Last night we held our semi-annual talent contest. We hold this contest twice a year whether we need to or not. We compete not to determine who has the most talent, (not much competition there) but rather who can either irritate the two leggers the most, or cause the most household damage. Points are awarded for:
1) Value of broken objects.
2) Chaos caused by breaking of said objects.
3) Decibel level. (Either your own, or that of the two leggers screaming in joy)
4) Originality
5) Style
We decided we needed an impartial judge for last night's competition and so I drafted the bathroom spider to preside. I instructed him to judge fairly,but I also greased his numerous palms with dead bugs I found in the windowsill.
Tiger Lily started the contest with a beautifully executed curio cabinet stroll knocking 6 of 9 objects off the top shelf and breaking three. This caused the male two legger to leap off the couch and scramble to find the super glue before the female two legger could discover and appreciate the damage. Points for damage and chaos, but none for originality.
Ivan waited until the two leggers went to bed before giving an incredibly soulful rendition of his original song entitled "Mrowr, Rowr, Rowr". While receiving a great score for originality and style, as well as nailing the decibel meter, he was found sadly lacking in the damage department.
I finished the competition with my dramatic one cat play I call "The Day The Squirrel Met Justice" With my catnip mousie thingy playing the part of the squirrel. During this play two lamps, a picture frame and a dirty wine glass all meet their end.
The competition completed, we all awaited the judge's final decision: I am appalled to say that Tiger Lily won by a whisker. I give my grudging congratulations to her.
Just a quick side note: We are now in the market for a new bathroom spider. Our old eight legger seems to have gone missing, though I suspect the litter box may hold some clues to his fate.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Poetic Injustice
Well the first poem I shared with everyone got such a great response, that I decided to stretch my poetic claws a bit further. The moral: Be careful what you wish for.
Ode To Ivan
Ivan The Tolerable,
A big fat orange tabby,
He never seems content,
He's always kinda crabby.
Tiny head, stumpy legs
Short little bushy tail,
And when it comes to thinking
you know he'll always fail.
With Ivan as my bodyguard
I haven't any fears.
And when it comes to loyalty,
He hasn't any peers.
But Ivan has a weakness
A true Achilles heel.
He loves to hit the catnip and
Hates to miss a meal.
So come on Ivanhead
Let's do something silly,
We'll go do some nip
Then smack Tiger Lily.
Ode To Ivan
Ivan The Tolerable,
A big fat orange tabby,
He never seems content,
He's always kinda crabby.
Tiny head, stumpy legs
Short little bushy tail,
And when it comes to thinking
you know he'll always fail.
With Ivan as my bodyguard
I haven't any fears.
And when it comes to loyalty,
He hasn't any peers.
But Ivan has a weakness
A true Achilles heel.
He loves to hit the catnip and
Hates to miss a meal.
So come on Ivanhead
Let's do something silly,
We'll go do some nip
Then smack Tiger Lily.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Ode To Beebo
Today I thought I'd share a poem I wrote to my catnip mousie thingy.
O' catnip mousie thingy
You are my favorite toy.
You always seem to amuse me,
And you never do annoy.
Made of furry fabric
And loaded full of nip,
You give me lots of exercise,
And send me on a trip.
You exist for me
To be stalked and attacked
Unlike Tiger, you don't cry
Whenever you are smacked.
Whenever I pounce on you,
You make the cutest squeaks,
You always make me frisky.
And Ivan always freaks
You've seen better days,
You're looking pretty worn,
You've lost your tail and an eye,
And both your ears are torn..
But I'll always stay true to you,
Your friend in any weather.
I'll always play only with you.
Unless I find a feather.
O' catnip mousie thingy
You are my favorite toy.
You always seem to amuse me,
And you never do annoy.
Made of furry fabric
And loaded full of nip,
You give me lots of exercise,
And send me on a trip.
You exist for me
To be stalked and attacked
Unlike Tiger, you don't cry
Whenever you are smacked.
Whenever I pounce on you,
You make the cutest squeaks,
You always make me frisky.
And Ivan always freaks
You've seen better days,
You're looking pretty worn,
You've lost your tail and an eye,
And both your ears are torn..
But I'll always stay true to you,
Your friend in any weather.
I'll always play only with you.
Unless I find a feather.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Home of The Plopper
I am a world class plopper. For those who are unfamiliar with the term "plop" as it applies to feline activities, allow me to explain:
Plopping is something all cats do to some degree. It comes as naturally to us as purring or spider thumping. Plopping is basically defined as the act of suddenly appearing to lose all feeling in ones legs and thereby dropping to the floor in a boneless furry heap. There is no particular reason for us to do this, it simply amuses us.
There are several different styles of plopping. Ivan prefers the "Stop, Drop and Roll" method. This method is especially effective if used as a way to trip two leggers who happen to be walking in a darkened hallway. The purpose of the "roll" maneuver is that by rolling immediately to his back after the plop, Ivan instantly transforms from a soft pudgy cat into a totally immovable obstacle. He definitely gets credit for causing havoc, but loses points for style.
Tiger Lily often employs the "This Little Kitty Went wah wah wah All The Way Home" plop. This not truly a plop, it's more like her sitting on the floor whining, but I felt I should mention it.
My favorite plop is one I like to call the "Holey Sheet" technique. This is best done on the two leggers bed while they are watching the news. I perform this by jumping on the bed and in one motion, slamming myself forcefully onto my side with a half twist. By performing the half twist, this instantly displays my deadly claws while simultaneously snagging a thread or two of the two leggers new comforter. It causes damage while still maintaining my sense of style.
To all my fellow felines, I recommend experimenting until you find a plop that suits your lifestyle.
Plopping is something all cats do to some degree. It comes as naturally to us as purring or spider thumping. Plopping is basically defined as the act of suddenly appearing to lose all feeling in ones legs and thereby dropping to the floor in a boneless furry heap. There is no particular reason for us to do this, it simply amuses us.
There are several different styles of plopping. Ivan prefers the "Stop, Drop and Roll" method. This method is especially effective if used as a way to trip two leggers who happen to be walking in a darkened hallway. The purpose of the "roll" maneuver is that by rolling immediately to his back after the plop, Ivan instantly transforms from a soft pudgy cat into a totally immovable obstacle. He definitely gets credit for causing havoc, but loses points for style.
Tiger Lily often employs the "This Little Kitty Went wah wah wah All The Way Home" plop. This not truly a plop, it's more like her sitting on the floor whining, but I felt I should mention it.
My favorite plop is one I like to call the "Holey Sheet" technique. This is best done on the two leggers bed while they are watching the news. I perform this by jumping on the bed and in one motion, slamming myself forcefully onto my side with a half twist. By performing the half twist, this instantly displays my deadly claws while simultaneously snagging a thread or two of the two leggers new comforter. It causes damage while still maintaining my sense of style.
To all my fellow felines, I recommend experimenting until you find a plop that suits your lifestyle.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Bunny Smackin
I awoke this morning to a most horrific sight. Is it not enough that I have a squirrel living in my front yard? Now there is a bunny. No, not just any bunny, but a cute little fluffy, hippity-hoppity, nose wigglin, dandelion munchin, perky eared, little cotton tailed bunny. I never realized how quickly nausea can strike.
I suspect that Ivan has known of the bunnie's presence for some time. When I pointed the bunny out to him he feigned surprise, but Ivan is a poor actor. In retrospect, I fear that perhaps Ivan may have even been concealing the bunnie's presence. This smells of mutiny. Intolerable. I decided to approach Tiger Lily about my suspicions. She of course whined, but in a guilty manner. What power does this hairy little hunk of hawk bait have over my minions? And more importantly, how can I steal it and use it for my own benefit? This warrants more study.
In the meantime, both Ivan and Tiger Lily know that I suspect something. They do not know how much I know or how much I simply suspect and this makes them very nervous. This amuses me.
For now, I wait. The bunny will give up it's secret someday. After I have learned the power of the bunny, I will have no more use for it. On that day I will deliver the bunny smack heard around the world.
