Ivan Speaks Pt. II

Da boss said I hadda make blog thingy for him today. I dunno much word stuff, but he make me try anyways.

Umm, guess I talk about what make Ivan, (that me) happy.
Food make Ivan happy. No food make Ivan grumpy.
Biting stuff make Ivan happy. Biting Ivan make Ivan grumpy.
Sleeping make Ivan happy. Sleeping two legger make Ivan grumpy.

The end.



Boss say I hafta make more letters.

Ivan like laps. But don't touch Ivan when he in lap. I bite you if you do. That make Ivan happy.

Boss is nice to Ivan. He treat me real good. He let me smack Tiger Lily. He let me eat eight leggers. He let me eat dust bunnies. Sometimes he only eat half my food.
He real smart. He make pretty words.

Before da Boss came, I was only four legger in house. I did not know what to do. I sleep all day and hide from ghost thingies at night. Then Boss came and showed me stuff I could break during day, and that at night, ghost was only two legger snoring.

Boss show me how to steal two legger stuff and not get sprayed by water bottle thingy.
Boss say Ivan real good at making stinkies. Boss say nobody better at making stinkies. Boss call me the "Grand Poobah of Stinkovia" I don't know what that mean, but I think it is good thing.

Boss says I can quit making letters now. He says this should be enough to annoy many two leggers.

I think Boss is amused.

Ivan and The Chipmunks

Ivan is embarrassed. However, he made me promise not to tell anyone of his embarrassment. Like who would I tell? But, I am a creature of my word, and so I fully intend on not telling anyone.

So, Ivan was relaxing by the sliding door this morning when suddenly a new critter appeared in the backyard. And not just one new critter, but several critters of the same type. These animals were small in stature, (only half a tailspan in length) tailless, short brown mangy fur with black and white stripes going down it's scrawny little back. I recognized them as being chipmunks from having observed them on the talking box thingy. (the male two legger watches the Disney Channel when he thinks everyone is sleeping)

I think they were attracted to my backyard by the birdseed the female two legger put out there during the recent snow storm. She was worried that all the bird thingies may go hungry and so in a fit of misguided concern, made the male go out in the cold and place food under all the trees. Her priorities did not amuse me because it was clearly obvious that my food bowl was only seven-eighths full and therefore in dire need of refilling, but instead she made him take care of the bird thingies first. ( I'm working on a hairball that has her name on it)

Back to the chipmunks. Upon spotting the offending rodentia, Ivan went into a furs-a-flyin frenzy. He was under the mistaken assumption that the chipmunks were in fact embryonic squirrel thingies. Being his best friend, I immediately told him of his mistake. But alas, I have to be true to myself and therefore could not let him off so easily. So I told him that they were actually a mutant form of ninja squirrel thingy and that invasion was imminent. I embellished the tale with a story about them having pictures of an orange tabby in the tiny pouches where they keep their "hit list".

Ivan then attempted to squeeze his not inconsiderable bulk under the entertainment center. It looked like half an orange watermelon. Most amusing.

After about an hour of watching Ivan try to find a suitable hidey hole, I decided to let him off the hook. Ivan was not amused. In fact, I believe I have never seen him so angry. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was plotting murder.

Good thing I told him it was Tiger Lily's idea.

Snow Wonder

What the hell happened to my yard?

I am confused. Yesterday, around 9 am, I settled down for my early mid-morning nap. I chose the front bay window as the spot because the sun was shining and therefore it was prime napping real estate. Gazing out at the green grass, I drifted off to sleep.

I was in the middle of a wonderful dream that involved a decapitated squirrel and a one winged bird (it kept flying in circles), when I was awakened by the sound of Ivan running through my house in full blown poofy fur, crooked tail freakout mode. Now, it doesn't take much to freak out Ivan (simply asking him where his tail went usually accomplishes this) but this freakout seemed beyond the pale.

I opened my eyes slowly, working up to a major league tabby smack, and to my utter astonishment discovered that the entire outside world had changed. The sun was gone and everything was covered in big white flaky thingies (and I'm not referring to talk show hosts).

These big white flaky thingies (BWFT's) were falling from the sky at an enormous rate. They fell silently and slowly, threatening to lull me back to sleep. Fortunately my curiosity served to keep me awake so that I could ponder this oddity.









The first thing I noticed was the scarcity of any four leggers in the yard. Normally, the deck bunny is hopping around the front yard at this time of day. He was nowhere to be seen. No bird thingies were in evidence. Even the stupid squirrel was missing. The only four leggers I could see were the goats. They were standing in their shed, clearly displeased, glaring at the house as though this was somehow my doing.

Ivan kept running from window to window trying to capture some of the BWFT's with no success. (Like so many other concepts, Ivan doesn't understand glass) Tiger Lily whined for a while and then curled up on a hot air vent and fell asleep. I'll smack her after I solve this mystery.

Shortly thereafter, the two leggers came home early. To my delight, some of the BWFT's had stuck to the female's boots. I waited while she removed her boots and left them by the door. After she left the room, I was able to examine the BWFT's more closely.

