The Great Moth Massacre (2013)

June is one of my favorite months.

I can't say that it is my most favorite month, but I definitely rank it in the top 12.

Sunbeams sprout in every window sill, no more chilly evenings, and there are outdoor critters aplenty for me to berate from windows left open.

But there is a reason above all these that causes me to look forward to June with gleeful anticipation.

The annual moth thingy harvest.

Every year in mid to late June, for reasons only known to scientific type two leggers, moth thingies suddenly decide that their flittery little lives are no longer worth living and they decide to end it all by entering my kingdom. Like those overgrown hamster thingies in England called "lemmings" or fans of Miley Cyrus, they rush headlong and unthinkingly to their doom.

It is unknown how they enter my house. Even when every door is locked, every window closed with screen intact they get in somehow. At first I thought that they originated somewhere within these walls, but the fact that I often see them circling the porch light in warm Summer evenings proves this theory false. I now suspect that they are brought in by hitching a ride in my male two legger's mustache.

Be that as it may, they enter my abode and carnage ensues.

According to the dictionary wordy thingy, the definition of a moth thingy is as follows:
Moth thingy: [mawth theengy] plural: moth thingies- Any of a sub-genus of winged six leggers known for flittery/fluttery behavior. Also known as  "redneck butterflies", their sole reason for existence is to serve as both amusement and dietary supplement to domestic housecats. See also: Mouse thingy, eight legger, housefly and designer shoe.

The moth harvest generally begins in mid-June and lasts until the last moth is either digested or beaten into submission.

We all have our own individual methods and styles for moth thingy eradication:

Ivan prefers a passive approach. He waits until a potential victim lands within reach of his paw, he stares at it with a confused expression and then softly bats at it. This soon gives the moth thingy a false sense of security, thinking that the large, orange, stinky mass is relatively harmless. It begins to buzz around on the floor in small circles which confuses Ivan further. In keeping with his philosophy of "That which is not understood must be eaten" Ivan promptly munches it.

Jaq uses the "Zen Master Meditation Method". She sits upon the couch next to a lamp, eyes closed, seemingly in a deep trance. The moth thingies flit around the lamp (as part of their suicidal tendencies, they are always trying to "go into the light"). Softly humming "Spirit in The Sky", she sits until just the right moment and suddenly springs with her micro-paws whipping through the air, snagging up to a half dozen in a single swat.

Tiger Lily puts on such a theatrical display of ineffectual waving paws and impotent viciousness that the moth thingies drop to the floor in a fit of laughter and are quickly dispatched.

I employ the "Frightening Lightning" strategy. A flash of black and white streaks across the room and suddenly the moth population is reduced by 30%. Another flash and several more go missing. Just as the moth thingies begin to notice that several members of their excursion are missing and start to suspect that something is amiss, I finish off the survivors in a flurry of teeth and claws.

In the morning, the two leggers walk through a hallway strewn with broken wings and bits of moth-matter. They enter the livingroom to find four cats, sated on the blood of their enemies and languidly licking their dusty paws.

Monday marks the beginning of  July, another of my favorite months.

Bring on the pill bugs.

Vintage Whine

Since starting my blog thingy almost three years ago, I have on occasion allowed, or in some instances, forced my minions to write in my stead. Ivan, Jaq and even the male two legger have taken over for me when it amused me.

However, it has been brought to my attention that one minion in particular has never been allowed to voice her opinions.....

Tiger Lily

There are two reasons I have kept her muted until now:
1. I was worried about liability issues involving my readers uncontrollably smacking their monitors once they read her words.
2. I always believed that post #264 would be the perfect time to allow it. Granted, I once considered post #262 to be the perfect time, but I was heavily into catnip back then and fortunately sobered up before making such a drastic mistake.

Before I turn the keyboard over to Whiney The Pooh, I just want to say that I reserve the right to smack her at any time and for any or no purpose whatsoever.