I suspect that Ivan has known of the bunnie's presence for some time. When I pointed the bunny out to him he feigned surprise, but Ivan is a poor actor. In retrospect, I fear that perhaps Ivan may have even been concealing the bunnie's presence. This smells of mutiny. Intolerable. I decided to approach Tiger Lily about my suspicions. She of course whined, but in a guilty manner. What power does this hairy little hunk of hawk bait have over my minions? And more importantly, how can I steal it and use it for my own benefit? This warrants more study.
In the meantime, both Ivan and Tiger Lily know that I suspect something. They do not know how much I know or how much I simply suspect and this makes them very nervous. This amuses me.
For now, I wait. The bunny will give up it's secret someday. After I have learned the power of the bunny, I will have no more use for it. On that day I will deliver the bunny smack heard around the world.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Cujo
There is much to be learned from nature. While watching Animal Planet one day, I observed a program about a crafty little eight legger called the "trap door spider". As an admirer of sneaky, dirty tricks, I could not help being impressed by this form of ambush rabble rousing. This spider spends hours digging a burrow in the dirt. It then lines it in that nasty stringy stuff that it excretes from its' nether regions. After the burrow is complete, it constructs a trap door that completely covers the entrance to the burrow. Then it lies in wait for some unsuspecting prey to approach. Once it detects that the food thingy is within reach, it pounces, sinking fangs deep into its' lunch.
Though much impressed with this, I decided that digging a burrow in the dirt would require entirely too much work, not to mention squirting strings from my butt would just be gross. However, I could definitely adapt the general spirit of the technique into a useful form of chaos creation.
Upon reflection, I decided that the two leggers bed coverings would make an acceptable burrow as well as being ideally located for a major bushwacking. So, while the two leggers were out of the room and no witnesses were present, I slipped silently beneath the covers. Making sure to pick a location near a pillow so that the lump would conceal my presence, I lay in wait.
I didn't have to wait long. Tiger Lily skulked in to the room and soon jumped up onto the bed. Tiger Lily has always considered the pillow of the female two legger to be her rightful sleeping place. I waited while she settled in, completely ignorant of the fact that a world class smacking was only six inches away.
I must admit that it took every bit of concentration available to me not to let an anticipatory snicker escape, possibly alerting my prey. However, I was able to contain my glee and wait until she was settled and completely relaxed. As I lay there, I suddenly had a change of heart. Make no mistake, I was still gonna torment her, but occasionally one has to change things up a bit. I knew she was expecting a smack at some time today, therefore, I must do the unexpected.
I judged the moment to be right. Like a beast from Hades, I erupted from my fluffy cave, stood on my hind legs and waved my front paws in the classic "boogatation" posture. Seldom have I ever been rewarded with such a wonderful response. Tiger Lily levitated four tailspans straight up, simultaneously poofing to three times her normal size. As she landed with her legs already in full flee mode, her claws found instant purchase launching her straight into the bedstand knocking over a lamp. Realizing this would bring down the wrath of the two leggers, I immediately repaired back to my burrow beneath the bedspread.
The male two legger entered right on cue to chastise Tiger Lily. As always, I believe he suspected my involvement, but being unable to locate my lair, he had to satisfy himself with berating the Tiger Lily.
There is much to be learned from nature.
Though much impressed with this, I decided that digging a burrow in the dirt would require entirely too much work, not to mention squirting strings from my butt would just be gross. However, I could definitely adapt the general spirit of the technique into a useful form of chaos creation.
Upon reflection, I decided that the two leggers bed coverings would make an acceptable burrow as well as being ideally located for a major bushwacking. So, while the two leggers were out of the room and no witnesses were present, I slipped silently beneath the covers. Making sure to pick a location near a pillow so that the lump would conceal my presence, I lay in wait.
I didn't have to wait long. Tiger Lily skulked in to the room and soon jumped up onto the bed. Tiger Lily has always considered the pillow of the female two legger to be her rightful sleeping place. I waited while she settled in, completely ignorant of the fact that a world class smacking was only six inches away.
I must admit that it took every bit of concentration available to me not to let an anticipatory snicker escape, possibly alerting my prey. However, I was able to contain my glee and wait until she was settled and completely relaxed. As I lay there, I suddenly had a change of heart. Make no mistake, I was still gonna torment her, but occasionally one has to change things up a bit. I knew she was expecting a smack at some time today, therefore, I must do the unexpected.
I judged the moment to be right. Like a beast from Hades, I erupted from my fluffy cave, stood on my hind legs and waved my front paws in the classic "boogatation" posture. Seldom have I ever been rewarded with such a wonderful response. Tiger Lily levitated four tailspans straight up, simultaneously poofing to three times her normal size. As she landed with her legs already in full flee mode, her claws found instant purchase launching her straight into the bedstand knocking over a lamp. Realizing this would bring down the wrath of the two leggers, I immediately repaired back to my burrow beneath the bedspread.
The male two legger entered right on cue to chastise Tiger Lily. As always, I believe he suspected my involvement, but being unable to locate my lair, he had to satisfy himself with berating the Tiger Lily.
There is much to be learned from nature.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Hallway Hockey
Last night Ivan and I had a great game of Hallway Hockey. This is truly one of my favorite activities. For those of you unfamiliar with feline sports, perhaps an explanation is in order.
Hallway Hockey has few rules. It basically begins spontaneously with little or no warning. Last nights game began when as I was rearranging some of my two legger's knick knacks, I "accidently"
knocked one off the shelf. This is what is commonly referred to as "putting the puck in play". Ivan immediately took the shot and winged it off the bathroom door. Well played Ivan, well played.
Now the field of play can be described as: anywhere in my house that has a floor hard enough for the puck to travel smoothly and preferably loudly. The only goal is to make as much noise in the middle of the night as we can while simultaneously causing as much collateral damage as possible.
I intercepted Ivan's next shot with my patented "psycho-nut" pounce. This maneuver caused enough noise to wake the male two legger. As he entered the hallway, Ivan and I were prepared. We had already curled together on the couch and were feigning sleep. This left Tiger Lily standing in the hall alone. Though he suspected us, the evidence was against her. Despite her plaintive whining, she was banished to the guest room. Since she took one for the team, I decided not to smack her tonight.
Relocating the puck, I ricocheted a bank shot off the baseboards right at Ivan, who in his zeal for the game, barreled into the trash can knocking it over and spilling its' contents. Incredibly this did not bring about the two leggers. After a few minutes of tense waiting, I decided to resume the game. Alas this was not to be. While I was distracted, Ivan ate the puck.
Hallway Hockey has few rules. It basically begins spontaneously with little or no warning. Last nights game began when as I was rearranging some of my two legger's knick knacks, I "accidently"
knocked one off the shelf. This is what is commonly referred to as "putting the puck in play". Ivan immediately took the shot and winged it off the bathroom door. Well played Ivan, well played.
Now the field of play can be described as: anywhere in my house that has a floor hard enough for the puck to travel smoothly and preferably loudly. The only goal is to make as much noise in the middle of the night as we can while simultaneously causing as much collateral damage as possible.
I intercepted Ivan's next shot with my patented "psycho-nut" pounce. This maneuver caused enough noise to wake the male two legger. As he entered the hallway, Ivan and I were prepared. We had already curled together on the couch and were feigning sleep. This left Tiger Lily standing in the hall alone. Though he suspected us, the evidence was against her. Despite her plaintive whining, she was banished to the guest room. Since she took one for the team, I decided not to smack her tonight.
Relocating the puck, I ricocheted a bank shot off the baseboards right at Ivan, who in his zeal for the game, barreled into the trash can knocking it over and spilling its' contents. Incredibly this did not bring about the two leggers. After a few minutes of tense waiting, I decided to resume the game. Alas this was not to be. While I was distracted, Ivan ate the puck.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
The Servitude of The Two Leggers
Over the last several weeks, I have received numerous comments referring to my two leggers as being my "slaves". I take exception to this misnomer. I have never considered them to be my slaves. Please allow me to explain:
My male two legger spends much of his free time watching the talking box thingy. His favorite channel is probably the History Channel. Therefore, I have learned much of two legger history while gracing him with my presence.
