Flea Bargain

Recently I have been annoyed by small-minded, blood-sucking, disease-ridden, morally ambiguous, pestilent little parasites.

However, I have always made it my policy not to talk about politicians on my blog thingy, so today I will talk about fleas instead.

Having spent my entire life indoors, I had never been exposed to the nasty little critters. However, a little while ago, a two legger whom my two leggers hired to install my security system introduced the pests to my Kingdom. I do not believe he did this purposefully, he probably fraternized with dog thingies and was thus infected. They obviously hitched a ride on his clothing and when he entered my domain, they viewed me and my four legged minions as the proverbial "Land of Plenty".

Here we were, four very healthy felines that had never been fed upon. To them we must have appeared to be an untouched banquet simply waiting for them to come and chow down upon.

Being so small, they were virtually undetectable. In fact, for quite some time, we remained unaware of their presence. They bided their time, quietly multiplying, only feeding while we slept. But they slowly grew bolder. The began biting us when we were awake.

Even then, we were unsure what was happening.

They started with Ivan. One day while he lay basking upon the heated floor in the bathroom, he suddenly jumped up and bolted from the room. I asked him the reason for his sudden burst of consciousness.

He said "Sumptin bited me!".

I told him it was probably just the bathroom spider.

"No way Boss!" he exclaimed, "I ate him yesterday!". 

"Maybe it was the bathroom spider's apprentice."

"Nope, I got da munchies last night and ate him too."

Having ruled out an unruly eight legger, I decided to conduct an investigation thingy. While investigating the scene of the crime (Ivan's plump posterior), I noticed a bunch of little black dots scurrying around and through Ivan's fur. They were too small to make out any detail, so I ordered Ivan to go stand next to the male two legger's make stuff big glass thingy. With the aid of what the two leggers call their "magnifier" (silly name, but shorter than "make stuff big glass thingy") I was able to see the black dots with greater clarity.  I even took the time to draw a picture of one of the invaders:

Granted, my drawing is rather crude, but you try drawing without thumbs.

I then went to the interwebs and searched for this mystery beastie. Apparently these creatures are called "fleas". According to Wikipedia, the Common American Flea-Bitus Suckius Jumpicus is a tiny little vampire that infests the residences of two leggers and feeds upon their cherished animals....and dogs. Once an infestation has occurred, they are extremely difficult to eradicate.

A trait shared with whiny gray tabbies.

I immediately inspected Jaq and Tiger Lily. They too were covered in the little vermin. 

It was at this point that I spotted one on the Royal Smacking Paw.

This was intolerable. Something had to be done. We tried scratching them off, we tried shaking them off, we even tried biting them off. But to no avail. The little monsters only danced away before we could capture them. I swear I even saw one of them make a lewd gesture while sticking its tiny tongue out at me.

I must admit that while my two leggers normally seem rather slow and dull-witted, occasionally they surprise me and show remarkable perception. They had already noticed the invasion and were taking steps to repel it. Though they are pacifists at heart, they are not averse to a little chemical warfare when the need arises. They had dropped by the pet store on their way home from work and bought a package of something called "Advantage II". I had no idea what "Advantage II" was at first. And I admit that when they suddenly broke open the little tube, grabbed me and then proceeded to squirt a liquid from the tube onto the back of my neck, I was wondering if they had suddenly gone insane, or suicidal or possibly trying a new death-defying, adrenaline junkie type of sport.

I spent the next three hours trying to choose the method I would employ in the death of my two leggers.

As I sat there pondering their demise, eagerly anticipating the look in their eyes when they would reach the realization that they had finally pushed me too far, I noticed several specks on the floor. I pushed the magnifier (still a stupid name) over one of the specks and beheld something totally unexpected.

A dead flea.

Looking around, I saw dead fleas everywhere. They were no longer jumping around. They had ceased scurrying. The only thing they were biting was the dust.

Over the next several days, the fleas continued to die off by the score. There were tiny little bodies scattered everywhere. Fleamageddon had arrived. By the end of the week, the surviving fleas fled and were flea-free.

Later, I snuck a peek at the packaging of the stuff the two leggers squirted us with. Apparently Advantage II is specifically formulated to kill fleas and their offspring. I must admit that it was truly effective.

So today I sent the manufacturers of Advantage II an email expressing my gratitude for the effectiveness of their product. However, I also recommended that they expand their product range.

I told them that I would gladly endure the squirt on my neck if they developed one that would eliminate the squirrel.  

 

War and Pieces

I have been pondering of late, and have I discovered the secret to World Peace.

I do not make this declaration lightly. Over the last several months I have devoted literally minutes to this issue.