Without further ceremony, I present her Royal Whineness: Tiger Lily

Thank you Cujo    *SMACK!*

Aw! C'mon! I was only gonna *SMACKITY-SMACK!*

Okay! If you're not gonna let *SMACK!*

Cujo here again, in the interest of getting this over with, I will now retire to the Royal Litter while she continues her post. However, I will return immediately if I hear her keystrokes sounding even slightly whiny.

Now that he is gone, maybe I can finally speak my mind! 

I know that from his blog and his books, many people have gotten the impression that Cujo is a total tyrant and is completely evil and vile in all his methods. 

Well, I am here to set you all straight.

You don't know the half of it!

But I am not here to complain about all the things he does to make my life a living purgatory. I will not speak of the way he likes to slap the top of the litter box whenever I try to make potty. I won't tell you how he always licks all the food in MY food bowl before I can eat. I refuse to tattle about how he is always popping out of nooks and crannies in order to startle me. I promise I won't tell about the time that he hid under my bed until 2am and then jumped up and smacked me just when I was finally asleep.

No, I am no snitch. I would never attempt to get him in trouble by talking about how he keeps trying to lace the two legger's coffee with stool softener. I wouldn't dream of letting everyone know that he has set up a PetCo credit account in the two legger's name. Or that he watches "Animal Planet After Dark" which comes on at 1am and features R-rated nature videos.

I am going to use this time to talk about me.

I am seven years old and Cujo has been smacking me around for the last five of those years. I never quite know when or why he is going to smack me. I have luxuriant silver/ gray fur that can often be found lodged between Cujo's claws. I spend most of my day staring at walls, laying on the female two legger's head and getting smacked by Cujo.

I know that Cujo justifies his treatment of me by telling everyone that I whine too much, but this is a misconception. 

I do not whine.

I state my objections vociferously on the rare occasion that something displeases me. The only things that I object to are:
Cujo sitting too close to me.
Cujo walking by me.
Any other cat in my vicinity.
My food bowl being empty.
My food bowl being too full.
My litter box having clumps.
Clean litter.
Open windows.
Closed windows.
My water bowl being dirty.
My water bowl being taken away to be cleaned.
Noises in the dark.
Silence.
Jaq singing.
Two leggers sleeping past 4:30am.
Two leggers going to bed before 2am.
Two leggers having visitors.
Two leggers leaving.
Two leggers coming home.
Two leggers in the tub.
Bob in the yard.
Deer thingies in the yard.
Eight leggers.
Six leggers.
Ivan.

Other than that, I am pretty "happy-go-lucky" all the time.

 *SMACK*
I have returned. 

Now that I have allowed her to speak, I trust that after that bit of unpleasantness, no one will accuse me of unwarranted smacking ever again. 

In fact, I just received an email from PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) regarding my treatment of Tiger Lily. It was just five words long:

"Dear Cujo,
           Go for it."

Night of The Stalking Dead

I have often spoken of my male two legger's affinity for bad science fiction movies. I have also spoken often of the female's long suffering acceptance of the male's affinity for bad science fiction movies.

What I have not mentioned before, is their mutual enjoyment of another type of movie.

 Scary movies.

I am not referring to the type of movie where some former child star hangs out at a summer camp, slashing, axing and chainsawing his way through a cast of buxom young starlets who obviously landed their roles because of their acting skills.

 ** For those of my minions who are unfamiliar with or unaccustomed to extreme sarcasm, please refer to the last portion of the preceding sentence as an example.**

No brainless zombies prancing around causing havoc across this great land. (Can you believe American Idol is still on the air?)

They prefer the more subtle, eerie imaginative form of villain thingy. The type that uses suspense and imagination to scare the litter nuggets out of the viewer. The type that sneaks around, quietly rearranging  your sock drawer and leaves empty egg cartons in the fridge so that the two leggers don't realize they are out of eggs until the next time they crave an omelet and then spend the rest of the day in an unfulfilled omelet funk. The kind of psychopathic creeper that one always suspects of watching from the shadows, making odd faces and occasionally cracking his knuckles. The type that always stays just out of sight and just when you start to relax, jumps out of the closet and yells "BOOGERS!" before taking your first-born off to the land of Faerie.