Now as I understand it, slavery was something the two leggers practiced during the darker parts of their development. One group of two leggers found another group of two leggers and forced them to do their bidding. The group that subjugated the other group were known as the "masters". The subjugated were the "slaves". Obviously this was not an equally beneficial relationship.
Now, I can somewhat understand why one might consider yours truly to be a "master" and my two leggers my "slaves", but please consider this: Did the two legger slaves go to a shelter and look for the cutest master to take home? Have you ever heard of a cat chasing down a runaway two legger?
I prefer to think of my two leggers as minions. While I am of course the supreme ruler of my dominion, rather than a state of slavery, I consider it to be more of a benevolent dictatorship. They provide me with all that I need: Food, places to sleep, litter box service, catnip mousie thingies....etc. In return, I bless them with my presence. I warm their laps. I slay their dust bunnies and scowl at their squirrels. I even take the time to smack any whiny pets they may adopt.
This is a mutually beneficial relationship. They are not my slaves, they are my thralls.
Now, that being said, like any good dictator, I must rule with an iron paw. When the two leggers act up, they must be punished. The severity of punishment varies with the seriousness of the transgression. Anything from a snubbing to complete designer shoe destruction. If I am too busy, or just disinterested, I send Ivan to administer justice. The only problem with relegating this duty to Ivan is that he can occasionally be a bit over-enthusiastic in his judicial endeavors. Luckily, my two leggers have learned their lesson and now keep a copious supply of band aid thingies.
My male two legger spends much of his free time watching the talking box thingy. His favorite channel is probably the History Channel. Therefore, I have learned much of two legger history while gracing him with my presence.
Now as I understand it, slavery was something the two leggers practiced during the darker parts of their development. One group of two leggers found another group of two leggers and forced them to do their bidding. The group that subjugated the other group were known as the "masters". The subjugated were the "slaves". Obviously this was not an equally beneficial relationship.
Now, I can somewhat understand why one might consider yours truly to be a "master" and my two leggers my "slaves", but please consider this: Did the two legger slaves go to a shelter and look for the cutest master to take home? Have you ever heard of a cat chasing down a runaway two legger?
I prefer to think of my two leggers as minions. While I am of course the supreme ruler of my dominion, rather than a state of slavery, I consider it to be more of a benevolent dictatorship. They provide me with all that I need: Food, places to sleep, litter box service, catnip mousie thingies....etc. In return, I bless them with my presence. I warm their laps. I slay their dust bunnies and scowl at their squirrels. I even take the time to smack any whiny pets they may adopt.
This is a mutually beneficial relationship. They are not my slaves, they are my thralls.
Now, that being said, like any good dictator, I must rule with an iron paw. When the two leggers act up, they must be punished. The severity of punishment varies with the seriousness of the transgression. Anything from a snubbing to complete designer shoe destruction. If I am too busy, or just disinterested, I send Ivan to administer justice. The only problem with relegating this duty to Ivan is that he can occasionally be a bit over-enthusiastic in his judicial endeavors. Luckily, my two leggers have learned their lesson and now keep a copious supply of band aid thingies.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Life in Whine Country
Ok, I have received numerous e-mails and comments asking why I derive such pleasure from smacking Tiger Lily. My detractors seem to feel pity and even sympathy for my fluffy gray punching bag. Though I never feel obligated to explain my actions, I suppose in this case some clarity is called for.
I described Tiger Lily in some detail in earlier posts, but allow me to review. Tiger Lily is a five year old gray tabby. She is somewhat chubby and has an abnormally large face. Her most common expression is one of disdain.
Tiger Lily came to live in my house approximately two and a half years ago. This was NOT my idea. Apparently one of my two legger's offspring felt that Tiger Lily needed a different home and sent her to me. Being the generous soul that everyone knows I am, I decided this was acceptable.
Immediately upon her arrival, I decided she needed a smack in order to establish that this was my house and that she lived here at my sufferance. This served its intended purpose, however, it had an added bonus, it amused me. Now I cannot speak for any of my readers, but I find that some individuals just give off some "I need a good smacking" vibe. Tiger Lily has this vibe on steroids. Just smelling her from across the room can start my paw twitching.
As if this vibe is not enough, she whines. No, i mean she WHINES. If her mouth is moving, she is either eating, sneezing or whining. I personally have witnessed her doing all three at once. Every time she whines while the two leggers are home, I get either sprayed with water, or at the very least, chastised. This annoys me. This is truly smack-worthy. I suspect that sometimes she whines just to get me in trouble. That's sneaky and underhanded, so I do have to give her some credit.
And it's not just me, Ivan enjoys smacking her as well. If she ventures into the bathroom, even the bathroom spider will take a swing. I'll lay money that if she ever finds herself outside, there would be a line of woodland creatures standing patiently in my yard awaiting their turn at her.
So please, don't blame me. It's not my fault. She is simply smackable. And be warned, if I get one more e-mail accusing me of unwarranted smacking, I may feel compelled to go smack Tiger Lily.
I described Tiger Lily in some detail in earlier posts, but allow me to review. Tiger Lily is a five year old gray tabby. She is somewhat chubby and has an abnormally large face. Her most common expression is one of disdain.
Tiger Lily came to live in my house approximately two and a half years ago. This was NOT my idea. Apparently one of my two legger's offspring felt that Tiger Lily needed a different home and sent her to me. Being the generous soul that everyone knows I am, I decided this was acceptable.
Immediately upon her arrival, I decided she needed a smack in order to establish that this was my house and that she lived here at my sufferance. This served its intended purpose, however, it had an added bonus, it amused me. Now I cannot speak for any of my readers, but I find that some individuals just give off some "I need a good smacking" vibe. Tiger Lily has this vibe on steroids. Just smelling her from across the room can start my paw twitching.
As if this vibe is not enough, she whines. No, i mean she WHINES. If her mouth is moving, she is either eating, sneezing or whining. I personally have witnessed her doing all three at once. Every time she whines while the two leggers are home, I get either sprayed with water, or at the very least, chastised. This annoys me. This is truly smack-worthy. I suspect that sometimes she whines just to get me in trouble. That's sneaky and underhanded, so I do have to give her some credit.
And it's not just me, Ivan enjoys smacking her as well. If she ventures into the bathroom, even the bathroom spider will take a swing. I'll lay money that if she ever finds herself outside, there would be a line of woodland creatures standing patiently in my yard awaiting their turn at her.
So please, don't blame me. It's not my fault. She is simply smackable. And be warned, if I get one more e-mail accusing me of unwarranted smacking, I may feel compelled to go smack Tiger Lily.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
"When Animals Attack" (and other great sit-coms)
The two leggers left the talking box thingy turned on last night. After pouncing on it several times, I was able to tune in Animal Planet.
I love this station. I find most of the shows quite amusing, my favorite being "When Animals Attack". For those of you who have never watched this show, it is about two leggers that place themselves in the role of "meat group", and then are surprised when a four legger comes along and makes them an afternoon snack. Duh, it's kinda what we do. I believe these are the same people that watch the movie "Titanic" and expect a happy ending.
They go for a walk in the woods (home of bears, cougars, wolves and cult leaders) and suddenly find themselves (surprise surprise) becoming intimately familiar with the tonsils of a large, well-toothed four legger. Do they not watch Animal Planet? If they made a show about cats being munched in the woods, guess what, after one airing, you would find no more cats in the woods.
"It's Me or The Dog" is another one that kills me. Talk about a no-brainer. Ditch em both.
"The Dog Whisperer" What do they think the dog is trying to communicate? I'll tell you:
"Gee, my butt tastes good".
"I'm hungry and will eat whatever I find."
"Gee, your butt tastes good too."
"Think I'll sleep now."
That's pretty much it. How hard can it be to be a "Dog Whisperer"? They should get a "Cat Whisperer". Now that would be a show.
I even saw a show about a two legger that decided to live with grizzly bears. He felt he could become part of their family. Though he didn't succeed in joining their family, they did invite him to dinner...... ONCE. I don't think there will be a second season for that show.
The last show I watched was "I Shouldn't Be Alive". All I can say about this show is that Darwin and I agree.
