Um...if a person is in a bad mood, it is not a good time for a kitty to jump up on the table and scope out what their dinner is by sticking said kitty's face into the plate. A person in that bad a mood has NO sense of humor. AND they won't share.
If a kitty is hungry an hour and a half early, and if that kitty has been good all night long, shouldn't that kitty be allowed to holler nonstop until SOMEONE gets out of bed to open a can of Stinky Goodness?
I thought so.
It does no good to lie there stubbronly all that time and tell me to be quiet. I am going to win, no matter how long it takes.
They left me alone all day long. It didn't just seem like it was all day--they left when the nice looking lady on TV was talking the news, and didn't come back until the old guy was talking the news. That's like a million hours, I think. If I hadn't needed to nap for most of it, I would have been mighty upset. And I would have been even more upset if they hadn't come home at dinner time long enough to feed me. Oh, they went back out, saying something about needing to go out and buy more cans of Stinky Goodness, but I was still alone. And it was getting dark. Okay, they did leave a couple of lights on, but still. They need to be home, where a kitty can find them, just in case he wants a lap, or a head skritch, or someone to sing to. Even if all he plans on doing is sleeping, because you never know when he might want one of those things.
Ok. It was humiliating, but I had to do it. After all, the Woman gave me huge amounts of food yesterday, not to mention the presents, and the nice warm bed to nap in. The People deserve thanks of some sort, I guess, and the Woman in particular likes it when I do the cute thing, so I did.
I let her sleep this morning after the Man went to pass gas; I didn't announce that he'd left, and I didn't sing in the bathroom, even though I really wanted to. After all, I have a lot to sing about. But I let her sleep, and about half an hour before it was time for her to wake up to open a can of Stinky Goodness for me, I jumped up on the bed and curled up by her face, snuggling in tight. She calls it "spooning." I call it "feline humiliation," but she likes waking up to having me there snuggling with her.
She woke up quite happy and even fed me before she went to the giant litter box. And after, when she saw I was trying to bury myself in blankets on the bed, she turned the heat up for me, and told me to wait 5 minutes and the house would be warm. And it was!
Now, she better not expect me to do that every morning, but since I can't just go out and buy presents for people, that'll have to do.
Tomorrow we can go back to status quo; I will sing my little heart out at 3 a.m., and bounce up and down on the bed when I want her to get up to feed me.
I have a reputation to maintain, after all.
I wouldn't want anyone to think I was getting all cute and soft or anything.
I got presents! Santa brought me TWO things of crunchy treats. TWO of them! My favorite kinds! And the People gave me this ball that they can put crunchy treats in; if I roll it just right, the treats come out. It's kinda mean and kinda fun at the same time.
But I think best of all, there were boxes and paper and bags to play with.
They already got rid of the paper, but they left a lot of boxes for me to play with tonight. I think I'll do that after they go to bed.
And there was TURKEY! And SHRIMP!!! No kidding, I got my two favorite things to eat in the whole world today. The People taste tested it for me, to make sure it was good enough, so I waited very patiently on the kitchen floor, curled up on the little red rug in there. The Woman even said I was being very, very good. Which, if you think about it, was pretty spiffy of me, considering Santa had already come. I didnt get just a little taste, either. I got so much that I was really sleepy afterwards, and had to take a nap.
The Younger Human was here today, too. I think he took some of the turkey home with him, but the Woman said there was more and I would get some tomorrow.
Really, I'm still so full that I haven't even had my Stinky Goodness tonight, and I don't care.
This was just an awesome day!
Our patio door is covered by these nifty plastic vertical blinds; the People hate them but I love them. So today while the Woman was talking into that thing she sometimes holds up to her ear, I got off her lap and sat on the end table, and started batting them around. She asked me to stop because she was on the phone with her mother, but I couldn't help myself. Those blinds are one of the most fun things ever. They almost make up for not having stairs to roll balls down anymore.
Later, I was running really fast through the living room, jumping over the counter to the kitchen, knocking things over. The People laughed but said I needed to clam down.
TOMORROW IS CHRISTMAS!!!
Ok, so maybe I didn't know what that was before, but after Googling and researching and reading Timothy's blog and what not, I get it. Tomorrow is presents for Max (I know because the Woman said I was getting a couple of presents) and boxes to play with, and TURKEY. Yes! The Woman is going to cook a real live dead turkey just for me! Well, I have to share it with the People, but mostly it's for me.
I'm not too sure about Santa...I mean, I don't like strange people coming into the house at all, but from what I understand, if I go to sleep early and stay in bed, he'll bring me something. So I'll go to sleep and take my chances. Though the Woman did say he only brings stuff to kitties that have been good.
I've been good.
So I get a present.
I better go start singing to the People, just in case I need a little extra goodness on my side… We all know how much they love it when I sing.
Well now, maybe the Woman will learn to not stay up so late at night. She was so sleepy today that she zonked out right after lunch, her head hanging off the edge of the bed. And her hair was just hanging down, waving in the air with each breath she took ... so I decided it needed to be groomed. And as tired as she was, she wasn't going to groom herself. So I was nice and did it for her.
I don't think she fully appreciated my efforts, because when she got up and looked in the mirror, she started patting her head and muttering things like, "how did my hair get like this?" and "It wasn't wet when I laid down."
Well, no, but it got wet while you were snoozing.
I think she looks much better now. Like she stuck her finger in a light socket or something.
Why? Why does she do this?
The Woman went to bed early tonight; she watched TV for a little while and then turned out the light and turned on that music she listens to every night. Once I was satisfied she was done for the night, I wandered into the office to curl up on the chair, and sleep where there are no feet kicking at me "accidentally" as often happens when I sleep on the bed.
So 20 minutes later, here she comes, scooping me out of the chair to deposit me in my little bed. Now I like my little bed, but that's not where I was sleeping! I was sleeping in the chair. I had it first! And not only did she make me get out of the chair, after a few minutes she got up and left the room!
I'd go back to the bedroom and curl up there, but I know as soon as I do she'll decide she really is sleepy after all, and I'll wind up God knows where.
The Woman bought a turkey! I saw it in the grocery bag; I even stuck my head in it and licked the wrapper. My tummy is all a-twitter (yes! I said it! A-TWITTER!) knowing that we're going to have real live dead turkey. I hope it's soon, because now that I know she bought one, I'm going to have dreams of eating turkey and other wonderful things.
I hope there will be shrimp, too.
Oohyeah. Shrimp and turkey.
Food of the gods.
You try to be nice, but what does that get you? A big lump of Grouchy Human with no appreciation for fine manners and delicate consideration.
I was nice to the Woman this morning. After letting her know the Man had left to go pass gas at 5:30 this morning, I settled down and waited for her to wake up. Well, when it was 10 minutes past breakfast time I was sure she must be starving, so I started singing to her. You know, nice, cheery holiday tunes that she could slowly wake to.
Did she appreciate this?
Phhft. She started off with "Be quiet, Max." And that was followed by, "Enough, Max!"
Since she wasn't getting up, it obviously wasn't enough. So I continued with the private concert, singing at the top of my little lungs. Just when I thought she was going to get up--she sighed hard, like she does most mornings before crawling out of bed--she grunted, "Be quiet for five minutes, and I'll get up."
So I stopped singing. For five whole minutes. I know it was that long because I counted. One, two, three, four, five. She still didn't get up, so I started to sing again. Then she said, "Just TWO freaking minutes of quiet, okay?" So I counted to two before singing more.
I don't think the Woman can count very well.
Anyway, she finally got up, but instead of feeding me she puttered around, getting dressed, taking her drugs, scratching obscenely, and picking crap out from under her toenails.
I sang to her the entire time.
The Woman has no holiday cheer.
Grump, grump, grump.
One of these days I'm going to refuse to sing for her, and see how she likes that.
I've been looking all day, and I can't find the Sticky Little Person.
If you see him, tell him to come back, because I want to watch him play outside my window.
Not that I miss him or anything...
It's the entertainment I miss.
Yep, that's it.
