Cathouse Idol

Last night we held our semi-annual talent contest. We hold this contest twice a year whether we need to or not. We compete not to determine who has the most talent, (not much competition there) but rather who can either irritate the two leggers the most, or cause the most household damage. Points are awarded for:
1) Value of broken objects.
2) Chaos caused by breaking of said objects.
3) Decibel level. (Either your own, or that of the two leggers screaming in joy)
4) Originality
5) Style

We decided we needed an impartial judge for last night's competition and so I drafted the bathroom spider to preside. I instructed him to judge fairly,but I also greased his numerous palms with dead bugs I found in the windowsill.

Tiger Lily started the contest with a beautifully executed curio cabinet stroll knocking 6 of 9 objects off the top shelf and breaking three. This caused the male two legger to leap off the couch and scramble to find the super glue before the female two legger could discover and appreciate the damage. Points for damage and chaos, but none for originality.

Ivan waited until the two leggers went to bed before giving an incredibly soulful rendition of his original song entitled "Mrowr, Rowr, Rowr". While receiving a great score for originality and style, as well as nailing the decibel meter, he was found sadly lacking in the damage department.

I finished the competition with my dramatic one cat play I call "The Day The Squirrel Met Justice" With my catnip mousie thingy playing the part of the squirrel. During this play two lamps, a picture frame and a dirty wine glass all meet their end.

The competition completed, we all awaited the judge's final decision: I am appalled to say that Tiger Lily won by a whisker. I give my grudging congratulations to her.

Just a quick side note: We are now in the market for a new bathroom spider. Our old eight legger seems to have gone missing, though I suspect the litter box may hold some clues to his fate.

Poetic Injustice

Well the first poem I shared with everyone got such a great response, that I decided to stretch my poetic claws a bit further. The moral: Be careful what you wish for.

Ode To Ivan

Ivan The Tolerable,
A big fat orange tabby,
He never seems content,
He's always kinda crabby.

Tiny head, stumpy legs
Short little bushy tail,
And when it comes to thinking
you know he'll always fail.

With Ivan as my bodyguard
I haven't any fears.
And when it comes to loyalty,
He hasn't any peers.

But Ivan has a weakness
A true Achilles heel.
He loves to hit the catnip and
Hates to miss a meal.

So come on Ivanhead
Let's do something silly,
We'll go do some nip
Then smack Tiger Lily.

Ode To Beebo

Today I thought I'd share a poem I wrote to my catnip mousie thingy.

O' catnip mousie thingy
You are my favorite toy.
You always seem to amuse me,
And you never do annoy.

Made of furry fabric
And loaded full of nip,
You give me lots of exercise,
And send me on a trip.

You exist for me
To be stalked and attacked
Unlike Tiger, you don't cry
Whenever you are smacked.

Whenever I pounce on you,
You make the cutest squeaks,
You always make me frisky.
And Ivan always freaks

You've seen better days,
You're looking pretty worn,
You've lost your tail and an eye,
And both your ears are torn..

But I'll always stay true to you,
Your friend in any weather.
I'll always play only with you.
Unless I find a feather.

Home of The Plopper

I am a world class plopper. For those who are unfamiliar with the term "plop" as it applies to feline activities, allow me to explain:

Plopping is something all cats do to some degree. It comes as naturally to us as purring or spider thumping. Plopping is basically defined as the act of suddenly appearing to lose all feeling in ones legs and thereby dropping to the floor in a boneless furry heap. There is no particular reason for us to do this, it simply amuses us.

There are several different styles of plopping. Ivan prefers the "Stop, Drop and Roll" method. This method is especially effective if used as a way to trip two leggers who happen to be walking in a darkened hallway. The purpose of the "roll" maneuver is that by rolling immediately to his back after the plop, Ivan instantly transforms from a soft pudgy cat into a totally immovable obstacle. He definitely gets credit for causing havoc, but loses points for style.

Tiger Lily often employs the "This Little Kitty Went wah wah wah All The Way Home" plop. This not truly a plop, it's more like her sitting on the floor whining, but I felt I should mention it.

My favorite plop is one I like to call the "Holey Sheet" technique. This is best done on the two leggers bed while they are watching the news. I perform this by jumping on the bed and in one motion, slamming myself forcefully onto my side with a half twist. By performing the half twist, this instantly displays my deadly claws while simultaneously snagging a thread or two of the two leggers new comforter. It causes damage while still maintaining my sense of style.

To all my fellow felines, I recommend experimenting until you find a plop that suits your lifestyle.

Bunny Smackin

I awoke this morning to a most horrific sight. Is it not enough that I have a squirrel living in my front yard? Now there is a bunny. No, not just any bunny, but a cute little fluffy, hippity-hoppity, nose wigglin, dandelion munchin, perky eared, little cotton tailed bunny. I never realized how quickly nausea can strike.

