Assault and Cattery

Since starting my blog thingy back in 2010, I have received many emails and messages requesting more information about Ivan The Tolerable.

It seems that many of my readers and minions believe that he is a big loveable lug that assists me in my misadventures and often endures being the butt of my jokes and pranks.

So to set the record thingy straight, I have decided to devote this post to filling in one of the blanks in Ivan's pre-blog history.

Anyone who has read my books or the earliest posts of my blog thingy knows that Ivan was here before I took over. He was adopted by my two leggers about three months before I subjugated them. However, what you may not know is that when I first met Ivan, he was an angry, idiotic, stinky, stuuborn, sullen, foul-tempered, thick-headed, anti-social, thuggish brute. In the last five years he has changed immensely.

He is no longer angry.

But Ivan has a deep, dark secret. Something known only to myself and my two leggers. Something that may forever change the opinions of those who hold him in such high esteem.

Ivan has a police record.

That's right. Ivan is a hardened criminal.

It happened about a year before I began my blog.......

As I have stated often in the past, my two leggers are a couple of earth loving, tree hugging, bunny kissing beatniks. They are suckers for any critter with a twitchy nose, waggy tail or floppy ears. They would probably adopt an alligator and name it "Mister Fluffy" if it exhibited a cute demeanor.

I suspected something was up when the two leggers came home one day and began constructing a fence in my backyard. Ivan and I watched from the kitchen window as they planted fence posts and installed a gate. The final clue as to their intentions came when the male began construction on what was obviously a dog house.

On Ivan's LOATH (List Of All Things Hated), Ivan has listed the following:
1. Big dog thingies
2. Little dog thingies
3. Living dog thingies
4. Dead dog thingies
5. SIUP (Socks In Unexpected Places)

The next afternoon, the two leggers returned home from work. As they exited the car, I noticed that the male was holding one end of a leash. At the other end was a mid-sized, black and white, fully grown, sniffing, grinning, slobbering dog beast. He was approximately three times my size with longish hair. The two legger let him off the leash and he immediately commenced to watering every tree, shrub and twig in my yard. As I watched, I heard a low rumble behind me. I turned to find Ivan in full poof, his poor excuse for a tail looking like an orange, upside down ice cream cone stuck to his butt. His nose twitching, eyes aglow, I found myself concerned that his anger might ignite the dust between his ears causing the whole place to go up in flames.

Unaware that Ivan had suddenly been transformed into a hellbeast, the two leggers entered the house with the dog thingy in tow. They both watched me warily, waiting for me to hiss, poof and attack. Little did they know that I had already reached the conclusion that my services would not be needed.

"Cujo, this is Ernie. He needed a home and so we decided he could share ours." The male announced. "We expect you to be nice to him and we're sure you will soon become great friends".

I stood there calmly and smiled. As always, I knew something that they did not.

While their attention had been focused entirely upon Yours Truly, the creature formerly known as Ivan was slowly and methodically making his way around the dining room table. Some doggie-danger sense alerted Ernie just as Ivan pounced. He turned just in time to receive a monster dose of orange tabby beat down. In a blind fury Ivan became a blurry ball of teeth, claws and I coulda sworn he had found a switchblade or small light saber as well. The male reacted immediately and reached in to separate the two combatants.....well, actually there was only one combatant, the other was just a confused canine wondering where his worst nightmare had come from.

Now allow me to pause a moment here and explain something. The male two legger has spent his whole life in the company of animals. He knows better than to attempt to separate two animals intent on doing each other bodily harm. However, in this case his surprise overwhelmed his knowledge and he pulled Ivan (or whatever Ivan had become) off of the mutt.

Though robbed of his intended victim, Ivan continued his attack upon whatever was at hand. In this case "whatever was at hand" was quite literally at hand(s). For the next 25 seconds (or 3.5 hours if you ask the two legger) Ivan sliced, diced and mutilated the hands of the two legger. Finally he opened his eyes and realized that the dog thingy had escaped and he had inadvertently been biting (and clawing) the hands that feed him and ceased his attack. He ran to the computer room where the female locked him in. After securing Ernie in the backyard, the female proceeded to spend the next hour treating the male's wounds. It soon became apparent that the wounds were beyond home remedy so the two leggers left for the doctor's office.

