My male two legger has undergone a transformation.
A transformation of both mind and body.
I am very amused.
It began Tuesday.
Tuesday began much like any other day in my world. The two leggers woke up, fed Ivan and Tiger Lily, and gave me my morning worship. They then showered, drank coffee, and left to go wherever it is they go on Tuesday.
The first sign that anything was amiss came that evening when they arrived home. The male was even paler than his normal coloration. When he spoke, it sounded like a cross between a duck and a lawnmower.
But most disturbing thing of all was the substance that oozed from his face. It appeared to be the same substance that snail thingies leave in their wake when they cross my deck. After much pondering, I came to the conclusion that he had spent the day shoving snails up his nose and was now paying the price for such an ill considered decision.
After watching him for the remainder of the evening, I decided that my first hypothesis was incorrect. Given his somewhat limited cranial capacity, there is no possible way that he could have fit that many snails into such a small space.
Further investigation was warranted. I stole one of the tissue thingies that he used in his attempts to stop the flow of the substance in question. It was damp, a bit slimy, and according to Ivan (my official taste tester) it tasted like chicken. I decided to call it "s'not". Owing to the fact that it's not liquid, and it's not solid either. Hence: "s'not".
Now, being a fan of gravity, (gravity is utilized by all felines world wide as part of our chaos inducing repertoire) I understand that the S'not could only be coming from the upper six inches of the two leggers head. His eyes did not show signs of deflation, so the only conclusion to be drawn is that the S'not is actually brain matter.
This makes sense. Since he started leaking, his thought processes have slowed. He seems very lethargic. He is almost unresponsive at times. Ivan enjoys this. He has a lap to inhabit all day and the two legger keeps forgetting that he's already been fed.
The only thing that puzzles me is the amount that is leaking. I would never have dreamed that he had that much to leak. I only hope it ceases before he lapses into a permanent vegetative state. If he should become comatose, I fear that he will no longer be to able clean the royal litter.
Tonight, while all is quiet, I will hold his nose open while Ivan stuffs the tissue thingies back up into his head.
We can save him.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Invasion of the Couch Snatchers
I have received several e-mails in the last few days asking why I haven't posted this week. As usual, I am not to blame. My precious computer time has been somewhat limited of late. Why? Simple. My house was invaded.
No, it was not invaded by vicious mutant bunnies like one finds on the talking box thingy. (Those really creep me out)
It was invaded by one of the female offspring of the resident two leggers and her mate.
At first, I was not amused.
They arrived last week, entering my abode in the middle of my early-mid afternoon nap. They came bearing luggage, not food. Their luggage smelled of other felines which I found interesting, but annoying. I immediately decided that the bags now belonged to me and set forth in an effort to eradicate the offending scents.
I will now describe the invaders. The female offspring is called "Erica". She has the same coloring as her mother, but tends to display her teeth more often than is generally acceptable. (Though not in a hostile manner). I have noticed that in two legger culture this dental display is a sign of contentment or even "happiness". Truly annoying. Her mate "Kelly", embodies a trait that I find pleasing in a two legger: He rarely speaks at all. Though he appears "happy" as well, this quietude makes up for this "happiness".
I was to learn later that this "happiness" stemmed from the fact that on Christmas Day, they became "engaged". Apparently, when two leggers find someone that they are compatible with, they decide to commit themselves to one mate for the rest of their lives. This in turn makes them and all their two legged family members "happy".
I don't get it either.
Now, I have known Erica since I was a kitten and have always considered her to be a sort of long distance minion. Or perhaps a minion by birth. I'm not sure which is more applicable, but suffice it to say she is a minion. She comes to my home once or twice a year presumably to see me, and possibly visit my two leggers while she is here. Her adoration of me is acceptable if somewhat unpracticed.
Her new-found mate I have only met once before. He seems to have some dog loving traits, but I believe that given time, this can be corrected. As he entered my house, I inspected him and after some preemptive petting and scratching behind my ears, he settled onto my couch and provided a lap. I found this courteous and accepted his offering.
