “I’d like to spend more time chasing you around the house and dangling things in front of your paws.” “That’s just the kind of new cat you should be!” Freddie agreed. I looked over at the box on the floor next to the couch. “And I’ll finally put together your new cat tree,” I promised. “Yes, you should definitely do that.” “Are you sure you don’t have anything you’d like to focus on in the new year?” I asked. “Nope! I’m perfect.” “You could stop chewing on plastic?” “I like how that feels on my teeth.” I rolled my eyes. “You could try to befriend the ducks when they come back in the Spring?” “You can’t befriend evil,” he growled. “They're just birds,” I said, exasperated. “Big, green birds,” he muttered, darkly. On the television screen, excited, half drunk people yelled out the countdown, while my cat and I laid near prone on the faux leather. I inclined my seat just enough that I could sip from the can I had just opened without spilling the sticky sweetness down my chin. “Mmm, pineapple,” I crooned. Freddie huffed a discontented snort. “We should be in the human bed, napping in the dark,” he grumbled. The drunken countdown reached zero, and the room was filled with the sound of celebration, recorded and broadcasted from the other side of the country. “All those people are probably already home,” I said. “In the human bed,” Freddie agreed. From the street behind us, and in every other direction, came the sound of fireworks saved from Independence Day last summer. I lifted my can toward Freddie in a toast. “To new cats in 2024!” I said. Freddie bumped the can with his head. “And staying perfect!” he added. I looked at him slyly. “Can I kiss your little head?” I asked. “You have to kiss someone you love,” he repeated. “So I suppose I’m that.” I pressed my lips to the soft fur on the top of his head. “You are that,” I agreed. Happy Caturday, Peeps! And happy New Year to all of you! I expect my New Year’s Eve will go exactly as described here; I do intend to buy a single serving of some kind of overly sweet rum cocktail and I do intend to ring in the new year from under the furry blanket, a warm cat on my lap. Do you have any fun plans? And resolutions that will be easy to keep (let’s do fun ones this year)? 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