Last night, they watched just such a show.

From the shadows, I was watching as well......

Being the ever thoughtful and benevolent master that I am, I deduced that if they enjoyed watching this type of show, they would enjoy living it even more.

As the two leggers prepared for bed, I called a meeting of my fellow felines. I informed them that tonight we shall give the two leggers some truly first class entertainment.

Once the two leggers settled into their bed and turned off the lights, Jaq stealthily snuck under their bed and began to softly sing the most eerily terrifying song ever written: "Teddy Bear Picnic".  Sung in such a soft whispery voice, even the bravest soul would find their knee thingies knocking. Ivan could take no more and bolted from the room.

The monochromatic Tiger Lily silently darted from shadow to shadow, like a phantom in their peripheral vision, pausing each time the two leggers sat up to investigate. Almost wraith-like, she slipped along the edges of the room, careful to provide only fleeting glimpses of her ghostly presence.

Having found Ivan cowering under the hallway table, quivering like Justin Beiber at a biker rally, I told him that it was his turn to add his voice to the symphony of spookiness I was conducting. I gave him his orders and sent him into the bedroom. Every 30 seconds or so, Ivan was to find a suitable piece of woodwork (i.e. baseboard, table leg, bedpost....etc) and drag one claw upon its surface, making a long "scriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch" sound. This worked extraordinarily well, except for the part about counting to 30 between scritches. Ivan kept losing count after counting to two.  I solved this dilemma by telling him to scritch every time he thought about food.

I played my part by simply sitting on the night stand and staring intently at them while they attempted to sleep. Whenever I saw their eyelids beginning to droop, I would shift my stance ever so slightly, causing their eyes to pop back open.

Finally, when it seemed that their exhaustion was beginning to overcome their wariness, I gave the signal and we all gathered in front of the glass door thingy that looks out onto the back deck. On cue, all four of us arched our backs, poofed and began hissing at the darkness. Then, in a flurry of skittering claws, we all fled from the room and disappeared into the murky depths of the hallway.

The darkness did not last long. Soon every light in my kingdom was turned on as the two leggers searched every inch of my Kingdom. By the time they entered the living room, Jaq was curled up in the laundry basket, softly humming a lullaby, Tiger Lily was sprawled on the back of the couch whining about the lights. Ivan, having startled himself again, was hiding under the hallway table, and I was resting peacefully upon my throne.

With a confused scratch of his head, the male returned to his bedroom where he and his mate spent the rest of the night with the lights on.

While it provided much amusement, surprisingly, I don't believe the two leggers were entertained.

Perhaps next time, we should provide popcorn.

Goin Buggy

Normally, I refuse to ponder two legger politics. Aside from the chaos it causes among two leggers, I have little or no interest in how the two leggers pretend to govern themselves.

I am often asked if I support one political party or another and my answer is always the same: An irritated glare and a subtle twitching of my smacking paw. This is usually enough to discourage any further inquiries.

This is not to say that I do not pay attention to their antics, but as a self-professed benevolent dictator, I find the very idea of political parties both ludicrous and silly.

All that being stated, I have noticed that lately that two leggers all over the internet thingy and on the news programs yakking away about their government spying on its' own citizens. As The Supreme Ruler and Grand Poobah of All Universes (both known and unknown), Master of Mayhem, Creator of Chaos and Keeper of The Royal Smacking Paw, I feel it is time to make my feelings on this matter known:

Minions must be watched.

They must be kept under constant scrutiny lest they forget who their masters truly are. They must be observed while they eat. They must be watched while they sleep. Their communications must be monitored in case they are plotting to bring home a dog thingy or making an appointment with the veterinarian thingy.

