Paris

Ladies and gentlemen, Je vais a Paris!

Finally, this lifelong goal is coming true! Chloe was offered a temporary job in Paris as an executive assistant. Her boss is getting married in the City of Lights and needs more help than Lindsay Lohan. Chloe will be the one to get last minute items for the wedding day as well as leading up to the wedding. She is basically the wedding planner's assistant but with more work and more coffee runs. Chloe has been paying way more attention to me and I just think it's because she's so exciting to be experiencing Paris together. I'm not so excited that I'm going to be there with her, but public transportation is easy so I anticipate leaving her in my dust most days. Ah, croissants, crepes, macaroons! This is going to be the best trip ever! I doubt I'll come back unless Chloe promises another trip soon.

If dogs are a man's best friend, cats are a woman's best friend. J'adore my Chloe! She is the best for taking me with her.

Wait... I am going with her, right? 

Down to eight

People always say that cats have nine lives but I am here to tell you that it really is true. I am now officially down to eight lives and at this rate, I don't see a long life in my future. First, let me update you on my life. Chloe has been an utter mess due to a break up with whatever-his-name-is and I am left to deal with it. She forgets to feed me constantly, which is somewhat okay because I am staying thin and beautiful, but it's also irritating when I'm staved. Anyway, she is always in a terrible mood and just making questionable decisions overall.

Chloe has been exploring haute couture lately in the absence of a love interest and went way too far last Monday. She wore this awful purple faux fur sweater/jacket/cardigan thing. I DIED. Ugh to think I wasted one of my precious lives on Chloe's disgusting fashion choices...

Sunday Funday

C'est dimanche and that means one thing: naps! Sunday is the best day because no one judges you for drinking alcohol (my choice is mimosas) at an unreasonably early hour. You can indulge in sleeping in, drinking champagne early, and then sleeping again. Naps are my favorite thing ever and if I could just figure out a way to turn the thin pages of Vogue, this day would get even better. Curse my soft little paws! Chloe also works on Sundays which means I get the house to myself and don't have to listen to her stupid, high-pitched voice. I'm even thinking about inviting Pierre over. Maybe I've had too many mimosas...

Au revoir for now, kitty cats!

Photo Shoot!

Bonjour, everyone!

I think Chloe sensed how upset I was last night (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) so she surprised me with professional photos! Sometimes I think there might be a little hope with her... but let's not kid anyone too long about that. We headed down to the pet boutique and I got a fresh shampoo, condition, blow-out, and a massage that was to die for. The lavender lotion was a little much but I appreciate them attempting to be classy. Never hurts to try, I suppose! After the pampering, I posed for a few hours (it really only seemed like minutes) for my glamour pictures. What do you guys think? Aren't I a natural?

P.S. Obviously, the sooner I move away to Paris, the sooner this can become a regular thing! Eek!

Can I Run Away Yet?

You know those days where you are just disgusted by everyone? Yeah. That's happening. Chloe has this guy over right now and I'm being completely ignored. What does a girl have to do to get a little attention, not to mention a little dessert? I'm doing the cute "swipe-gently-by-their-leg-and-look-longingly-up" thing and honestly, this is the first time it has failed me. What to do? What to do...? I decided it would be best to leave the love birds alone to discover their amour (I'm not that terrible to selfishly ruin their night). I went to my room and gave myself an up-do. You know what they say: "The higher the hair, the closer to God!" Amen, sisters!

Update: okay so I am that terrible. After my masterful hair designing, I had to, um, well, I had to throw up a hairball. (This is SO incredibly embarrassing, ugh. Stop). So instead of doing the right thing which is to go to the awful litter box, I went to Chloe's bed and well, let's just say she'll never ignore me ever again for a man.

Sorry, I'm not sorry. Au revoir, fellow felines!

The Litter Box

Sigh. I don't know what it is about cleaning the litter box that Chloe doesn't understand. I use it... then you clean it. Not: I use it... then you wait 8 days before thinking about picking up the scooper! I mean come on. It doesn't help either of us. I am forced to "do my business" on things like your Persian rugs or new sweaters and then you wonder, "What's that smell?" It's better if you just let me use the toilet. Chloe, get with it, s'il vous plaît.

And what's with these toys? What do you expect me to do with it? The only toy I have my eyes on is a 2014 Mercedes convertible (white with tan interior, obviously).

Planning My Escape

Today I took a stroll to the end of the block (which normally I would never do under no supervision) to talk with Pierre, my French cat friend. Pierre's owners are from Marseille (the South, but nonetheless, France) and I need the inside scoop on what the travel situation is like. Pierre flew about nine hours to get to Los Angeles when his owners decided to re-locate from France. Why they decided that? No clue. They're lunatics. Anyway, Pierre gave me the scoop on the flight from France to L.A. Très terrible! But don't act like that's going to stop me. I BELONG IN PARIS.

And for your viewing pleasure, here's a photo (I'm assuming a paparazzi took) of Pierre and me after he told me about knowing over his owner's cup of coffee this morning. High five, mon ami!

Best day ever

Bonjour ladies and gentlemen!

Yay! Today is the best because I came one (high-heeled) step closer to owning my very own Birkin! As you all know, owning a Birkin is almost (if not just) as important as owning your own island and since I hate mosquitos... bonjour Hermès! The process of getting a Birkin is painful and long but I guess that's just what sets apart the fabulous from the fauxs. I've had my eyes on the cyclamen pink ostrich bag for months now and won't give up until it's mine. Seriously, who else deserves to own that beauty other than my wonderful self? I don't know either.

Au revoir from the windowsill!

Worst day ever

Bonjour divas.

I'm going to get right to the point. Today was absolutely terrifying. Here's why:

1. Chloe took me to the veterinarian. (Has she even heard of private practices?)
2. I had to get three shots. May I repeat? I had to get three shots.
3. Ugh, do I really have to give another reason? I was taken to the VET.

Not only is the vet's office the dirtiest place I've ever been to, but it is also filled with canines. Where do I begin? They love to smell my butt, they drool everywhere, and they have absolutely no culture! I threw out a quick "Comment allez-vous" to a bichon frise just to be nice (and to network of course... I always need recommendations for French restaurants!) and all I got in return was a harsh "Move it toots!" As if!

I need about two and a half bottles of champagne to drown the sorrows. Not to mention extra therapy next week. I just don't understand Chloe and she'll never understand me. Ugh.

Au revoir from the windowsill.