It has always been my belief that a coward dies many deaths, but a brave person dies but once. I have found this to be true, but not dying many deaths is not necessarily exclusive to cowards. It also applies to two other entities:
Catnip mousie thingies...........
And Christmas trees.
Once again the two leggers have erected their annual act of futility that they call The Christmas Tree. Every year as the wind blows, the temperature drops and the squirrel shivers, the two leggers bring in a large box thingy and begin to erect the one thing on earth that they know we feline types are unable to resist.
They install a tree thingy in my living room, and then expect me not to climb it.
But wait, it gets better.
They then hang highly prized, sparkly, and best of all, FRAGILE thingies all over it.
In a fit of completely unjustified trust they tell me to leave it alone and retire to their bedroom leaving us, the furred residents, with the aforementioned mass of temptation.
While they are at it, they should just fill their shoes with catnip and tell us to stay out of the closet.
I once heard it said that the definition of insanity is the repetition of identical behavior with the expectation of different results. Using this standard, I have determined that my two leggers are certifiably looney, nuts, sanity challenged and furthermore out of their head thingies. Every year they erect this huge cat magnet and expect that it will remain intact until dawn.
It would be sad if it were not so amusing.
Over the years,we have created many games that involve the tree thingy:
Ground the Angel Thingy
Jingle Ball Bash
Icicle Hockey
Elf Neutering
Santa Slam
Light Snacks
And my personal favorite- Hide and Seek and Destroy.
Feeling charitable, I decided to allow Ivan to pick the first game of Tree Season this year.
I was pleasantly surprised when Ivan did not choose the same game he chooses every year, ( Knock the Tree Thingy Over and Eat Everything We Can Until the Two Leggers Squirt Us) instead he opted to make up a whole new game. Before I explain Ivan's new game, I must provide some background.
My male two legger is both a pilot and an aviation nut. Given his obsession with flying machines, he has coerced the female two legger into decorating the tree thingy with lots of miniature airplane ornaments. In the male two leggers mind, Santa's sleigh has wings and a turboprop.
Back to Ivan's new game. After watching a movie on the talking box thingy about a huge mutant monkey whose hobbies include grabbing female two leggers, climbing large buildings and smacking airplanes, Ivan climbed to the top of the tree thingy grabbed the Angel and then began crashing all the airplanes.
It was a thing of beauty. As the rest of us watched, Ivan reenacted the movie to perfection. I only wish the two leggers had been awake to appreciate his attention to detail.
There was only one discrepancy. The big monkey did not eat the head of the two legger at the end.
I like Ivan's ending better.
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Stupor Powers
Today was a particularly boring day in my kingdom.
Tiger Lily was hiding, Jaq was sleeping in a rare midwinter sunbeam and Ivan spent most of the day menacing a doorstop.
Finding myself at loose ends, I decided to catch up on some long overdue pondering.
For some time now, it has been my intention to ponder the two leggers obsession with "super powers". I have often noticed that the two leggers spend an inordinate amount of time entertaining themselves with stories about other two leggers that have special powers or talents.
This is just another example of what I have always averred:
Two leggers envy us. Their fondest desire is to be more like us. You doubt me? Let's take a moment and examine these "powers".
Super Strength- A 10lb. cat can knock over a 30 lb. table. (My two leggers will attest to this)
Ability to Leap Tall Objects in a Single Bound- duh.
Super Speed- Ever see Ivan appear when the door thingy to the food closet is rattled? The sonic boom occasionally wakes the neighbors.
Ability to Emit a Noxious Gas That Incapacitates Anyone Within a 10 Tailspan Radius- Once again, I refer to Ivan.
Invisibility- All felines are capable of this, especially when being sought by two leggers attempting to remove them from a room.
Super Hearing- Try opening a tuna can, five miles away while simultaneously listening to a Grateful Dead CD thingy and watching a political debate on the talking box thingy. I promise, you will have at least four cats at your feet in 2.635 seconds. (See also Super Speed)
Mind Control:
BRING ME CATNIP AND KEEP READING...........
