Mixed Nuts

Jaq intrigues me.

I find that she is unlike any other cat I have ever known.

Just when I begin to think I understand her, she does something that blows my judgement completely out of the water.

She is an enigma wrapped in a quandary, coated with mystery and liberally dusted with powdered what-the-heck-was that.

On the surface, she seems intelligent, mild-mannered and meek. But deep inside, there seems to flow a river of bug-eyed lunacy, running deep and swift through a valley of absolute tail-twitching, fur-poofing, wall-licking, drooly-mouthed insanity.

Now I could accept it if she was simply unbalanced, but at times I also detect a keen intellect lightly veiled by her cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs veneer.

And therein lies my dilemma. Is she a nut job that occasionally has periods of cognizance? Is she a total whacko that displays behavior that only seems relatively sane when compared with her normally abnormal behavior? Is she totally sane and only acts the looney in some strategy aimed at furthering some nefarious plot. Or perhaps she is even more ingenious than I first suspected and is acting like someone who is acting like they are nuts, but are totally sane, and yet exhibiting signs of some psychosis that causes them to appear completely rational even though they are incurably bonkers.

I shall explain.....

Other than her propensity for singing in tight spaces, Jaq often exhibits other questionable behavior. For instance, she will be deep in the throes of a nap when suddenly she will pop up, poof and scamper from the room in a blind panic. I am fully aware that all felines engage in this type of antic from time to time,  however, when Jaq performs this maneuver, she adds a pirouette at the end and delivers a two minute speech thanking the academy, her parents, her director and someone named Winifred before lying down to resume her nap.

Sometimes, she will stalk up to a lamp thingy, yell "You're not my cousin!" and knock it to the floor where it shatters into like a bajillion pieces.

And this is where I get suspicious.

For you see, if it was Yours Truly who murdered the lamp thingy, the walls would reverberate with the sounds of two leggers freaking out and screaming. The water squirty thingy would be drenching everything that moved and I would be banished to the computer room until further notice. But due to her reputation as being "touched in the head thingy", the two leggers make certain allowances for Jaq.

They even seem amused when she "has a moment" and destroys something. Heck, the other day, Jaq totally blitzed a wine glass. Did the two leggers get upset?

No.

The male even seemed a bit proud of the mess she made. He called back to the female "Hey Honey! Come see what widdle Miss Jaq did! She made a widdle mess! Awwww, she so cute. After I clean up her mess, I'll get her a widdle treat!".

I swear, as she was nibbling her reward for breaking a wine glass, she actually winked at me.

Allow me to repeat that for clarity....As she was nibbling her reward for breaking a wine glass, she winked at me.

Apparently, if they believe you are mentally disturbed, you are not held accountable for your actions.

Hmmmm........

I decided I should get in on the action. I began acting unpredictably. I started talking to walls, I engaged in several odd rituals. I even sat in the tub thingy and had a protracted conversation with the faucet. However, after several days of this ridiculous behavior, the two leggers remained unconvinced and continued to drench me at every transgression..

Jaq too, was not fooled. I woke last night to find her standing in the moonlight next to a knife, whispering "Knock it off Beard Boy, this is my gig".

Normally, any minion who threatened me would immediately feel the wrath of the Smackin Paw. However, I have decided to give her a pass.

Just in case she really is nuts.

The 300th Post Thingy: A Brief Hissstory of The Cujo Dynasty

I realized last month that I was quickly approaching my 300th post.

But I was undecided about what topic I should choose.

Over the last 299 posts, I have informed and educated my minions on a very wide range of subjects. I have invited you into my Kingdom, shared my escapades and even divulged previously classified feline secrets. I have answered your questions and even acquiesced to your requests.

When it suited my purposes.......

However, I felt that the 300th post should be something big. Something different. Something spectacular.

So I asked for assistance in choosing a topic. I decided to have a contest in my FaceBook fan club and offer a special prize to the minion that came up with the winning topic. I received many good ideas, and some may be addressed in the future, but the one that really caught my attention was submitted by Dana Sue Jagusch. She wanted  to know more about my predecessors and our affect on two legger evolution.

And so I present to you:

A Brief Hisstory of The Cujo Dynasty

First of all I should explain that my genetic bloodline is somewhat vague. Therefore I consider trying to trace it futile, impossible and furthermore, silly. However, after several minutes of research, I have discovered a thread passing throughout history of feline intervention in two legger development.

