The Paw of Fate

While going through my email the other day, I came across one that sparked my interest.

It read:
Dearest Cujo,
    I have been reading lately about animals that seem to have some kind of "sixth sense". Some animals have been able to tell when someone has cancer, or is about to go into diabetic shock. Some act strange just prior to a natural disaster or cataclysm. I even read one story about a cat at a nursing home who could tell when a resident was about to pass on.
   I am sure that as Supreme Dictator, High Poobah and Benevolent Tyrant of All Universes (known and unknown), you would have some insight into this seemingly unexplainable phenomenon.
        Your Devoted Minion,
                            Cuddles McBloodletter

Thank you Cuddles for your question.

Once again I shall spread some fertilizer upon the barren soil of two legger knowledge in the hopes that the seeds of wisdom may begin to sprout.

Throughout history there have been stories of animals having special senses. Dog thingies barking and howling just prior to an earthquake, rats vacating a doomed ship before it sails, birds vanishing before a storm, Charlie Sheen leaving the cast of "Two and A Half Men".......the list goes on and on.

I am here to tell you that there is absolutely nothing "supernatural" about any of this. Supernatural is simply a word that two leggers use because it is anathema for them to ever admit that they can't figure something out.

Take the stories about dog thingies barking and howling just before the advent of an earthquake. Dogs barking and howling? Really? Barking and howling is pretty much all they do when they aren't sleeping, cleaning themselves or sniffing each others' butts.

However, I'd like to focus on the four leggers that are accredited with diagnosing disease or predicting the deaths of two leggers.

I have personally witnessed this phenomenon on several occasions.

Just last week while the male two legger was eating the last muffin, Ivan predicted that he would soon suffer from spontaneous hemorrhaging of his left ankle and subsequent tummy growls. Within thirty seconds his prediction came true after he bit the ankle and ate the muffin while the male searched for bandages.

I have an innate talent for predicting chronic insomnia. I can personally guarantee that every time the two leggers neglect to close the bedroom door when they retire for the evening, sleeplessness on their part will ensue. Sometimes, I can even predict it by simply staring at their picture while Jaq sings a funeral dirge.

 I have also been known to predict high blood pressure and male pattern baldness.

One of the more sensational stories I have heard was a news story about a cat in a Michigan nursing home that could predict the impending deaths of elderly residents. It seems that every time a patient was about to die, the cat, whom the staff had named "Val" (short for "Valkyrie, Bringer of Death and Other Gloomy Stuff), would enter the doomed patient's room, jump up on their bed and yowl loudly for a few minutes before calmly walking out with tail straight in the air.

First of all, any feline with a reputation as a harbinger of mortal doom would by his very presence, probably become a self-fulfilling prophesy.

Plus, consider the target-rich environment.

The odds speak for themselves.

The Impractical Joker

I have observed that there are many different forms of humor.

Different types of humor appeal to different people.

One type is "slapstick". This refers to the classic physical humor of folks falling down, hitting each other with pies or bricks, or any misadventure involving fireworks.

Puns are another form of humor. Puns involve plays on words and are also my two legger's favorite.

British humor is a combination of the two listed above. The British are funny by nature and are the only culture able to combine the two.

Germans and Russians have no discernible sense of humor and have often shot those who suggest they might.

Canadians have a great style of humor called "Funnyeh", but only Canadians get it. In fact every Canadian joke ever written ends with the word "Funnyeh?"

There are many other forms of humor. Too many variations to list. However, there is one that is unquestionably the lowest, most despicable and most despised:

The practical joke.

The practical joke is used to scare, startle or humiliate its victim. Its sole purpose is to cause pain and embarrassment. It often causes physical as well as spiritual pain. Generally, the only person who finds it funny is the one perpetrating it. With the advent of YouTube, FaceBook and other social media with capital letters in the middle of their name, it has taken on a whole new aspect by recording and transmitting the victim's humiliation to a world-wide audience.

The practical jokester is truly an unfeeling, self-serving and narcissistic individual who cares only for their own amusement and entertainment.

Therefore I love practical jokes.

That being said, not all grasp the concept.

I speak of course, of Ivan.

Then again, Ivan has never grasped any concept. I assure you that if a concept coated in Super-Glue and maple syrup, wearing a suit made of velcro, suddenly jumped into Ivan's paw, it would simply slide right through like an eel coated in Vaseline.