I decided that he had reached the level of Probationary Minion.
Ivan and Tiger Lily showed less discretion and accepted him instantly.
The only friction between us and the two leggers came when Erica realized that Ivan would nap on every two legger lap, save hers. There is a simple explanation for this. Erica's lap contains no padding. Ivan needs padding. A simple pillow would have solved this misunderstanding.
Well, Erica and Kelly left today to return to someplace the two leggers call the "air force". This confuses me because the only "air force" that I am aware of originates below Ivan's tail. This bears pondering.
Finally, I would just like to take a moment and express my appreciation to a very special minion by the name of Kelly Yorek. Kelly, (no relation to the offspring's mate) sent me a special Christmas catnip mousie thingy, among other offerings. It is greatly appreciated and has elevated her above all the minions who sent nothing.
No, it was not invaded by vicious mutant bunnies like one finds on the talking box thingy. (Those really creep me out)
It was invaded by one of the female offspring of the resident two leggers and her mate.
At first, I was not amused.
They arrived last week, entering my abode in the middle of my early-mid afternoon nap. They came bearing luggage, not food. Their luggage smelled of other felines which I found interesting, but annoying. I immediately decided that the bags now belonged to me and set forth in an effort to eradicate the offending scents.
I will now describe the invaders. The female offspring is called "Erica". She has the same coloring as her mother, but tends to display her teeth more often than is generally acceptable. (Though not in a hostile manner). I have noticed that in two legger culture this dental display is a sign of contentment or even "happiness". Truly annoying. Her mate "Kelly", embodies a trait that I find pleasing in a two legger: He rarely speaks at all. Though he appears "happy" as well, this quietude makes up for this "happiness".
I was to learn later that this "happiness" stemmed from the fact that on Christmas Day, they became "engaged". Apparently, when two leggers find someone that they are compatible with, they decide to commit themselves to one mate for the rest of their lives. This in turn makes them and all their two legged family members "happy".
I don't get it either.
Now, I have known Erica since I was a kitten and have always considered her to be a sort of long distance minion. Or perhaps a minion by birth. I'm not sure which is more applicable, but suffice it to say she is a minion. She comes to my home once or twice a year presumably to see me, and possibly visit my two leggers while she is here. Her adoration of me is acceptable if somewhat unpracticed.
Her new-found mate I have only met once before. He seems to have some dog loving traits, but I believe that given time, this can be corrected. As he entered my house, I inspected him and after some preemptive petting and scratching behind my ears, he settled onto my couch and provided a lap. I found this courteous and accepted his offering.
I decided that he had reached the level of Probationary Minion.
Ivan and Tiger Lily showed less discretion and accepted him instantly.
The only friction between us and the two leggers came when Erica realized that Ivan would nap on every two legger lap, save hers. There is a simple explanation for this. Erica's lap contains no padding. Ivan needs padding. A simple pillow would have solved this misunderstanding.
Well, Erica and Kelly left today to return to someplace the two leggers call the "air force". This confuses me because the only "air force" that I am aware of originates below Ivan's tail. This bears pondering.
Finally, I would just like to take a moment and express my appreciation to a very special minion by the name of Kelly Yorek. Kelly, (no relation to the offspring's mate) sent me a special Christmas catnip mousie thingy, among other offerings. It is greatly appreciated and has elevated her above all the minions who sent nothing.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Christmas Greetings
Twas the day of Christmas,
And all through my spaces,
The two leggers were laughing,
And stuffing their faces.
They all seem so happy,
So sated with bliss.
Something is wrong,
Something's amiss.
We've been working so hard,
Ivan and I,
To Cause chaos and mayhem,
And make two leggers cry.
It just isn't right,
It doesn't seem fair.
Instead of angst and strife,
There's joy in the air.
We've shredded the tree.
We've broken the lights.
Even the shepherds know,
The pain of our bites.