I call it my "Spiritual Bloodline".

We begin in ancient Egypt. The Egyptians were the first two leggers to be enslaved by cats. They were originally subjugated by a feline they named "Bast-et" which in ancient Egyptian translates to "Furry Little Slayer of Mice and Sandal Straps". Bast-et took up residence in the royal palace of the pharoah thingy and proceeded to destroy his furniture. The pharoah was so enamored by Bast-et's antics that he declared Bast-et a god and ordered his likeness to appear on all works of art and monuments. However, after several years of Bast-et destroying his stuff, the pharoah decided to build an edifice that was well and truly cat-proof. Thus he set his people to building pyramid thingies. Given the fact that Bast-et had not perfected the use of explosives, the pyramids stand to this day.

A few years later, the Romans met the Egyptians and were similarly subjugated. The Romans so enjoyed the antics of their feline masters that they built large arenas for them to play in and would cheer loudly whenever they would "play" with the two leggers that they were given to entertain them. The Roman Empire fell after cats made their armies ineffectual owing to the fact that they all dressed in sheets and found it difficult to defend themselves whilst covered in cats.

This led to a period called "The Dark Ages". It was so named because every time a two legger lit a candle, a cat would come along and knock it off the shelf. 

Our next stop is the court of King Henry VIII. By observing his Royal Feline, Henry realized that he could effectively rule his kingdom by doing nothing but eating, sleeping and treating his subjects with merciless obesity and stinkies...........Oops, nevermind. That was one of Ivan's ancestors. 

Napoleon Bounaparte was encouraged by his cat, Pounce de Leon, to attempt to conquer all of Europe. It all started because the Russian Czar thingy had invented a gizmo called the Openzy Kanski. The Openzy Kanski was used to facilitate the opening of cans (or Kanskis) that were used to preserve the shelf life of items such as sardines, caviar, tuna and twinkies. The invention of the Openzy Kanski was very fortuitous because for years the Russians had been collecting and storing the kanskis with no way to get at their contents. When Pounce awoke one morning in Paris to the sound of a can being opened in Moscow, he convinced Napoleon to send a letter to the Russians demanding that they share this new technology or else he would come and take it. The Czar's ill-fated response was "Oh yeahski? You and what armyski?". Historians say that Napoleon was defeated at the very gates of Moscow. What they don't record is the fact that upon reaching the gates of Moscow, his cat decided that the Kremlin had better curtains to climb and so defected to the Czar's court. Inconsolable, Napoleon turned and went back to Paris to pout.

Sometime between April 2, 1405 and July 23, 1785, my ancestors heard of a "New World" across the ocean. It was said to contain wide open spaces, new two leggers to subjugate and lots of trees. In 1492, we arrived with Christopher Columbus on board his lesser known fourth ship, The Bieber. The Bieber started the voyage as a very popular ship, but it didn't take long for everyone to realize that its compass was defective and it continuously ran aground no matter how many times it tried to steer a proper course.   

Since our arrival in the New World, we have continued to shape it to our purposes. My ancestors have influenced such notables as Mark Twain, Edgar Allen Poe and every single villain in the James Bond series of movies.

In the late 1970's a large-mouthed tabby named "Megabite" adopted an up and coming nerd and convinced him to use his nerdiness to invent a new medium where we could coordinate our efforts at world domination. Where all who visited would be bound to eternal servitude and worship for all things feline.

You, my minions, are simply carrying on a great and ancient tradition of servitude to your feline masters.

I thank you for your continued service.

A Tiger Lily By The Tail

When I started this blog thingy over three years ago, I promised you one thing.

Honesty.

Complete, total, unadulterated honesty.

I tell you my thoughts. I tell you my ambitions. I tell you about the chaos and mayhem I cause on a daily basis in a completely open and unvarnished manner.

However, when one is as open as I am, one opens themselves up to criticism.

By far, the most consistent criticism I have received is in regards to my treatment of a certain whiny gray tabby known as Tiger Lily. Apparently, Whiny The Pooh has many admirers among those who follow my blog thingy. Whiny McWhinington has developed quite the fan base. The Queen of Complaint has become quite popular.

Though I find them as annoying as an unknocked knock knack, I read each and every critique I receive.

After having pondered the criticism and spending several minutes analyzing my own behavior in regards to Madame Monochrome, I have reached the conclusion that my treatment of The Gray Ghoul has been somewhat lacking.

She deserves better.