I suspect that Ivan has known of the bunnie's presence for some time. When I pointed the bunny out to him he feigned surprise, but Ivan is a poor actor. In retrospect, I fear that perhaps Ivan may have even been concealing the bunnie's presence. This smells of mutiny. Intolerable. I decided to approach Tiger Lily about my suspicions. She of course whined, but in a guilty manner. What power does this hairy little hunk of hawk bait have over my minions? And more importantly, how can I steal it and use it for my own benefit? This warrants more study.

In the meantime, both Ivan and Tiger Lily know that I suspect something. They do not know how much I know or how much I simply suspect and this makes them very nervous. This amuses me.

For now, I wait. The bunny will give up it's secret someday. After I have learned the power of the bunny, I will have no more use for it. On that day I will deliver the bunny smack heard around the world.

Crouching Tiger, Hidden Cujo

There is much to be learned from nature. While watching Animal Planet one day, I observed a program about a crafty little eight legger called the "trap door spider". As an admirer of sneaky, dirty tricks, I could not help being impressed by this form of ambush rabble rousing. This spider spends hours digging a burrow in the dirt. It then lines it in that nasty stringy stuff that it excretes from its' nether regions. After the burrow is complete, it constructs a trap door that completely covers the entrance to the burrow. Then it lies in wait for some unsuspecting prey to approach. Once it detects that the food thingy is within reach, it pounces, sinking fangs deep into its' lunch.

Though much impressed with this, I decided that digging a burrow in the dirt would require entirely too much work, not to mention squirting strings from my butt would just be gross. However, I could definitely adapt the general spirit of the technique into a useful form of chaos creation.

Upon reflection, I decided that the two leggers bed coverings would make an acceptable burrow as well as being ideally located for a major bushwacking. So, while the two leggers were out of the room and no witnesses were present, I slipped silently beneath the covers. Making sure to pick a location near a pillow so that the lump would conceal my presence, I lay in wait.
I didn't have to wait long. Tiger Lily skulked in to the room and soon jumped up onto the bed. Tiger Lily has always considered the pillow of the female two legger to be her rightful sleeping place. I waited while she settled in, completely ignorant of the fact that a world class smacking was only six inches away.

I must admit that it took every bit of concentration available to me not to let an anticipatory snicker escape, possibly alerting my prey. However, I was able to contain my glee and wait until she was settled and completely relaxed. As I lay there, I suddenly had a change of heart. Make no mistake, I was still gonna torment her, but occasionally one has to change things up a bit. I knew she was expecting a smack at some time today, therefore, I must do the unexpected.

I judged the moment to be right. Like a beast from Hades, I erupted from my fluffy cave, stood on my hind legs and waved my front paws in the classic "boogatation" posture. Seldom have I ever been rewarded with such a wonderful response. Tiger Lily levitated four tailspans straight up, simultaneously poofing to three times her normal size. As she landed with her legs already in full flee mode, her claws found instant purchase launching her straight into the bedstand knocking over a lamp. Realizing this would bring down the wrath of the two leggers, I immediately repaired back to my burrow beneath the bedspread.
The male two legger entered right on cue to chastise Tiger Lily. As always, I believe he suspected my involvement, but being unable to locate my lair, he had to satisfy himself with berating the Tiger Lily.

There is much to be learned from nature.

Hallway Hockey

Last night Ivan and I had a great game of Hallway Hockey. This is truly one of my favorite activities. For those of you unfamiliar with feline sports, perhaps an explanation is in order.

Hallway Hockey has few rules. It basically begins spontaneously with little or no warning. Last nights game began when as I was rearranging some of my two legger's knick knacks, I "accidently"
knocked one off the shelf. This is what is commonly referred to as "putting the puck in play". Ivan immediately took the shot and winged it off the bathroom door. Well played Ivan, well played.

Now the field of play can be described as: anywhere in my house that has a floor hard enough for the puck to travel smoothly and preferably loudly. The only goal is to make as much noise in the middle of the night as we can while simultaneously causing as much collateral damage as possible.

I intercepted Ivan's next shot with my patented "psycho-nut" pounce. This maneuver caused enough noise to wake the male two legger. As he entered the hallway, Ivan and I were prepared. We had already curled together on the couch and were feigning sleep. This left Tiger Lily standing in the hall alone. Though he suspected us, the evidence was against her. Despite her plaintive whining, she was banished to the guest room. Since she took one for the team, I decided not to smack her tonight.

Relocating the puck, I ricocheted a bank shot off the baseboards right at Ivan, who in his zeal for the game, barreled into the trash can knocking it over and spilling its' contents. Incredibly this did not bring about the two leggers. After a few minutes of tense waiting, I decided to resume the game. Alas this was not to be. While I was distracted, Ivan ate the puck.