Ivan Gets A Job Thingy

As many of you may have noticed, I have a new badge thingy on the right side of my blog thingy.

The World's Best Cat Litter has asked that I be one of their "Catvocates". What this entails is that I will be testing and reviewing their products before they are released to the public at large. It will also mean that my minions/followers will be entitled to special offers from WBCL. I see it as a win/win all around.
    My first assignment as a Catvocate will be to test and review a new type of litter that I should be receiving some time next week. After pondering this task for a while, I have realized a flaw in this plan:

Everyone knows that my fecal matter does not stink.

Therefore, in order to give this new sooper-dooper cat litter a true test, I have assigned Ivan to be the Royal Litter Tester.

I will order the two leggers to use the new litter in 50% of my litter boxes, and continue to use our other WBCL product in the other 50% of my boxes. This will enable me to observe several things:

A. Does it kill Ivan's odor?
B. Does it kill Ivan?
C. Which product will Ivan prefer to use?
D. Will it just confuse Ivan? (highly likely)
E. Does it clump better or worse than the original?
F. Can I use it to sow hate and discontent among my two leggers?

Ivan's ego has inflated since I told him of his new responsibilities. He is now requesting a badge thingy as well as his own private office. I told him that this was a secret experiment and therefore his badge was invisible. I also assigned Royal Litterbox # 3 to be his office. He is now in there trying to figure out the best place to put his desk.

I will be posting the results of my study soon.

The Undiscovered Country

The closet at the end of the hallway beckons.

This closet is a smallish room of many wonders. It is a closely guarded two legger secret. It is the one place in my kingdom that has been deemed "off limits" to me and the other four legged denizens of my house. For the last four years, Ivan, Tiger Lily, Jaq, and I have been attempting to gain access to this mysterious space. Whenever a two legger hangs up a coat or places their boots within this closet, one or all of us will attempt entry through means of deception or outright brute force.

Alas to no avail. Our attempts are always thwarted by a strategically placed leg or quickly slammed door.

Until today.

Today, while Ivan lay sleeping the innocent sleep of the witless, I decided that his smack levels were dangerously low. Being the caring ruler that I am, I decided to give him a dose of smacks which caused him to awaken in a panic and run as fast as his stubby little legs would carry him to the bathroom. In a fortunate bit of misfortune, Ivan failed to negotiate the turn at the end of the hallway and slammed into the closet door, springing the lock and causing the door to swing slowly open.

Cue angelic music.

I crept slowly towards the door, ears flat, tail slightly twitching. Upon entering the closet, I quickly realized that I had discovered The Lost Colony of Fugitive Catnip Mousie Thingies. Unaware of my approach, they lounged on the floor among the boots of the two leggers. In a frenzy of frisky delight, I pounced among them and wrestled, bit and kicked them into submission.

 As I surveyed the closet, I saw coats, sweaters, scarfs and hats hanging from hooks and a central rod. The side shelves were stacked with old board games and miscellany. But what really caught my attention was just above the top shelf.

It was a large rectangular opening in the ceiling. I climbed the shelves and found myself directly beneath the dark hole. I found that by stretching to my full length, I could just see over the rim of the opening. The portal led to a dark dusty room that stretched the entire length and breadth of my house. It was at this point that I heard the sound of the two leggers returning home from work. I quickly decided that I should wait until they slept before continuing my exploration. By the time they entered my house, I had climbed down and managed to push the door closed without re-engaging the lock.

For now, I would wait......

And plot.

I called a meeting of my fellow felines and informed them of my plans to go where no cat has gone before. I assigned each of them very specific duties. Ivan would accompany me and be prepared to slay anything that may annoy me. Tiger Lily would stand as a lookout at the door of the two legger's bedroom, giving us warning lest they awaken and discover our mission of discovery. I assigned Jaq the task of providing a soundtrack for our grand adventure. It is a requirement that all great heroes have a stirring musical overture thingy. Indiana Jones, Jame Bond, Superman, John Wayne and Peewee Herman are examples of this rule.

We watched and waited as the two leggers went through their nightly rituals. The female went to bed around 11pm. The male took his nightly bath at 11:45. The tension in the hallway steadily built. At exactly 11:52, I could stand it no more and smacked Tiger Lily repeatedly (This has nothing to do with the narrative, but I felt it worth mentioning).

