Monday, March 28, 2011

Cam-Pain Season

Many of my loyal readers have made the suggestion that I throw in my hat thingy in the upcoming Presidential Election.

I have always been somewhat reluctant to discuss my opinions regarding politics and politicians. In my kingdom, political opinion is neither valued nor tolerated. (Unless of course, it's MY opinion)

Never let it be said that I do not listen to and consider all that my followers suggest.

Yesterday, I decided to form a Presidential Campaign Exploratory Committee. This committee consisted of Ivan, Tiger Lily and the newly appointed bathroom spider.

I tasked the PCEC with assessing my chances of winning the Presidency on the basis of the following criteria:

1. Can I win?
2. Will it amuse me?
3. Will it benefit me in any way?
4. Will my leadership benefit my country?
5. Do I care?
6. Will it interrupt my naptime?
7. Can I order all squirrel thingies to be declared traitors and summarily executed?

I gave them three hours to do their research and submit a report. This is what they came up with:

On the first point, they decided that given the comparative caliber of the competition, (say that three times fast) the answer is a resounding "Yup".

Will it amuse me? Absolutely. The White House, (my potential new home) contains tons of totally unsullied and unshredded furniture. It has room upon room of totally intact priceless knick knocks just waiting for my "touch". Ivan also discovered the fact that Washington DC also happens to contain the densest population of rat thingies in the entire universe.

Will it benefit me in any way? I will have a staff of two leggers totally committed to feeding and protecting me even if it places their own lives in mortal peril. I already have that, so it's a draw.

Will my leadership benefit my country? Duh.

Do I care? Ummm, no.

Will it interrupt my naptime? My committee was split on this one. Ivan said "Yes". Tiger Lily said "Which nap? All you do is nap." The newly appointed bathroom spider said "MRRRPPHHH!!" Due to the fact that he was in the process of being eaten by Ivan. I excused the newly appointed bathroom spider from further contributions to this discussion. I then smacked Tiger Lily in a very potential presidential manner.

Can I order all squirrel thingies declared traitors and summarily executed? Apparently that would require an unnatural act of Congress.

Unfortunately, Tiger Lily did come up with one potential obstacle to my quest for the Presidency.

You see, my friends, the People of America seem to frown on candidates that have skeletons in their closets.

Alas, I have many skeletons in my closet, as well as a couple under the entertainment center, one under the fridge thingy and a partially buried one in the royal litterbox.

So for now, I must conclude that any Presidential candidacy on my part would be ill-advised.

However, I still plan on becoming Supreme Universal Cosmic Royal and Most Bodacious Dictator For Life.

Be afraid, squirrel thingies, be very afraid.

Thursday, March 24, 2011


My two leggers have returned.

I am unsure if I am annoyed, or amused.

Mostly annoyed I think.

Sure, I am pleased that my feeding routine has returned to normal. And, once again I have full run of my entire household. (stupid two leggers "forgot" to leave the door to my recently renovated bedroom open)

As many of you know, my two leggers traveled to some place called "Indiana" last week. It seems that "Indiana" is the place where the female's parental thingies reside. From what I have gathered, it is place far from here where they excel in growing the world's supply of potholes. According to their state website, the state motto is : "Utique Nos es Non Michigan" which is Latin for: "At Least We Are Not Michigan".

That being said, the two leggers seem to have enjoyed themselves. This annoys me. I am not annoyed by the fact that they enjoyed their trip, I am annoyed that they enjoyed their trip sans me. Alas, I was unable to accompany them. I felt it my duty as "Supreme Ruler of All I Survey" to stay and guard my domicile. Not to mention the fact that a week with little or no two legged supervision did have its appealing aspects.

Anyway, while the wandering minions were in Indiana, they chanced upon one of my long distance minions, Conni. They reportedly had a very enjoyable afternoon with her. This annoyed me until I learned that she had knitted an offering for me. It is a work of art. Imagine a mousie thingy made completely of gray yarn. Then imagine a mousie thingy, made of gray yarn that has been laid upon by Ivan until it is almost two dimensional. Then imagine a mousie thingy, made of gray yarn, laid upon by Ivan and then stuffed with catnip. As I said, a work of art. I send my eternal gratitude to my new "Chief of Knitting Flattened Catnip Mousie Thingies".

While the two leggers were away, us cats, we played.

(insert evil chortle here)

The dust bunnies never knew what hit them. Six, count them, six, knock knacks met their demise. We reduced Tiger Lily to a quivering mass of gray whininess.