This is where the police enter the picture. Apparently whenever there is an animal attack that requires medical attention, the police are required to be notified. The male declined to press charges against Ivan, but he was placed on probation. The police sent Ivan a letter declaring him a "vicious animal". They stated that he was a certified "dog-hater" and even went as far as to label him a "naughty kitty".

It took several weeks for the two legger to heal, though he still has the scars to this day. In the meantime, they found Ernie another home (I believe it was at Ernie's request). Ivan, realizing that he had crossed the line this time, has spent the intervening years convincing the two leggers that he has amended his ways.

So now you know the story of Ivan's police record. We do not often speak of it, some things are better left in the past.

But I must admit, I do find it amusing to occasionally sneak up on him and bark.

Creature Discomforts (Part 2)

Now where was I?

Oh yeah, I was speaking to you of Bigfoot and pondering how I could use such a creature to my advantage.

My plan was fairly simple.
1. Find a Bigfoot.
2. Once found, subjugate him.
3. Release him to cause chaos and mayhem and any other tasks I may call upon him to perform.

I quickly found out that step one of my plan was not going to be quite as easy as I thought.

For three nights in a row, I waited until the two leggers had retired for the evening. Once I was sure that they were safely slumbering, I stationed myself in the bay window of the darkened living room.

"Bigfoot!" I whispered. There was no response.

"Hey Sasquatch!" I said a bit louder. The night remained eerily silent.

"YO, BIG HAIRY FREAK!!" I yelled. "COME OUT THIS MINUTE OR I'M GONNA.....WELL, I'M GONNA......OKAY, I'M NOT SURE WHAT I'M GONNA DO, BUT I ASSURE YOU THAT IT WILL DE DECIDEDLY ANTI-BIGFOOT!!"

Suddenly I was startled by a pine cone striking the window above my head. The pine cone assault was not Bigfoot related, but was thrown by the squirrel thingy because I was disturbing his "me time". (When I enslave Bigfoot, dealing with the squirrel thingy will be at the top of his list of duties.)

By this time I had grown fatigued and decided to take a nap. I put Ivan in charge of finding Bigfoot. I gave him a camera and told him to keep an eye out for anything big, hairy and frightening. If he saw such a beast, he was to take a picture and report to me immediately.

About an hour later, Ivan woke me up.

"Boss! I found him! He was in the bed room. I got picture for ya Boss!!"

One look at the picture and I knew Ivan was mistaken....

Though big and somewhat hairy, this was Bignose, not Bigfoot.

I sent Ivan back to the window and told him to try again. An hour later he was back.....

"Wrong again." I said. "That's Bigface".  

"Dis monster huntin stuff is really hard, Boss. It takes big thinkin." Seeing the validity of his point, I relieved him of his duties. 

After several more nights sans Sasquatch, I realized that perhaps my plan was flawed. Maybe I could cause some mythical monster mayhem without actually employing a mythical monster.

I could tell that after watching so many scary "documentaries" the male two legger was already a bit leery of things that go bump in the night. It just so happens that I take great pride in my longstanding record of being Chief of All Things That Go Bump In The Night.

There was only one problem. In order to really make this work, I needed to figure out a way to make a seven pound house cat (me) sound like a 293 pound Bigfoot thingy. Once again, Ivan was the obvious answer. I told Ivan that after the two leggers went to bed, he was to stomp across the living room floor in a most Sasquattish manner. He would take five or six steps and then curl up on the couch as if asleep. I told him to perform this every 20 minutes or so. If the two leggers got up to investigate, he was to feign sleep until they returned to their room.

Since all the documentaries reported that the Bigfoot made a deafening, high-pitched screeching call, I found that by glaring at Tiger Lily with my smacking paw twitching, I could entice her to make just such a bone-chilling sound.

Last night we put my plan into effect.

I am sorry to report that all did not go as planned. It started out well. Ivan stomped, Tiger Lily screeched Jaq listened at the bedroom door. Soon Jaq gave the signal that the two leggers were stirring. We all immediately assumed attitudes of sleep. However, once again, Ivan's inability to control his giggling did us in.

The two legger returned to bed as if he hadn't noticed the large stinky mass on the couch, jiggling like a furry orange jello mold from Hell.