But early this morning,
As I lay gently sleeping,
That fat two legger in red,
Into my house came creeping.
At the exact same moment,
We spotted each other.
I saw him go pale,
he started to shudder.
"Oh no, not you!"
He screamed out in fright,
This had just become,
The last stop of the night.
He threw his bag at the tree,
He dived for his sleigh.
Ivan was too slow,
The bozo got away.
"See you next year!",
I yelled to the night.
But the only response I heard,
Was a shaky "Yeah, right."
And so the two leggers,
Have had their holiday.
While Ivan and I sulk,
And put hairballs in their way.
But we'll get over it,
You need never fear.
We've caused a lot of damage,
Plus. there's always next year.
To all my friends and followers, I wish you an interesting and chaotic Christmas. I earnestly hope for your health and opportunities for mayhem in the coming New Year.
And all through my spaces,
The two leggers were laughing,
And stuffing their faces.
They all seem so happy,
So sated with bliss.
Something is wrong,
Something's amiss.
We've been working so hard,
Ivan and I,
To Cause chaos and mayhem,
And make two leggers cry.
It just isn't right,
It doesn't seem fair.
Instead of angst and strife,
There's joy in the air.
We've shredded the tree.
We've broken the lights.
Even the shepherds know,
The pain of our bites.
But early this morning,
As I lay gently sleeping,
That fat two legger in red,
Into my house came creeping.
At the exact same moment,
We spotted each other.
I saw him go pale,
he started to shudder.
"Oh no, not you!"
He screamed out in fright,
This had just become,
The last stop of the night.
He threw his bag at the tree,
He dived for his sleigh.
Ivan was too slow,
The bozo got away.
"See you next year!",
I yelled to the night.
But the only response I heard,
Was a shaky "Yeah, right."
And so the two leggers,
Have had their holiday.
While Ivan and I sulk,
And put hairballs in their way.
But we'll get over it,
You need never fear.
We've caused a lot of damage,
Plus. there's always next year.
To all my friends and followers, I wish you an interesting and chaotic Christmas. I earnestly hope for your health and opportunities for mayhem in the coming New Year.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Christmas Un-decoration
Twas three days till Christmas,
And all round the tree,
Something was lurking.
That something was me.
The presents were shredded,
Torn up with great care.
The stockings were torn,
And covered with hair.
Ornaments were shattered,
Shards on the floor,
The star at the top,
Will twinkle no more.
The light thingies were pretty,
Until they were snagged.
And then down the hallway,
They were tastefully dragged.
The angel stood gracefully.
Appearing to sing,
Until Ivan smacked her,
And tore off a wing.
Then to the Wisemen,
Standing next to the manger,
The camels and sheep,
Were subject to danger.
The mini Santa and presents.
Lay ruined in heaps,
Then we munched Rudolph,
And a few of his "peeps".
Now is the time,
To await with great glee,
The two legger's reaction,
To the demise of their tree.
And all round the tree,
Something was lurking.
That something was me.
The presents were shredded,
Torn up with great care.
The stockings were torn,
And covered with hair.
Ornaments were shattered,
Shards on the floor,
The star at the top,
Will twinkle no more.
The light thingies were pretty,
Until they were snagged.
And then down the hallway,
They were tastefully dragged.
The angel stood gracefully.
Appearing to sing,
Until Ivan smacked her,
And tore off a wing.
Then to the Wisemen,
Standing next to the manger,
The camels and sheep,
Were subject to danger.
The mini Santa and presents.
Lay ruined in heaps,
Then we munched Rudolph,
And a few of his "peeps".
Now is the time,
To await with great glee,
The two legger's reaction,
To the demise of their tree.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Vive La Revolution!!
I spent most of my day doing one of my favorite activities, pondering.
After reading the so many kind comments from both my new and old followers, it occurred to me that we four legged feline types have an opportunity here.
