Work, Work, Work

According to the talking box thingy, one of the great issues facing two legger society is something called "financial disparity".

Apparently many believe that they get paid too little for whatever it is they do while others get paid too much for whatever it is they do.

As a rule, I refuse to muddy my paws in the affairs of lower lifeforms, however in this case, I can somewhat sympathize with the downtrodden two leggers. I too am woefully underpaid for the services I provide.

So starting here and now, I am starting a political movement thingy.

I call it: The Peoples Movement For The Endowment of Better Rights and Pay For The Blogging Tuxedo Cats of North Whidbey Island Who Have Written Two or More Book Thingies and Happen to Be Between The Ages of Seven and Eight Years Old and Who Wish to See Squirrel Thingies Outlawed In Our Lifetime With Extreme Prejudice and Lack of Mercy. 

The TPMFTEBR&PFTBTCNWIWHWTMBT&HBBTAS&EYO&WWSSTOIOLWEP&LM will strive to educate the masses as to the thankless struggles I face with quiet dignity on a daily basis.

Most of you go about your lives completely unaware of the lifetime of forced labor that I have had to endure. Few may know of the mountains of responsibility and work that it takes to rule all universe thingies (both known and unknown).

In order to illustrate my struggle, I shall now take you on a tour of a typical day in my life:

0345- I awaken to find that my food bowl is down by 1/8 of its maximum capacity. Fearing starvation, I attempt to summon the two leggers by voicing my consternation throughout the hallway outside their bedroom.

0400- Fearing that they may have died in their sleep, (leaving me no choice but to eat Tiger Lily once the food supply is exhausted) I repeatedly smack their door.

0425-I hear whispering from within and realize that even worse than dying in their sleep, they have chosen to ignore my summons.

0430-I am forced to desperate measures. I summon Ivan and order him to chew on Tiger Lily's tail. Her squawling has the desired effect and draws the two leggers from their room to investigate the ruckus. As they exit the bedroom, I knock over my food bowl and after cleaning up the mess (and, I might say using some rather inappropriate language) the male refills my bowl and returns to his room.

0450-Feeling generous, I express my gratitude to the two leggers by yowling my thanks through the locked bedroom door. This gracious gesture goes completely unacknowledged.

0530-Though I am somewhat miffed at them, I do not wish to see them late for work. So swallowing my pride, I ensure that they fully awake and cognizant at least two hours before their alarm is scheduled to go off.

0600-After much effort on my part, I have finally succeeded in arousing them and I join them in the bathroom. I take my position upon the highest shelf and glare at them while they bathe. I find that my glaring at them helps prepare them for dealing with customers at work.

0645-I supervise while the male cleans and repairs the damage from our previous night's activities. Once again, his language appalls me.

0715-As the female prepares their sack lunches, I realize that I must be slowing down as I age. Today I was only able to knock the peanut butter jar off the counter four times. When I was younger, I averaged seven to eight peanut butter pounces and once I even scored eleven times.

I gotta start working out.

0800-I vanish.

0810-After giving the two leggers an appropriate amount of time to panic and mount a search party, I reappear in the living room enabling them to depart for their workday safe in the knowledge that I am not locked in a closet or cupboard.

To Be Continued.........................

The Great Pacific Norsewest

There is great upheaval within my Kingdom.

A wailing, moaning and gnashing of teeth. Unprecedented strife and angst.

In a bold and foolhardy fit of defiance, the female two legger has relocated my throne from its rightful place in front of the firebox thingy to the cold, dark recesses of the computer room. She did this without my permission and with absolutely no consideration of my comfort or well-being.

How on Earth can she expect the Royal Hindquarters be properly maintained at their required 117.6 degrees if there is no available platform on which to rest the Imperial Buttocks?

When I informed her of her misstep, her response was brief and incredibly insubordinate. I believe her exact words were: "Suck it up Oreo-Boy!"

To say that I was taken aback is understatement in the extreme. Some will say that I should have smacked her immediately, however, I believe that like a good hairball, revenge is a dish best served cold (and if possible, in an area that is prone to nocturnal foot traffic).

For a transgression as major as this, I decided that I should ponder my revenge for maximum affect. A passing smack or ankle chomp simply would not do. No, she had crossed a line and the punishment must suit her crime. 

And so I pondered.......and mused.......and pondered........and napped......and pondered.

Whilst I pondered, I spent much of my time reading while perched atop the male two legger's shoulder. He is an avid reader as well as an enthusiast when it comes to anything pertaining to history. Currently he is reading a series of book thingies (and watching a television program) that provide a narrative of a group of ancient two leggers known as "Vikings".

The name "viking" is actually a misnomer perpetrated by Hollywood. "Viking" is actually a verb meaning "to raid". As in "Honey, I'm going out viking. I'll be home by six. You want me to pick up anything?"

They were actually correctly known as "Norsemen, Danes or Bikers". However, for this narrative, I will use the term "Norsemen".

