Monday, June 27, 2011

The Gathering

We are NOT amused.

No, I am not speaking of the "Royal We", I am speaking of the four legged denizens of my kingdom. From myself, right down the slapping order to Tiger Lily.

As a matter of fact, we have been pushed beyond "not amused". We have been driven past Annoyedville and are within spitting distance of Pissedburgh.

The two leggers have surpassed themselves in the area of insubordination. Allow me to explain:

First of all, let's jump into our "way back machine thingy" and go back to last Thursday.

Thursday is one of the days that the two leggers do not wake up and go to work. Sometimes, they hardly wake at all on Thursday. But on this particular Thursday, they woke up early and commenced to scrubbing everything in sight. They dusted, cleaned the kitchen, and corralled every dust bunny they could find. They even found some of their possessions that I had carefully concealed in my numerous hidey holes. This furious activity aroused my curiosity, but had not crossed the line at which I become annoyed.

Having observed all this, the realization suddenly struck me. The two leggers were planning a gathering.

It is not often that my two leggers host a gathering. Frankly, I am not sure why two leggers gather in the first place. When they gather, they usually eat, drink things that make them act doglike and then they sit around and talk. There is no hissing. No poofing or raising of hackles. Blood is seldom shed, and there is very little smacking involved. The purpose of theses gatherings escapes me.

Having surmised the reason for the all the cleaning, I immediately called Ivan and Tiger Lily into a council of chaos plotting.

I ordered Ivan to conserve his gaseous emissions. I told him to save it all for a single gargantuan blast to be released seconds prior to the main course of the two leggers' dinner. I also gave him the duty of shredding any decorations the two leggers may put up in advance.

I gave Tiger Lily the responsibility of providing the "Whine du Jour". I told her she should practice her whining between the hours of two and five AM. so as to determine which vintage would cause the most desirable response. Tiger Lily has no claw thingies and is totally useless when it comes to physical destruction. I smacked her for this shortcoming and sent her to her room to ponder her lack of weaponry.

As for myself, I began working up the largest, nastiest, and slimiest hairball imaginable. This, I planned to release in a most dramatic fashion during dessert. This would be a true masterpiece of gastric recollection.

Friday came and the hectic preparations (two legged as well as four legged) continued. My lawn was mowed, my back deck swept, and all manner of things prepared. Ivan and I did our best to interfere, but since the preparations had moved outside, our efforts were limited at best.

On Saturday, the two leggers began to cook. We knew the day was at hand. We practiced our timing, and perfected our plan. We had retained much of the fur we would have shed earlier
in order to deposit it on the coats of the two legged guests.

Everything was in readiness.

We waited in anticipation.

A car thingy approached my house.

And suddenly it happened. In an obviously pre-planned strategic maneuver, the two leggers grabbed us and tossed us unceremoniously into the spare bedroom. They told us it was "for our own good", but I doubt their veracity.

Ivan scratched at the door, I threatened them vehemently and questioned their pedigree. Finally finding a good use for Tiger Lily, I repeatedly slapped her against the window, almost managing to crack one pane. But it was to no avail. We suffered our banishment while the two leggers enjoyed their feast. We were finally released only after the last two leggers had departed.

My two leggers feel smug now. They believe they have won. They are convinced that all is well.

They are mistaken.

I still have a hairball that has their new comforters' name written in big bold letters across it.

And let us not forget Ivan. Eventually he is going to explode, or shoot through the house like a released balloon thingy.

That should amuse me.


  1. You were foiled! I'm certain you won't let any of the four legged prep go to waste! Hang in there, there will come an appropriately inappropriate time. No doubt.

  2. Revenge is a hairball best served cold

  3. Please please please do not let Ivan emit his gases into the open air. There could be major climate change a his greenhouse gases take over the atmosphere.....

  4. OK - that made mom laugh....and reminds us to be glad she doesn't try that here!!

  5. Cujo, due to your conspiracycal efforts and management of resources, you are hereby made an Honorary Howling Hooligan, forever and ever. WOOF! I am looking forward to hearing all about that hairball. AAARRROOOOO!
    With Deep Respect,