Breathing Underwater- Why the heck would we want to breath water? That's for fish thingies.
Debilitating Sound- Tiger Lily's whine can cause mass confusion and hysteria among all intelligent lifeforms. (Ivan is impervious)
Given the aforementioned evidence, it is obvious to me that the two leggers simply dream of being more cat-like.
One last note: Though I see no advantage in breathing water, at my next opportunity, I intend to teach this ability to the squirrel.
Tiger Lily was hiding, Jaq was sleeping in a rare midwinter sunbeam and Ivan spent most of the day menacing a doorstop.
Finding myself at loose ends, I decided to catch up on some long overdue pondering.
For some time now, it has been my intention to ponder the two leggers obsession with "super powers". I have often noticed that the two leggers spend an inordinate amount of time entertaining themselves with stories about other two leggers that have special powers or talents.
This is just another example of what I have always averred:
Two leggers envy us. Their fondest desire is to be more like us. You doubt me? Let's take a moment and examine these "powers".
Super Strength- A 10lb. cat can knock over a 30 lb. table. (My two leggers will attest to this)
Ability to Leap Tall Objects in a Single Bound- duh.
Super Speed- Ever see Ivan appear when the door thingy to the food closet is rattled? The sonic boom occasionally wakes the neighbors.
Ability to Emit a Noxious Gas That Incapacitates Anyone Within a 10 Tailspan Radius- Once again, I refer to Ivan.
Invisibility- All felines are capable of this, especially when being sought by two leggers attempting to remove them from a room.
Super Hearing- Try opening a tuna can, five miles away while simultaneously listening to a Grateful Dead CD thingy and watching a political debate on the talking box thingy. I promise, you will have at least four cats at your feet in 2.635 seconds. (See also Super Speed)
Mind Control:
Breathing Underwater- Why the heck would we want to breath water? That's for fish thingies.
Debilitating Sound- Tiger Lily's whine can cause mass confusion and hysteria among all intelligent lifeforms. (Ivan is impervious)
Given the aforementioned evidence, it is obvious to me that the two leggers simply dream of being more cat-like.
One last note: Though I see no advantage in breathing water, at my next opportunity, I intend to teach this ability to the squirrel.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
The Visitation
I am not amused.
Earlier tonight I was awakened from my post-afternoon/ pre-evening nap by the back sliding door thingy opening. When I decided to investigate, this is what I beheld:
It appeared to be a representation of a deranged two legger. Though it was a bit creepy, my first inclination was to ignore it. But when I turned my back, it moved.
This went beyond creepy but fell shy of threatening. I decided to resume my nap and leave plotting my revenge against the squirrel thingy for another time. However, when I decided to look at the interloper once more, I discovered its true purpose:
The squirrel thingy seems to be holding a grudge. It would appear that he has taken exception to a few of the things I have said about him in the past. I have no idea why the mangy little tree rat may have been offended, but some vermin are so sensitive.
Sending his little minionette to harm me displays just how cowardly and dishonorable the varmint is. Seriously, using a minion to do your dirty work? Absolutely shameful and despicable.
Needless to say, the threat was neutralized with extreme prejudice. After I allowed Ivan to have his fun, I approached and administered the coup de grace.
Believe me, this assassination attempt will not go unanswered.
Sleep lightly squirrel thingy, sleep lightly.
And next time you send something to harm me, please include some gravy. This one was a bit dry.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Whack-O-Rama
I have decided to invent a new game.
I call it "Whack-O-Rama".
The rules are very simple. Using any means available, the "Team Captain" (Me) must smack the rest of the team (Ivan, Tiger Lily, and Jaq) whenever and wherever possible.
I suppose as games go, this game has very little structure, but it does require much strategy and planning. I employ various strategies, dependent on which victim,.....ummm, I mean teammate, I intend to strike.