Oh, man, you are so totally not going to believe it! One of the Sticky Little People was here! And it wasn't even one of these wrong medium sized foul mouthed Sticky Things that I see outside the window, it was one of the right Sticky Little People from the old place. I shit you not! I was minding my own business, and the People opened the front door, and there he was! Right in my own house!
Now, normally, a Sticky Person inside the house is a bad, bad thing. But I've been looking and looking for weeks, trying to figure out what happened to all the Sticky People I used to watch, and what do you know, the People brought one home for me. It was the little guy who lived right next door. He used to stand outside the screen door and play Peek-a-boo with me, and he learned to say my name before he learned to say a lot of other things.
He wasn't here for very long, though. And after I realized he wasn't in the house I went looking out the windows to see if he was playing outside, but I didn't see him. I'll keep looking, though. Maybe some of the other Sticky Little People will show up, too. I think I've missed them. They kept me entertained, especially when they'd throw a temper tantrum. There's nothing like a good Sticky Person temper tantrum.
It's dark out now so I'm pretty sure he won't be out there now, but I'll look again tomorrow.
I've decided that this is a kitty's bestest friend. The Woman brought it home a week ago, and ever since then it's been like having the special warm air blowing thingies we had in the floor of the place we used to live (here, they're up by the ceiling, where they do a cat no good.)
She put it in her office, probably thinking only of herself, but my bed is in there, too, and it's like a direct line from the warm thingy to my bed. I can curl up and be all toasty while I nap, and the Man is happy because it's cheaper than running the furnace.
I'd like to see that. I don't know what a furnace is, but if it's running to keep us warm, that's probably quite the spectacle. Maybe it has something to do with the people I keep hearing upstairs, even though I can't find any stairs to get up there and check them out.
Since Christmas is coming up (and now I know what it is, thank you for the emails, especially the ones that tried to make me feel stupid about it. Like a kitty is supposed to know about Christmas and Santa and Jesus [who evidently doesn't ride on a pogo stick, no matter what the Woman says] if no one tells him. But this year, I'm staying up all night and keeping an eye out for him, because I bet he has some primo kitty crack on him) I think all Cat Staffs should run out and buy these for the kitties.
We're worth it, you know.
We were once worshipped as gods.
Warm thingies should be our birthright.
I'm sitting on the special window seat, trying to peek through the slats of the window blind, when the Woman leans back and says, "Are you trying to look outside?"
Um, no, lady, I just like the dust on the freaking blinds.
"Do you want me to open them for you?"
Geez, don't take yourself away from your
literary masturbation work to do me any favors, now.
And don't get your shorts in a wad when I walk away after you open them. The point is that they're open, not that I sit there and stare at the little rat-dog who spends all day on a balcony in the next building. He won't jump anyway, and I have other things to do.
Like howl at the blinds to the patio, until you get up and open those, too.
Yes, that box of tissue did look a lot like a toy to me.
Problem with that?
If you go into the bathroom, we'll be having the same discussion about toilet paper.
They changed my dry food again. The Woman says it wasn't on purpose, that the company that makes my dry food added hairball stuff to it.
What the hell. I don't need a hairball.
In any case, it's mostly tasty and I think I like it. It's not shrimp, but it'll do when Stinky Goodness isn't available.
But really...food with stuff for hairballs?
Has no one told people that cats can make those all by themselves?
If the Woman lets you into her closet, she can show you a really nice one I made for her just 3 or 4 nights ago that I don't think she's found yet...
It's really this simple:
If you don't want me to bite your head, quit washing your hair with stuff that smells like food.
The Woman did not feel any pressing need to squirt me with that stupid water bottle this morning. Instead of standing by the door and singing to her, I jumped up on the bed and waited. I stood right next to her face, with my head hung low so that the first thing she would see when she opened her eyes was my beautiful face.
When she woke up, I learned that Jesus Christ is on a pogo stick, and she just lost 3 years off her life.
I'd like to see the guy on the pogo stick, personally.
The holidays are coming up.
Now, I don't know what that means, but the Woman said they are, and then said that I need to start thinking about what I want.
I want food on demand and an endless stream of kitty crack.
Haven't I established that like a million times already?
I got email today from some genius who felt some compelling need to complain about my "grammer." Yeah. That's how he spelled it. "Grammer."
Guess what, folks? I'm a cat. A self educated cat, I might add. I didn't get to go to kittygarden. I didn't have to suffer through preadolescent angst in middle school. I didn't have to pass academic competency tests to graduate high school.
Oh...and I'm only three phking years old, too boot.
So I don't have the complete grasp of the rules of GRAMMAR, but at least I can spell better than can you.
Who sends email to a cat, anyway?
In the bathroom there's this little box that plugs into the wall; it's where the woman keeps some of her
drugs medications. It looks a little like a tiny refrigerator, and keeps things cold like one, too.
Last night I was up on the counter while she was
shooting up injecting herself, and the door to it was open, and it looked like my head would fit right into it. And if my head looks like it's going to fit somewhere, I figure I'll see for myself.
I was right; my head fit perfectly and it is definitely very cold in that box. The Woman wasn't terribly amused, I don't think. She sighed and said that one of these days I'm either going to make her stick me with her needle by accident or I'm going to get my head stuck somewhere.
Yeah. I don't think it'll be an accident.
If I'm asleep on the middle cushion of the sofa, and the Woman sits down (hard) on the end cushion, she can launch me off of it like a little kid flicks a booger off his finger.
I'm not sure that I didn't like it...
Do the People think I'm stupid? Last night, after I'd plopped down on top of the Woman's legs for the twentieth or thirtieth time, she mumbled something about putting me outside.
Sure she will.
And King Tut is going to spring to life and give us all a million bucks in pure gold.
This is the Woman who went tearing through the house, looking for me, on the off chance that I got outside because she caught a glimpse of a cat that sort of resembled me. Like she's really going to open the door and shove me outside. Where it's cold. And raining.
Not without my plastic tomb, she's not.
Or without a big fuzzy blanket, because I'm sure it's freezing out there.
Oh, I got off the bed for a while, but not because I thought she would really do it.
I had to pee.
That was why.
The Man got up early this morning and left the house; I can only assume it means he finally went to pass gas so that he can buy more Stinky Goodness. At least I hope that's where he went. I looked under the sink this morning and we're almost out. There are only about 5 cans left, and I will not be happy if 6 days from now I have nothing to eat.
As soon as he left I went into the bedroom to let the Woman know, but she wasn't having any of it. She rolled over and put a pillow over her head, so I just jumped up on the bed and waited (sitting on her stomach, of course, so I'd know exactly when she was ready to be awake)--then the thing the People hold up to their ears and talk into started making noise, so she scrambled to get her glasses and pick it up before it stopped.
She didn't make it, though. She mumbled something about having to get it in case it was the Man needing help. I hate to point out the obvious, but the Man has been practicing and practicing, and he has passing gas down to a fine art. But while she was up, she opened a can of Stinky Goodness for me.
I greatly appreciated that, since it was technically a little early, so after I was done eating I went to find her and thank her, but she had gone back to bed. Well, I wasn't about to let that get in the way of good manners, so I thanked her loudly and profusely as I made my way to the litter box. I continued to thank her while I was in the bathroom, where my sweet voice echoes off the walls like fine, fine music.
She must have noticed my sterling behavior and manners, because she got up and made the bed. That was quite nice of her, since she knows that's my favorite napping place (and it's mine anyway, as evidenced by the giant fuzzy cat blanket that I allow the People to use at night.) She muttered things about going ahead and getting a start on the day ... I don't think she realizes, the day started off without her help and has been progressing just fine.
It's very quiet today, though, so I imagine I'll have to spend a good part of it talking to the Woman so she doesn't get lonely. I'd rather nap, but once in a while a cat has to do what a cat has to do.
Sheesh, the things we do for our People.
I bet she won't even appreciate it.
Since I can't sing so that the People can actually understand the words, and because the Woman obviously loves this song so--I mean, it gets stuck in her head for days--I bring to you:
Prospero anyo y Felicidad
I want to wish you a Merry Christmas
I want to wish you a Merry Christmas
I want to wish you a Merry Christmas
From the bottom of my heart
Repeat, repeat, repeat...