We waited an hour before resuming our activities. But the next time the two legger came out, he was armed with a water squirty thingy. On the side of the weapon, he had crossed out "Cat Corrector" and written "Sasquatch Squirter".

Oh well. Such is life. Win some, lose some. Yadda yadda yadda.

I have not given up. My faux Bigfoot may have failed, but if I ever subjugate the real thing, oh what an amusing evening that will be.

And Bigfoot, if you are out there and have internet access, drop me an email of FaceBook me. We'll do lunch and discuss the possibilities.

If you are not out there, or if you eat cats, please disregard that last sentence.

Creature Discomforts

Recently there have been a lot of programs on the talking box thingy that seem to have a common theme.

Two leggers world-wide have become obsessed with attempting to find legendary monsters. They are constantly mounting expeditions to remote corners of the world, taking high-tech gadgets, doo-dads, thingamajiggets, and other paraphernalia in order to locate and document these unexplained and undiscovered critters.

Normally I would not pay much attention to the goings on of such eccentric, and in most cases, wild-eyed and bearded individuals.

However, due to the proximity of the sightings, there is one such beastie that has captured my interest.

Over the last century or two, there have been more sightings of a critter named "Bigfoot" here in the Pacific Northwest than anywhere else in the civilized world (and Arkansas).

Since the creature in question lives here locally, I felt that it would be in my best interest to learn something of this mythical mischief maker. Since making this decision, I have now slept through no fewer than 37 different documentaries that claim to have discovered "irrefutable" proof that it exists.

I now consider myself to be the ultimate authority on all thingies Bigfootish.

I shall now enlighten you....

By all accounts, Bigfoot is a large, hairy, stinky and loud two legger. It has been described as a cross between a man, an ape, a bear and an upright marmot. No clear photographs of Bigfoot exists, but after seeing several eyewitness accounts, I assume it looks something like what one would see if Ivan and Gary Busey ever decided to have a child together. 

Creatures bearing the same description have been reported from virtually every corner of the world. Here in the Pacific Northwest it is known as "Bigfoot". The local Native Americans also called it "Sasquatch" which is the Quiyallute name for "Mega Hairy Dude". In Asia, it is referred to as the "Abominable Snowman" or "Yeti". In Louisiana it is called the "swamp ape". In Texas, they named it "Hairy Man". There are even reports of one spotted in Arkansas that the locals call "Uncle Jimmy".

Sightings of the legendary beast have many commonalities. Physical descriptions of the animal, general terrain of the sighting areas and even the eyewitnesses themselves bear many common traits.

Usually, Bigfoot is described as being around six to seven feet in height, covered in fur with a shambling gait. It emits a high-pitched scream or yell and is often accompanied by a musky odor.

It is most often sighted in remote, forested terrain that is usually hilly, mountainous or otherwise hard to access.

The eyewitnesses are generally avid hunters with an average blood alcohol content of .283% who have just discovered that the mushrooms that grow out of bear feces is actually quite yummy and makes a great mid-afternoon snack. Even the eyewitnesses in Asia seem to have developed a Deep American Southern accent

The final common factor in all these reports was the fact that every single two legger that encountered Bigfoot was totally and completely freaked out. Well, perhaps "freaked out" is too much of an understatement. They were bug-eyed, shivering, tweaking, twitching, babbling and underwear soiling disturbed.

As I pondered Bigfoot and his affect upon the two leggers who encountered him, it occurred to me that perhaps I could use this to my advantage......................

TO BE CONTINUED..........

 

Web of Deceit

Eight leggers are revolting.

No, I don't mean that they are disgusting, even though they kinda are in a deliciously crunchy kind of way.

I mean that they are actually revolting.

They have decided that they no longer wish to live under the benevolent dictatorship that is my Kingdom.

It seems that the Bathroom Spider has been watching too much BBC America lately and found himself inspired by the two leggers in Scotland attempting to gain independence from the United Kingdom.

I have allowed the Bathroom Spider to exist in the bathroom under three conditions:
1. That he continue to creep out the male two legger whenever possible by staring him down while he bathes.
2. That he spin webs across the doorway while the two leggers sleep, causing them extreme panic in the morning when they walk through the web.
2. That he never crosses the threshold between the bathroom and the bedroom.