However, I have a confession.

After several days and nights of total, unbridled chaos, a thought occurred to me.

If the two leggers never returned, would all this endless depravity grow old and tiresome? Would I become low in spirit and long for the days of the water squirty thingy? Would I lose interest in the unfettered destruction and begin watching soap operas?

Yeah, right.

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Vanishing Scream

For the last few days, I have been working with Ivan on his "vanishing" skills.

"Vanishing" is a uniquely feline talent that all cats (except Ivan) possess.

The definition of "vanishing" is as follows: The act or ability of suddenly disappearing from a known location, only to reappear in a totally different and unexpected alternate location. This ability is generally used to befuddle and confuse two legged minions. It may also be utilized as a method of escaping an undesirable situation. But mostly it is used for amusement purposes.

Vanishing is achieved with the accomplishment of three distinct steps:
1. Disappearance
2. Concealment
3. The Return

Last night I demonstrated for Ivan a perfect example of vanishing. I was laying on the bed when the two leggers decided that it was time to retire for the evening. As the male two legger turned his head to check his clock thingy, I vanished.

One moment I am sleeping soundly in the center of the bed, the next moment, I am gone. The two legger immediately starts searching the bedroom in a futile attempt at finding me. The door is closed, so he knows I am somewhere within the confines of the bedroom. He looks under the bed, behind the curtains, beneath the bed again in case I shot under there while he was searching the curtains, beneath the dresser, in the closet, beneath the bed again, under the covers, he makes the female check the pockets of her pajamas.

Standing in the middle of the room, scratching his head in confusion, he slowly becomes aware that I am sitting behind him, casually licking a paw.

I have returned.

His screams of joy are music to my ears.

The male is befuddled, Ivan is impressed, and I am amused.

Ivan's attempts at vanishing are just kind of sad. Though he tries hard, he is simply unable to grasp the concept. He has the first part down. He can "disappear", but then it always goes awry. He is unable to maintain the secrecy of his hidey hole. Most times he can be spotted because he forgets he has a tail and leaves it sticking out in plain sight. Even when he manages to hide his entire bulk, he gives himself away when he begins giggling uncontrollably. I am quickly coming to the realization that vanishing may simply be beyond Ivan's ability.

If his attempts were not so embarrassing to all felinedom, they would be amusing.

Unfortunately, this will be my last post for a couple of weeks. My male two legger is going to his Vet tomorrow and having surgery on his paw. I will be required to attend to him and make sure he is entertained.

I hope they make him wear a cone thingy.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Things That Go Bump (and crash, and boom) In The Night

There is a velvety silence that fills the darkness.

No sound issues from the shadows.

I stalk the inky blackness, stealthily moving from room to room. Surveying my kingdom, I find nothing amiss. The very fact that nothing is amiss proves my supposition that something is amiss.

I find Ivan in the living room. He is warily contemplating a spot on the hardwood floor. The spot confuses Ivan because he is convinced that this is a different spot than the one that was in the same spot this morning. He realizes that the spot is identical to the spot he studied this morning, but somehow in the darkness, the character of the spot seems more sinister. This is not the happy spot Ivan spoke with earlier, this spot is insolent and full of itself. This spot must die. Ivan attempts to suffocate the spot with a firmly placed paw, but this has little affect. Confused, Ivan gives up and decides to accompany me on my patrol.

We move down the hall to the door of Tiger Lily's room. Tiger Lily is placed in solitary confinement each evening within the computer thingy room. Apparently the two leggers feel that it is necessary to place her in protective custody each evening. I am annoyed by their mistrust. I do not say their mistrust is not well placed, but it still annoys me.

I try to lure Tiger Lily to the door with a gentle scritch scritch scritch on the door frame, but either she is not falling for it, or she is too soundly asleep to notice. This too annoys me.

We move on.

In the bathroom, the bathroom spider is nowhere to be seen. However, I can hear snickering and so I know he lurks nearby. My annoyance continues.

We enter the kitchen. Ivan immediately scans the floor for any crumbs that may have settled there. Finding none, Ivan is annoyed.

Suddenly, I realize that the male two legger has neglected to put away the dish thingies. There are numerous plates, bowls and glasses sitting much closer to the edge of the counter than is generally advisable in a domicile that contains cats.

This has potential.

Silently, without attracting Ivan's attention, I leap to the counter. Taking into account wind, drift and the Coriolis effect, (none of which I understand, but it sounds scientific) I wait until the perfect moment, and push a half-filled cereal bowl over the edge. It lands with a satisfying "sploosh-thud" on Ivan's little noggin. This sets off a chain reaction that can only be called "epic".