Finally at 12:18 am, we heard the welcome sound of the male exiting the bathroom and settling next to the female.

Soon our patience was rewarded by the the unholy sound of "SNAAAAAAAAWK!" coming from the bed. The male had begun to snore. After a short time, the "SNAAAAAAAAWK!" turned to "S'NAUQUE!". When the male begins to snore in French, I know he is well and truly asleep.

Leaving Tiger Lily stationed at the bedroom door, Ivan and I entered the closet. We paused at the door to consider the carnage of the earlier catnip mousie massacre. However, knowing that we only had seven or eight hours before the two leggers would be waking for the new day, I determined that we should make the best of the time we had and continue our exploration. As we started to climb the shelves, we could hear Jaq below us softly singing "Climb Every Mountain" in a passable imitation of Julie Andrews.

We quickly ascended to the top shelf and I nimbly leaped through the opening in the ceiling. Ivan stood below me, looking up, unsure if he could propel his bulk to such an altitude. I quickly settled his dilemma by saying "Wow! Lookit all this food!". Ivan magically appeared next to me, but was unamused when he realized that he'd been tricked yet again. 

As we looked around us, Jaq began humming "Spirit In The Sky". We beheld a very large, dusty room. Wires of all types stretched here, there and yonder. Boxes were stacked in random corners, leaving a vast plain where herds of wild dust bunnies roamed. I had to physically restrain Ivan from immediately going all Jungle King on the nearest herd. As we explored the space, we found ourselves directly above the shelf where the female two legger keeps her most treasured knock knacks. Only 1.5 inches of sheet rock separated me from the porcelian penguin that I had been longing to destroy for years.

Next time I'm bringing a drill.

To Be Continued.....

Utter Cupidity

In the two and a half years that I have been writing my blog thingy, I have never failed to share my musings on the myriad of two legger holidays.  I have spoken on Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Mother's Day, Independence Day, Labor Day, and New Year's Day. I believe I have covered every major American holiday.

With one exception.

Valentine's Day.

Given the fact that I am neutered, I believe my minions can understand this omission.

However, I believe the time has come to sprinkle some droplets of wisdom upon the parched fields of their roses.

Admittedly, Valentine's Day is the one holiday that confuses me.

First a little history:
Valentine's Day is named after an ancient two legged priest named St. Valentine. He was remarkable because he had wings, wore a diaper and flew around shooting arrows at people. In most instances this would have been considered bad manners and he would have been trapped and committed to a room with rubber walls. However in St. Val's case, whomever was struck by his arrows fell immediately in love with the next person they saw, took the red-eye to Vegas and got married by an Elvis impersonator.  This soon became the standard by which all two legger romance would be judged.

 To commemorate the holiday, American male two leggers, when they remember, give their mates a variety of gifts to symbolize their affection. I list a few below:
1. Chocolate- Artfully arranged in a large heart-shaped box, this is the perfect gift for the females who as a whole generally obsess about their weight.
2. Flowers- Giving a large bouquet that until recently were a beautiful, blossoming example of nature's beauty, but now that they have been cut down are destined to wither and rot within the next 72 hours is a fantastic expression of undying love.
3. Romantic Dinner- Taking her to a dimly lit setting and once again, feeding rich food to someone who is obsessed about their weight seems like a great idea.
4. I was gonna say "Jewelry", but given that my two leggers work in a jewelry store, perhaps I should pass on this one.

In other countries, male two leggers give their mates different gift thingies. For instance:
In Canada, they give maple syrup and hockey tickets.
In France, wine, cheese, baguettes and a snide look.
In England, a pint of ale, fish & chips and a breath mint.
In Russia, a bottle of vodka and furry boots.
In New Zealand, rugby tickets and a ......well, just rugby tickets.
And in Arkansas, a keg of Budweiser, NASCAR tickets and a goat.

Bottom line, the male two leggers spend one week per year attempting to show the female two leggers that they love, adore and cherish them. The second week of February is devoted to proving their devotion and dedication to their mates. They spend loads of money buying cards, candy, meals, flowers and jewelry in order to win the hearts of their loved ones.

Therein lies my confusion.

Wouldn't it be cheaper and less stressful if they simply used smaller, more meaningful gestures throughout the entire year to prove their affection rather than compressing it into one expensive and commercialized day? Would it not be more effective to treat them like they would like to be treated 52 two weeks per year rather than one or two days per year?