During the Middle Ages, the Norsemen decided that they were fed up with living in the frigid wilds of Northern Europe, so they built ships and set off for the sunny tropical shores of England. Once they landed in Britain, they realized that their travel agents had made fools of them and so they set out for revenge. They sailed around the British Isles, searching for England's Lost Tribe of Travel Agents. In English mythology, the legendary Lost Tribe of Travel Agents was credited with perpetrating the lies that England was the land of sunny beaches, beautiful, exotic women and above average dental care.

During their quest, the Norsemen robbed, pillaged and burned every village or settlement they encountered. Soon, just the sight of Norse ships approaching the shore would cause entire villages to pack all their things and run for the hills. Their ruthlessness spread fear and terror throughout Western Europe.

I respect that.

Ivan and I will go "viking".

I changed my name to Cujorvic Cujorvicsson. I ordered Ivan Ivansson to prepare to pillage. He wanted a costume, I told him that his costume should strike fear into the hearts of the two leggers, showed him some pictures of Norsemen and left him to his own devices. He immediately ran to the bathroom to get dressed. He soon emerged in all his "viking glory".

 Unfortunately, his costume was not quite as intimidating as I would have wished. Unable to find a either a furred cloak or helmet with horns, Ivan wrapped an old, dirty washcloth around his shoulders and stuck cotton swabs in his ears. Though I knew his costume would intimidate no one, I figured it would confuse everyone, so I told him he looked great.

I decided that 2:38 AM would be the perfect time for us to make our raid.

At 2:37, Jaq Jaqsondottir began singing Wagner's "Flight of The Valkyries" at the top of her lungs. Ivan Ivansson and I burst into the two leggers bedroom and bounded onto their bed while yelling the Norse battle cry of "URPITY DURPITY DUR DUR DURGY BURGY DURG!!!!"

As far as I know, this was the first time that the two leggers had ever been attacked by wild Norsemen in their own bedroom, therefore their reaction was somewhat unpredictable.

In a billowing of sheets, the two leggers jumped straight up. Given the fact that they always sleep with the ceiling fan turned on, the sheet literally hit the fan. Ivan Ivansson lost focus and began chasing the sheet as it whirled about the room and finally got so dizzy that he slammed into a dresser rendering himself a casualty of war. Meanwhile, the two leggers had regained their senses and reaching for their bedside water squirty thingies, began spraying anything and everything that resembled a small tuxedo cat.

Though my vengeance was sweet, it was short-lived.

The female has moved my throne once again. It is no longer in the computer room. It is now in the hall closet.

Back to the drawing board.

Perhaps an attack by pirates will work.

Savoring Spring

The month of May has always rated in the top twelve of my favorite months.

Worldwide it is the month of beginnings.

In Texas, it is the beginning of the "dry" season (which will last until January 2017).

In California, it is the beginning of the "damn it's hot, but we may freeze tomorrow" season.

In Canada, it is the beginning of the "May hockey" season. Every month in Canada is the beginning of hockey season, but in this case, it occurs in May.

In Arkansas, they are unsure what season it is because someone broke the only functioning calender.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, it is the beginning of what the meteorologists refer to as the "slightly less rainy than April, more rainy than June, somewhat less moist than July, and let's not even think about September" season.

But all across the Northern Hemisphere, it marks the middle of Spring and begins the season where young animals are born and nurtured and sent off from their nests, lairs and dens. This is why they are called "offspring".

These younglings can often be seen wandering around wooded and grassy areas without their parents, seemingly lost, alone and defenseless causing two leggers to assume that they require rescue. I often receive emails from concerned two leggers asking my sage advice as to what they should do if they happen across one of these apparently helpless orphans.

I have consulted with several veterinarian types and the consensus seems to indicate that the young critters should be left alone. They usually have parents lurking nearby keeping an eye on their young and will intervene should a predator approach. Oftentimes, a mother seal will deposit her pup on a beach while they go out and hunt. Though the pup may seem abandoned, they are not. The mother seal will return within a matter of hours. Bird thingies will often force their brood from the nest as a way to teach them to fly. Though the young fledglings sometimes fail in their first attempt, they usually learn rather quickly afterwards. Even baby bears can be found on rural hiking trails on occasion.

So the veterinary two leggers urge that if you happen to find a young critter that you feel has been abandoned by its parents, you should leave it alone.

I disagree.

I strongly suggest that if you should find a young animal in distress, you should immediately find a box large enough to contain the animal with ample space for it to move around, but not so much that it may injure itself. Add some hay or other soft material to keep it warm. Provide fresh water and air holes for proper ventilation.

After ensuring that the animal is safely secured within the box, you should immediately contact me and I will provide you with my address so that you can send it to me. You can even send it anonymously if you wish.

In a totally unrelated note, I'd like to announce the upcoming release of my newest project "Cujo's Baby Cookbook". Within its pages you will find recipes for my favorite paw-licking dishes such as:

Baby Bird Bourganaisse
Baby Squirrel Succotash
Baby Bunny Biscuits
Baby Partridge Pancakes
and my personal favorite, Baby Possum Pot Roast.

A section in the back of the book features Tiger Lily's whine pairings.