Um, yeah, I can't make the "n" with the squiggly over it...Well I can, but it just won't work here...
The Woman actually stayed in bed last night; I could have taken the opportunity to sleep in the office chair (it is pretty comfy, after all) but I decided to jump up on the bed with her to make sure she didn't get up. To add to that effort, I stretched out across her legs; this makes it difficult for her to move around, plus after a while her les get numb. If her legs get numb, she's not going anywhere.
I also didn't sing for her at 3 this morning, figuring she needed to make up some lost sleep. But did she appreciate that? Phfft. When I went in to wake her up this morning--a person shouldn't stay in bed too late, after all--she squirted me! And worse yet, right about the time she aimed that squirt bottle at me, the Man came in to tell me to be quiet. Well, between the water and this giant mass of Human coming at me, I got a little bit startled and ran to the far side of the bed, where neither water nor human hand could get to me.
Those people just don't appreciate all I do for them.
I mean, if not for me, the Woman would be in bed all day. Or at least until 9 a.m., which might as well be all day. Lazy lazy people...
Ok. It's two freaking twenty in the freaking morning, and the Woman is awake. She went to bed, turned out the lights, turned on her "special" music, and pulled the blankets up. But did she stay in bed? Hell no. Just as I got comfy on her office chair, the bedroom light flicked on, she shuffled down the hall to the kitchen for some of that really gross bubbly water she drinks way too much of, and then she came into the office.
And she picked me up and moved me from the chair-and then thanked me for warming it up for her.
People, look ... once you go to bed, stay there! Getting up disrupts your cat's routine, and makes them very, very irritable. And when cats are very, very irritable, something of yours is bound to meet a gruesome and toothy death. Or get slimed with a hairball. Or worse.
Don't say you haven't been warned.
And go to bed.
Your possessions depend on it.
Ever since we moved (I still don't recommend it) the Man has been home every morning, and he gets up-without any prodding-and opens up a can of Stinky Goodness for me. Then he goes and reads the comics in the newspaper, and I wander to the bedroom, where the Woman is still asleep, and I sing to her.
She doesn't seem to appreciate this, but I still do it, because People need some culture, after all. Once I know she hears me (I know this because she either sighs really hard, or says "Stop it, Max!") I go to the bathroom to use the litter box (no, I don't have to be delicate about it. A good meal precedes a good poop, and you know it,) and then I go back and sing to her some more.
One of two things will happen. Either she'll threaten to throw something at me, or she'll get up. Well, actually if she threatens to throw something at me, she still gets up, but most mornings she doesn't threaten.
But...there's a giant Worry forming here.
The Man is home every morning.
This is not right.
Before we moved, most mornings he would get up very, very early (without feeding me) and leave. He'd come back later in the day, but just about every morning he went somewhere, and I know it has something to do with his ability to provide me with Stinky Goodness every day.
If he's here every morning, he's not doing whatever it is he does to get the Stinky Goodness.
Does this mean we're going to run out?
And what do I do if that happens?
I cannot exist on dry food alone!
The Woman has muttered something about "work" and "just a few more days," but I understand time-in a few more days I could starve to death. I don't understand why she's not making him get up and go out every day. Or for that matter, why she doesn't get up and go out every day.
I'll sing her awake every day, I really will.
Anything so I don't starve.
I wish I could sing People-music right now. The Woman is watching TV, and this song came on, and she said it'll get stuck in her head for days. So if I could, I'd stand behind her, and at least hum Feliz Navidad over and over and over...
Just a test to see what this looks like with black text...presuming it acutally shows up as black text. If it doesn't, just ignore me. I am only three years old, after all...
Oh, if it shows up as black, let me know which you prefer. White text or black.
I did not have a bug up my ass, nor was I attacking everything in sight, no matter what the Woman claims. I was simply a little over excited tonight; the Younger Human and his Much Better Smelling Friend came over tonight, and that got me going a little bit. Face it, they're young, they know how to play. My People...eh. Well.
Just when things were going really good-there was really good smelling stuff in the air, and yeah, I wanted some. So you know what the Man did? That bastard got out a thing of my treats and walked down the hall into the bedroom with it. He knew I would follow him. He gets me in there and gives me a scant few treats, and then he shut the freaking door! He locked me in the room! I could smell the real live fresh dead meat they were cooking, and I was pretty sure I could smell shrimp.
I swear, if there had been a phone in that room, I would have dialed 911. Or called the Cat Protection Society.
Later, like forever later, he let me out, and there was shrimp! A whole cut up piece of shrimp in a little bowl for me. I would have preferred two or three whole cut up pieces, but I think they ate the rest of them while I was locked up. Pretty freaking selfish, if you ask me. Some of it was in the trash can, for Pete's Sake. What sane person throws away perfectly good shrimp?
So after that, I might have gone a little berserk. And I might have jumped up and nipped at the Man once or twice or ten times, but it's not like I bit him. And I didn't draw blood or anything. I just ran around at top speed, jumping on things and people, and used my teeth a tiny bit. Just a tiny bit.
Hell, they thought it was funny.
Now that the Younger Human has left with his Friend, I've settled down and am going to go take a nap, so that I can sing joyously for the People at 3 a.m. in the bathroom, where my voice will echo for all to enjoy.
Because I'm just wonderful that way.
Ok, whatcha think?
New layout, or old one?
Comment your opinion...
They brought a tree into the house again. I'm not going to get too excited about it, because I remember what happened last year when they brought a tree home-they got all pissy every time I tried to nibble on it, and then I did something (not sure what) and they took it away. And not in a nice way, either. The Man ripped it limb from limb and shoved the dead pieces into a box, right in front of me. It was horrifying to watch, and ever since then I've wondered what I did so wrong that made them take the tree away.
It doesn't taste as good as I always thought a tree would, but it's fun to hide behind and play with-lots of shiny, dangling things to bat at. Maybe if I'm really good this year, I'll get to keep it.
Or maybe they'll think this tree is prettier than the last one, and want to leave it right where it's at forever.
And perhaps monkeys will come flying out my ass, because we all know the odds of them doing something I want for any length of time.
If I had claws, I could make them leave it. Or leave a lot of their blood on the carpet as a reminder of the effort.
The People left me alone all freaking day today. After daintily munching my Stinky Goodness this morning, the Younger Human came over, and they all left together. This didn't bother me too much, since it was nap time and I fully intended to nap as deeply as I possibly could, but when I woke up they were still gone.
There was more Stinky Goodness in the kitchen, but no People. So I ate it, bathed, and went back to bed, but when I woke up, still no People.
Dinner time came and went, and still they were not home. If not for the Magical Stinky Goodness Fairy, I would have starved to death before they managed to drag their sorry asses back from where ever they went.
They finally showed up three and a half damned hours after my dinner time-and they smelled like DOG. Not just that, but turkey, too.
I can get over the injustice of them whoring around with some dog for a little while-been there, done that-but they had TURKEY.
Oh, they offered me more Stinky Goodness and a bite of ham, but I showed them. I only ate the Stinky Goodness, and left the ham on the kitchen floor, so that one of them might step onto it with their bare feet.
I wish I had a hairball brewing, so I could hock it up into someone's brand new shoes.
From listening to conversations around the house, I've been able to pick up a few details about why the People are both always home. The Man is now "retired," though I don't see how, since it's not like he does anything to get tired in the first place. He used to pass gas (I hate to tell the Woman, but he still does) for the Air Force, and did it so long they finally told him to stop.
There have been times I wanted to tell him to stop, too, but I didn't know that was an option.
But, in a couple of weeks, he's going to pass gas for someone else. I didn't know that was allowed, either-I thought he was only really allowed to pass gas for the Woman-but she seems pretty happy about it.
Most importantly, in those discussions I've come to the conclusion that when the Man goes to pass gas for these new people, he will be able to bring home even more and better Stinky Goodness, as well as SHRIMP!
I don't know why he has to wait a couple of weeks. The Woman wants him to start now, but I suppose he has to let it build up before he can pass it.
But, I'm impressed. He passed gas for the Air Force for TWENTY years.
That's a lot of gas.