For instance:
If I intend to strike Tiger Lily, I simply stand as close to her as possible, give her the stink eye and wait. Sooner rather than later she will begin to whine. This is the time to swing away. The two leggers seldom fault me for braining her when she whines and consider it "justifiable tabbycide".
For Jaq, I delegate the smacking duty to Ivan. The two leggers are still extremely protective of her and are very liberal in their utilization of the water squirty thingy. That which does not kill Ivan, only serves to make him wetter.
If I intend to put a hurtin' on Ivan, I must be somewhat more devious. It is not that the two leggers will chastise me for rattling his cage, it is the fact that he outweighs me by about sixty pounds that causes me trepidation. I must either convince Ivan that he deserves it, or that I was not the source of the smack. Given Ivan's severe lack of cerebral capacity, this is not as difficult as it may seem. I've lost track of how many imaginary fleas I've smacked off of his tiny head. There is something extremely gratifying in hearing him thank me for punching him in the noggin.
Once, I challenged him to a contest to see who could resist smacking the other during a staring contest. I "lost" about three seconds into the competition. He strutted away extremely proud of himself for finally winning a competition.
The best smacks of all are what I like to call the "Puppetmaster" variety. These happen when I am able to manipulate them into smacking each other. Once in a great while, the opportunity arises where I am able to with a subtle gesture or simple flick of my tail, convince Ivan that Tiger Lily is hoarding food beneath her pillow thingy. This causes him to clumsily stalk her and attempt to confiscate the rumored food. As soon Tiger Lily spots the big orange dope, she lets out a high pitched whine. This whine forces an involuntary response in Ivan's forepaw which swings of its own volition and knocks the litter out of her.
Enter the two leggers wielding the water squirty thingy spraying everything in sight.
They find me in the living room, curled up on my throne in front of the firebox thingy. Astounded that I was not involved in the chaos, they give me treats and praise me for being such a "good kitty". Though I am insulted by their language, I take the treats.
I love this game.
I call it "Whack-O-Rama".
The rules are very simple. Using any means available, the "Team Captain" (Me) must smack the rest of the team (Ivan, Tiger Lily, and Jaq) whenever and wherever possible.
I suppose as games go, this game has very little structure, but it does require much strategy and planning. I employ various strategies, dependent on which victim,.....ummm, I mean teammate, I intend to strike.
For instance:
If I intend to strike Tiger Lily, I simply stand as close to her as possible, give her the stink eye and wait. Sooner rather than later she will begin to whine. This is the time to swing away. The two leggers seldom fault me for braining her when she whines and consider it "justifiable tabbycide".
For Jaq, I delegate the smacking duty to Ivan. The two leggers are still extremely protective of her and are very liberal in their utilization of the water squirty thingy. That which does not kill Ivan, only serves to make him wetter.
If I intend to put a hurtin' on Ivan, I must be somewhat more devious. It is not that the two leggers will chastise me for rattling his cage, it is the fact that he outweighs me by about sixty pounds that causes me trepidation. I must either convince Ivan that he deserves it, or that I was not the source of the smack. Given Ivan's severe lack of cerebral capacity, this is not as difficult as it may seem. I've lost track of how many imaginary fleas I've smacked off of his tiny head. There is something extremely gratifying in hearing him thank me for punching him in the noggin.
Once, I challenged him to a contest to see who could resist smacking the other during a staring contest. I "lost" about three seconds into the competition. He strutted away extremely proud of himself for finally winning a competition.
The best smacks of all are what I like to call the "Puppetmaster" variety. These happen when I am able to manipulate them into smacking each other. Once in a great while, the opportunity arises where I am able to with a subtle gesture or simple flick of my tail, convince Ivan that Tiger Lily is hoarding food beneath her pillow thingy. This causes him to clumsily stalk her and attempt to confiscate the rumored food. As soon Tiger Lily spots the big orange dope, she lets out a high pitched whine. This whine forces an involuntary response in Ivan's forepaw which swings of its own volition and knocks the litter out of her.