I don't terrorize her nearly enough. 

Oh sure, smacking her is both fun and gratifying, but I feel that lately I have been just "phoning it in". I need to add some variety to her abuse.

So, I am determined to correct this shortcoming.

So today I set out to mix it up a bit. As soon as the two leggers left this morning, I implemented my plan. I began with a basic intimidation strategy. Wherever she went, I was there. If she attempted to eat, I suddenly got hungry. If she tried to drink, I was instantly parched. Wherever she chose to nap, I decided that I was tired and she was in my spot.

I drew the line at following her into the litter box. However, that didn't stop me from slapping the hood of the litter box while she was using it.

After several hours of this non-contact terrorism, the two leggers returned home. Tiger Lily of course immediately launched into reporting to them every single act of intimidation I had incurred upon her during the day. For an entire hour, she regaled them with all my activities. They very quickly tired of her whining and banished her to the living room.

Where I happened to be.......

Whenever one of the two leggers would come out to check on us, they would find me sitting right next to her, staring at her while she whined about me sitting right next to her, staring at her.

Finally, the male was fed up with the constant complaining. He came out yelled "CUJO! Can't you shut her up?"

Now I have a quandary. It goes completely against my morals and philosophy to do anything that would please the two leggers. On the other paw, I really wanted to smack her.

In the end, I smacked her so hard that she tumbled across the couch and knocked over the lamp on the end table, causing it to fall and break the bulb thingy.

Mission accomplished on both counts.

Anyone got a problem with that?

Cookie Chaos

As I mentioned in my FaceBook fan club the other day, my two leggers brought home a box thingy that read: "Super Gingerbread House Kit". The top of the box had a picture of an adolescent two legger and her mother looking with glee upon their lovely perfect creation.

Apparently, it was the intention of the two leggers to work together and create an entire gingerbread village. They had great plans of building several houses, a church, town hall, train station and the male even wanted to make a gingerbread outhouse (another of the male's strokes of genius that was wisely nixed by the female).

While my two leggers are both what some of you consider "artistic", (the male is a goldsmith, the female is known for her eye for interior design) they have never attempted to accomplish such an endeavor as building an entire gingerbread village.

I foresee two problems with their plan.
1. I have witnessed the male's attempts at building stuff.
2. They live with cats.

Perhaps the first issue could be overcome with diligent female supervision.

As to the second issue........that gingerbread village has about as much a chance of surviving as a purity pledge at Miley Cyrus' house.

I will spare you the details of the construction. Suffice it to say that it was a long, drawn-out process that ended with the female drinking a large amount of wine, and the male covered in five pounds of frosting and several hundred gumdrops and jelly beans. Apparently his propensity for attracting paint whenever he attempts to aid the female in interior decorating extends to icing and bakery products as well.

Well, the village has sat in all its splendor for the last three days. The two leggers have not had to go to work since its completion and therefore our opportunities for mass confection destruction have been limited. Ivan was all for an immediate late night cat-quake to level the village, but for something that took this long to create, we owed it to the two leggers to destroy it in a most creative and well-thought out manner.

Drawing inspiration from the bad science-fiction movies that the male enjoys so much, I decided upon a Total Tokyo Takedown.

Think Godzilla meets Cookie Monster.......

We waited until New Year's Eve. As is their custom, the two leggers always go out to dinner with friends on New Year's Eve. They are generally gone for about two and a half hours which is coincidentally the same duration of the average Japanese disaster movie.

As soon as their car was out of sight, Jaqthra launched her attack by leaping from the top of the fridge thingy. Her aerial attack entirely flattened one house, took out two licorice stick street lamps and knocked the town hall off its foundation.

Tigura Lily assaulted the train station, completely leveling it and then proceeded to gnaw the head off of the mayor.

Ivangaru swept through the streets with paws swinging and jaws snapping. Nothing could withstand his wrath as he trundled down the streets leaving nothing but sad little gingerbits in his wake. Although the entire village occupied a space of roughly three square feet, Ivan got lost several times and had to stop for directions.

Finally, Cujzilla arrived to finish off the edible edifices. In a flurry of flying frosting, I laid waste to the remainder of the baked burg. A few surviving gingerbread men attempted to rally a resistance at the edge of town. They made a sad sight, several were missing limbs, one had a cinnamon stick crutch and all were disfigured in some manner and bandaged with white frosting. My smacking paw made quick work of the half-baked resistance.