Perhaps, if they opened a car door, or complimented their hair, or asked them if they had lost weight, or chased them through the kitchen naked with a spatula and a can of whipped cream more often, the February love rush would last the entire year.

 Yes, even I have been known to show the occasional romantic gesture. Why, just the other day, I only smacked Tiger Lily on the ear instead of a full-frontal tabby smack.

And by all means, please give them flowers more often. Not only do they make her smile, but it gives us feline types something to destroy in the wee hours of the night.

Finally, according to my two leggers, you should buy jewelry all year round. Lots of jewelry. Big expensive diamonds. Fist sized rubies and enough gold to bankrupt third-world countries.

For those of my minions spending Valentine's day alone this year, Ivan is available. He and the big stuffed bunny have decided to see other people.

Wetted Bliss

Ivan has a dirty little secret.

Well, Ivan has a lot of dirty little secrets.

Okay, Ivan's dirty little secrets aren't nearly as secret as they were before I started my blog thingy, but a few still remain secret.

After tonight, he'll have one fewer.

Ivan wets the bed.

No, he is not incontinent. He was not abused by his mother. He doesn't have "Daddy issues". He does not have mental issues.

Allow me to rephrase that: This is not one of his mental issues.

Ivan wets the bed because it amuses him. I shall explain:

Every night around 10:30, the female two legger takes her bath. During the bath taking portion of the evening, Ivan lolls on the heated floor of the bathroom like a large stinky bathmat. He appears to be enjoying the radiant heat of the floor, but he is in all actuality simply biding his time. Once the female pulls the plug allowing the water to drain from the tub thingy, Ivan mounts the side of the tub thingy and watches the water level drop. Once the water reaches a level he deems acceptable, approximately .5 inches (64 sillimeters for those of you in other countries with your funky metric system), Ivan jumps into the tub thingy and begins dancing around in a comical manner. He shakes each paw repeatedly as though surprised that his paws are soaked even though he has experienced this sensation at least once a night for the past four years.

After 30 seconds of shaking and bouncing, Ivan remembers that he is a cat and therefore detests water. He leaps out of the tub thingy with a trill and bolts from the bathroom. Upon exiting the bathroom, Ivan spots the two legger's bed. Now we all know that Ivan is no mental giant. In fact, mental midgets are forced to watch where they step lest they trod upon him, but like all felines, Ivan is aware that there is no better way to dry wet paws than upon 800 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets.

Cujo Fun Fact # 271- The paws of a cat can absorb up to 46 times their body weight in water.

While the female unknowingly finishes her nightly bathroom rituals, Ivan manages to get every last bit of moisture transferred from his paws to the bed linens.

Little wet paw prints now adorn the bed, pillows and comforter. Given the fact that the lights have been dimmed prior to bath time, the female two legger usually fails to notice that the bed has now become a mire of mattress moisture. Laying down, she suddenly shrieks, leaps from the bed and chases him from the bedchamber.

Ironically, in her anger, she sprays him with the water squirty thingy thereby wetting him once again.

It is a vicious circle.

But in my experience, the best circles are the vicious ones.

Cold Blooded Killers?

The male two legger was watching the "Nightly News" on the talking box thingy the other night.

Generally I pay very little attention to the "Nightly News. It seems that they run the same program every night. Some two legger robbed some other two legger. Some group of two leggers attacked some other group of two leggers. It rained in Seattle. It's hot in Texas. It's cold in Wisconsin. There was a fight in Canada and a hockey game broke out.

Perhaps they should change the name of the program and call it the "Nightly Olds".

However, in this case, one story caught my attention. It was a report that stated after an exhaustive study, scientists have figured out that we cats are responsible for the deaths of over 1.2 billion bird thingies every year in the U.S.

I find this report outrageous!

I would like to thank the Evening News for bringing this to my attention.

1.2 Billion? C'mon, we can do better than that! We must be getting soft. Perhaps our years of "domestication" are affecting the natural order of things.

Granted, many of us, such as myself, are strictly "indoor" cats. We do not go outside. This is no excuse. We must utilize ways to lure the bird thingies to us. For instance, when the two leggers are not watching, I often place bird seed on the windowsill, inducing the odd bird to fly smack into a closed window pane. It makes a most satisfying thunk when they strike the glass. Sudden cardiac arrest is another method I employ. I hide behind a chair next to the sliding glass door. When the bird thingy lands on the deck, I throw Tiger Lily against the glass. This will usually cause the target bird thingy to drop dead on the spot.