Most importantly, they must be watched while they are using their litter box. I am reasonably sure that when two leggers are using their litter box, subversion is the last thing on their minds, but we must still watch them if only for the fact that it irritates them and makes them nervous.

However, there is one point with which I disagree with the two legger's government. They are apparently uncomfortable with their two leggers being aware that they are being watched. They attempt to conceal their surveillance. I find these methods to be counter-productive. In my opinion, if a minion is aware that they are being watched, they are less likely to behave in a revolutionary manner. My minions go through their daily life fully aware that I am watching.....always watching.

I must admit however, that I am not totally against trying new methods. Just the other day, I decided to do a little research and attempt to discover other methods for keeping my two leggers in line. Performing an internet thingy search, I discovered that there are several websites devoted to helping tyrants dominate their minions.

Side note: One must be cautious when typing words like "domination, smacking and enslavement" into a search engine. Many of the results seem to targeted toward lovers of dog thingies because they feature a lot of leashes and collars.

I found one website thingy that seemed to show a lot of promise. It was called "Masters Who Attain Higher Authority And Hate All Squirrels" (MWAHAHAS) It contained much useful information, most of it useless. There was one suggestion however, that I thought I should try. They recommended installing "bugs" in all the spaces that my minions inhabit. The theory was that through the use of these "bugs", I could be in another room and still hear what the two leggers were plotting.

The next day, while the two leggers were at work, I installed bugs in every room of my kingdom. I set a moth in the bedroom light fixture, two june bugs in the hallway, a couple of weevils in the kitchen, a non-descript but slightly creepy six legger in the dining room by the wine cabinet and several flies in the living room. The bathroom spider was already stationed in the bathroom, so that was a simple matter of reassigning his duties.

The next day I sent Ivan around to gather their reports.

When I asked him if he had anything juicy to report, he informed me that they were all juicy, with the exception of the moth thingy that was rather dry.

I shoulda known better than to send Ivan on an intelligence mission.

Curtain Calls

The two leggers came home bearing gifts for me today.

Unlike most of their feeble attempts at ingratiating themselves to my good auspices, this effort was obviously well thought-out and considered.I find myself in the unenviable and mind boggling position of having to give them some credit.

They arrived home tonight carrying several large bag thingies which I claimed immediately by laying upon them and depositing a large portion of my surplus fur. The bag thingies appeared to contain several large packages of garishly colored material folded into squares. Initially, the only thing I found interesting about these parcels was the plastic that they were wrapped in.

I love plastic. It makes cool sounds that tend to awaken two leggers in the darkest hours of the night. Large plastic bags can serve as an excellent ambush site during "Operation: Whiny Gray Tabbysmack". Plastic in its grocery bag form has friction defeating properties allowing a feline to "bobsled" down any hardwood-floored hallway at speeds in excess of 437 MPH. (Or 29,723 KPH for my minions on the metric system thingy)

However, whilst I lay there pondering the many ways I would utilize the plastic once the two leggers had retired for the evening, the female began unwrapping the packages and unfolding the cloth. As she laid out the cloth panels, the male entered carrying a small step ladder.

Suddenly, it dawned upon me.

The plastic was instantly forgotten.

Sweet Mother of Meow Mix!

They brought me new curtains!

I ordered them to hang them immediately. They accomplished this with a minimum of cursing and bloodshed. Upon completion of their task, the female turned to where I was watching in giddy anticipation and said her usual words of encouragement: "Cujo, NO!"

Those who do not understand the relationship between me and the female may believe that this was an admonishment. However, longtime minions and readers of my blog thingy recognize it as the inside joke that the female and I never tire of. Every time she makes a new addition to the decor of my kingdom, it is traditional for her to point at the fresh improvement and say in a stern voice "Cujo, NO!", knowing full well that her latest project will be well and truly mangled by morning.

Her sense of humor is quite well-developed for a two legger and never fails to amuse me.