The issue of World Peace has been a problem ever since the first two legger climbed down from his tree, grabbed a rock, and then climbed another two legger's tree and beaned him on the head with his newly discovered weapon. Having witnessed the first two legger's behavior towards his neighbor, other two leggers began climbing down out of their trees and beaning their neighbors. Soon they discovered that if they banded together, they could bean each other more efficiently and if they used larger rocks.....well, you get the point. Things pretty much went downhill from there.

Except the arboreal two leggers in what would someday be called "France", who devoted their technological evolution to the art of weaving leaves and twigs into large white flags that they would wave at anyone approaching their tree.
 
After thousands of years of two legggers developing ever increasingly efficient techniques of knocking each other off, they have reached the point where they can simply bean the entire planet and wipe out all life on Earth.

So typical.

Why do they behave in this manner?

Simple. In their twisted sense of logic, they have decided that while assaulting each other on a massive scale is acceptable, simply smacking the offender is not. So all this rage builds up inside them until they convince themselves that they are really really mad not at an individual, but at a whole group of people thereby making it legal to go and give them a major whoopin.

If they simply smacked the original instigator, all of this could be avoided.

Hence my proclamation.

I propose that for one day per month, everyone should just let loose and smack anyone who may have annoyed them in the previous 30 days. No weapons. No partnering up with others. Simply seek out someone you are irritated with, and let your paw fly of it's own accord.

Now I know that I'm gonna get lots of messages from The Society of Bunny Huggin Earth Mommas chastising me for encouraging or promoting violence. However, if they were to take a long hard look at my recommendation, they would soon realize that my idea is sound and would actually reduce violence world-wide.

Think about it:

1. Two legger aggression would be released on a local level as opposed to an international level.
2. Since only annoying two leggers would be smacked, their numbers would dwindle.
3. The most annoying of them, after repeated smackings, may realize that perhaps they should amend their annoying ways.
4. Even if they did not learn to be less annoying, they would at least learn to stay hidden one day a month and thereby giving us non-annoying types a break.

As in all great proclamations, there would be certain exemptions.

Squirrel thingies, six leggers, lawyers, Justin Beiber, Brittany Spears, Miley Cyrus and all whiny gray tabbies would be considered smackable at any time.

I guess what I am trying to say is that two leggers in conflict, as in all things, should strive to emulate their feline superiors.

Now I am sure that at the beginning of this post you were all thinking "Oh great, here goes Cujo off on another rant espousing the use of violence and chaos". But by the end, you have come to realize that I am nothing short of a caring, loving soul who has the best interests of society at heart. In fact, by now you may even be in awe of how benevolent and charitable I have become.

I may even receive one of those Nobel Prize thingies.

If not, I will hunt down those responsible, and smack them.

Where Were You?

No chaos tonight. No mayhem. Only thoughtful and respectful retrospection on one our nation's darkest days. My male two legger wrote this on the tenth anniversary of 9/11 and I wanted to share it with you now.

 

Where were you?

11 September 2011 at 02:11

Where were you?
No, strike that. Where were you then? And where are you now?
    Exactly ten years ago today, I was driving to work when I heard the news that an aircraft had hit the World Trade Center.
    I had a 90 mile commute and so, as per my morning ritual, was listening to The Today Show on NBC Radio in my car. As I was pulling out of my driveway, Katie Couric told me that reports were coming in of an airplane striking one of the Twin Towers. This struck me as odd, but not especially alarming. I, like so many other people, assumed that a sight-seeing or small commuter aircraft had lost its way and ended up somehow not avoiding one of the two largest structures in the United States. It was not until the second airplane hit that I realized that we were instead, under attack.
      I will never forget the moment when our National Consciousness was forever altered. In an instant borne of fire and rubble, we went from "America The Invincible" to "America The Vulnerable".
     By the time I reached my workplace, the first tower had fallen, reports were starting to surface that the Pentagon had been hit and the second tower was in peril.
     At this point in time, frozen in my mind as indelibly as any experience I have ever witnessed, New York firefighters were continuing to rush into the second tower in an effort to save what citizens they could.
     Let's pause for a moment and think about this.
    Having just watched the first tower fall, knowing that many of their comrades had already perished, realizing that the second tower had suffered a similar attack and was bound to suffer a similar fate, New York firefighters and policemen continued to attempt to rescue people from a doomed building. I have no doubts whatsoever that they were fully aware of their impending doom. Yet they chose to stay and try to save one more innocent. Just one more person that started the day simply trying to earn a living for themselves and their families
     I am deeply ashamed to say that I cannot recall exactly how many people died in the towers that day.
     I am deeply ashamed to say that I do not know how many of them were rescuers.
     I am deeply ashamed to say that I am unable to recall even one name of the victims of this heinous act.
    I am a history buff. I pride myself on the fact that I can tell you the names of all the generals that fought at Gettysburg. But can I even tell you the flight number of the airplane that struck the Pentagon just ten short years ago?