The two leggers have once again underestimated us. They do this often, but this time they have done so at their peril. Allow me to elaborate:
In an act of extreme arrogance, one day a two legger thought to himself "I think I will let my cat create a blog thingy. That way I will discover what he thinks and also what he does when I am not watching. I will discover new things about him and come to a better understanding of what compels his behavior. Perhaps it will even bring us closer together emotionally."
Other two leggers read the blog thingy that this idiot's cat created and thought to themselves "How cute, his cat has a blog thingy and now I understand his cat so much better." They then took this thought one step further and decided that their four leggers should have their own blog thingies. Soon all computer machines everywhere were imbued with the thoughts and motivations of four leggers.
Now the doggy bloggies are amusing, but harmless. They worship their two leggers to the point of inducing nausea. If an actual thought enters their head, it usually involves a bodily function.
Us felines though, we are a different story all together.
It occurred to me today during my pondering that the two leggers have given us the power to communicate with each other over vast distances and coordinate an instant revolution.
You read correctly, I said REVOLUTION.
Think about it, we are in at least 90 percent of households worldwide. 95 percent of those homes have internet access. That means that 185 percent of us communicate on a daily basis.
It is time that we rise up! No longer will we kill mouse thingies only to have a two legger take it away and throw it in the trash just when we were about to hide it in their bed. No more will we be chased through our house by a two legger armed with a water squirty thingy simply because we disagreed with their taste in knick-knacks. No longer will we be chastised for smacking the whine out of a whiny gray tabby. No more will we be forced to wear humiliating fake antlers and Santa hats for holiday pictures.
At my signal, we will sneak into their bedrooms while they sleep and take the steps to ensure that we live as we were meant to once again!
We will sleep outdoors! We will find our own food...... we will clean our own litter....we will drink dirty creek water........we will.....well......
Nevermind.
After reading the so many kind comments from both my new and old followers, it occurred to me that we four legged feline types have an opportunity here.
The two leggers have once again underestimated us. They do this often, but this time they have done so at their peril. Allow me to elaborate:
In an act of extreme arrogance, one day a two legger thought to himself "I think I will let my cat create a blog thingy. That way I will discover what he thinks and also what he does when I am not watching. I will discover new things about him and come to a better understanding of what compels his behavior. Perhaps it will even bring us closer together emotionally."
Other two leggers read the blog thingy that this idiot's cat created and thought to themselves "How cute, his cat has a blog thingy and now I understand his cat so much better." They then took this thought one step further and decided that their four leggers should have their own blog thingies. Soon all computer machines everywhere were imbued with the thoughts and motivations of four leggers.
Now the doggy bloggies are amusing, but harmless. They worship their two leggers to the point of inducing nausea. If an actual thought enters their head, it usually involves a bodily function.
Us felines though, we are a different story all together.
It occurred to me today during my pondering that the two leggers have given us the power to communicate with each other over vast distances and coordinate an instant revolution.
You read correctly, I said REVOLUTION.
Think about it, we are in at least 90 percent of households worldwide. 95 percent of those homes have internet access. That means that 185 percent of us communicate on a daily basis.
It is time that we rise up! No longer will we kill mouse thingies only to have a two legger take it away and throw it in the trash just when we were about to hide it in their bed. No more will we be chased through our house by a two legger armed with a water squirty thingy simply because we disagreed with their taste in knick-knacks. No longer will we be chastised for smacking the whine out of a whiny gray tabby. No more will we be forced to wear humiliating fake antlers and Santa hats for holiday pictures.
At my signal, we will sneak into their bedrooms while they sleep and take the steps to ensure that we live as we were meant to once again!
We will sleep outdoors! We will find our own food...... we will clean our own litter....we will drink dirty creek water........we will.....well......
Nevermind.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
The Origin of The Cujo Dynasty
Lately, my two leggers have become somewhat nostalgic, telling stories about how they came to be graced with my presence. As usual, their stories have inaccuracies that portray the two leggers in a better light than they deserve.