By the time the two leggers return from their dinner, the gingerbread town will be but a distant memory. Even as I write this, we are busily cleaning the crumbs and icing from our fur.

I realize that we will most likely be chastised upon their return. The water squirty thingy will probably be used liberally.

That's okay. While they were gone, I replaced the water with milk.

Nothing goes better with gingerbread than a big drink of milk.

I hope everyone has a happy and safe New Year.

I've got big plans for 2014..........MWAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!!!
 

Yule Be Sorry

I have written a Christmas carol thingy.

As you all know, my poetic skills have often been labeled as "questionable", "irresponsible" and even "dangerously disturbing".

In fact, my poetry has been banned in all fifty states....and Arkansas.

However, since it is the Christmas season, I have decided the heck with it, I'm gonna do it anyway.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Ivan the Red-Furred Dimwit

Ivan the red-furred dimwit,

Had a very tiny brain.

And if you ever met him,

You would probably go insane.

All of the other felines,

Used to laugh and call him "dork".

They always said that Ivan,

Smelled a little bit like pork.

 

Then one rainy Christmas Day,

Cujo came to say:

"Even though your brain's so small,

I'll give you my Christmas tree to maul"

Then how the felines loved him!

As they saw him take the blame.

Ivan the red-furred dimwit,

The tree will never be the same!

That was so fun, I believe I'll try another:

Oh Whiney Night

Oh whiney night,

The gray one's gonna get it.

I'll smack her down,

And then I will nap.

Oh whiney night,

She never stops her whining.

Sometime she must sleep,

And then I'll make my move.

Pounce on her now!

And greet the new found silence!

Oh paw-aw divine!!

Strike her down and victory is mine!

Okay, if you insist, one more:

O' Little Catnip Mousie Thingy

O' little catnip mousie thingy,

How still I see thee lie.

Beneath the chair,

And covered with hair,

I've decided that you must die.

O' little catnip mousie thingy,

You Know you amuse me so.

I bat, you fly

And then you die.

Until under the fridge, you go.

But in the hallway lurketh,

A most disturbing sight.

The two legger

Without his fur

Is sleepwalking tonight.

  

Jaq has now been singing these carol thingies for the last 17 hours straight. 

The two leggers have since made up their own Christmas carol thingy.

It is called "Shut the Heck Up Cats! We Gotta Work Tomorrow!"

Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.

I wish you all a very merry Christmas and a blessed New Year!

Lumber Jaq

Around 300 years ago, Sir Isaac Newton figured out the whole Law of Gravity Thingy.

Around 30 years ago, a group of Canadian scientists and part-time musicians named "The Guess Who" confirmed Newton's theory when they said "What goes up, must come down". Being Canadian, they spent the rest of their lives trying to apply Newton's findings to the sport of hockey.

I have been pondering gravity over the past several days.

Why? Because the Christmas tree thingy has gone up.

In keeping with the spirit of Sir Isaac Newton  and The Guess Who, it must now come down.

It's the law.

I didn't write it....... but I intend to enforce it.

Last Sunday, the female two legger sent the male out to the shed to retrieve a bunch of large boxes that only come out in the month of December. As I anticipated, the largest box contained the disassembled parts of a large plastic tree thingy.

And thus it begins.

Every year the two leggers engage in the same bit of folly. They spend several hours assembling and decorating the most incredibly stimulating cat toy/scratching post on Earth, and then they admonish all local felines to refrain from attacking it. There are three basic flaws in their logic:

1. It is a tree. Cats like climbing in trees.
2. They think the tree is pretty. Cats like destroying anything the two leggers consider pretty.
3. They told us not to touch it. Cats like touching anything they are told not to touch.

It's the same old song and dance. We watch intently while they trim the tree thingy. Once completed, the female turns to me and says "Don't even think about it, Cujo". This year she even waggled a finger at me. The "Wagglin O' The Finger" is a two legger ritual intended to fend off evil spirits and mischievous felines. Like most two legger rituals, it doesn't work. It usually amuses the evil spirits and bores the felines.

The first night after they put up the tree thingy, the two leggers slept very lightly with water squirty thingies close at hand. We were aware of their vigilance and decided to postpone our plans until they had let down their guard. They were incredulous when they awoke the next morning to find the tree thingy fully intact and all ornaments whole and accounted for.

The second night came and went without incident as well. Their anxiety began to wane.