Enter the two leggers wielding the water squirty thingy spraying everything in sight.
They find me in the living room, curled up on my throne in front of the firebox thingy. Astounded that I was not involved in the chaos, they give me treats and praise me for being such a "good kitty". Though I am insulted by their language, I take the treats.
I love this game.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Fangs-giving
I am not amused.
Actually, I am beyond being "not amused". I am quickly approaching "being annoyed".
Earlier this week, The Stephanie arrived. For those unfamiliar with The Stephanie, she is the offspring of my two leggers. She is a two legger that moves through my kingdom on four wheels. As I have stated in the past, her wheelchair thingy is the mortal enemy of any four legger in possession of a long tail.
This does not cause me any particular concern owing to the fact that I have trained my tail to be wary of the wheelchair thingy and stay out of its way. However this constitutes a key ingredient in the recipe of my annoyance.
The arrival of the Stephanie coincided with the approach of a two legger holiday called "Thanksgiving".
From what I understand, Thanksgiving is an annual celebration that commemorates the gathering of two different groups of two leggers. One group wore large black hats and were called "Pilgrims". The other group wore the remains of bird thingies and owned casinos. I am unsure of the significance of this gathering, but it seems to herald the time when two leggers start a mass migration to malls.
Thanksgiving does not annoy me. It is a somewhat boring holiday as far as holidays go. My two leggers generally spend the day munching an unnaturally large bird thingy and then watch football. By early afternoon, the male is usually asleep on the couch and the female sequesters herself in my bedroom with a book thingy. However, the arrival of The Stephanie seemed to portend a new twist in the Thanksgiving routine.
Sure enough, the two leggers started preparing food tonight. I assumed that this indicated a large gathering at my house tomorrow.
I immediately started plotting many activities designed to disrupt the gathering. Ivan immediately started drooling, thinking that the house would be filled with food and ankles to munch. He launched into his "happy dance" which consists of him walking in a circle saying "Oh yum yum yum". It's not much of a dance, but it is uniquely Ivan. Tiger Lily began whining about all the noise and Jaq took immediate possession of The Stephanie's lap.
I remained un-annoyed.
It was then that I discovered the ugly truth.
The two leggers were not planning to gather at my house. They are taking all the food, ankles and potential mayhem elsewhere.
This annoyed me.
Once again, the two leggers have thwarted my plans to unleash chaos upon them and their fellow lower lifeforms. They are circumventing my well thought out blueprint for badness. They are withdrawing from the field of battle without a single shot being fired. It's almost as if they don't trust me to behave.
Intolerable.
I have reached a decision. Tomorrow, after the two leggers have left for their gathering, we will launch "OPERATION: HOUSEBREAKER".
We will allow no knock-knack to remain unknocked! Dishes left on the counter shall be dealt with accordingly! We will destroy any and all things destroyable! Let no carpet go unblemished! No drape unshredded! Upholstery shall become downpolstery!
To all my minions celebrating Thanksgiving, I hope you have a safe and wonderful holiday. I know I will.
Well, except the "safe" part.
Actually, I am beyond being "not amused". I am quickly approaching "being annoyed".
Earlier this week, The Stephanie arrived. For those unfamiliar with The Stephanie, she is the offspring of my two leggers. She is a two legger that moves through my kingdom on four wheels. As I have stated in the past, her wheelchair thingy is the mortal enemy of any four legger in possession of a long tail.
This does not cause me any particular concern owing to the fact that I have trained my tail to be wary of the wheelchair thingy and stay out of its way. However this constitutes a key ingredient in the recipe of my annoyance.
The arrival of the Stephanie coincided with the approach of a two legger holiday called "Thanksgiving".
From what I understand, Thanksgiving is an annual celebration that commemorates the gathering of two different groups of two leggers. One group wore large black hats and were called "Pilgrims". The other group wore the remains of bird thingies and owned casinos. I am unsure of the significance of this gathering, but it seems to herald the time when two leggers start a mass migration to malls.