Some days are just awesome. Today I woke up, and the Man fed me right off the bat, then the Woman got up and made the giant bed up so I could nap on the fuzzy blanket. They went somewhere for a while, and when they came back they brought two people with them.
Now, at first I was a little upset, because no one warned me there would be strange people, but after a bit I realized they smelled familiar. The man they brought looks a lot like the Man, just a little older and quite a bit cuter. They were both nice to me, paid proper homage by petting me a little and then leaving me alone, so they can come back.
Later, when my tummy was growling so hard I thought I was about to turn inside out, and the People kept saying "You have two hours, Max. Dinner isn't for two hours." But then the Woman said, "Phkit, he had the gravy stuff this morning and he's probably starving."
So she fed me!
AND she says I'll get a little more tonight.
It is so awesome to be me most of the time.
What else could a cat want?
I have trained People!
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t my best idea, but the Woman was sound asleep, the blankets were shoved aside, and her shirt was kind of crumpled up a bit, exposing her bare tummy.
As I sat there on the bed, wondering how she could possibly be comfortable, it occurred to me that her belly button is about the same size as my nose. Maybe a tad bigger, which means my nose could fit in it. Quite nicely.
And, well, that’s how I wound up flying from the bed to the comfy chair in the corner…
I was watching some commercial on TV and it got me to wondering… What’s so wonderful about thinking outside the box?
I think outside the box.
Sometimes, I poop outside it, too.
It’s still kind of early and the Woman is
drinking vodka right from the bottle hard at work on the other computer, writing her next best seller, but I’m bored.
I don’t get bored very often. My days are usually quite full: get the Woman up, eat, use the litterbox, take a nap, get up, look out the window, beg for treats, nap, get up, jump on her lap and nap, wake up, stretch, try to convince her it’s dinner time, use the litterbox, nap, get up, bitch at her because it IS dinner time, eat, nap, bathe, nap, get up, beg for treats, look out the window, nap…
You can see where I just don’t have time to get bored.
But today, I’m a little bored. There’s nothing really to see outside the window, and the Woman is useless when she’s
I’d even settle for watching TV, but I can’t get the remote control to work, and the Woman doesn’t seem to understand when I ask her to turn it on for me.
It’s just a sad, sad day.
I suppose I’ll just go nap.
I just wanted to take a minute to say Thank You to all the men and women who, throughout the generations, have served in the military, protecting my rights as a cat, enabling me to be the consumer of cans of Stinky Goodness, instead of being the cans’ contents. ‘Cause, in some places, that can happen, you know.
So, the Woman thinks the odors emanating from my litter box are offensive. Her solution? A couple of big cinnamon scented candles. And you know what it smells like in the bathroom after those have been lit for a couple of hours? Cinnamon scented cat shit. Yep. That’ll help.
Um, yeah, I do think that if I press hard enough with the top of my head, your boobs will invert and create more space for me when I sit on your lap. Deal with it!
What difference does it make if I get up on the counter when you’re making a sandwich or not? You do realize that I get up on the counter all the time, right? And when I get up there, I run my butt alllll over it. Back and forth, up and down…So does it really matter if I jump up while you’re slathering the mustard on a piece of bread? Does it?
Conversation with the Woman:
Me: I’m hungry.
Me: Just feed me!
Me: Come on, I’m starving.
Me: You would stuff your face without a second thought if you were hungry.
Her: Bite me.
We’re back to this stupid time change thing again. People, really, why do you keep screwing around with your clocks? It makes you sleep in late, which in turn means my stomach is growling for an extra hour, and it means I get my dinner later than I should.
Give it up already! Just pick a time and stick with it, and all your kitties will be happy.
Well, happy provided you get your ample behinds out of bed at a reasonable time to open our cans of Stinky Goodness.
Consider the importance of a well fed cat.
And poopless pillows.
All of this "moving" might actually work to my benefit. So far I have 2 huge beds to pick from for my napping needs, plus the Woman has her comfy chair in the living room for me to lounge on.
In one room there's my tower, and it's right next to the bookcases, which I can climb on. In the kitchen I seem to be allowed on the counters, and the Woman says when she puts away the stuff she has on top of the cupboards I'll be allowed to play up there, too.
The downside is that I have to share a bathroom with the Woman, and there don't seem to be any Sticky Little People around here. But there are other cats outside, an though they won't talk to me yet, I think they might soon. The Woman said one of them tried to come inside the other day, and what other reason would he have than to come see me?
I'll be glad when all the boxes are gone. They were fun for a while, but I'd rather they just get the rest of my stuff out of the boxes. I want my stuff.
It just occured to me--I haven't seen any of the Sticky Little People in a long time. I did see another cat outside a window, and I tried to talk to him, but he just looked at me like I was speaking some foreign language. I think the People forgot to bring the Stikcy Ones along...
Ok, boys and girls, this is the true definition of "Moving." :
First, you will be locked in a bathroom, during which time everything you own and love will disappear.
Then, you will spend 2 days in an empty house, your meows echoing off the walls. Just when you think maybe your people just went broke and had to sell it all, they shove you in this tomb and then into the car, where you will spend the next 4 days, all freaking day long, with nightly breaks to stay in strange and awful-smelling rooms.
If you're lucky, at the end of the 4 days you get to stay in one of those rooms for more than one night, and your Younger Human will show up. But then you'll be tossed back into the tomb and the car and taken to another strange new place. It's bigger, but it's still different. And no stuff.
After 3 or 4 days of that, you'll start to relax. Once you relax they grab you and throw you into another bathroom for an entire day. It'll be hot in that bathroom, so you have to howl a lot to make sure they know you're pissed about it. But when you come out--Boxes and Boxes and Boxes, all there to jump on and climb on, and most of it smells like your stuff, even though you can't see your stuff. Your stuff will be somewhere in those boxes, and you just have to get really bitchy about it, complaining until the People rescue it all for you.
But that's moving.
I don't recommend it.
The Younger Human!!! They brought me to see the Younger Human!!! He and his Much Better Smelling Friend showed up at that little room we were in, and talked to me and petted me. Of course, I couldn't let them know how happy I was to see them, but hell! Now I know why we had to spend so much time in the freaking car!
Yesterday they didn't make me ride in it, but today they did. This morning the woman put me in the tomb and took me to the car, but I was only in it for about 10 minutes. They drove me to a new place, a much much bigger place than that room. It smells funny, but there's a lot to explore. And the Woman keeps saying "no more rides, you're safe," but I don't believe her.
But it's a nice place, so maybe...
Man, they did it to me again yesterday...we got up and they shoved me into the tomb and back into the car. I complained enough--and loudly, very loudly--that they stopped early and I got to relax the rest of the day.
And I must have been really annoying, because this morning they left me alone. They've been in and out, but I get to stay here, curled up on the bed or in a chair. I don't particularly like this place because there's not enough room. but if it means not getting back in that car, it'll do.
If you sleep all day, you have all night to drive your People NUTS. I let them sleep a little last night, but at about 5 a.m., I started. It was awesome. I jumped on them, I practically danced all over the bed, I head butted and rubbed on them…
And it got them up, when it was still dark outside.
Yeah, sure, they stuffed me back into that tomb and I spent the next 14 freaking hours in the car, but they fed me well, and now we’re in another room. I expect it’ll be the same tomorrow, hour after hour after hour in that car…
This is my life now, isn’t it?
I think I figured out what “moving” really means.
It doesn’t mean getting from one side of the room to the other, or turning 3 or 4 times to soften your bed pillows. It means being shoved into this plastic tomb, put in the car, where you stay all freaking day. Not just for a little while, but from sunup until it’s dark. The people get out every once in a while, but every time I try they tell me no, I have to stay, they’ll let me out “later.”
And I tell you what—those plastic tombs are impossible to dig one’s way out of.
I may have figured something else out today. Instead of talking to them all day—and yeah, I did that yesterday, thinking that if I asked politely they would take me home—I just curled up after a couple of hours and went to sleep. Since I’m well rested, tonight while they try to sleep, I’m going to run around the room at top speed, howling my head off.
That’ll teach ‘em.