The former Bathroom Spider broke rule number three once and ended up paying the ultimate price for his insubordination. His trial and subsequent execution served as both an example to future generations and a tasty snack for Ivan.

I began to notice signs of unrest last week.....

First, I heard an inordinate amount of snickering coming from the bathroom. This did not particularly annoy me at first. I may be a tyrant, but I understand that even eight leggers occasionally need the companionship of their own kind. Quite frankly, the thought of a sleepy two legger freaking out because he inadvertently interrupted a spider frat party amuses me. However, the snickering continued for several nights and it became apparent that the Bathroom Spider had invited several hundred of his closest kin to take up residence. The fact that every time I entered the bathroom, the snickering immediately ceased and they all attempted to hide, displayed that they were definitely up to something that they wished to remain secret.

Fortunately, I had a spy thingy on the inside. Every night between the hours of 7:00pm and midnight, Ivan can be found sprawled upon the heated tiles of the bathroom floor. He spends most of that time sleeping, but he has also been known to nap, slumber and even snooze. He is such a fixture, that during those hours he is considered part of the decor and everyone forgets that he is there.

In order to find out what the eight leggers were up to, I assigned Ivan a mission. To call it an "intelligence gathering mission" would be a bit over-enthusiastic.(Ivan actually repels intelligence instead of gathering it) I simply told him that he was being promoted to Chief Orange Tabby in Charge of All Thingies Sneaky and Spy-Like. As my COTCATS&S, I ordered him to feign sleep and listen to what the eight leggers were doing. He was to report back to me by morning.

The following morning he abashedly reported that he had failed in his mission due to the sleep-inducing power of the heated floor. However, he was happy to report that he had a wonderful dream in which he chased a really fat bunny across a field of catnip while riding a unicorn made of tuna.

I decided that in this case, perhaps a more direct approach was called for.

This afternoon, while the two leggers were at work, I stalked into the bathroom in all my regal glory and informed the Bathroom Spider that I wished to speak with him. As he climbed down the shower curtain, I said in a low, intimidating voice: "I wish to speak to ALL the eight leggers present".

Slowly and nervously, eight leggers began appearing from under the sink, from behind the cabinet, from the folded towels, from inside the toilet paper roll, from the bathtub drain, from the curtains and even from under the toilet seat. Many carried small flags made from small bits of tissue connected to cotton swabs. The flags had slogans that read "Vive Liberte'!" and "Down With Tyrants" and ironically "Don't Tread On Me". There was even one that had a roughly drawn picture of a cat hanging from a tree.

"What's all this?" I asked the Bathroom Spider.

He replied:
"We, the eight legged denizens of your Kingdom, have decided that we have had enough of your tyranny. At best, you treat us as second class citizens. At worst, you treat us as a dietary supplement. We hereby declare that the bathroom belongs us. We have renamed it 'Arachnatopia' and hereby decree that cats are no longer welcome. Well, except for the big stinky tabby, he can come in at his usual time. He amuses us. But you other feline types are no longer welcome in our new society. Leave us in peace, and we shall part with no ill will. However, should you try to stop us, bear in mind that you are few, while we are many......"

I sat and pondered his words for a moment.

He grew uneasy with my silence and finally unable to bear it any longer, he asked, "Well? Do you have anything to say before we banish you?"

"As a matter of fact, I can only think of three words" I replied.

"IVAN! LUNCH TIME!"

Instantly, Ivan was among the eight leggers.

He stomped, chomped and whomped.

He slashed, bashed and smashed.

In a matter of minutes, the rebellion was put down.

The carnage was extensive. Legs and spider bits lay strewn about as if a bomb had gone off in a spider factory. Ivan sat in the corner with a sated smile on his face.

Needless to say that when the two leggers returned home, they were less than impressed with the killing field they discovered.

They do not appreciate the lengths I go to in order to keep their bathroom free of pests.

Finally, allow me to say that aside from a mild case of indigestion, no felines were harmed in the quelling of this rebellion

Physically Unfit

Scientist thingies have announced that they have discovered the "God Particle".

Also called the "Higgs boson", they say that it is the key to the whole big universe thingy. Given the fact that I am the Grand Poobah and Supreme Dictator of All Universes (known and unknown), I felt I should know more about this theory and those who thunk it up.

After studying this theory between naps over the last 45 minutes, I have drawn my own conclusions and developed my own theory:

There should be mandatory drug tests administered to all physicists.