For those of you who get to go outside, you guys need to step it up. Practice your stalking techniques. Perfect your pouncing. Skip a meal if it helps.

Now go out there and get them!

I expect our annual bird thingy casualty (ABTC) projections to rise by thirty percent this year.

But, I do ask one thing. Leave the squirrel thingies alone.

Those are for me.

All Shook Up

Sunday night, we had an earthquake thingy.

It was a small inconsequential quake, nothing like the quake that occurred  in New Zealand back in February of 2011 from which many of my minions are still recovering, but it was an earthquake thingy none the less.

At first, I thought it was Ivan's tummy rumbling because he hadn't eaten in the last 30 minutes. But I was mistaken.

It was around 1am and all was quiet in my kingdom. The male two legger was taking his evening soak while reading a book thingy. The female two legger was already asleep, a sweet smile on her innocent face, probably dreaming of frolicking bunnies and unicorns. Tiger Lily was sprawled upon one of the heating registers whining that the temperature was at least .0073 degrees too cold. Jaq was no where to be seen, but I could hear the faint strains of Brahm's Lullaby issuing from an open drawer in the guest bedroom. Ivan was once again glaring at the knob on the entertainment center that he suspected of mocking him when his back was turned. And I was on my throne, soaking up the last bit of warmth that was radiating from the now dormant firebox thingy.

At 1:11am, I heard a deep rumbling and the entire house shook for about five seconds. It was a mild shaking, almost a rolling sensation. In spite of the fact that nothing broke, I was amused. Both Tiger Lily and Jaq poofed, then found hidey holes until they were sure it was over.  Ivan immediately chomped the knob in question and attempted to chew it into submission until the shaking stopped. The female two legger continued her peaceful slumber completely unaware of the chaos ensuing around her.

However, the male two legger came bursting out of the bathroom, dripping water and clutching a towel around his blindingly white torso. The first thing he did was ask "Was that an earthquake?". This question greatly amused me, I wonder what his reaction would have been if I had answered "Why yes oh Pale One, it most certainly was. Given that I am an animal and therefore rumored to be more in tune with nature, I assure you that was an earthquake of 3.9 magnitude, originating approximately 10 miles northeast of here at a depth of 2.79 miles." Imagine the look on his face thingy had I replied!

Instead, I simply glared at him and said "Mwow".*

*TRANSLATION- "You realize that I am a cat and therefore unable to answer your idiotic question in a form your smallish brain may comprehend, therefore I advise you to please clothe yourself, go to bed and watch the news in the morning. Now leave my presence, I need a nap."

After pondering this incident, I have reached a conclusion: Two leggers are completely ill-equipped for dealing with such occurrences. Therefore, based on my observations, I will now write down some guidelines to be followed by two leggers in case an earthquake thingy should happen again:

Preparation

1. Make a list of items to be included in an "earthquake kit". These items should include such things as bottled water, 25 cases of tuna (for your cats) some non-perishable two legger food, several pounds of catnip, spare batteries, an alternate heat source....etc.

2. Buy two or three items from the list to make yourself feel like you are being proactive and hide them somewhere that you will soon forget.

3. Brag to other two leggers that you are making an "earthquake kit", and will never be caught unprepared.

4. Completely forget about the "earthquake kit" until the next small quake hits and reminds you to repeat steps 1-3.

Once The Earthquake Starts

1. Once the earthquake hits, all two leggers are required to run around and ask other two leggers "Was that an earthquake?'. 

2. Once they have confirmed that it was indeed an earthquake, They will generally begin to call all their friends and acquaintances and inform them about exactly where they were and what they were doing when the confirmed earthquake thingy occurred.

3. Finally, they are requested to log on to FaceBook and ensure all their friends that they survived the 3.1 magnitude quake that only disturbed four seagulls and startled a goat.

Earthquake Detection

Earthquakes happen every day all over the world. They are detected by teams of "geeologists". In small rooms at strategically placed locations, the geeologists sit and when the room suddenly moves, they look at each other and say "Gee, I think that was an earthquake!" If one or more geeologist concurs, they call another group of scientists known as "sizemologists". The sizemologists then determine the size and location of the quake thingy after calling all their friends and telling them where they were and what they were doing when the geeologists called them.   