Oh of all things holy and furry… You are NOT going to believe the crap I’ve gone through the last few days.
Okay, you know it started with my People letting total strangers in the house, then when I was locked in the bathroom we were robbed. Everything was gone, and I mean everything. The house was so empty that my sweet little voice echoed off the walls like a toddler screaming. Really. It was that empty.
So over the last couple of days the Woman started cleaning. Like, why couldn’t she do that when the stuff was there? Really…everything we owned was gone, so why bother? Who cares if the house is clean now? Yesterday I was so fed up I hid up on top of the refrigerator, at one point prompting the Woman to run through the house squealing “I can’t find the cat! I can’t find the cat!”
Heh. Remember that boys and girls. It’s totally worth seeing the look and hearing the squeal in their pathetic little voices.
But then they left me alone for most of the day, in that empty house. All my toys were gone, my bed was gone…all I had was a tiny little bit of food and a litter box. After a few hours of this I looked out and could finally see them outside the window, with all those other People, and they were freaking playing with fire. Don’t they know that’s just wrong?
But…it gets worse.
After they’re done playing with fire, they scooped my up, shoved me into the plastic tomb—which was in their car—and took me to a strange new place. My bed was there, and my food, but none of my other stuff. We stayed there for one night, then back into the tomb I went… for whole damned day!
I kid you not! We made a quick stop home—the house was still empty—and my People stood in the yard hugging all the other people (yeah, gag me)…and then we left.
So now we’re in another strange room (have to admit it’s nice than the last one) and they let me out of the tomb, but I think I can kiss off ever seeing my stuff again.
This is so poop on the pillow worthy…
All I can do is hide...
We were robbed.
Seriously. EVERYTHING is gone, except for my plastic tomb and a few other odds and ends. They freaking locked me in the bathroom this morning—for the entire damned day—and when I got out late in the afternoon, it was all gone. All the boxes, my Supreme Commander Kitty Tower, the comfy chair…all gone.
And you know what? I bet the People spent all their time sitting outside on their asses so they weren’t in the house to put a stop to the thievery. If they would just stay inside for ten minutes, crap like this wouldn’t happen and I would have all my stuff!
They better buy me new stuff. And I mean it!
Luckily, there were no strange people in my house today, but all my stuff is still in boxes, and they taped the boxes shut so that I can't get to any of it. And my People don't seem to grasp that...it's MY stuff! I want it!
The one good thing about all those boxes is that there's something to jump around on, and I'm not even getting yelled at for it. I jumped up and the hopped over on top the the big stand they have their TV on, and no one got mad. I took up all of the sace on the Woman's chair, and she didn't make me move, she sat on the footstool instead.
The Woman took me outside in the new plastic tomb today, too. I hate to admit it, I kind of liked being out there. It was breezy and there were birds (but they didn't come too close) and the Peoples' friends came outside, but didn't pester me. Even the Sticky Little ones were tolerable. One of the littlest little ones called me "KiKi." I don't know who KiKi is, but she was cute, so it's okay. She didn't cream at me or stick her fingers in to poke at me, so I suppse she can call me anything she wants.
But I want my stuff back. I think my kitty crack is in one of those boxes.
There are people in my house! Strange people that I don’t know, and they’re taking all my stuff and putting it into boxes! Worse yet, MY People seem to be okay with it—so okay that they took all my window perches down. I can’t even look out the freaking window now!
Normally a bunch of boxes would be a good thing, stuff to play in and jump on, but I don’t like this, not one bit. It’s not quiet enough in here, I don’t know where my stuff is, there’s all this other stuff more or less blocking my litter box, and I don’t know what the hell is going on!
I am not a happy cat today, not at all.
I did not think that those little holes in the wall were bugs. No matter what she says, I absolutely did not. I only jumped up to see how deep they were. I mean, come on. For all I know there are edible things lurking in those holes.
The Man took a bunch of his shiny things off the walls, and left the holes. The shiny things looked better, if you ask me. But no one has, like my opinion on the decor of this house doesn't matter.
And the Woman tells me things are coming off the walls because we're "moving." The only moving I'm doing is from the comfy chair in the living room to the kitchen and back, with occasional side trips to the litter box. And I've been watching the Woman. She's barely moving at all most of the time, so I don't know what the hell she figures is really going on.
And, oh yeah, she left this morning without feeding me! I was good; I didn't launch off my window perch onto her stomach this morning. I didn't howl in her ear. I waited patiently, and instead of feeding me after she got up, she left the freaking house for half an hour! My breakfast was late. After all that being good, it was late.
I tell you what, when dinner time rolls around she better be moving her ass from where ever she's plastered to into the kitchen. That's the only moving I want to see around here.
Ok, so she finally opened the damn box. And you know what was in it? Another freaking plastic tomb! Somethig else she can haul me outside in, so the sticky people can try to touch me and scream at me. Why the hell does anyone need two of those things???
When the man in the brown truck brings a box, it's not fair to just set it down and not open it. Open the box! Come on already! I don't care if you already know what's in it, open the box already! I want the freaking box!
Any discussion that begins with “We need to talk about your bathroom habits” is bound to be one sided. Yeah. One sided. I am not going to sit here and listen to the criticisms of the naturally occurring effects of having a digestive system.
Look, people, you try using a litterbox. Give up the big white throne litterbox and use the real one. Let’s see how well you do trying to squat in a little box of sand and have perfect aim. Let’s see how wellyou keep the litter in the box. Go ahead. Try it.
Oh, but first, tape fur to your feet. Then try to get out of the box without leaving a little bit of litter trailing behind you. And let’s not forget the important act of burying your waste—come on, face it. The box is not the biggest thing in the world, the litter gets wet, so yeah, once in a while some is going to fly out and stick to the wall. Deal with it!
Your world is not going to come to an end if you have to sweep stray litter up once in a while, and your fingers will not fall off if you occasionally have to pick up a piece of poop that didn’t quite make it into the box.
And if you try to have this little talk with me again, I’m going to start using the bathtub instead. Let’s see how you like cleaning that up.
They took me outside again the day before yesterday. Not only did I have to put up with the Sticky People, but the Man kept running a stick over the plastic tomb, and also kept sticking it through the slats at me. What the hell is wrong with these people? I’m not a fricking dog that has to be let out everyday because he’s too stupid to use a litter box. I’m a cat, People, a feline. I’m perfectly all right with staying inside where it’s safe and quiet.
When the Woman took me back inside and opened the door to my tomb, I bit her.
Yeah, I said it. I bit her. And she deserved it. I bet she won’t be doing that for a while now, eh?
My stuff is going missing, and I don't like it one bit. First the nice loveseat upon which I occasionally napped suddenly vanished, and today it's the piano. And not just that, the bench I sat on to look out the front door went with it. The Woman keeps going through things and throwing stuff away... I'm afraid if I'm not careful, my bed will be next. Or worse, me!
This just isn't right. And I have the feeling things are only going to get worse...
They took me outside! ALL THE WAY OUTSIDE!!! LOOK!
I mean, come on! Not only did they shove me inside that plastic tomb, but they took me outside where all the sticky little creatures were playing. LOOK! They stuck their fingers in to try to touch me, they laughed, they were loud, and little littlest one...oh crap, he actually banged on it!
Worse yet, I could smell food on their germy little hands, but did I get any? Was there a reward for me not biting their dirty little fingers off?
Hell no! I just had to sit there and take it for like FIVE MINUTES!
Surely, this is poop-on-the pillow worthy.
I'm trying to figure out the point of the Woman's recent flurry of activity. There used to be all these boxes in my private little litter box room, and since they didn't keep me from what I needed to do in there, I didn't mind them. But now she's taking the boxes out, to another room, where she picks through them, as if she doesn't know what's in there.
Hello? Does she not remember that she's the one who put that stuff in those boxes?
It's harmless enough, and it keeps her occupied so that she's not bugging me, but she's not leaving any boxes empty for me! I don't ask for much, and I did notice the other day that my see-through box seems to be missing...so why won't she leave just one of those boxes empty for me? And what is so freaking important about looking in them anyway? If she'd listen I could tell her--nothing important. If there were food in any of them, it'd be bad by now anyway.