Allow me to elaborate.

While the physicists have been studying the universe and stuff, I have been studying them.

It seems that in their quest to explain everything, they have become extremely adept at explaining nothing. Oh sure, they got the whole gravity thing right. Stuff drops. But how hard was that? I prove that on a nightly basis. Occasionally however, stuff happens that they simply cannot explain. Whenever this occurs, most folks would simply throw up their paws and say "Huh, I didn't see that coming. I dunno what happened there" and then go have a beer or something. A physicist on the other paw, would rather enter a lion cage in a suit made of meat and catnip than say those three awful words "I don't know".

So instead subjecting themselves to the ridicule and mocking of their colleagues by admitting that some things just happen, they invent a whole new particle, wave or element that is always invisible, untouchable and unmeasurable.

Now don't get me wrong, I understand that the mocking and ridicule of physicists can be quite extreme. If you think bullies in high school were vicious, try facing down a gang of college professors with malice in their pocket protectors and chemicals at their disposal. Imagine waking one morning and finding that the thesis you worked so hard on for the last two years has been vandalized with the words "Dr.______ is big doo doo head" written across the cover page in purple crayon.

So, back to my rant. In my opinion, in an effort to avoid such dire consequences, they simply invent a particle of the week and use such big words and convoluted mish-mashery that the rest of us assume that they must be really smart and that it would be the height of folly to question them.

By now you may be thinking that I dislike and have no respect for physicists. I assure you that quite the contrary is true.

In fact, I seek to emulate them.

I shall use their methods to my advantage.

But not to convince everyone that I know everything (they already know that), I shall use them to avoid accepting responsibility for my actions.

From now on, when a knock knack meets its end in the wee hours of the night, I will blame the "Cujon Wave". It is an invisible force that strikes in the night without warning and leaves only destruction in its path.

The smell that is so horrible that it makes artificial flowers wilt is now dubbed the "Ivanian Plasma Field". It is a colorless gas that dissipates all too slowly, leaving no film and is virtually undetectable by modern sensors after the cloud evaporates.

A high-pitched sound that begins as a soft hum and crescendos into an ear-splitting bit of sonic torture that can shatter glass and piss off any sentient being within a 7.41 mile radius will be forever known as "Tigerphonics".

When every bit of upholstery in the house (especially the right side of the couch and the back of the reclining chair) is suddenly found to be ripped to shreds overnight, this is caused by "a Jaquonian Tear in the space time continuum thingy"

From this point forward, the two leggers will have to bow to the fact that I and my fellow felines are not to blame for their problems.

After all, science doesn't lie.

Martial Paw

I have discovered that there exists a breed of two leggers that deserve my respect.

I have been watching several shows on the talking box thingy about them and have reached the conclusion that they are the most feline of all two leggers.

They are like cats with thumbs.

They are called..........Ninja thingies!!!!

They stalk the night, silent as shadows, blending with the darkness, striking suddenly and without mercy all those who annoy them.

Ivan and I have decided to become Ninja thingies.

Well, to be honest, I decided that we are to become Ninja thingies. Ivan is only doing it because I told him that Ninjas get to break stuff and eat a lot of Chinese food.

It was probably the food that convinced him.

So we immediately began our Ninja training:
Ninja thingies must move silently through a variety of obstacles and conditions. We practiced this skill by weaving through the multitude of knock knacks the female two legger cherishes so dearly. I told Ivan that he must navigate the shelf without touching a single knock knack. I then demonstrated by slinking slowly and silently from one side of the shelf to the other. Though the temptation to slap each and every one of them was great, I knew that the Way of The Ninja Thingy required great self-discipline and I resisted the temptation to smack them into oblivion.

Ivan was somewhat less successful. As he jumped upon the shelf, his greater bulk over-balanced the shelf causing the knock knacks to fly across the room as if launched by a teeter-totter from hell. I was forced to admit that by not actually touching any of the knock knacks, he passed the test, but I feel he missed the spirit of the exercise.

Ninja thingies are masters of concealment. They can blend into their surroundings enabling them to move unseen in the pursuit of their prey. To this end, we have been attempting to remain in the bedroom at night after the two leggers have gone to bed in the false belief that we have been locked safely in the front of the house.