However, that does not keep the big lug from trying.

I speak of this because Ivan has decided to become the world's greatest practical joker.

One of two things will come of this:
A. Ivan will succeed in pulling off a truly great practical joke.
B. Ivan will fail miserably offering me an opportunity to mock him mercilessly.

It's a "win/win" if you ask me.   

His first attempt was directed at Tiger Lily. He followed her around the house for several hours awaiting his opportunity. Finally, he saw his chance. As she walked past the open door of the hall closet, he gave her a sudden push and slammed the door. He then scampered down the hall giggling.

Now to the uninitiated this may sound cruel and heinous indeed. But, truth be told, Tiger Lily is a very solitary cat who loves nothing more than to be left in quiet dark space with nothing to distract her from her whiny thoughts.

Jaq was next on his "hit list". Knowing that Jaq often naps on a towel on the bathroom vanity, Ivan snuck very quietly into the bathroom. Spying the edge of the towel overhanging the edge of the countertop, Ivan plotted his pounce. His plan was to land just to the left of her and startle the litter nuggets out of her. Yelling "BOOGA BOOGA!!!" Ivan made a mighty leap!

However, Jaq, who was peacefully sleeping in the bay window (three rooms away) remained unfazed.

Mid-pounce, Ivan realized that his intended victim was absent. As he landed (in front of the mirror), he discovered a large orange tabby was leaping at him while also yelling "BOOGA BOOGA!" Ivan immediately poofed and bolted. He then spent the next three hours under the bed cowering in fear.

Believing in the old adage of "two strikes and you're out", (I know it's supposed to be three strikes, but two is the highest he can count) Ivan gave up his quest.

The two leggers returned a few hours later, let Tiger Lily out of the closet and wiped the skid marks from the bathroom counter.

Later that evening we had our nightly "family time". This is the time of evening when the two leggers curl up on the couch and watch the talking box thingy. I lay upon my throne, Jaq sits on the female's lap, Tiger Lily watches from the half wall behind the couch and Ivan naps upon the coffee table. As the evening wore on, Ivan slowly lapsed into such a relaxed state that his body liquefied and he began to "flow" off of the table. He awoke just as his body gained critical vertical momentum. He panicked and scrambled to arrest his fall. In his frantic scrabbling, he managed to send the large ceramic bowl  that serves as the coffee table centerpiece flying across the room. The resulting crash caused Tiger Lily to fall off the wall, Jaq sunk her claws into the female's lap as she leaped in poofy panic and the male even spilled his beer in the ensuing chaos.

Perhaps I underestimated Ivan's comedic potential.....

Tomorrow I will introduce him to "slapstick".

Tiger Lily will play the "stick".

Scavenger Hunt

Today I found myself suffering from acute boredom.

The two leggers cleaned my house earlier and left no wine or beer glasses out for me to break. All the knock knacks were placed out of reach. Tiger Lily was hiding somewhere, so even the pleasant diversion of smacking her around was denied me.

I considered pulling a toy from the "Box O' Amusements", but in a fit of friskiness last night, I broke one of my toys and only 372 remain. It would be foolhardy to risk breaking another until the two leggers replace the broken one.

I sat in the bay window, thinking to verbally abuse the squirrel thingy, but alas, the Outer Kingdom was quiet and the squirrel was nowhere to be seen.

Even the male two legger foaming at the mouth and screaming at a football game failed to amuse me.

Suddenly it occurred to me. The two leggers often amuse themselves by searching through the house for lost items. These items are most often things like car keys, screwdrivers, wallets, pens, scraps of paper....etc. In fact, they spend so much time looking for these items, I am forced to assume that they enjoy looking for stuff more than they enjoy having stuff.

There is even a holiday that they devote to training their younglings to search for lost items. Every year, on a Sunday in late Spring, adult two leggers rise while their young still sleep and sneak out into the yard. Quietly and stealthily they proceed  to hide garishly colored egg thingies in bushes, tufts of grass and various other hidey-holes. Like large mutant squirrels hiding nuts for the Winter, they take great care in the placement of each egg thingy. They even intentionally hide a few where they won't be found until late Summer when the stench becomes unbearable. Once all the egg thingies have been hidden, they waken the juveniles, hand them woven baskets and inform them that a mythical bunny has stolen all their eggs and hidden them outside.