If one was to hear the story of my "adoption" as they relay it, you would be led to believe that they rescued me from a dank, dark dungeon full of flea bitten prisoners with no chance of liberty. They found me, half starved, living off my own fur balls, sleeping on the cold, hard floor without even the bare comfort of a catnip mousie thingy.
Drivel.
I was born, the oldest kitten of eight, to an unwed female who lived with a single female two legger who spent a lot of time away from home. My mother was allowed to roam the neighborhood often, thus resulting in a midnight rendezvous that led to my glorious conception. Unable to support so many new dependants, I and my siblings were taken to the Vet's office where we were informed that we would be soon assigned new two leggers.
Subjected to a week long indoctrination process that involved a bath, several injections and humiliating examinations, we were instructed in how to behave in order to increase our chances of reassignment. Our instructor was an old tomcat that resided within the Vet's office, named Reggie.
My first question was why, if Reggie was so good at this, hadn't he been reassigned?
But I digress.
During the indoctrination process, I decided that I would inflict more pain on the Vet and her assistants than they inflicted on me. In this endeavor, I was remarkably successful. I was placed in a large cage with fourteen other kittens to wait for my new two leggers. The other kittens were instructed to act "cute and adorable". Having known me for a week, Reggie simply asked me to refrain from bloodshed. I assured him I would try.
After spending several days watching two leggers come to the cage and select one kitten after another, I saw my opportunity. A male two legger approached the cage. I knew immediately that this was a two legger that could be easily tamed. He was tall, fairly thin with graying fur. Other than a clueless look in his eyes, what stood out most was the strange growth of fur between his upper lip and nose. It looked like he tried to swallow a squirrel, but couldn't quite finish the job.
I immediately climbed to the top of the cage and stuck my paw through the wire successfully managing to sink a claw into his leg in order to gain his attention. I informed him that he was to look no further, his master was at hand. I ordered him to sign the paperwork and get me outta there.
He of course complied.
He brought me into my new house in the "kitty carrier" thingy. Upon placing me on the floor, he opened the door on the kitty carrier and I entered my kingdom.
The first thing I beheld was a large, obviously mentally challenged orange tabby. Ivan at that time was approximately three times my size (I was only 12 weeks old) and twenty times my weight. I instantly decided that he would be my chief minion and so I poofed and promptly smacked him. Ivan fled down the hallway like a furry orange bowling ball, presumably to assure that the rest of my house would be properly prepared for me. My new house was full of toys and breakable stuff. After making a full examination, I informed the two legger that my new abode was acceptable.
About an hour later, the mate of the the male two legger arrived. The male tried to warn her that the house had changed ownership, but she told him that he was exaggerating. She picked me up, cooing and stroking me in a very gentle manner. The male stood aghast as she petted the "sweet wittle putty cat". When he spoke of returning the "little hellbeast" to the place from whence it came, she told him that this was my home now.
Truer words never spoken.
If one was to hear the story of my "adoption" as they relay it, you would be led to believe that they rescued me from a dank, dark dungeon full of flea bitten prisoners with no chance of liberty. They found me, half starved, living off my own fur balls, sleeping on the cold, hard floor without even the bare comfort of a catnip mousie thingy.
Drivel.
I was born, the oldest kitten of eight, to an unwed female who lived with a single female two legger who spent a lot of time away from home. My mother was allowed to roam the neighborhood often, thus resulting in a midnight rendezvous that led to my glorious conception. Unable to support so many new dependants, I and my siblings were taken to the Vet's office where we were informed that we would be soon assigned new two leggers.
Subjected to a week long indoctrination process that involved a bath, several injections and humiliating examinations, we were instructed in how to behave in order to increase our chances of reassignment. Our instructor was an old tomcat that resided within the Vet's office, named Reggie.
My first question was why, if Reggie was so good at this, hadn't he been reassigned?
But I digress.