I have been able to achieve this with every attempt. Ivan........not so much.

Whereas I am able to conceal myself in the folds of a blanket and lie perfectly still, silent and unmoving, Ivan invariably fails to control the excited twitching of his stubby tail. On the few occasions that he has been in control of his tail, he blows it by suddenly getting a case of the giggles right after the two leggers turn out the lights.

Finally, Ninja thingies are deadly fighters. They are masters of a variety of weapons and fighting techniques.

World famous for his patented "Karate Chomp", I figured that Ivan was surely able to grasp this part of the program.

I quickly realized that my optimism was unfounded.

Oh sure, he is great at chomping. His jaws are the stuff of legend. But like any effective weapon, they must be well-aimed. When Ivan attacks, he tends to chomp everything, and I mean everything, that comes within his grasp. Unfortunately, this includes shoes, pillows, table legs, rocks, dishes, silverware, books and in one tragic incident, an extension cord.

The smell of singed fur permeates the hallway even to this day.

And so, I have regretfully decided that perhaps Ivan does not have what it takes to become a Ninja thingy. 

But perhaps all is not lost. While I continued working on my Ninja skills, I also continued to seek proper employment for Ivan's limited assassin abilities. But how could I possibly utilize a dim-witted, overweight, uncoordinated, stinky and unattractive individual such as Ivan?

Hmmmmmm.........what's this Sumo thingy?

The Wrongest Yard

Last night I visited my Outer Kingdom.

At first, I had planned to give a brief summary of my adventure, but upon further consideration I decided that the only way to convey the true spirit of my idyll was in verse.

And anyway, it's been a while since I subjected my minions to the pure, unadulterated torture that is my poetry.

Those of you with a weak literary stomach may wish to look away now.

Beyond The Sliding Door Thingy  

Beyond the sliding door thingy  

Is the place I've longed to go.

No matter the weather there,

Be it wind or rain or snow.

I've spent many hours staring

through the cold, rain-speckled glass,

Standing motionless like a statue,

Or sitting on my perfect.......tail.

Last night as I stood my vigil,

There erupted a ruckus upon my deck.

The male two legger rushed over

And exclaimed "What the heck?"

He didn't even notice me.

He spared me not a glance.

And as he opened the outer screen,

I finally saw my chance.

Tiger Lily guessed my plan.

She whined "You better not!"

So I gave her a goodbye smack

As I snuck out through the slot.

Jaq's soft voice followed

Singing the theme from "Born Free".

Ivan was in the bathroom

Playing checkers with a flea.

Unnoticed by the two leggers

I slipped into the night.

An avenging nocturnal spirit

Dressed in black and white.

I set for the bird feeders.

A predator seeking prey.

But before I could catch one,

The birds all flew away.

No big deal, I thought.

It's the squirrel I truly seek.

I'll find him and stalk him,

And slay the furry freak.

 

 But alas, it was not to be.

The vermin alas had fled.

He was probably playing with his nuts

Up in his tree-bound bed.

I shall inspect the ferals!

The strays that haunt my lawns.

I would show them my noblesse,

The King would greet the pawns.

I approached Inky and Sheba,

They sat there looking bored.

But perhaps they were simply stunned,

By the presence of their lord.

I said "Bow to me wild minions!"

"For I have come to thee!"

But Inky just leaned to Sheba

And whispered, "Who is he?"

"He's that maniacal little tuxie"  

Said Sheba to her kitten.
"You've seen him in the windows,
Smacking the glass, a-hissin and a-spittin"

Obviously, they are in error.
Perhaps, they are misled.
Or perhaps due to their rough living,
They are damaged in the head.

Whatever the cause
Of this gross misapprehension,
I decided to leave them
and thus relieve the tension.

It was time to go back home.
To end my Royal Field Trip.
Now to figure out a way,
Into my house to slip.

I only had to wait a short time
Before they realized I was missing.
For the house was too quiet.
No sounds of fighting and hissing.

Whenever things get peaceful,
The two leggers soon grow wary.
They know that something's amiss
And find my silence scary.

So after a brief search
They realized where I'd gone.
They opened the slider
And I walked in with a carefree yawn.

So now I am returned.

Bearing gifts I am back.
I gave Ivan an old pine cone.
And Tiger Lily a smack.