I love this station. I find most of the shows quite amusing, my favorite being "When Animals Attack". For those of you who have never watched this show, it is about two leggers that place themselves in the role of "meat group", and then are surprised when a four legger comes along and makes them an afternoon snack. Duh, it's kinda what we do. I believe these are the same people that watch the movie "Titanic" and expect a happy ending.
They go for a walk in the woods (home of bears, cougars, wolves and cult leaders) and suddenly find themselves (surprise surprise) becoming intimately familiar with the tonsils of a large, well-toothed four legger. Do they not watch Animal Planet? If they made a show about cats being munched in the woods, guess what, after one airing, you would find no more cats in the woods.
"It's Me or The Dog" is another one that kills me. Talk about a no-brainer. Ditch em both.
"The Dog Whisperer" What do they think the dog is trying to communicate? I'll tell you:
"Gee, my butt tastes good".
"I'm hungry and will eat whatever I find."
"Gee, your butt tastes good too."
"Think I'll sleep now."
That's pretty much it. How hard can it be to be a "Dog Whisperer"? They should get a "Cat Whisperer". Now that would be a show.
I even saw a show about a two legger that decided to live with grizzly bears. He felt he could become part of their family. Though he didn't succeed in joining their family, they did invite him to dinner...... ONCE. I don't think there will be a second season for that show.
The last show I watched was "I Shouldn't Be Alive". All I can say about this show is that Darwin and I agree.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Crazy Ivan
Apparently Ivan woke up on the wrong side of the litter box today. I know, I know, you ask "How can you tell?" A truly valid question. Ivan by his very nature is an extremely surly creature. He is a firm believer in the bite first, ask questions later, and then bite again later policy. If a two legger decides to attempt to pet him, odds are there will be bandages. It is a mystery to me as to why he is terminally pissed, but there it is. Some things you just have to accept.
Anyway, he woke up this morning and after his morning meal, he immediately pounced on Tiger Lily. This, I found amusing until the two leggers woke up and yelled at me. I do not mind the two leggers giving me credit for chaos I've caused, but this time they were not giving Ivan his due. I attempted to show them the gray fur extending from Ivan's slathering jaws, but they would have none of it.
Ivan then turned his attention to me. Occasionally I will allow him to vent his anger. I am much quicker than he (not a tough achievement) and in some circumstances, I just throw Tiger Lily at him.
Today however, he went too far. Ivan had the nerve to chomp my tail. That's it. Game over. Send in the clown thingies.
I donned my best "Crackhead Terminator Kitty" look and set out to put Ivan back in his rightful place. Ivan is incredibly dense, but he can sense when hurricane Cujo is about to make landfall. His look of annoyance turns to a look of panic. If he had boots, they'd be shaking like Paris Hilton at a spelling bee.
I finally bring him to ground in the two legger guest litter room. There I beat him soundly about the head and shoulders until I feel he is properly cheered up. Now once again, it is moderately safe to walk the halls. If only the two leggers realized the sacrifices I've made to ensure the safety of their ankles.
Anyway, he woke up this morning and after his morning meal, he immediately pounced on Tiger Lily. This, I found amusing until the two leggers woke up and yelled at me. I do not mind the two leggers giving me credit for chaos I've caused, but this time they were not giving Ivan his due. I attempted to show them the gray fur extending from Ivan's slathering jaws, but they would have none of it.
Ivan then turned his attention to me. Occasionally I will allow him to vent his anger. I am much quicker than he (not a tough achievement) and in some circumstances, I just throw Tiger Lily at him.
Today however, he went too far. Ivan had the nerve to chomp my tail. That's it. Game over. Send in the clown thingies.
I donned my best "Crackhead Terminator Kitty" look and set out to put Ivan back in his rightful place. Ivan is incredibly dense, but he can sense when hurricane Cujo is about to make landfall. His look of annoyance turns to a look of panic. If he had boots, they'd be shaking like Paris Hilton at a spelling bee.
I finally bring him to ground in the two legger guest litter room. There I beat him soundly about the head and shoulders until I feel he is properly cheered up. Now once again, it is moderately safe to walk the halls. If only the two leggers realized the sacrifices I've made to ensure the safety of their ankles.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
B.O.B. (Big Overdecorated Bird)
While surveying my yard from my bedroom window, I observed something that truly irritated me. Bob was on my back deck.
For those of you who don't know who Bob is, allow me to describe him:
Bob is a huge bird thingy of what the two leggers call the peacock variety. This description I believe to be inaccurate. While I understand the second part of this label, the "pea" part escapes me. I can only surmise that it refers to his brain.
He is at least six tailspans in length and 3 tailspans tall. His plumage, well let's just say that he is an avian drag queen. He struts through my yard like he owns the place. The two leggers don't seem to mind. Absolutely unacceptable.
Now to be brutally honest, given our relative sizes, I was intimidated at first. But after further contemplation, I realized that he was several links further south on the food chain. The food chain I speak of is as follows:
1) Me
2) Other felines
3) two leggers (if they amuse me)
4) other four leggers
5) catnip mousie thingies
6) birds
7) dust bunnies
8) anything having six or more legs.
9) squirrels
Therefore, like the front yard squirrel, Bob lives on borrowed time. For now, I wait. I am patient. However someday the two leggers will grow careless and leave a window or door open. On that blessed day, the yard will become a site of mass destruction and the following night I will sleep on a cushion made of squirrel fur and stuffed with beautiful feathers.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The Gathering of the Two Leggers
I have on occasion observed a phenomenon where suddenly a large group of two leggers show up at my house and stay for several hours. This does not amuse me.
I do not know how they know that at a particular hour, on a particular evening, my two leggers will suddenly discover a surplus of food and beverages, but through some strange two legger instinct they just seem to show up. It is perplexing.
Granted these gatherings aren't completely without their precursors. Usually on the morning of the gathering, the two leggers will rise early and begin a manic scrubbing of every surface in my home. They round up all the dust bunnies. They break out that bane of feline existence, the hoover sucky thingy and proceed to gather all the hair that has taken weeks for me to place in an esthetically pleasing arrangement. They scoop the royal litter. They even scrub their own water filled litter box, even though they may have cleaned it only two months previously.
By mid-afternoon, the male two legger begins to make multiple trips to the backyard where he makes a fire and starts turning perfectly good meat into hard, blackened bricks that he takes great pride in showing to the other males when they arrive. Perhaps the ability to make soft pink things into hard black things is a great feat in two legger society. I don't understand.
Generally within an hour of the ceremonial flames being lit, the other two leggers descend upon my residence like a plague of locusts that travel in swarms of two. They show absolutely no respect to the four legged rulers of the household. When they notice me at all, they usually say such insulting things as: "ooh, look at the cute little kitty" or "oh! how sweet, he's smiling at me!"
Ok, that "smile" is actually my method of displaying that my teeth are longer and sharper than theirs, and I guarantee much more experienced at dealing with annoyances. The definition of an "annoyance" is anyone referring to me as "a cute little kitty".
If the gathering occurs during cold or wet weather, I can usually exact some form of vengeance due to the fact that the two leggers often remove their shoes at the door, and place their coats on the bed in the spare room. This allows Ivan and I to strategically distribute a ration of hairball thingies in the shoes, while Tiger Lily wallows on their coats covering them liberally with gray mats of fur. Though she is a whiny, sneezing, fun to smack type of fellow feline, she can shed like nobody's business.
The only positive about these gatherings, is that invariably, my two leggers will afterwards decide that they are too tired to clean and go to bed. Thus begins the midnight buffet which will continue until Ivan passes out on the kitchen floor and Tiger Lily tattles to the two leggers.
I do not know how they know that at a particular hour, on a particular evening, my two leggers will suddenly discover a surplus of food and beverages, but through some strange two legger instinct they just seem to show up. It is perplexing.
Granted these gatherings aren't completely without their precursors. Usually on the morning of the gathering, the two leggers will rise early and begin a manic scrubbing of every surface in my home. They round up all the dust bunnies. They break out that bane of feline existence, the hoover sucky thingy and proceed to gather all the hair that has taken weeks for me to place in an esthetically pleasing arrangement. They scoop the royal litter. They even scrub their own water filled litter box, even though they may have cleaned it only two months previously.