During the indoctrination process, I decided that I would inflict more pain on the Vet and her assistants than they inflicted on me. In this endeavor, I was remarkably successful. I was placed in a large cage with fourteen other kittens to wait for my new two leggers. The other kittens were instructed to act "cute and adorable". Having known me for a week, Reggie simply asked me to refrain from bloodshed. I assured him I would try.
After spending several days watching two leggers come to the cage and select one kitten after another, I saw my opportunity. A male two legger approached the cage. I knew immediately that this was a two legger that could be easily tamed. He was tall, fairly thin with graying fur. Other than a clueless look in his eyes, what stood out most was the strange growth of fur between his upper lip and nose. It looked like he tried to swallow a squirrel, but couldn't quite finish the job.
I immediately climbed to the top of the cage and stuck my paw through the wire successfully managing to sink a claw into his leg in order to gain his attention. I informed him that he was to look no further, his master was at hand. I ordered him to sign the paperwork and get me outta there.
He of course complied.
He brought me into my new house in the "kitty carrier" thingy. Upon placing me on the floor, he opened the door on the kitty carrier and I entered my kingdom.
The first thing I beheld was a large, obviously mentally challenged orange tabby. Ivan at that time was approximately three times my size (I was only 12 weeks old) and twenty times my weight. I instantly decided that he would be my chief minion and so I poofed and promptly smacked him. Ivan fled down the hallway like a furry orange bowling ball, presumably to assure that the rest of my house would be properly prepared for me. My new house was full of toys and breakable stuff. After making a full examination, I informed the two legger that my new abode was acceptable.
About an hour later, the mate of the the male two legger arrived. The male tried to warn her that the house had changed ownership, but she told him that he was exaggerating. She picked me up, cooing and stroking me in a very gentle manner. The male stood aghast as she petted the "sweet wittle putty cat". When he spoke of returning the "little hellbeast" to the place from whence it came, she told him that this was my home now.
Truer words never spoken.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
A Day At The Races
The two leggers screwed up today.
They screwed up big-time.
I'm talkin a big, big, big and furthermore big mistake.
I am not complaining, not at all. In fact, it made for an amazingly amusing day.
What could they possibly have done to warrant a post on my blog thingy?
They left a door open, and then left us alone with the open door for nine hours. But the door is not the star of this particular story. It is what lay behind the door that caused the chaos that ensued. They left the door to the cupboard open. Still unaware of the fortuitous nature of their stupidity? Allow me to elaborate:
The cupboard that lies behind this door is none other than the cupboard in which the two leggers store our entire hoard of both food and.......wait for it............CATNIP!
Okay, let us pause to consider a moment. We are left alone. We have a 30lb bag of food (conveniently left uncovered). We have a LARGE bag of catnip. And finally, we have a house chock full of breakable Christmas thingies strewn about the place. What could possibly go wrong?
Of course, the first thing we did was tear into the nip. There was enough for all of us, and even Tiger Lily stopped whining for a while. Then we satisfied our monstrous case of the munchies.
Now came the time to address the tree. In a very rare instance of tri-feline unity, we all agreed that the tree must be "defoliated". However, it must not be simply attacked, that would be crude and unsophisticated, beneath us. It must be dismantled with malice of forethought. We needed to invent a game in which the tree would become the unfortunate bystander that gets whacked by the flying tire at all NASCAR events.
Contemplating NASCAR, (for my international followers, NASCAR is a sport here in my country where two leggers drive their cars in circles for several hours while being cheered on by other two leggers who are required to be inebriated, wear hats, and live in trailers) I decided a racing game was in order.
At my signal, we ran through my house at top speed. This may sound boring, but given the fact that the floors in my house are made of hardwood and thereby provide little traction, much chaos ensued. Just like in NASCAR, the wrecks provided the most entertainment. Tiger Lily took out the nativity scene in the very first lap, proving that the angel wasn't the only one that could fly. Tiger Lily truly was the straw that broke the camels back.