Flash forward six hours:

The two leggers have been in bed for two hours. All is silent in the velvet darkness.  Ivan, Jaq and I have been sitting and staring at the new curtains since midnight. We have been plotting their demise. Since she was de-clawed before she adopted my two leggers, Tiger Lily has been excused from tonight's festivities and stands guard by the door to the two legger's bedroom door. 

I decided that to be fair, we would toss a coin to decide who got the chance to go first. Unfortunately, I am "thumb-challenged" and find coin tossing extremely challenging. So instead, we all agreed to "toss" a wineglass. Ivan called "heads" and won the toss when the wineglass hit him squarely on the noggin.

After he regained semi-consciousness, we informed him that he had won.

Ivan decided that the lower parts of the curtains were always neglected during curtain shredding sessions and wished to start there. He backed up about eight tailspans and took a running (shambling) start. Forgetting that there was a wall hidden behind the curtains (below the window) he crashed headlong through the curtain and slammed into the wall. The force of the impact knocked several pictures askew and caused the nightlight to flicker and short-out.

He'll probably wake up later.

Jaq used the couch to sharpen her claws in preparation for her run. With a sudden squeak, she crooked her tail and bolted across the room. Showing her incredible agility, approached the curtains at an angle and in her patented "Spidey Cat Crawl" seemingly defied gravity by running laterally across the entire span leaving a path of small holes and snags midway between floor and ceiling.

Though Jaq was a tough act to follow, I made the most of my athletic prowess by sprinting from the end of the hallway, bouncing off the coffee table, leaping from the coffee table to the back of the rocking chair and using the recoil to launch myself to the very top of the curtain. I hung there for several seconds while the other cats applauded and offered congratulatory praise. I then lowered myself slowly to the floor, snagging a surprising number of threads during my descent.

For the rest of the night we repeated our performances with several variations.

By morning, we lay around the living room, exhausted from our nocturnal activities. At exactly eight AM, we awoke to the female laughing maniacally. Her tears of joy were rather touching, if a bit overdone.

I can't wait to see what they bring home next.    

A Day In The Life of An Ivan

This morning I was forced to miss my post mid-morning/pre-late morning nap. Two squirrel thingies were having a dispute beneath the bird feeders and I was compelled to watch them in the hope that one or both of them would pull a knife and reenact the rumble scene from "West Side Story".

However, my prayers went unanswered and only resulted in a small, bloodless wrasslin match in which the smaller of the two surrendered after receiving a world class noogie from the larger, more noogie-proficient squirrel.

Having missed one of the most important naps of the 31 naps scheduled today, I find that I am too exhausted to write a post thingy. But this affords an opportunity to grant a request from my loyal minion Glenna. She has stated in my FaceBook Fan Club that she enjoys the post thingies in which Ivan speaks. So Glenna, your wish is granted.

It isn't easy to convince Ivan to write for the blog, but like any good boss, I finally made him an "offer he couldn't understand".

And so I present Ivan. Remember Glenna, you asked for it.......

Ummmm, Boss say Ivan gotta make wurds again. Ivan don't like makin wurds. Wurds hurt Ivan's head. But Boss say do it anyways. He say Ivan shuld try makin bigger wurds. 

Okay, Ivan try....

How dis for big wurds, Boss?
 Boss say nevermind, just use regeel.....reeegul.....normal wurds. 
I sposed to talk about my day. Ummmmm......dis morning I woked up and my tummy feeled reel bad. Tummy hurt like it was empty. Den fur-lipped two legger give me foods and hurt went away. Den my butt started hurting. Boss tell me to go to litter box. Aftur I go to litter box, my butt stop hurtin. 

Boss reely smart.

Den I watched the talking box thingy for too hours. Sumtimes I tink it is better when it is turned on and showing pixurs. 