By mid-afternoon, the male two legger begins to make multiple trips to the backyard where he makes a fire and starts turning perfectly good meat into hard, blackened bricks that he takes great pride in showing to the other males when they arrive. Perhaps the ability to make soft pink things into hard black things is a great feat in two legger society. I don't understand.
Generally within an hour of the ceremonial flames being lit, the other two leggers descend upon my residence like a plague of locusts that travel in swarms of two. They show absolutely no respect to the four legged rulers of the household. When they notice me at all, they usually say such insulting things as: "ooh, look at the cute little kitty" or "oh! how sweet, he's smiling at me!"
Ok, that "smile" is actually my method of displaying that my teeth are longer and sharper than theirs, and I guarantee much more experienced at dealing with annoyances. The definition of an "annoyance" is anyone referring to me as "a cute little kitty".
If the gathering occurs during cold or wet weather, I can usually exact some form of vengeance due to the fact that the two leggers often remove their shoes at the door, and place their coats on the bed in the spare room. This allows Ivan and I to strategically distribute a ration of hairball thingies in the shoes, while Tiger Lily wallows on their coats covering them liberally with gray mats of fur. Though she is a whiny, sneezing, fun to smack type of fellow feline, she can shed like nobody's business.
The only positive about these gatherings, is that invariably, my two leggers will afterwards decide that they are too tired to clean and go to bed. Thus begins the midnight buffet which will continue until Ivan passes out on the kitchen floor and Tiger Lily tattles to the two leggers.
Friday, August 13, 2010
The Great Dust Bunny Massacre
Tonight, the dust bunnies die.
After much pondering, I have decided that all dust bunnies should be sent to meet their makers. It is not that I find dust bunnies offensive, it is the fact that I don't understand them. Anything I don't understand, irritates me. Therefore, they must be eliminated.
I do not take this action without due consideration, I have spent many hours pondering dust bunnies and their function in this world.
First of all, other than their rates of reproduction, they have very little in common with other types of bunnies. Other bunnies have very prominent ears. Dust bunnies as far as I can tell are ear challenged. They have no apparent legs. Their mode of ambulatory progress remains a mystery to me. While they can be called furry, it is a uniformly gray, lack luster type of fur. If I could locate their nose, I am reasonably sure it wouldn't wiggle.
They do not live in burrows. They instead live under entertainment centers, couches and beds. I've yet to discover what they eat. There are no known dandelions growing within my house.
Worst of all, they taste nothing like other bunnies. As a matter of fact, they don't even taste like chicken. When ninety percent of all known edible substances taste like chicken, how is this possible? This puzzles me.
So, after reviewing the evidence listed above, and having heard nothing in their defense, I have decided to judge them guilty of irritating me and the sentence can be nothing short of capital punishment.
Ivan and I attacked the dust bunnies without warning. I swept the areas where Ivan, due to his bulk, couldn't reach, and Ivan, well ok, he got the dust bunnies under the dining room table.
It was total carnage. Beautiful, wonderful carnage. We pounced, clawed, chewed and savaged the condemned until Tiger Lily put an end to the chaos by whining until the two leggers entered the fray with a spray bottle. I'll smack her later.
Thus ended the night that will forever be known in dust bunny history as "The Night of The Culling"
After much pondering, I have decided that all dust bunnies should be sent to meet their makers. It is not that I find dust bunnies offensive, it is the fact that I don't understand them. Anything I don't understand, irritates me. Therefore, they must be eliminated.
I do not take this action without due consideration, I have spent many hours pondering dust bunnies and their function in this world.
First of all, other than their rates of reproduction, they have very little in common with other types of bunnies. Other bunnies have very prominent ears. Dust bunnies as far as I can tell are ear challenged. They have no apparent legs. Their mode of ambulatory progress remains a mystery to me. While they can be called furry, it is a uniformly gray, lack luster type of fur. If I could locate their nose, I am reasonably sure it wouldn't wiggle.
They do not live in burrows. They instead live under entertainment centers, couches and beds. I've yet to discover what they eat. There are no known dandelions growing within my house.
Worst of all, they taste nothing like other bunnies. As a matter of fact, they don't even taste like chicken. When ninety percent of all known edible substances taste like chicken, how is this possible? This puzzles me.
So, after reviewing the evidence listed above, and having heard nothing in their defense, I have decided to judge them guilty of irritating me and the sentence can be nothing short of capital punishment.
Ivan and I attacked the dust bunnies without warning. I swept the areas where Ivan, due to his bulk, couldn't reach, and Ivan, well ok, he got the dust bunnies under the dining room table.
It was total carnage. Beautiful, wonderful carnage. We pounced, clawed, chewed and savaged the condemned until Tiger Lily put an end to the chaos by whining until the two leggers entered the fray with a spray bottle. I'll smack her later.
Thus ended the night that will forever be known in dust bunny history as "The Night of The Culling"
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Canine Conundrum
Mimi, a four legger related to me by two legger marriage, (her two legger married the offspring of my two leggers) wrote to me with a dilemma. She writes:
"Dear Great and Powerful Cujo Cat,,
My two legger recently got a dog. I know terrible isn't it. It's a complete disaster! How could she let a stupid lumbering beast into my sacred territory (however small it is)? This dog is very unaware of its tail, even though i don't see how any animal can be without its tail, and smacks it around everywhere! It has come close to smacking me in the face, trampling me, stealing my food, and my two leggers attention when she should be paying attention to me! When she's looking I act like i don't care but you gotta help me cujo cat! how do i get rid of this dog or at least put it in its rightful place?"
Mimi, there are several solutions to your situation. Please feel free to utilize the method best suited for you.
1) Find an electrical socket that is within easy reach of the offending mutt. Very carefully smear a dab of peanut butter over the outlet. Sit back and watch the sparks fly. If you can find butt flavored peanut butter, so much the better.
2) Bury several chunks of Ex-Lax in your litter box. No dog can resist raiding an unattended litter box for "kitty roca". Within a couple of hours the dog in question will have made such a mess, the two leggers will decide to banish it permanently to the yard.
3) Hire yourself an Ivan. He'll make the mongrel an offer he can't refuse.
4) Sprinkle small bits of black pepper on the pillows of the two leggers while they sleep. After a few sleepless nights of sneezing, they will be convinced they are allergic to dogs and will subsequently send the dog back to whence it came.
Finally, if all else fails, break everything within the dogs reach. Make sure the two leggers are out of the room when you do, and as always LEAVE NO WITNESSES.
I hope I have been of service. Please let me know how it works out. I almost envy you this opportunity for chaos.
"Dear Great and Powerful Cujo Cat,,
My two legger recently got a dog. I know terrible isn't it. It's a complete disaster! How could she let a stupid lumbering beast into my sacred territory (however small it is)? This dog is very unaware of its tail, even though i don't see how any animal can be without its tail, and smacks it around everywhere! It has come close to smacking me in the face, trampling me, stealing my food, and my two leggers attention when she should be paying attention to me! When she's looking I act like i don't care but you gotta help me cujo cat! how do i get rid of this dog or at least put it in its rightful place?"
Mimi, there are several solutions to your situation. Please feel free to utilize the method best suited for you.
1) Find an electrical socket that is within easy reach of the offending mutt. Very carefully smear a dab of peanut butter over the outlet. Sit back and watch the sparks fly. If you can find butt flavored peanut butter, so much the better.
2) Bury several chunks of Ex-Lax in your litter box. No dog can resist raiding an unattended litter box for "kitty roca". Within a couple of hours the dog in question will have made such a mess, the two leggers will decide to banish it permanently to the yard.
3) Hire yourself an Ivan. He'll make the mongrel an offer he can't refuse.
4) Sprinkle small bits of black pepper on the pillows of the two leggers while they sleep. After a few sleepless nights of sneezing, they will be convinced they are allergic to dogs and will subsequently send the dog back to whence it came.