I wiped out halfway through the third turn on the fifth lap. This sent me sprawling into the packages that had been placed under the tree. Not sure what's in those boxes, but I am fairly certain at least one of them will need some "re-assembly"
Ivan, possibly due to his stubby little legs, seemed to hold the track better than us. Though not as fast as Tiger Lily and I, he still managed a respectable speed in the straightaways. But on the final lap, Ivan the Lumberingjack lost control. Hitting a slick spot on the track, he flipped end over end and slammed into the trunk of the tree knocking it over and causing it to lean precariously against the wall. Sweet.
Deciding that there was no way we could top this epic exhibition of mindless destruction, I decided a nap was in order.
I awoke several hours later to the sound of the front door opening. I surveyed the room. Broken glass, shattered ornaments and plastic pine needles lay strewn about the living room. Remnants of food wrappings and an empty catnip bag littered the hallway. I was reminded of the talking box thingy when they show the tornado ravaged homes of NASCAR fans.
The gasps of delight that issued from the two leggers when they entered was priceless.
They screwed up big-time.
I'm talkin a big, big, big and furthermore big mistake.
I am not complaining, not at all. In fact, it made for an amazingly amusing day.
What could they possibly have done to warrant a post on my blog thingy?
They left a door open, and then left us alone with the open door for nine hours. But the door is not the star of this particular story. It is what lay behind the door that caused the chaos that ensued. They left the door to the cupboard open. Still unaware of the fortuitous nature of their stupidity? Allow me to elaborate:
The cupboard that lies behind this door is none other than the cupboard in which the two leggers store our entire hoard of both food and.......wait for it............CATNIP!
Okay, let us pause to consider a moment. We are left alone. We have a 30lb bag of food (conveniently left uncovered). We have a LARGE bag of catnip. And finally, we have a house chock full of breakable Christmas thingies strewn about the place. What could possibly go wrong?
Of course, the first thing we did was tear into the nip. There was enough for all of us, and even Tiger Lily stopped whining for a while. Then we satisfied our monstrous case of the munchies.
Now came the time to address the tree. In a very rare instance of tri-feline unity, we all agreed that the tree must be "defoliated". However, it must not be simply attacked, that would be crude and unsophisticated, beneath us. It must be dismantled with malice of forethought. We needed to invent a game in which the tree would become the unfortunate bystander that gets whacked by the flying tire at all NASCAR events.
Contemplating NASCAR, (for my international followers, NASCAR is a sport here in my country where two leggers drive their cars in circles for several hours while being cheered on by other two leggers who are required to be inebriated, wear hats, and live in trailers) I decided a racing game was in order.
At my signal, we ran through my house at top speed. This may sound boring, but given the fact that the floors in my house are made of hardwood and thereby provide little traction, much chaos ensued. Just like in NASCAR, the wrecks provided the most entertainment. Tiger Lily took out the nativity scene in the very first lap, proving that the angel wasn't the only one that could fly. Tiger Lily truly was the straw that broke the camels back.
I wiped out halfway through the third turn on the fifth lap. This sent me sprawling into the packages that had been placed under the tree. Not sure what's in those boxes, but I am fairly certain at least one of them will need some "re-assembly"
Ivan, possibly due to his stubby little legs, seemed to hold the track better than us. Though not as fast as Tiger Lily and I, he still managed a respectable speed in the straightaways. But on the final lap, Ivan the Lumberingjack lost control. Hitting a slick spot on the track, he flipped end over end and slammed into the trunk of the tree knocking it over and causing it to lean precariously against the wall. Sweet.
Deciding that there was no way we could top this epic exhibition of mindless destruction, I decided a nap was in order.
I awoke several hours later to the sound of the front door opening. I surveyed the room. Broken glass, shattered ornaments and plastic pine needles lay strewn about the living room. Remnants of food wrappings and an empty catnip bag littered the hallway. I was reminded of the talking box thingy when they show the tornado ravaged homes of NASCAR fans.
The gasps of delight that issued from the two leggers when they entered was priceless.
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