Thus a desire to search for lost items is instilled from childhood.

Given my generous nature, I decided that I would assist in their amusement.

Since midnight, I have hidden no fewer than 25 objects throughout my house.

Tomorrow promises to be a most exciting day for the two leggers from the outset. Their alarm clock has been silenced and hidden in the hall closet. The knob to the thermostat has been removed and swatted under the stove. Miscellaneous items of jewelry have been relocated. The male's wallet has found a new home in one of the female's boots and the car keys lie in a shallow grave in the Royal Litter Box.

I eagerly anticipate their excitement tomorrow when they realize that their day shall be spent in a series of amusing and challenging searches.

As another example of my generous nature, when the two leggers come to thank me for their day of entertainment (as they will undoubtedly do), I will not take all the credit.

I'll tell them it was Tiger Lily's idea.

The Stalking Dead

As Halloween approaches, I find myself pondering things that seem to frighten two leggers. In the past I have posted about vampires, werewolves (and their young, weewolves) ghost thingies and Miley Cyrus. I even re-wrote Poe's "The Raven" last year.

But this year, I thought I'd cover an even scarier subject....

They are all over the media these days. Movies and TV shows are made about them. Parties are thrown in honor of them. It seems everywhere one turns, there is someone speaking of them and how scary they are.

They are mindless creatures that attack two legger society, causing fear, leaving death and destruction in their wake. They seek to destroy civilization and bring an end to the two legger race with their insatiable hunger.

However, I have always made it a rule when writing my blog thingy to never speak of politics, so instead I'll tell you about ZOMBIES!

First of all let me state for the record that of all the two legger bugaboos, zombies scare me the least. I mean think about it:
1. They are incapable of individual thought.
2. They feed only on two legger brains. (Darn scarce commodity)
3. They shamble.

How can anyone possibly be afraid of anything that shambles? If one starts to chase you, simply walk away. You don't even have to walk briskly. A slow meander should be enough. You could even stop at the corner coffee shop and get a grande' triple caramel, low-fat, half-caff, vente', extra whip, raspberry machiotto  light on the sprinkles, mocha latte' with a cinnamon stick before they even got close enough to make you nervous.

Zombies have evolved over the years. Originally they were the work of Voodoo practitioners in West Africa, the Caribbean Islands and along the American Gulf Coast.They were freshly dead two leggers who had some kind of spell thingy cast upon them to re-animate them. They were then sent forth to do the priest's bidding. They did not seek to eat the brains of their victims, but rather served as large, dumb, thug-like tools.

Not unlike mall security guards.

Somewhere along the way, a group of zombies was captured by a Hollywood producer and forced to "reinvent" themselves. The producer convinced the zombies that they were not scary enough to make a living (un-living?) in movies. They needed a "schtick", a gimmick, something to make them stand out from the rest of the population of California.

"Eureka! I've got it!" the producer exclaimed. "Babe, you gotta eat brains! You know, lurch around and crack peoples skulls, chew on their heads!"

The zombies replied, "URRRRRRGGGHHHH.........."

"That's the spirit, babe! Do more of that stuff! I smell a franchise!", the producer schmoozed. "Now get this, you will be virtually unstoppable! You will have superhuman strength (except when it comes to boarded-up windows and those pesky doorknobs)! You will be totally impervious to fire, ice and electricity!"

"URRRRRRRRRGGGGHHH!!!!!!" Enthused the zombies.

"You will be completely unstoppable!", raved the producer. "Oh yeah, unless the hero shoots you in the head, then you're toast".

"URGG??"

Thus was the modern zombie created. A Hollywood producer and a germ thingy created a new race of terrifying monsters

But I still cannot get past the whole shambling bit. 

So I have decided to create my own zombie. I already have the basic components. Ivan will serve as the brainless, thuggish, unstoppable creature. Tiger Lily will provide the haunting and irritating sounds that send chills through the souls of two two leggers. Jaq will hide in the closet and sing Michael Jackson's "Thriller" and possibly Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear The Reaper".

We are all prepared for our annual Halloween shennaigans.

I have even corrected the shambling issue. Every night, Ivan gets several small food morsels as a "midnight treat". Tonight, I replaced his snack with espresso beans.

And thus I have created the most terrifying beast known to man and dog thingies.......

The ZOOMBIE! 

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..........