I dunno...this just doesn't seem like it's a good thing, at least not for me.
Getting a running start for an early morning wake-up head butt is very effective...it gets a Person out of bed in record time, let me tell you. They don't like it, but it's good for them. Really.
The Woman is annoying me this week.
First, she breaks my computer. She says it was because of a power surge, but I know better. She broke it, and now I'm forced to try to type on this laptop computer. You know what? It sure as hell doesn't fit on my laptop.
Second, she won't stop coughing. What a royal pain in the butt. I'm trying to sleep on top of her chest, and she starts hacking away--it's like trying to sleep on a trampoline with a fat kid bouncing up and down on the other side. She damn near launched me across the room! And if I'm trying to snooze in the living room, here she comes, making those obnoxious wheezing and honking sounds, scaring me out of a deep sleep.
There's no consideration around here.
And they still keep talking about "the move." It sounds ominous, and I don't think I'm going to like it one bit.
Hmmm. Yeah. Long time between updates, I know. But it’s not my fault. Every time I try to get near the computer, I can get onto my website. The Woman says it’s because of our eyeesspee, and says it sucks so much that the moon has probably altered its orbit. Whatever that means. I just couldn’t get to it.
So I’ve been looking out the window a lot. The other day another one of those big ass trucks showed up, and with it came new people. New sticky little people. I think they’re here to replace a couple other sticky little people who seem to have gone missing. I kind of liked one of the missing ones; she was very small but could say my name and didn’t make any obnoxious shrieking sounds at me. She’s one of the ones whom I allowed brief touching of my fur; she was very respectful and quiet and did not pull anything that should not be pulled.
But these new ones…I don’t know about them. I haven’t seen a whole lot and they so far have not played in front of my window, so we’ll see.
The Woman says not to worry because we won’t be here long enough for me to worry about them
I think I need to worry about THAT.
I swear, the Woman ate a can of my Stinky Goodness for her dinner tonight. Oh, she kept telling me to back off, that it wasn’t cat food, but I’m not stupid. It came out of a can like my food, it looked like my food, and smelled like my food. Do the math! She ate my food! Even worse, I think she ate a can of the good stuff, and gave me some of the mediocre stuff for my dinner. Pretty freaking selfish, if you ask me.
She's doing it again.
She's coming home smelling like dog. And I'm pretty sure I know which dog now, too. The other day I was looking out the back window, just minding my own freaking business, and this yappy little thing came out of nowhere and started growling at me.
Yeah, big brave doggy.
If she's brings him home, there will be a revolt.
And the revolt will involve things coming out of my body.
From both ends.
You gave me fresh catnip, and alot of it, so what did you expect?
That I'd curl up and be a good kitty?
Face it, a bag of kitty crack and a full dish of dry food pretty much means you're going to have a big mess to clean up.
Don't expect my help; I'm busy sleeping it off.
Yeah, I jumped.
Yeah, it was straight up off the ottoman, and I'm pretty sure my heart skipped 2 or 3 beats while my fur stood up on end, but it was loud. I mean, so loud that I expected to look outside the front window and see the house across the street up in flames. It sounded like something blew up, and I'm not a wussy kitty for reacting to it.
But no, the Man has to laugh.
Well screw you!
How was I supposed to know it was lightning?
I don't even know what that is!
Check it out!
A box you can see through!
My People brought this home last week, and in spite of what you might think—like what’s the point of a box you can’t hide in—this one is loads of fun.
Think about it: you can’t hide in it, but that also means you can see People sneaking up on you. Never again will I have to suffer through People who think they’re oh-so-clever tip toe’ing up to the box I’m resting in pounding on the top and laughing like they’ve just don’t something funny (hey, People, it’s mean. How would you like it if Giganticor started thumping on the top of your bedroom while you’re trying to sleep? You’d pee yourself and start screaming like little girls.) I can lounge in my box and see anyone trying to approach!
You gotta wonder…why didn’t they invent this sooner???
I did my feline-ly duty last night.
The Woman was lying in bed last night, watching that idiot box, when I spotted something crawling on top of. So I pounced--garnering a loud "Oof!" from her--and saved her from the terribly hairy and giant spider that was making its way up towards her face.
I grabbed it, jumped off the bed, and ripped off its ugly little legs.
She owes me now, in a big way.
That was just nasty tasting.
Seriously, seriously gross.
I’ve been nice the last couple of mornings; I’ve let the Woman sleep in almost as late as she wants. Yesterday she rolled over and looked at the clock, and pretty much sat straight up, apologizing to me for sleeping in and being so late with my breakfast.
This morning she slept even later, and didn’t wake up until I curled up on top of her and pawed at her nose. Hey, I was nice, it was a gentle nudge to let her know that any later and it would be time for dinner. Or a snack, at the very least.
She’s very grateful when I let her sleep late. While the “oh you’re such a good boy” crap makes me want to puke, if I ignore it I can be pretty sure I’ll get a bite or two of whatever they have for their dinner. Even if I jump up on the table to check it out while they’re eating.
Tonight they had ham, and even though I leaped up to get a good look, I got a bite. Not as much as I wanted, or even as much as I think she would have given me, but she said “I’m not sure how much pork kitties can have.”
Hey, it’s dead and it’s meat—preferably cooked—I can eat it.
I haven’t decided how late I’ll let her sleep tomorrow. Depends on if I can figure out what the menu for tomorrow night is.
How to get the Woman to gag:
Barf up a copious furball immediately after dinner. She'll choke and gag as she tries to clean it up, eventually giving up the effort to the Man.
And best yet, she says I'll get more dinner later, because my tummy must be empty now.
Let’s talk about bugs. All the flies and spiders that seem to have found their way into the house.
Look, just because I’m a cat, that doesn’t mean I’m going to eat them. I get enough Stinky Goodness and that dry crap left out for snacking between meals. I don’t need the extra protein I could get from slurping down the dead carcass of a eight legged freak or the wiggling body of a no-longer flying trash monger.
Now, sure, I take great joy in hunting them down, and ripping off their little wings and legs, but I’m not going to eat them.
I’ve effectively removed them from being an irritant.
Isn’t that enough?
There are bugs out here with LIGHTBULBS in their asses.
I saw them last night while I was looking out the window.
I think they need new ones, or at least new batteries, though, because they just keep flashing on and off.
I did not try to cuddle with the Woman at 2:30 this morning.
I absolutely did not.
I only jumped up onto the bed and curled up on her chest to shove fur up her nose. The fact that it involved having to rub my face against hers repeatedly is only coincidental. I was just trying to annoy her with massive amounts of fur.
That is all.
She obviously feels bad.
This morning I got my can of Stinky Goodness early; she rolled out of bed at an acceptable hour, and didn't make me wait. She came right downstairs without using the Giant Litterbox and fed me.
And later, before she and the Man went to sit outside, she gave me some crunchy treats.
Oh yeah, she feels bad.
And that's fine with me.
They did not feed me this morning!
I’m not kidding—they left the house without giving me my half a can of Stinky Goodness. The Woman says she thought the Man had fed me, and evidently he thought she had… Don’t these People know how to coordinate? Are they stupid???
I damn near starved today!
Even after they came home and I started hollering at them, what did they do? They went outside and sat in those stupid chairs, waving at me through the window, saying stupid things like “Hi, Max,” and “You’re fine, Max.”
I was not fine!
I was dying!
At 5 o’clock the Woman finally said she’d feed me, and was freaking surprised when there was no half a can left to give to me. Well Jesus Christ on a Pogo Stick, what was she expecting? I can’t open the &^%^%$ cans by myself.
I thought I had them trained.
They are so unworthy of living with me.
Look...if I think that what you're having for dinner smells intriguing, chances are I'm going to jump up onto the table and see for myself. Getting your shorts in a wad is not going to change that. Pointing your finger at me and making threats doesn't faze me. You might as well get over it already. It's going to happen again, I assure you.
I haven’t had the chance to catch one of those incredibly ugly birds that have made the front yard their home, but I still intend to. I keep looking out at them, and they’re all pretty big, which theoretically means a hell of a lot of meat on their bones. It’s possible they’re not inedible after all. I want to find out.