It is often believed that animals can detect an impending earthquake thingy. Many in the scientific community theorize that earthquakes are often preceded by the barking of dog thingies, or by the sudden flight of flocks of bird thingies. However, many in the cat community realize that dogs bark and birds fly and are therefore unimpressed with such drivel.

Though the scientists have yet to request my services, I believe I have the answer to predicting earthquake thingies:

At some point in the near or distant future, either a very strong, or very weak, or intermediate earthquake will occur somewhere on earth. 

All they had to do was ask.

Smack of Ages

As you are all aware, my male two legger is a huge fan of really bad science fiction. He often stays up into the wee hours watching a myriad of mutant creatures destroying someplace called "Tokyo". I am unsure why Tokyo enrages mutant creatures, but every time there is a nuclear accident in the world, some giant lizard thingy, or moth thingy, or gerbil thingy suddenly takes a great disliking to sushi and kubuki and levels the place.

Anyway, the male stayed up late last night watching Tokyo take it in the shorts again. He fell asleep just as the little nerdy scientist invented a thingamabob and saved the city to die another day. He awoke four hours later after sleeping through another movie in which a two legger invents a time machine thingy and once again saves the world from something or other.

The thing that makes this blog-worthy is that during all this time, I was napping. Shortly after the two legger dragged his carcass to bed, I felt the need to visit the Royal Litter. As I stepped into the Royal Litter Box, I realized that it had somehow changed. Within the Royal Litter Box, I discovered several dials and button thingies and a large display on the lid that showed the current date. Never one to ignore an opportunity to push buttons, I punched the nearest button thingy and felt the box begin to shake. When the shaking stopped, I noticed the display on the lid had changed. Where it once showed today's date, it now read "6-14-2006".

As I stepped out the box, I found that I had been transported to different house. Across the room, I spied a female gray tabby nursing several kittens. However, one kitten had an abnormally large face and was not nursing at all. It was sitting in the corner complaining that it hated milk and preferred bottled water. I immediately recognized this younger version of Tiger Lily. Now the date display thingy made sense. Somehow, the Royal Litter Box had been converted to a time machine thingy and I had been unwittingly transported to Tiger Lily's kittenhood.

Now I know what you are thinking, but I would never smack a kitten no matter how annoying they are or will be.

I smacked her mother.

Repeatedly.

I climbed  back into the Royal Litter Box/time machine thingy and punched another button.

As the shaking stopped, the display on the lid read "2-23-2007". Once again, I found myself in a different room in a different house. The lights were flickering and I smelled the distinct odor of singed fur. I found the source of the odor in the adjoining hallway. A smallish, smoking, malformed orange tabby kitten was busily licking an electrical socket. Every time he'd lick, the small sparks would leap out, the lights flickered and he'd utter a soft "huhuhuhuhuh".

"Why are you licking that?" I inquired.

"Sneezelflurb rarfnar grungeetan buggindob" he replied.

After the numbness in his mouth abated, he told me that he'd been feeling tired lately and his littermates had convinced him that the socket thingy was a great source of energy and that if he licked it, he'd be shocked at how well it worked. 

I suspected that the large, convulsing multi-colored mass of giggling fur in the corner might be the littermates in question. Though I respect the chaos they were causing, I am the only one allowed to abuse Ivan. However, I reiterate, I refuse to smack kittens. So after giving them a stern glaring, I climbed back into my time machine thingy, punched a button, went back in time and smacked Tiger Lily's mother.

Next, I traveled to "12-4-2006". Here, I found Mini-Jaq. I knew it was Jaq because she was hiding in a Pop-Tart box singing nursery rhymes. This bored me and I decided to return to my own time (with a stop along the way to smack Tiger Lily's mother).

I must have fallen asleep on the way back because when I awoke, I found myself on my throne in front of the firebox thingy. The house was dark and all my minions were sleeping peacefully. I decided to take one more trip in my time machine thingy, but as I entered the Royal Litter Box, I discovered that there were no button thingies. The date display was gone. And suddenly it occurred to me that the whole episode was nothing but a catnip-induced dream thingy.

Disappointed, I did what anyone in my position would do.

I smacked Tiger Lily.