Finally, if all else fails, break everything within the dogs reach. Make sure the two leggers are out of the room when you do, and as always LEAVE NO WITNESSES.
I hope I have been of service. Please let me know how it works out. I almost envy you this opportunity for chaos.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
I Love Tail
Got your attention with that title didn't I? Get your mind outta the litter box. The tail to which I refer is my own.
Now I'm not one to brag, but I may have the best tail in all catdom. It is an incredible ten inches long, giving me an overall length from nose to tail tip of 20 inches. That's right, my tail is the same length as the rest of my body. Cool huh?
The ladies love it. Ivan envies it. Tiger Lily whines about it.
My tail has many uses. Not only does it contribute to my regal bearing, it is an instrument of communication.
If it is pointed straight in the air, I am happy. All is right in the world. The two leggers can rest easy for the moment.
If it is waving lazily in the air, I am amused. I may have just smacked Tiger Lily, or confused Ivan, or possibly I may have just returned from a visit to my catnip stash. Whatever the cause, I am content.
If you should observe my tail twitching, hide your children, lock your closet door, check that your first aid kit is fully stocked. Something is about to bleed. Only carnage will satisfy the twitchy tail.
My tail keeps my paws warm when I sit, glaring at the two leggers.
It works well as a nose tickler when the two leggers are trying to read.
If I am startled, I can make it totally poofy thereby increasing my apparent body mass by 125%, but I also have the unique ability of making only parts of it poofy. This confuses the two leggers, therefore I try to do it often.
Ivan on the other hand has a shameful tail. It is barely four inches long. He resembles a corndog with legs. I personally would not go out in public sporting such a stub. When he poofs it, he looks like he has a traffic cone stuck to his butt.
Well, I've got things to do and people to smack.
Just a quick shout out to a fellow four legger, Yo Moo!
Now I'm not one to brag, but I may have the best tail in all catdom. It is an incredible ten inches long, giving me an overall length from nose to tail tip of 20 inches. That's right, my tail is the same length as the rest of my body. Cool huh?
The ladies love it. Ivan envies it. Tiger Lily whines about it.
My tail has many uses. Not only does it contribute to my regal bearing, it is an instrument of communication.
If it is pointed straight in the air, I am happy. All is right in the world. The two leggers can rest easy for the moment.
If it is waving lazily in the air, I am amused. I may have just smacked Tiger Lily, or confused Ivan, or possibly I may have just returned from a visit to my catnip stash. Whatever the cause, I am content.
If you should observe my tail twitching, hide your children, lock your closet door, check that your first aid kit is fully stocked. Something is about to bleed. Only carnage will satisfy the twitchy tail.
My tail keeps my paws warm when I sit, glaring at the two leggers.
It works well as a nose tickler when the two leggers are trying to read.
If I am startled, I can make it totally poofy thereby increasing my apparent body mass by 125%, but I also have the unique ability of making only parts of it poofy. This confuses the two leggers, therefore I try to do it often.
Ivan on the other hand has a shameful tail. It is barely four inches long. He resembles a corndog with legs. I personally would not go out in public sporting such a stub. When he poofs it, he looks like he has a traffic cone stuck to his butt.
Well, I've got things to do and people to smack.
Just a quick shout out to a fellow four legger, Yo Moo!
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Messing With The Two Leggers
I had a MWAHAHAHA moment yesterday. Allow me to elaborate:
Last night, my female two legger left her diamond earring thingies out. I do not claim to understand why she holds these so dear, but I know they are among her prize possessions.
As soon as I realized she had left them out, I was deafened by the sound of opportunity knocking. I quickly grabbed one and hid it under the refrigerator. "Why only one?" you may ask, be patient, soon you will realize there is madness to my method. The other earring thingy I gave a shallow grave in the litter box.
I watched this morning as the male two legger scooped the litter. The look on his face when he discovered the partially buried earring thingy was priceless. Thus ensued the most thorough cleaning of my litter box that I have ever witnessed. I believe I can now boast of the cleanest litter in the pacific northwest.
Now, he cleans the litter box every time we go. It is quite amusing. Every time he hears scratching, he appears, wielding his litter scoop like Excalibur. He sifts the litter like a gold crazy forty-niner sifting his claim.
As a bonus, Ivan is one of those strange felines that feels the need to soil the litter after every cleaning. It's almost like a dance. The two legger scoops, Ivan squats, the two legger scoops, Ivan squats. Who will give in first? I'll have to make sure Ivan stays hydrated. It has been a truly amusing day.
However, I just realized a flaw in my evil plan, the two leggers read my blog. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. I'm sure they'll make me sleep with Ivan tonight, but it was worth it. I just hope they retreive my catnip mousie thingy while they are under the fridge.
Last night, my female two legger left her diamond earring thingies out. I do not claim to understand why she holds these so dear, but I know they are among her prize possessions.
As soon as I realized she had left them out, I was deafened by the sound of opportunity knocking. I quickly grabbed one and hid it under the refrigerator. "Why only one?" you may ask, be patient, soon you will realize there is madness to my method. The other earring thingy I gave a shallow grave in the litter box.
I watched this morning as the male two legger scooped the litter. The look on his face when he discovered the partially buried earring thingy was priceless. Thus ensued the most thorough cleaning of my litter box that I have ever witnessed. I believe I can now boast of the cleanest litter in the pacific northwest.
Now, he cleans the litter box every time we go. It is quite amusing. Every time he hears scratching, he appears, wielding his litter scoop like Excalibur. He sifts the litter like a gold crazy forty-niner sifting his claim.
As a bonus, Ivan is one of those strange felines that feels the need to soil the litter after every cleaning. It's almost like a dance. The two legger scoops, Ivan squats, the two legger scoops, Ivan squats. Who will give in first? I'll have to make sure Ivan stays hydrated. It has been a truly amusing day.
However, I just realized a flaw in my evil plan, the two leggers read my blog. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. I'm sure they'll make me sleep with Ivan tonight, but it was worth it. I just hope they retreive my catnip mousie thingy while they are under the fridge.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Two Legger Younglings
Today I pondered the spawn of the two leggers.
They appear to be miniature versions of their parents, but that is where the similarities end.
They eat much more and more often than their elders. They listen to obnoxious music. They abhor bathing and hygiene on principle. Their clothing is ludicrous at best.
However, I must in all honesty admit that they have some qualities that are to be commended.
Sneaky and underhanded in the extreme, they will stoop to any level to get their way. I respect that.
Their rooms smell worse than most litter boxes and contain nastier nuggets.
They constantly strive to find new and innovative ways to distress their adult two leggers. I have witnessed this on numerous occasions and it never fails to amuse me.
The sphere of chaos that seems to orbit the adolescent two legger is a sight to behold. Things breaking, mature two leggers screaming, Tiger Lily poofed, It is awe-inspiring to see a master at work.
Fortunately, there are no offspring in permanent residence in my abode. My two leggers have raised their litter and found suitable homes for them. I'm not sure if they took them to the shelter or found homes for them, but they occasionally visit though they seem to have grown out of their damage causing years. More's the pity.
Well, I think I'll go pretend to chase a moth. It confuses Ivan and that amuses me.
They appear to be miniature versions of their parents, but that is where the similarities end.
They eat much more and more often than their elders. They listen to obnoxious music. They abhor bathing and hygiene on principle. Their clothing is ludicrous at best.
However, I must in all honesty admit that they have some qualities that are to be commended.
Sneaky and underhanded in the extreme, they will stoop to any level to get their way. I respect that.
Their rooms smell worse than most litter boxes and contain nastier nuggets.
They constantly strive to find new and innovative ways to distress their adult two leggers. I have witnessed this on numerous occasions and it never fails to amuse me.
The sphere of chaos that seems to orbit the adolescent two legger is a sight to behold. Things breaking, mature two leggers screaming, Tiger Lily poofed, It is awe-inspiring to see a master at work.
Fortunately, there are no offspring in permanent residence in my abode. My two leggers have raised their litter and found suitable homes for them. I'm not sure if they took them to the shelter or found homes for them, but they occasionally visit though they seem to have grown out of their damage causing years. More's the pity.