And the People wised up; they no longer return smelling of dog, though the Woman came in yesterday (after being out there in a chair on the front lawn all freaking day, leaving me here all alone) smelling kind of funky. I think it was the smell of Sticky Little People. If she brings one of those home, not only will I poop on her pillow, but I might have to hack up a hairball or two, carefully placed deep enough in their shoes where they won’t see it right off the bat.
Ok, I don’t know what the hell this is:
but there are half a dozen of them outside my window, and I don’t like it, not one bit. They don’t speak, don’t blink; they just stand there and stare. Worse, I don’t even think they’re edible.
What good is an inedible bird???
I have issues this weekend.
The Woman keeps leaving the house and returns still smelling of dog.
I can hear her outside calling to them.
If she brings one home, that's it.
The pooping on the pillows shall commence.
They smell like dog.
The people came home and they smell like dogs.
I am not on your lap to show how much I love you.
I am not nuzzling your face out of affection.
I am not wiggling on my back to be cute.
I am on your lap because it’s there.
I am nuzzling your face because that gets hair up your nose.
I am wiggling on my back because you are wearing brand new black jeans, and the wiggling transfers a ton of fur onto them in just seconds.
All of this annoys you, and that amuses me.
Not that I’m getting soft or anything, but I let the Woman sleep in a little bit today. I started to get her up at the appointed time by singing at the top of my little lungs, but when she didn’t stir, I figured it was best to leave her alone. I mean, she was a source of amusement all night long, what with her odd snorting and gurgling sounds coming out of her nose. I wound up sitting on the bed just listening to her part of the night—how do people make those disgusting noises without waking themselves up?
And the smell! Holy crap, there’s this stench coming out of her nose like you wouldn’t believe…I kind of like it and am kind of repelled at the same time. It as a stench worthy of risking waking her up by cramming my nose up one of her nostrils for a minute, but I don’t think that disturbed her. One eye opened and she did shove me off of her, but she didn’t yell or anything. She just rolled over and started making new noises.
She finally got up about 45 minutes late this morning, and don’t tell her I said this, but damn, she looked like hell. She must not remember my nose up hers, because she didn’t yell or snap at me. In fact, she’s just whispering for the most part.
This might be worth getting fed late.
I sat in the window today and watched the Woman outside. She was out there all freaking day long, digging in the dirt. If it had been me, I’d have gotten yelled at (I did get yelled at for running behind the big thing they have the TV on…hey People, if you don’t want me back there, shove it against the wall!) but she just knelt there and dug. And planted a chiltload of flowers. Like she knew what she was doing.
Now, they look okay, but does she not realize those things will just get bigger, and she’ll have to remember to water them? They’re doomed.
Not to mention, the outside cats around here will probably poop between the plants.
I would, but there’s no way I’m going outside. There are Sticky People out there—even a new Sticky Little Person.
They’re taking over the world.
I’m not sure I like this warmer weather. It’s not like I get to go outside and enjoy it, and it keeps my People away from me. And it’s not as if I really want them in here bugging me all the time, but they should be available to meet my needs as they arise.
The last few days have been especially trying—the Woman goes outside to “read” but then other People start showing up, and they sit in these cheap plastic chairs in a circle, talking and laughing and wrangling the Sticky Little Creatures. And for whatever reason, they seem to find the Sticky Ones appealing and somewhat humorous. Okay, I suppose it’s cute to see the smallest of them trying to work up the nerve to take that first step. And the slightly older Sticky People sliding on that wet piece of plastic was kind of funny in a warped sort of way, especially after it was placed on the little hill and they had leverage to work up some speed.
But it still means my Woman is out there and not inside where she should be. And she freaking spends all day out there! What the heck can People talk about for so long, and for so many days??? Why aren’t they inside taking care of the cats???
Okay…This is just wrong…
On a different note… People, you have opposable thumbs. You can open any can in the house and feed yourselves. You can operate the hot box in the kitchen and cook up some perfectly wonderful, tasty treats. You can even pour odd smelling things out of a box and eat them. You don’t need to wait for someone to drag their sorry ass out of bed to open a can of Stinky Goodness, as you can do it yourself.
So why, tell me why, would you sit there in a chair, starting at the idiot box in the living room, hungry? Why would you not just get up and get food? More importantly, why would you disturb my nap because of it?
Really, I’m curled up on the Woman while she sites there and watches some bald guy yell at people on TV, sound asleep, when this horrendous noise jolts me awake. I’m thinking “Holy crap, it’s an earthquake!” but she’s not concerned at all; she’s just watching that damned TV. So I put my head down, and it happens again. It’s her freaking stomach, and it’s growling louder than a dog in the middle of a squirrel attack.
Did she get up to get food? Nooooo… that would be too easy. No, she just sat there like whatever the bald guy was saying was really important (it wasn’t, trust me), and allowed my nap to be ruined by her unwillingness to put something in her stomach to quiet the noise.
Come on, people. I can’t open my own cans, but you sure as hell can. And while you’re at it, share. That stuff might not really be cat food, but it came out of a can and smells like cat food, so it must be cat-edible. Really now.
FRESH STINKY GOODNESS!!!
This didn’t come from a can, but a real live dead fish that the Man brought home and cooked up just for me. He even threw it on the grill until it was nice and flaky, taste tested it to make sure it was good enough, and then gave me a bowl full.
If this is what happens when they disappear on me all day, they can leave more often. I’m so full my tummy hurts, but I can take the Woman’s chair and sleep it off. I’m sure she’ll be happy to sit somewhere else while I digest.
I need to come up with new ways to get the Woman out of bed in the morning. The tried and true methods of peeling her lazy ass up just aren’t working well anymore. This morning I tried them all—except for launching her glasses across the room, because I wanted to live through breakfast—and she just wouldn’t open her freaking eyes. I know she knew I was there, because at one point she mumbled “Go away,” but all she did was roll over and bury her face in the pillow. I even tried plopping down on top of her head, thinking that if she couldn’t breathe, she’d have to get up, but no…she must have held her breath for a good 15 minutes. Her face was jammed down into that pillow and I was holding it there, but she never budged.
I shouldn’t have to work so hard for my food. I need something that will get her out of bed at my first request. Yep, something reallllly good…
No matter what it looks like, I was not stuck up here.
I could have gotten down any time I wanted.
Oh, bite me.
It must be something to do with the changing of the weather from cold to almost warm. I can’t think of any other reason for there to be so many new Sticky Little People running and crawling around outside. No matter what window I look out, there they are, going off at full tilt, making far too much noise for respectable creatures. One can only hope that with time, they slow down and learn to be quieter.
Though it is kind of neat when one of the new ones learns to say my name.
Not that I pay any attention to that kind of thing.
Someone needs to notify me when my daily routine is going to be interrupted. I have things I’m used to: the Man gets up early, ignores me, reads the papers, and then leaves. I wait a while, then go upstairs and start gently trying to get the Woman to wake up. She eventually opens her eyes, says a bunch of bad words, gets up, uses the giant litter box, and then goes downstairs to feed me. As it should be.
So when the Man does not get up early, it worries me. What if he’s late to where ever it is he goes most days? What if his not being there means they can’t buy me more cans of the Stinky Goodness? There are a lot of “what-ifs” involved, so I make the effort to wake him up. Or wake her up, so she can get him up. It’s simply pure consideration on my part.
Do they even understand this?
Phffft. I do my best and what I get in return is “Stop it, Max. Shut up, Max. I’m going to wrap your tail around your neck and make you be quiet, Max.” (Ok, honestly, no one has ever said that, but I’m pretty sure they’re thinking it.)
I swear, if they didn’t have those opposable thumbs, I’d let them rot their lives away in bed.
I am so ashamed. I let one of the Sticky Little People touch me last night. Even worse, I let the Woman pick me up and take me outside so that the Sticky Person could do just that. I don’t know why I allowed this to happen; it’s just that the People were outside with the Other People all afternoon and evening, and I was in here all alone…It wasn’t too bad, though. The Sticky One didn’t shriek at me or tug or poke, she just touched a finger to my fur. And she tried to say my name, though it sounds more like “Math” than “Max.”