Thanksgiving does not annoy me. It is a somewhat boring holiday as far as holidays go. My two leggers generally spend the day munching an unnaturally large bird thingy and then watch football. By early afternoon, the male is usually asleep on the couch and the female sequesters herself in my bedroom with a book thingy. However, the arrival of The Stephanie seemed to portend a new twist in the Thanksgiving routine.
Sure enough, the two leggers started preparing food tonight. I assumed that this indicated a large gathering at my house tomorrow.
I immediately started plotting many activities designed to disrupt the gathering. Ivan immediately started drooling, thinking that the house would be filled with food and ankles to munch. He launched into his "happy dance" which consists of him walking in a circle saying "Oh yum yum yum". It's not much of a dance, but it is uniquely Ivan. Tiger Lily began whining about all the noise and Jaq took immediate possession of The Stephanie's lap.
I remained un-annoyed.
It was then that I discovered the ugly truth.
The two leggers were not planning to gather at my house. They are taking all the food, ankles and potential mayhem elsewhere.
This annoyed me.
Once again, the two leggers have thwarted my plans to unleash chaos upon them and their fellow lower lifeforms. They are circumventing my well thought out blueprint for badness. They are withdrawing from the field of battle without a single shot being fired. It's almost as if they don't trust me to behave.
Intolerable.
I have reached a decision. Tomorrow, after the two leggers have left for their gathering, we will launch "OPERATION: HOUSEBREAKER".
We will allow no knock-knack to remain unknocked! Dishes left on the counter shall be dealt with accordingly! We will destroy any and all things destroyable! Let no carpet go unblemished! No drape unshredded! Upholstery shall become downpolstery!
To all my minions celebrating Thanksgiving, I hope you have a safe and wonderful holiday. I know I will.
Well, except the "safe" part.
Monday, November 14, 2011
A Bard Days Night
This morning when the two leggers left my house, they left the talking box thingy on.
If they had left it tuned to one of the stations that show uncensored violence ( Animal Planet and C-SPAN come to mind) I would have been amused.
They left it tuned to PBS.
For those of you unfamiliar with PBS, it stands for Painfully Boring Station. PBS is a station that broadcasts everything that turtleneck sweater and Birkenstock wearing people think is enlightening or vital to spreading militant hippiness.
Today they featured a six hour study of some ancient two legger that apparently thought he was a writer.
His name was William Shakespeare.
From what I gathered, it would seem that there are several requirements to being a literary genius:
1. Always speak in metaphor.
2. All characters must speak in a British accent. (Even if they are Roman, Danish or Scottish)
3. Kill off at least half of your principal characters.
4. Use as many words that end in the letters "th" as possible.
Thus having endured six hours of "cultural education", I have decided to show this upstart what a "real play" looks like. I present to you:
If they had left it tuned to one of the stations that show uncensored violence ( Animal Planet and C-SPAN come to mind) I would have been amused.
They left it tuned to PBS.
For those of you unfamiliar with PBS, it stands for Painfully Boring Station. PBS is a station that broadcasts everything that turtleneck sweater and Birkenstock wearing people think is enlightening or vital to spreading militant hippiness.
Today they featured a six hour study of some ancient two legger that apparently thought he was a writer.
His name was William Shakespeare.
From what I gathered, it would seem that there are several requirements to being a literary genius:
1. Always speak in metaphor.
2. All characters must speak in a British accent. (Even if they are Roman, Danish or Scottish)
3. Kill off at least half of your principal characters.
4. Use as many words that end in the letters "th" as possible.
Thus having endured six hours of "cultural education", I have decided to show this upstart what a "real play" looks like. I present to you:
A Midwinters Afternoon's Taming of MacBeth
Strikingly handsometh young Hamlet (me) entereth from the hallway. Upon his regal entry, he noticeth yon fatty. (Ivan)
"Hail thee yon fatty!" He speaketh, "What be thy name yon fatty?"