No.
     We live in a different world today. Strip searches at airports are common. We are not allowed to walk through security posts at airports without removing our shoes. Every holiday we celebrate is accompanied by a terrorist alert. The Fourth of July is a time of heightened awareness instead of being a time of heightened patriotism as it should be.
     Our world has changed. We have lost our innocence. We are no longer the "happy-go-lucky" society that we were on September tenth, 2001. instead, we are a group  of people that hide our nationality whenever we travel abroad for fear of violence. We have become afraid to be what our forefathers worked so hard to leave us.
   We have forgotten that we are Americans.
    The sacrifice that those incredibly brave rescuers made has gone by the wayside. They rushed into a building that they knew would be their final resting place to rescue citizens that had already been murdered by a handful of cowards. They died knowing full well that this was not war. This was murder
     Now we stand in line at the airport and grumble because we must remove our laptop from it's case. We gripe when the TSA asks us to leave a water bottle behind.
     Shame on us.
     I am not pointing fingers. I am as guilty as anyone, and probably guiltier than most.
    However, I realize how lucky I am.
I am alive.
I am free.
      Today, I ask that each and every one of my friends, takes a moment to reflect upon one of the darkest days in our history. Please do not simply think about the event. Ponder the extraordinary bravery that occurred ten years ago today. Ponder the sacrifice made since then by the men and women in uniform, and by their families.
      But most of all, ponder this:
Would I be willing to make the same sacrifice?
If we answer honestly, most of us (possibly including myself) would probably answer "No".
      This is what separates the heroes from the rest of us.

Cat-Tooed

I find two leggers perplexing.

Especially in regards to their behavior.

I find their behavior to to be a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, rolled up in a tortilla of oddness, cooked at 350 degrees for two hours in the oven of lunacy (375 degrees if above an altitude of 3000ft) and sprinkled liberally with assorted nuts.

The reason I bring this up is because I've recently noticed that two leggers have a compulsion. Well, two leggers have many compulsions. In fact they have so many compulsions that it would take too long to list them all here and it would also bore me. But today I wish to analyze one compulsion in particular.

This compulsion is unique to two leggers. As far as I know, no other creatures possess this compulsion. Not all two leggers suffer from this compulsion, (for instance, my two leggers do not) but it seems that it is growing in popularity.

This compulsion involves the strong desire to alter their own markings. They even have talking box thingy programs about them changing their markings.

I find this perplexing.

 Every time I believe I know what motivates two legger behavior, they come up with something new with which to confuse and annoy me.

 If all two leggers looked alike, it would make sense if they wished to change their markings in an effort to establish individuality. To make themselves stand out from the other two leggers of their breed. But it is my experience that like cats, two leggers come in every shape, color and form. There are short ones, tall ones, fat ones, skinny ones, smart ones (darned few), dumb ones (too many, especially in politics and entertainment), dark-skinned ones, light-skinned ones, those with long fur, those with short fur, even those with no fur. The list goes on and on. There are probably more variations in their species than of any other type of creature on Earth.  

At first I thought they did this to exhibit their bravery and ability to withstand pain. Or, perhaps, they wished to commemorate a particularly momentous occasion in their lives. However, after further study, I have reached the conclusion that my research was inconclusive.

From what I understand, the process of changing one's markings is incredibly painful. They take a small vibrating needle thingy, dip it in ink, and then poke themselves repeatedly until they are happy that they have improved themselves.

This custom was popularized by a midget who worked for Ricardo Montalban and was from the same planet that Luke Skywalker grew up on. He shamed everyone he met by calling them "PLAIN!! PLAIN!!" Thus Tattoo from Tatooine is to blame for this phenomenon and should be smacked if encountered.

As for myself, I have several reasons not get a tattoo thingy. First of all, I am more than satisfied with my current markings. Second, in order to get a tattoo thingy, it would require my being shaved (I have yet to meet the two legger suicidal enough to attempt this). Finally, where pain is concerned, it has always been my philosophy that it is better to give than to receive. And anyway, do you really wish to wake in the morning to THIS?

Ivan on the other paw, has decided that he wishes to get one. However, the tattoo he wants is more practical than decorative. He would like a tattoo inked directly on the top of his head that reads: "THIS END UP".

He says that it would help whenever he gets confused.