Ivan, blinded with milk and panic flies into the dining room, leaving a trail of corn flakes and overturned furniture in his wake. He hits the wine cabinet with such force that he dislodges two glasses, causing them to shatter.

At last the furry orange ball of destruction comes to rest in the living room and immediately begins cleaning himself. I survey the carnage. Once again, with a little thought and a simple twitch of a paw, the correct order of things has been restored.

I am amused.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Seedlings From My Farm of Wisdom

I have recently come to the conclusion that two leggers are very fond of using "adage" thingies.

They seem unable to state life's lessons in simple straightforward terms.

They cannot just say "Don't touch that, it may be hot." They have to say something like: "Where there's smoke, there's fire." I'm sorry, but anyone that touches a smoking thingy, deserves every burn they get. (My male two legger can profess to this, he buys burn gel by the 50 gallon drum)

So, I've decided that in the interest of two legger education, I shall attempt to enlighten them with some lessons that I myself have learned, and I will endeavor to use terms that even the two leggers may understand.

1. Look before you leap. SOMEONE (no names, but her initials are Mrs. Dunn) may have left the water in the tub thingy.

2. Never count your chickens before you have estimated the storage space in the ice box thingy.

3. The early bird gets the worm, but the earlier cat gets the early bird.

4. A stitch in time saves nine. Nine stitches in the male two legger gets Ivan grounded for a week.

5. Let sleeping dogs lie. Dogs that are awake are too stupid to come up with good excuses.

6. Neither a borrower nor a lender be. Be a thief and cut out the middleman.

7. A rolling stone may gather no moss, but if aimed correctly, it can take out a teacup poodle.

8. Never put off till tomorrow what you can destroy today.

9. If at first you don't succeed, destroy the evidence and bury the witnesses in the litterbox.

10. Haste makes waste. Ivan makes stinkier waste.

11. Always wear clean underwear before leaving home. (I've no idea)

12. Silence may be golden, but the sound of a dog yelping is platinum.

13. Aim twice, smack once.

14. Keep your friends close, keep your enemies awake.

15. To err is human, to make them do your bidding is feline.

I hope these simple rules for life have helped.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Compete Fools

Today I did some pondering.

I know that many of you will say: "But Cujo, you are always pondering!"

Today I was doing some truly deep pondering

No, not "What is the meaning of life in the universe?" type pondering. I've already cracked that nut thingy.

But deep pondering none the less.

I was pondering the compulsion that two leggers have to compete with one another.

Anyone who has spent any time at all watching the talking box thingy has surely noticed that the majority of mindless programs involve some type of competition. Two leggers do not seem happy unless they are showing that they are better at something than other two leggers.

They compete in contests to find out who is better at thinking, running, singing, dancing, cheating, unsound decision making, cooking, eating, fighting and hitting a small white ball around a park, just to name a few.

At any given time, I am sure that half of the two legged population is busy attempting to prove their competitive prowess while the other half is watching them at home on their talking box thingies.

Sometimes they compete individually, sometimes in pairs, packs or teams.

I find this curious. I suppose they must get something out of it. I know they are usually rewarded with money or trophy thingies. But being a cat, I have no use for these things. Oh sure, I am aware that money buys catnip, and I know from experience that trophies make a satisfying sound when knocked off a high shelf, but still the logic escapes me.

It cannot be the hope that the rest of two legged society is going to remember them throughout eternity. The "Champions" are invariably forgotten as soon as the next competition begins. (Unless they are caught in a drug scandal and then their fame lasts somewhat longer, but not much)

It cannot be for establishing dominance or authority, the two leggers spend a full year "electing" their leaders and then the next three years grumping about how bad they are.

Once again, two leggers should learn from their feline superiors. The only reason to compete is for fun.

My definition of fun is as follows:
1. Anything that causes discomfort in others.
2. Anything that causes major structural damage.
3. Anything that makes a two legger jump from their bed at 3 a.m. and run screaming in elation through my house spraying the water squirty thingy at anything that moves. (preferably Tiger Lily)
4. Anything that causes Tiger Lily to whine.
5. Ritual Squirrel sacrifice.

As far as competition for dominance or authority, we simply smack each other around until someone hides under the entertainment center. Or until Tiger Lily whines and we end up declaring a tie and spend the rest of the evening smacking her.