Yon fatty replieth: "I am knownst as King Leer. But what is in a name? Does not a nose by any other name not smell?"
Hamlet retorteth: "Thy scent and aroma maketh me wish for no nose at all"
"Nay, nay" King Leer sayeth apparently thinking himself a horse.
But what light through yonder doorway breaketh? It is the spirit of the laser pointy thingy...eth.
"Out! Out! Damn spot!" Yells Hamlet as he scurrieth across the floor vanquishing the scarlet pimple.
INTERMISSION THINGY
The curtain riseth to reveal Ophilia. (Jaq) Ophelia is lounging upon the balcony. "Hamlet, oh Hamlet! Wherefore art thy catnip mousie thingy?"
"If catnip mousie thingies be the food of love, play on my sweet" Hamlet sayeth.
"Catnip mousie thingies die many times before their deaths" Squeaketh Ophilia.
"Tis true, tis true" saideth our young hero, "But wouldn'st thou have a cheesy Danish Prince than a common cheese danish?"
Entereth Lady MacBeth (Tiger Lily)
"Alas poor yorkie! I knew him well!" she whineth, remembering a dog thingy she once met.
Hamlet realizing that the quality of mercy is not strained, but instead bent, folded and mutilated, striketh the lady down.
The striking of the Lady causeth King Leer to poofeth and bolteth from thy living room. Upon his exit he doth slay the last working lamp thingy. All that glitters is broken glass.
What's left is darkness.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Running of The Eight Leggers
It is officially Fall.
Fall amuses me for many reasons.
The squirrel thingy though still annoyingly cheerful, is constantly soaked by rain and blown by a chill northern wind. I can see him from my bay window, holding on for his dear useless life while the wind blows his tree to and fro like a teeter totter gone mad.
The firebox thingy is turned on nightly for my basking pleasure.
The hours of darkness have been increased giving us more time for nocturnal mischief.
Wet shoes and boots are left by the front door offering us more opportunities for hairball concealment.
But the thing that amuses me the most about this time of year, is the annual migration of the eight leggers.
Every year as the outdoor temperature begins to drop, eight leggers of all shapes, sizes and degrees of creepy crawliness, begin a migration. Just like their closest ocean dwelling relatives, the salmon, the eight leggers begin their perilous journey up the front steps of my kingdom. Driven by natural instinct to seek out the most arachnophobic two legger on the planet, they congregate outside my house and then commence a several week long siege and a final frontal assault upon the nerve thingies of my male two legger.
How can I not be amused by this?
But wait, there's more.
The annual running of the eight leggers not only causes the two legger to develop a nervous tic, accompanied by uncontrolled swatting at eight leggers both real and imagined, it also provides a rich source of protein.
Before I explain this last statement, please allow me to provide a little known fact regarding eight leggers:
They all snicker.
It is true. All arachnids snicker. The only eight legger that I have ever seen that did not snicker was one that I found in the closet and had died several months earlier. Even so, I can still hear his ghost snickering on quiet nights. They snicker because they are all basically evil. It is a fact of nature that all evil things snicker, ergo: all eight leggers snicker.
Back to the migration:
Once we hear the snickering of the eight leggers congregating in my yard, Me and my fellow felines line up like bear thingies on the shores of an Alaskan riverbed. Ivan is usually stationed right next to the front door. (The two leggers believe he is always there just to greet them when they return home from work) Being big and agility challenged, this is the best spot for him to catch the biggest and dumbest of the incoming eight leggers.
Besides eating them, Ivan enjoys playing a game he calls "Let's Eat Half of Their Legs And Watch Them Crawl In Circles". This game consists of Ivan eating four of their eight legs and then watching them crawl in circles. I once tried to get him to eat seven of their legs and play "Let's Eat Seven of Their Legs And Watch Them Hop" but numbers higher than five confuse Ivan and he lost interest.
Tiger Lily waits behind Ivan and whines about Ivan's spidey thumping technique around large mouthfuls of crunchy, mushy yumminess.