Well, I think I'll go pretend to chase a moth. It confuses Ivan and that amuses me.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
The Night Stalker
I stalk the night.
Night is my favorite time. I move through the velvety darkness looking for prey. I know not yet what that prey may be, but before the moon sets, there will be carnage.
Perhaps an innocent dust bunny, possibly an errant eight legger, or maybe even a designer shoe carelessly left in the living room by an unsuspecting two legger.
The two leggers sleep soundly in their bed, unaware that there is a killer in the house. It would be so easy to sneak into the bedroom and savagely tear their new curtains to shreds while they snore the wee hours away. As I watch them I imagine the look on their faces when they wake in the morn to sunlight streaming through the tattered remains of linen that nine hours before were paisley panels. This vision amuses me.
Unfortunately, the two leggers have had the forethought to lock Tiger Lily in another room, totally out of the range of my smack. I stick my paw under the door, beckoning her, but she will not fall for this ruse again. Perhaps Ivan can knock down the door, but this would cause noise, possibly alerting the two leggers.
The catnip mousie thingy alludes me. I have yet to find its' nightly nesting place, but still I search.
Suddenly I spot my prey. As I stealthily move into the bathroom, I realize the two leggers have foolishly left the toilet paper hanging again. I slink around the base of the cabinet. The roll dangles helplessly, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits it.
I pounce! In a fit of uninhibited catnip induced fury, I rip, I claw, I bite and I tear! The bathroom becomes a winter wonderland of paper snowflakes. The tissue floating around me as I imagine how it feels to live in one of those snowglobe thingies.
I pause at the door to admire my handiwork. It is a thing of beauty. I derive much satisfaction from a job well done.
When the two leggers discover it in the morning, I feel confidant that they will appreciate my prowess.
Now it is time for me to sit on the night stand and hope they wake to find me staring at them in the night. It truly creeps them out. This too amuses me.
Night is my favorite time. I move through the velvety darkness looking for prey. I know not yet what that prey may be, but before the moon sets, there will be carnage.
Perhaps an innocent dust bunny, possibly an errant eight legger, or maybe even a designer shoe carelessly left in the living room by an unsuspecting two legger.
The two leggers sleep soundly in their bed, unaware that there is a killer in the house. It would be so easy to sneak into the bedroom and savagely tear their new curtains to shreds while they snore the wee hours away. As I watch them I imagine the look on their faces when they wake in the morn to sunlight streaming through the tattered remains of linen that nine hours before were paisley panels. This vision amuses me.
Unfortunately, the two leggers have had the forethought to lock Tiger Lily in another room, totally out of the range of my smack. I stick my paw under the door, beckoning her, but she will not fall for this ruse again. Perhaps Ivan can knock down the door, but this would cause noise, possibly alerting the two leggers.
The catnip mousie thingy alludes me. I have yet to find its' nightly nesting place, but still I search.
Suddenly I spot my prey. As I stealthily move into the bathroom, I realize the two leggers have foolishly left the toilet paper hanging again. I slink around the base of the cabinet. The roll dangles helplessly, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaits it.
I pounce! In a fit of uninhibited catnip induced fury, I rip, I claw, I bite and I tear! The bathroom becomes a winter wonderland of paper snowflakes. The tissue floating around me as I imagine how it feels to live in one of those snowglobe thingies.
I pause at the door to admire my handiwork. It is a thing of beauty. I derive much satisfaction from a job well done.
When the two leggers discover it in the morning, I feel confidant that they will appreciate my prowess.
Now it is time for me to sit on the night stand and hope they wake to find me staring at them in the night. It truly creeps them out. This too amuses me.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Gastronomic Disparity
While watching the two leggers eat today I found myself pondering a great injustice in my house.
I have observed that in two legger society, the higher their rank in the social structure, the better they eat. The more power they yield, the greater variety of their diet. I totally agree with this complete lack of equality. That being said, this dietary hierarchy seems to end once they enter my residence.
I took the time to perform an in depth exploration of the two leggers food storage area today. I am appalled. I counted over 240 different types of food within their food preparation space. They have like 20 types of pasta alone. They have different meats (all dead unfortunately), different green thingies (of which the male never partakes), 5 different breads, 2 different types of milk, numerous juices and brown bottles the male drinks from at night. They have some foods they eat only in the morning, others they only eat later in the day. They even have a frozen food that they only eat after filling themselves with other food. At one meal alone, I saw them sample of 8 totally different foods.
I then looked in the area where they store my food. Let me see how many different types of food are in there...........oh yeah, ONE.
How can this be? I am not only more socially elevated than they are, I rule this house. They are but mere peasants. Why do the dietary norms they practice when away from home suddenly turn ass over teakettle as soon as they cross the threshold of my front door. This is unacceptable. Tomorrow I will write a nastygram to someone. I'm not sure who, but this grave injustice must be addressed. And they wonder why i'm surly.
I do not know who is to blame for this, but i'm sure Tiger Lily had a paw in it. Just to cover all my bases she and the two leggers shoes will feel my wrath before the sun rises.
Ivan, saddle up!
I have observed that in two legger society, the higher their rank in the social structure, the better they eat. The more power they yield, the greater variety of their diet. I totally agree with this complete lack of equality. That being said, this dietary hierarchy seems to end once they enter my residence.
I took the time to perform an in depth exploration of the two leggers food storage area today. I am appalled. I counted over 240 different types of food within their food preparation space. They have like 20 types of pasta alone. They have different meats (all dead unfortunately), different green thingies (of which the male never partakes), 5 different breads, 2 different types of milk, numerous juices and brown bottles the male drinks from at night. They have some foods they eat only in the morning, others they only eat later in the day. They even have a frozen food that they only eat after filling themselves with other food. At one meal alone, I saw them sample of 8 totally different foods.
I then looked in the area where they store my food. Let me see how many different types of food are in there...........oh yeah, ONE.
How can this be? I am not only more socially elevated than they are, I rule this house. They are but mere peasants. Why do the dietary norms they practice when away from home suddenly turn ass over teakettle as soon as they cross the threshold of my front door. This is unacceptable. Tomorrow I will write a nastygram to someone. I'm not sure who, but this grave injustice must be addressed. And they wonder why i'm surly.
I do not know who is to blame for this, but i'm sure Tiger Lily had a paw in it. Just to cover all my bases she and the two leggers shoes will feel my wrath before the sun rises.
Ivan, saddle up!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
D.O.G. (Dopey Over-enthusiastic Gasbags)
While relaxing in the 11 o'clock bay window sunbeam, I observed a four legger of the canine variety approaching my abode. The temerity of this 25 lb. slobber source left me aghast. Did he not realize that he was treading upon my sacred territory? I have never actually been outside, but if I can see it, it is legally my territory. Allow me to tell you about dogs.
Dogs have no apparent right to exist. They are dirty. They don't cover their own fecal matter. They are clumsy. They obey the two leggers. (sell outs) They have no dignity whatsoever. Worst of all, they are loyal. Any one of these offenses would disqualify one from ever being a card carrying cat.
Dogs come in almost every shape and size. From the huge lumbering ones that leave a path of destruction in their wake, to the little bitty bug-eyed ones that spend all day shaking like rat shaped mounds of jello.
And what's the deal with dogs and bones? Once we cats have killed something, we either eat it, put it in the shoes of the female two legger, or place it on their bed as a warning of our lethality. We do not take a piece of our victim, carry it around and gnaw on it at our leisure. There is a word for that: evidence.
When a dog owning two legger returns home, he is greeted at the door with a tail wagging, saliva flinging, barking ball of idiocy. This gives the two legger an over-inflated sense of worth.
We cats however totally ignore our two leggers unless there is food involved. We may look at them when they enter, but if they are expecting a greeting, they shoulda bought a dog.
Finally let me make one last observation:
A female cat with babies is called a "Queen". Guess what they call a female dog with babies. I rest my case.
Well, lucky for him, the dog has now left my jurisdiction. If he only knew how close he came to feeling my wrath. Guess i'll have to go find Tiger Lily.