Aftur dat, I wuz hungry so I looked under da cowch and fownd a cheez doodle. At leest I tink it wuz a cheez doodle. It looked like a cheez doodle. Kinda like a cheez doodle. It wuz same size as a cheez doodle. It smelled kinda like a cheez doodle. It wuz crunchy like a cheez doodle. It wuz kinda shaped like a cheez doodle. It did not taste like a cheez doodle. Do dey make brown cheez doodles?

Aftur I eated the cheez doodle, me and da Boss watched skwurls fightin. Dey fight funny. It mostly runnin up trees and down trees and up feeder and down feeder. How dey gonna kill each udder if'n all dey do is run? Dis confuses me and hurts my hed thingy. 

So I go take nap.

On my way to go take nap, I forget ware I wuz goin and so I took nap to try to rememeber. Aftur nap, I still culd not rememeber ware I wuz goin, so I thot maybe I shuld ask Boss.

 He told me to go ask Tigur Lily. Tigur Lily say "GET LOST!" I told her I wuz alreddy lost, that why I ask her. So den she tell me I was sposed to go smack da Boss.

 She must tink I stoopid. I just saw Boss and he woulda told me if I wuz sposed to smack him.

So den I go ask Jaq. Jaq told me that big orange tabby cat that live in glass wall in bathroom wuld know. So I go to bathroom and dat cat is dere like always. But, I don't like dat cat. He always make fun of me by imata.....emitat.....emetayt.........doin everything I do. 

I tink he stoopid. 

So I gived up and took a nap.

So dat wuz my day. It wuz just like yesturday only diffurent.

Boss say I can stop makin wurd thingies now. 

Now I git to go take a............ummmmm.......dang, I fergit.

The Two legged Furniture

It boggles my brain thingy.

Two leggers who have lived among felines all their meager lives are still confused by our actions.

So once again, in my ongoing mission to educate, I feel compelled to elucidate another basic concept of feline behavior. The behavior of which I speak is our tendency to walk or run over any resting two legger.

First, allow me to explain (again) that we felines are domestic apex predators. We are cute and cuddly killing machine thingies. Every cell in our adorable little bodies is programmed to hunt, mutilate, murder and nap.

We utilize all six senses in our quest to slay all we survey.

 However, the sense I wish to speak of today is our sense of sight. Our eyes, like those of many predators are sensitive to movement. Or as the scientists say: "The eyes of a cat, like those of many predators, are sensitive to movement". It is a trait known as eyesaresensitivetomovementia. Our eyes and attention are immediately drawn to any moving thing, no matter how small and inconsequential. Dust mote or elephant, the size does not matter. As soon as we detect motion, we are driven to stalk, and if physically possible, subdue and munch upon whatever has caught our attention. On the other paw, if the movement ceases, it immediately loses our interest and we are basically blind to the unmoving object (unless we decide that we require petting and adoration).

Hence, a two legger who has planted themselves upon a couch and ceases moving, to our eyes, has just become just another part of the couch suitable for laying upon or walking across. The two legger in question is simply another lump in the upholstery. They are usually the softest part of the furniture and therefore considered a desirable spot for napping.

Personally, I find that the springy midsection of the male two legger makes an ideal launch pad for pouncing and other chaos-causing activities.

But that is not the only reason we behave in this manner.

There are times that two leggers begin to gain too much self-confidence. It is our sacred duty as their superiors to quash such ambitions immediately and with extreme prejudice. This is easily accomplished by aggressively ignoring them. This is accomplished by utilizing a maneuver I like to call the Supremely Submissive Supernumerary Snubbing (4S). I simply walk back and forth across their laps, claws extended of course, totally ignoring any sounds or screams they may emit. The 4S does require practice owing to the fact that after several revolutions, the victim.....um, I mean two legger, may decide that they have "had enough" and attempt to forcefully evict the cat engaged in the 4S. A cat proficient in the art of 4Sing can detect the subtle signs (extreme agitation, facial tics, screaming, open weeping.....etc) and settle into a nap at the critical moment.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.

Those two leggers aren't going to ignore themselves.