I knew the third night would be the optimal time for us to strike. If we let it go another night, their suspicions would be aroused and all would be for naught. Tonight would be the happy medium between waning suspicion and reluctant relaxation.

After the two leggers retired to their bedroom, we waited for several hours until we were positive that they were deep in the throes of slumber. We could hear the low rumble of the male's snoring and the deep soft sighs of the female. Giving the all clear, I told Tiger Lily to go first. As usual, her clawless attempts at destruction were pathetic. She only succeeded in mussing the tree skirt and knocking one low priority plastic ornament down.

Ivan wanted to go next and met with much more success. With a low-pitched "ROWR", Ivan disappeared beneath the lowest boughs and in a few short seconds, suddenly reappeared up near the very top of the tree.  He then began batting at any and all ornaments within reach. After slaying no fewer than eight ornaments, he once again vanished. Several seconds passed with no sign of activity. I slowly became aware of a strange odor and small wisps of smoke coming from the middle branches. This was a sure sign that Ivan hadn't learned his lesson from the previous six years and was once again chewing on the light cords.

Up until this time, Jaq had remained in one of the large ornament boxes, softly singing Christmas carols to herself. However, unbeknownst to me, she had stealthily climbed the half wall next to the tree. With a deafening yell of "TIMBERRRR!!!!" She leapt from the wall straight into the very top branches of the tree. With the tree already top heavy from Ivan's added bulk, Jaq's flying feline frenzy caused the tree to topple and fall against the dining table. Over 20 ornaments were killed instantly. At least 11 more were humanely euthanized.

Amazingly, this was the first time in six years that I personally had little or no part in the annual demise of the Christmas tree thingy.

However, I am not worried.

When the two leggers awaken and see the carnage, I'm sure I'll still get the credit.

The Clawedfather

Most of you are aware that my male two legger enjoys nothing more than watching really poorly made science fiction movies. I have mocked him at length on FaceBook and in my fan club.

What you may not be aware of, is that he is also a huge fan of "The Godfather Saga". Unlike bad science fiction, he does not watch "The Godfather" movies to mock them, he watches them because he believes them to be perhaps the best examples of American cinema ever produced.

Once or twice a year, something snaps in his head thingy and he decides that it is time for "Godfather Weekend".

A "Godfather Weekend" involves the female cooking up a large pot of spaghetti, the consumption of several bottles of red wine, watching all three "Godfather" movies back-to-back, and the male incessantly speaking in what he believes is an authentic Sicilian accent, but actually sounds more like a drunken Irish sailor who is trying to speak German after watching a French movie that is subtitled in Japanese.

During previous Godfather weekends, I have taken the opportunity to catch up on some sleep and left orders with Ivan to wake me when it was over.

However this time I decided in the spirit of intellectual curiosity, that I would watch these movies and perhaps discover the reason for the male's fascination with them.

Well, perhaps "intellectual curiosity" is too strong a term. Actually, it was really just a cold weekend and the firebox thingy was blazing in the same room that the two leggers were watching the movies. So I decided to observe.

I must admit that I am impressed.

The story revolves around a family of two leggers that build a criminal empire by using extortion, coercion, larceny, smuggling, assault, murder and many other illegal activities. Not only that, they convince other minion types to perform these illegal acts for them, thereby keeping their paws clean and not open to prosecution.

I respect that.

In fact, I respect it so much, I have decided to restructure my Kingdom to emulate Don Corleone's example.

From now on, I will be known as Don Cujo Felini.

Today, I sent my consigliere, Ivan the Chomp, to make the two leggers an offer they can't refuse. He told them, and I quote: "The Boss wants tuna tonight. You don't give him tuna, and mebbe your lamp don't feel so good in the morning. Capiche?" He also hacked up a hairball in the female's boot just to let them know that I'm serious.

Don Vito has taught me much. He says at one point: "Keep your friends close, your enemies even closer." Taking his advice to heart, I sent Jaq the Canary to offer a peace treaty thingy to Don Nutmuncher of the Squirrel Cartel. I have offered him Tiger Lily's head as a sign of my sincerity. They have yet to respond to my offer, but I have it on good authority that they hate whining even more than I, so I am optimistic. Once we are "friends", I will invite them into my home in the spirit of fellowship and cooperation. Perhaps once we pool our resources, my brains and muscle and their marvelously agile little hands, we can accomplish great things together.

Nah, who am I kidding?

I'm gonna whack them.