In the past, I have always waited in the hallway to trample the enthusiasm of the craftier eight leggers that thought they had made it through the gauntlet and survived to snicker another day. However, with the addition of my newest minion, Jaq, I have decided that a change in strategy is in order. Jaq has taken my position in the hallway, She is very stealthy and given her coloration, she blends quite well with the hardwood floor. The eight leggers never know what smacked them.
I myself will wait in the bedroom. Any eight legger making it that far deserves mercy. I will give most of them safe passage to the two leggers bed. I will direct a few to take up residence in the light thingy above the bed. I may even allow one or two to audition for the role of "bathroom spider".
Of course I'll munch my share, but I find that a live eight legger can be much more amusing than a digested one.
Snicker.
Fall amuses me for many reasons.
The squirrel thingy though still annoyingly cheerful, is constantly soaked by rain and blown by a chill northern wind. I can see him from my bay window, holding on for his dear useless life while the wind blows his tree to and fro like a teeter totter gone mad.
The firebox thingy is turned on nightly for my basking pleasure.
The hours of darkness have been increased giving us more time for nocturnal mischief.
Wet shoes and boots are left by the front door offering us more opportunities for hairball concealment.
But the thing that amuses me the most about this time of year, is the annual migration of the eight leggers.
Every year as the outdoor temperature begins to drop, eight leggers of all shapes, sizes and degrees of creepy crawliness, begin a migration. Just like their closest ocean dwelling relatives, the salmon, the eight leggers begin their perilous journey up the front steps of my kingdom. Driven by natural instinct to seek out the most arachnophobic two legger on the planet, they congregate outside my house and then commence a several week long siege and a final frontal assault upon the nerve thingies of my male two legger.
How can I not be amused by this?
But wait, there's more.
The annual running of the eight leggers not only causes the two legger to develop a nervous tic, accompanied by uncontrolled swatting at eight leggers both real and imagined, it also provides a rich source of protein.
Before I explain this last statement, please allow me to provide a little known fact regarding eight leggers:
They all snicker.
It is true. All arachnids snicker. The only eight legger that I have ever seen that did not snicker was one that I found in the closet and had died several months earlier. Even so, I can still hear his ghost snickering on quiet nights. They snicker because they are all basically evil. It is a fact of nature that all evil things snicker, ergo: all eight leggers snicker.
Back to the migration:
Once we hear the snickering of the eight leggers congregating in my yard, Me and my fellow felines line up like bear thingies on the shores of an Alaskan riverbed. Ivan is usually stationed right next to the front door. (The two leggers believe he is always there just to greet them when they return home from work) Being big and agility challenged, this is the best spot for him to catch the biggest and dumbest of the incoming eight leggers.
Besides eating them, Ivan enjoys playing a game he calls "Let's Eat Half of Their Legs And Watch Them Crawl In Circles". This game consists of Ivan eating four of their eight legs and then watching them crawl in circles. I once tried to get him to eat seven of their legs and play "Let's Eat Seven of Their Legs And Watch Them Hop" but numbers higher than five confuse Ivan and he lost interest.
Tiger Lily waits behind Ivan and whines about Ivan's spidey thumping technique around large mouthfuls of crunchy, mushy yumminess.
In the past, I have always waited in the hallway to trample the enthusiasm of the craftier eight leggers that thought they had made it through the gauntlet and survived to snicker another day. However, with the addition of my newest minion, Jaq, I have decided that a change in strategy is in order. Jaq has taken my position in the hallway, She is very stealthy and given her coloration, she blends quite well with the hardwood floor. The eight leggers never know what smacked them.
I myself will wait in the bedroom. Any eight legger making it that far deserves mercy. I will give most of them safe passage to the two leggers bed. I will direct a few to take up residence in the light thingy above the bed. I may even allow one or two to audition for the role of "bathroom spider".
Of course I'll munch my share, but I find that a live eight legger can be much more amusing than a digested one.
Snicker.
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