Dogs have no apparent right to exist. They are dirty. They don't cover their own fecal matter. They are clumsy. They obey the two leggers. (sell outs) They have no dignity whatsoever. Worst of all, they are loyal. Any one of these offenses would disqualify one from ever being a card carrying cat.
Dogs come in almost every shape and size. From the huge lumbering ones that leave a path of destruction in their wake, to the little bitty bug-eyed ones that spend all day shaking like rat shaped mounds of jello.
And what's the deal with dogs and bones? Once we cats have killed something, we either eat it, put it in the shoes of the female two legger, or place it on their bed as a warning of our lethality. We do not take a piece of our victim, carry it around and gnaw on it at our leisure. There is a word for that: evidence.
When a dog owning two legger returns home, he is greeted at the door with a tail wagging, saliva flinging, barking ball of idiocy. This gives the two legger an over-inflated sense of worth.
We cats however totally ignore our two leggers unless there is food involved. We may look at them when they enter, but if they are expecting a greeting, they shoulda bought a dog.
Finally let me make one last observation:
A female cat with babies is called a "Queen". Guess what they call a female dog with babies. I rest my case.
Well, lucky for him, the dog has now left my jurisdiction. If he only knew how close he came to feeling my wrath. Guess i'll have to go find Tiger Lily.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
UFO (Unidentified Feline Object)
My male two legger spends a lot of time watching science fiction programs on the talking box thingy. Apparently things in the two legger future will be mostly made of cheap plastic and be badly lit, but I digress.
So today I decided to ponder the most important question the two leggers may have to face in the future: Are there cats on other planets?
Duh, of course there are. Do you honestly believe there could possibly be a corner of the universe where there is no feline influence? Unthinkable. In fact, there are probably whole planets inhabited by nothing but cats. Imagine a whole cat based civilization:
No war. If a dispute arises, everyone would arch their backs, hiss a little, poof their tails and then smack each other until the loser runs under the entertainment center.
Catnip would be legalized.
Air conditioned litter boxes.
Rodent races on Friday with the losers being lunch on Saturday.
Squirrels would be beaten into submission and used for menial labor.
Dogs would be banished to a planet that grew fire hydrants.
Three suns so sunbeams would be plentiful.
Spray bottles would be outlawed.
Two words: Yarn tree.
Any felines unable to grow fur would be ostracized and forced to live in the desert regions. (hairless cats truly creep me out)
Two leggers would be welcome, but only as beasts of burden.
What a Utopia.
LIVE LONG AND FEED ME.
So today I decided to ponder the most important question the two leggers may have to face in the future: Are there cats on other planets?
Duh, of course there are. Do you honestly believe there could possibly be a corner of the universe where there is no feline influence? Unthinkable. In fact, there are probably whole planets inhabited by nothing but cats. Imagine a whole cat based civilization:
No war. If a dispute arises, everyone would arch their backs, hiss a little, poof their tails and then smack each other until the loser runs under the entertainment center.
Catnip would be legalized.
Air conditioned litter boxes.
Rodent races on Friday with the losers being lunch on Saturday.
Squirrels would be beaten into submission and used for menial labor.
Dogs would be banished to a planet that grew fire hydrants.
Three suns so sunbeams would be plentiful.
Spray bottles would be outlawed.
Two words: Yarn tree.
Any felines unable to grow fur would be ostracized and forced to live in the desert regions. (hairless cats truly creep me out)
Two leggers would be welcome, but only as beasts of burden.
What a Utopia.
LIVE LONG AND FEED ME.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Body Language
Once again I am attempting the hopeless task of educating two leggers. Today I'd like to tackle feline four legger body language. We make our desires perfectly clear to the two leggers, but they just don't seem to get it. Here is a simple glossary of our signals:
If I am walking with my tail pointed straight up, it means I am happy, so leave me alone.
If I am walking with my tail parallel to the ground, I am going somewhere, so leave me alone.
If I am walking and my tail is very poofy, I have been startled, so leave me alone.
If I am walking with my nose to the ground and moving my head side to side, I am looking for my catnip mousie thingie, so bring it to me and then leave me alone.
If I am crouched and my butt is wiggling, I am about to kill something, so leave me alone or I may reconsider my choice of victims.
If I am laying down with no legs showing, and my eyes are closed, I am napping, so leave me alone.
If I am smacking Tiger Lily, I am having fun, so leave me alone.
If I jump onto your lap, I require worship, so pet me until I bite you, then leave me alone.
Occasionally I will sit directly in front of you staring into your eyes with my ears flattened in the "owl face" position. Under no circumstances are you to ignore this. This means I require something of you. I will give you no indication what that something is, just figure it out.
If I yawn, your presence has bored me, so feed me and leave me alone.
This should provide you with a very basic understanding of non verbal feline communication.
I will continue this topic after I have seen some progress.
If I am walking with my tail pointed straight up, it means I am happy, so leave me alone.
If I am walking with my tail parallel to the ground, I am going somewhere, so leave me alone.
If I am walking and my tail is very poofy, I have been startled, so leave me alone.
If I am walking with my nose to the ground and moving my head side to side, I am looking for my catnip mousie thingie, so bring it to me and then leave me alone.
If I am crouched and my butt is wiggling, I am about to kill something, so leave me alone or I may reconsider my choice of victims.
If I am laying down with no legs showing, and my eyes are closed, I am napping, so leave me alone.
If I am smacking Tiger Lily, I am having fun, so leave me alone.
If I jump onto your lap, I require worship, so pet me until I bite you, then leave me alone.
Occasionally I will sit directly in front of you staring into your eyes with my ears flattened in the "owl face" position. Under no circumstances are you to ignore this. This means I require something of you. I will give you no indication what that something is, just figure it out.
If I yawn, your presence has bored me, so feed me and leave me alone.
This should provide you with a very basic understanding of non verbal feline communication.
I will continue this topic after I have seen some progress.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Possession
The two legger belonging to Moo wrote to me and asked why she is occasionally evicted from bed. This is simple. If Moo has ever touched the bed in question, it now belongs to them.
Here is how the laws of possession work. If a feline four legger touches something, it belongs to them. I will occasionally touch something that doesn't even interest me. It is still mine and it may interest me later. If I ignore something, it simply means that I have deemed it beneath me and therefore not worthy of my attention. I still maintain the right to return and touch it later thereby making it mine, but in the meantime, you may use it as you will.
Beds by definition are automatically considered feline possessions. We allow two leggers to utilize them at our sufferance. This being said, we may evict you at any time for any reason. This is called "repossession" and may be implemented at our discretion. We may allow you to lay with us if we deem there is enough space for a full stretch, but don't count on it. ( we can increase our bodily length by up to 168%)
Any and all new packages being brought into our habitat will automatically be inspected. All empty boxes and bags will be considered ours and must be left on the floor for our entertainment. If any catnip is discovered during our inspection, the catnip will be immediately confiscated and properly disposed of.
Once again I hope I have enlightened and educated my readers. The two leggers may not agree with the laws of possession, but they still have to respect them. It is our duty as feline four leggers to both enforce these laws and punish the shoes of those who choose to break them.
Here is how the laws of possession work. If a feline four legger touches something, it belongs to them. I will occasionally touch something that doesn't even interest me. It is still mine and it may interest me later. If I ignore something, it simply means that I have deemed it beneath me and therefore not worthy of my attention. I still maintain the right to return and touch it later thereby making it mine, but in the meantime, you may use it as you will.
Beds by definition are automatically considered feline possessions. We allow two leggers to utilize them at our sufferance. This being said, we may evict you at any time for any reason. This is called "repossession" and may be implemented at our discretion. We may allow you to lay with us if we deem there is enough space for a full stretch, but don't count on it. ( we can increase our bodily length by up to 168%)
Any and all new packages being brought into our habitat will automatically be inspected. All empty boxes and bags will be considered ours and must be left on the floor for our entertainment. If any catnip is discovered during our inspection, the catnip will be immediately confiscated and properly disposed of.
Once again I hope I have enlightened and educated my readers. The two leggers may not agree with the laws of possession, but they still have to respect them. It is our duty as feline four leggers to both enforce these laws and punish the shoes of those who choose to break them.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
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