Upon close examination, (sniffing and batting) I discovered that the BWFT's were:
A. Cold
B. Wet
C. Very cold
D. Very Cold and wet.

The only flavor I could discern was leather, presumably from the female's boots.
My conclusion is that the BWFT's are water that has been transformed into a sticky, goat irritating substance.

The male two legger turned on the talking box thingy and watched another two legger talk about a "snow" storm. I soon realized that he was referring to the BWFT's. Best of all, the BWFT's were causing much chaos in two legged society. He spoke of cars in ditches, businesses and schools closing, and roads being blocked. I watched for some time hoping to hear about squirrel casualties, but none were reported. Perhaps they'll find their mangy little corpses after the BWFT's melt. One can only hope.

BWFT= snow. Mystery solved.

After much consideration, I have decided that I must learn how to manufacture this stuff.

The Best Time of The Year

I am giddy. I am beside myself with anticipation. My favorite season has arrived.

Every year when the weather grows cold, the trees lose their leaves and
the wind blows the squirrel around the yard, my two legged minions suddenly feel the urge to fill my abode with a wide array of cat toys. There are toys of every shape and size.

My personal favorite is a miniature tree thingy that stretches from floor to ceiling. Not only do they conveniently place it in the middle of my living room, they also hang a myriad of dangly, shiny, sparkly and crunchy objects from the branches. Some are even quite delicious. These objects are perfectly tailored for feline amusement. There are colored round balls hanging from small hooks that are made to shatter on impact. They make a very satisfying popping sound when they drop.

The tree thingy also makes an incredibly effective ambush site. Tiger Lily has yet to learn that the tree thingy has an unlimited supply of smacks lurking within its verdant boughs. I spend most of my day carefully climbing among the branches, looking for the best position from which to observe and plot. I have learned from past experience to be utterly still whenever a two legger enters so that I don't alert them to my intentions. I like for them to be surprised when I leap at them from the upper branches. It enhances the enjoyment for all involved. I was even able to take a picture last year of one of the two legged offspring at the moment of discovery.


Ivan, on the other hand, likes the tree thingy for the variety of flavors that it contains. He seems to enjoy the taste of plastic and cotton. I don't claim to understand him, he is what he is.
He especially enjoys chewing the wires that connect the tiny lightbulbs. Occasionally while chewing on these, he will suddenly jump straight up and flee from the room leaving only the smell of singed fur behind. One would think this to be an unpleasant experience, but ten minutes later he'll be back contentedly munching away.

There are ribbons, bows, boxes wrapped in thin paper, all easily shredded and destroyed. Every night, we wreak havoc and destruction. Every morning the two leggers spend an hour or so resetting everything and sweeping up the shards while screaming in joy and amusement.

Tonight Ivan and I have decided to have a party. We're gonna break out the good catnip and really do the tree thingy justice. All of my four legged followers are invited. It starts as soon as the two leggers are in bed. Remember to BYOCMT (Bring Your Own Catnip Mousie Thingy) Except for Moo, I've got a special one for you.

The Curtain Calls

Since the dawn of feline/two legger cohabitation, there has been a point of contention that rises above all others.

Curtains.

Two leggers are driven by instinct to hang vertical panels of cloth over every window they encounter. We feline types are driven to destroy these vertical panels of cloth whenever, and wherever we encounter them. It is the natural order of things.

In every society, on every continent, in every age, there is a two legger hanging curtains and its' feline companion waiting patiently to shred them to bits. This is fact.

There is even a depiction of this painted on the walls of a cave in France. It shows a stone age female two legger hanging a bear skin over a hole in the rock only to find in the morning that a saber toothed tiger had torn it up in the night.

What two leggers fail to understand, is the fact that curtains are like visual catnip. When we enter a room and see all that material stretching from floor to ceiling, we are compelled to act. The feel of our claws piercing the fabric as we propel ourselves ever upward. The sound, like the popping of tiny firecracker thingies, is music to our ears.

We take great pride in our curtain climbing abilities. We even hold competitions.

Ivan has his own peculiar style adapted to his speed to bulk ratio. Though seldom able to climb more than three tailspans vertically, he makes up for this deficiency by often pulling the curtain down to him, rod and all. The chaos and damage this causes more than compensates for the lack of height of climb. His motto: "Attitude Trumps Altitude".

Tiger Lily is de-clawed and therefore disqualified from the competition. Although Ivan and I once convinced her to try anyway. The results were amusing. She ran at the window, leapt with all her might and succeeded in slamming herself bodily into the window screen almost dislodging it in the process. Oh how we laughed.

I prefer technique and artistry in my approach to curtain destruction. My favorite method is to get a running start from the hallway, rounding the corner by ricocheting off the end of the couch, leaping from the floor to the top of the lazyboy, and using the spring of the cushion to launch myself to the very top of the curtain. I then enjoy a relaxing fifteen to twenty second hang time.
The artistry in my method lies in the interesting patterns the sun shining through the holes makes on the carpet. I find them relaxing.

Why do we climb curtains? Because they are there.

Baby Stalk

I recently received a message from one of my four legged followers begging me to advise her on dealing with an interloper recently introduced to her household. This fresh irritant is referred to by the two leggers as a "baby". Having once seen one, I feel imminently qualified to advise her. The message reads:

"Dear Great, Wise, Wonderful, Fantastic, Handsome, Brilliant, Ingenious, and Famous Cujo Cat,
I have a problem that requires your sage counsel. My female two legger recently underwent an inexplicable nine month long weight gain. During this time she became quite unpredictable in both her general disposition as well as her appetite. This also affected the male two legger causing him to take a sudden interest in building stuff. He even went as far as to evict me from my favorite dayroom and re-paint it a nasty shade of pink. He replaced my kitty condo with a miniature two legger bed that has bars on the side."

" Then one day there was chaos, and not the good, feline induced type. The two leggers left in the middle of the night and did not return for two days. The only two legger I saw during this time was the male's sibling that came briefly to fill my food and water."

"On the third day, the two leggers returned carrying a bundle of screaming rags. Since then, there has been little peace and less affection shown to Yours Truly. The screaming rags turned out to be a "baby". I don't understand what could possess my two leggers to bring this into my domicile, let alone why they continue to feed it. I await your wisdom."

"Thank you,
Minnie Mousemunch"

Dear Minnie,
First of all, your salutation (Dear Great, Wise, Wonderful, Fantastic, Handsome, Brilliant, Ingenious, and Famous Cujo Cat,) is flattering, but overdone. (I'm not that famous)

I understand your dilemma. These "baby" thingies are truly a bane to all cats everywhere. After doing some research and observation, I have reached the conclusion that they are embryonic two leggers. I believe that the nine month period of weight gain that you witnessed was actually the female's pregnancy. When they disappeared for two days, they probably went to the Vet for the delivery. I do find it curious however that they only brought one of the litter home with them. Perhaps they were offered their pick and this was the one they chose.

Be that as it may, I feel that the best course of action is to observe, plot and whenever possible, wreak havoc. I suggest you act as though you enjoy the company of the embryo. Purr when it is called for, but don't lay it on too thick. If you are too nice, the two leggers will suspect your motives.

Be wary of their defense mechanisms. They have the ability to emit a stench that even Ivan cannot abide. Their vocalizations can actually cause glass to break and milk to sour. So tread carefully. As for the bars around the miniature bed, I think they are there in order to keep the "baby" from sneaking out and murdering them in their sleep. (I actually saw that happen on the talking box thingy once)

There is one benefit to having one of these in your household however. Whenever you are left alone with the "baby", you have carte blanche to break stuff. The mature two leggers will just smile at the "baby" and call it a 'little rascal" or some such drivel. I know it's not fair (they should spray it with the squirty water thingy) but when it's their offspring, it suddenly seems cute to them. So enjoy the freedom to break anything you want without consequence. Just make sure it lands near the "baby".

Finally, if it gets to be too much for you to handle, c'mon over to my place. We'll do some nip and slap Tiger Lily. It's very therapeutic.

Utter Coon-fusion

I have discovered a new type of four legger. I am amused.

Last night while on dust bunny patrol, I was startled by a loud skittering noise emanating from the back deck of my house. Assuming it was my nemesis the squirrel, I decided to aggressively ignore him. But the noise continued and eventually grew until it could be ignored no more. I stalked to the sliding door prepared to give the tree rat a glaring he wouldn't soon forget and to my dismay discovered that the squirrel was absent. Instead, I beheld a large furry mound of mischief, and its' five mini-mounds.

Having spent much time watching Animal Planet on the talking box thingy, I quickly identified these trespassers as "raccoons". For those of you that have never actually seen a raccoon, they are about three tailspans long and weigh approximately two Ivans. They have grayish unkempt fur and black and white rings on their tails. They wear a mask on their face. I believe they are basically well dressed possums. I decided to observe.

The large raccoon used its' incredibly dexterous paws to open the container of bird seed and sate itself on the contents therein. Meanwhile, the mini-coons were busy. Two of them were swimming in the koi pond, while the other three were dissecting the cushions of the lawn furniture. Occasionally two or more would suddenly begin to wrestle, hissing and biting at each other until they found other objects to explore and ultimately destroy. I have never witnessed such concentrated chaos. My heart pounded as I considered the possibilities.

Imagine these maestro's of mayhem released upon the interior of my home. If they can cause such damage to furnishings designed to stand up to Mother Nature, what could they do to the all the delicate little thingies that my female two legger takes such pride in? Ivan would have new friends that smell almost as bad as him. The garbage can would never be upright again. Never again would I have to struggle with trying to bite through the lid of the catnip container. I bet that houseplants would never be seen in my house again. Just the thought of those guys lining up to smack Tiger Lily with their marvelous little paws makes me shiver in anticipation. MWAHAHAHA!!!

I have made a decision. I am now their leader, and they are my minions.