No, I am not getting soft. It was just a momentary lapse in judgment.
You left the laundry basket filled with clean clothes in the living room. You know that I’m going to curl up on the clean clothes. So it’s your fault that there’s cat barf on your favorite sweatshirt, not mine.
You know, when I was standing on the Woman’s lap this evening, trying to decide if I wanted to plop down or just annoy her, I really didn’t intend to cut loose a mighty fart with my tail end towards her face.
Really, I didn’t.
It was just a bonus.
Happy Easter my ass. You know how I celebrated? Do you?
It started out with the Woman, in all her glorious stupidity, locking me in the closet again! She opened it to get some clothes out, and you’d think by now she’d know that I like to go in and curl up on the blanket in there. But nooooo…she closed the freaking door and it took two hours before she realized I was in there.
To make matters worse, the People disappeared for most of the day, and she was late in getting my dinner. Oh, she said she was sorry, but I don’t believe it. No way. She ran in the front door, saying how sorry she was, and she fed me, but then she turned around and left again for at least another hour.
After they came home to stay, she was in the kitchen puttering around, and I went in there to munch on the mostly-acceptable dry food, and what happens? She stepped on me! This wasn’t a little pinch to my tail—she stomped on my entire foot with her entire foot. Like, about a ton of Stomping Human Femaleness. Yeah, well, I hollered a good one—because that makes her feel bad—and ran upstairs. The Man followed me up and picked me up. As if I wasn’t pissed off enough, he picked me up and took me back into the freaking kitchen.
All right, he took me back so that the Woman could give me a treat or two or fifteen, but still.
These People never learn. Never.
I’ve got the Woman right where I want her, and she doesn’t even know it. Like this afternoon—I was hungry and let her know it, but she just scratched my head and said “I’m not feeding you. It’s only four o’clock and you have to wait until five.”
Not good enough.
I meowed and crawled all over her lap, stretched up and nibbled at her hair, got in her face—I was not going to give up, not until she was frustrated enough to just get up and give me the second half of my can of Stinky Goodness.
And it worked!
It only took an hour, but she finally got tired of it, and get up to feed me.
Oh man, I hit the Trifecta of Pissing The Woman Off this morning. I didn’t start too early—I waited until her normal time to get up, but she was being pretty lazy about getting up, so I didn’t have a whole lot of choice.
I started off with a fairly gentle body slam into her stomach, but all that did was make her grunt and push me aside, then roll over. I waited, hoping she would sit up, but she didn’t, she just went right back to sleep.
So, I had to up the ante, so to speak. I carefully crawled up the bed, onto her pillow, and dropped like a dead weight onto her head. That got me a “Dammit, stop it,” but she still didn’t get up.
I had no choice.
I went for the glasses.
I sent those suckers flying, and she knew it. She reached out and grabbed me, tossing me across the bed, but she still didn’t get up. Every time I tried to climb over her, she shoved me away. Like I would give up.
Eventually she did finally get up, and boy was she mad. She was down on her hands and knees looking for her glasses, saying words that I know I’m too young to hear. Even a threat: “I’m not f$@#ing feeding you right now, you little shit.”
She found the glasses, went to the giant litter box, got dressed, and what did she do?
She fed me.
Change my litter box.
Or you know what will happen.
What is wrong with these People? They run around the house, going in and out, leaving me alone most of the day with only dry food and filtered water to subsist on, and when they come home, what do they do?
They open a door, so of course I have to investigate, and once I go through, they shut the freaking door! She locked me in the frigging closet again!
Really, once is a mistake. Twice is a sign of senility. But this—this has to be intentional. She said she was sorry, but she was laughing when she said it, so I don’t think so.
Yeah, lady, if you’re reading this, what I’m thinking rhymes with “witch.”
I think they’re mad at me again, but I don’t know why. The Man came home and chased me around the house with that horrible stick he rubs all over my teeth, and he managed to corner me on my window perch and did it while all the birds outside could see. And they were mocking me, I know they were! I could hear them chirping away, laughing at the poor bastard feline being molested by the much larger human.
Then the Woman comes home and she has this thing in a shiny purple bag, and on the bag are these bright ribbony things. It was pretty, and I wanted to see what was in it. But would she let me stick my head in the bag to see? Hell, no. First she chased me off the table, and when I went back (thinking she wasn’t looking) she caught me and then took the shiny purple bag and hid it in the pantry, where I can’t get to it.
I just want to see what’s in the bag! But nooooo, it’s “not for the kitty.” It’s “a present for someone else.”
When do I get a present?
I discovered something new and annoying this morning.
When the People won't get up, stick your cold, wet nose up against one of their closed eyelids.
You'll wind up being bounced onto the nbed, but it's worth it.
The People bought me some tasty new dry food about a week ago. Not that I’ll admit it to them (because then the perfect wet Stinky Goodness might disappear), but I like it. It does a much better job of making my tummy feel full, so I don’t feel like I have to launch the Woman out of bed in the morning. I’m being very patient, letting her sleep until she wakes up on her own, just curled up on her tummy.
She doesn’t sleep as late as I figured she would, and she’s much nicer when I don’t do a body slam into the middle of her stomach or stick something up her nose. She wakes up, stretches, tells me I’m a good kitty and scratches behind my ears and under my collar (ohgod, that is too good…but I won’t tell her how much I like that), and gets up.
Now, granted, once in a while I’m still going to stick my nose up hers, or send her glasses flying across the room, but that’s just for fun. And I think it’s in my contract somewhere. You know, the primary Kitty Rule: Thou Shalt Be An Occasional PITA. Something I’m very good at.
Strange thing, though. It’s not cold anymore; all the white stuff is gone and the birds and sticky little people are outside in droves, but she still shivers, keeps the heat up, and curls up under the bright red and blue blanket. She swears she’s cold, but I think she’s just looking for sympathy. And for me to curl up in her lap. Selfish thing.
See how comfy the towels right out of the dryer look? All fluffy and warm and smelling good, like sunshine right there on the love seat (ok, yeah, that’s a stretch. Shuddup.)
But even better:
The Woman’s warm sweatshirts right out of the dryer. They’re softer and warmer, and all that cat hair I’m rubbing off onto them really pisses her off. So don’t tell her it was me. Tell her the Man did it.
Know what's really nice? When the People take a load of towels out of the dryer, dump it on the love seat, and don't get mad when you curl up in the pile.
No matter what she claims, I did not stick my tongue up the Woman's nose this afternoon.
Not intentionally, anyway.
One of the things I have fun with most mornings is knocking the Woman’s glasses off the nightstand. It’s not that I want to play with them, but she hates it, and that amuses me.
I also like crawling onto her lap, and stretching up like I’m going to give her a kitty kiss. If I time it just right, I can smear my nose across her glasses while they’re on her face, and she really hates that. And that amuses me.
But lately, she’s not wearing them. Most of the time they’re next to the bathroom sink, where it’s not nearly as much fun to whack at them or drag my nose across them. Come to think of it, the Man isn’t wearing his either, not at all. If he lost them, he’s going to be in a lot of trouble. And I want to be there when he is. That will amuse me, too.
It’s just not as much fun trying to run boogers onto the Woman’s face without those glasses—she usually stops me. And that doesn’t amuse me one bit.
Not that I’m nosy or anything, but I overheard the Woman talking to that thing she holds to her ear tonight, and she was talking about me.
Now, over time I’ve come to the conclusion that somewhere there’s another Human with another thing held to the ear, and they can hear each other. It just makes sense, in an odd sort of way. Why she can’t just talk to the Man, or even me, instead of someone with another thing pressed against the ear escapes me, but what the hell. They don’t consult me in matters of logic.
She was talking about me. And laughing. Making fun of how I approach my water dish. As if there’s something abnormal about it.
Look, no matter what she says I don’t actually stalk my water. Yeah, sure, sometimes when I’m across the room I crouch down and watch it carefully, and yeah, sure, sometimes my butt wiggles, and yeah, sure sometimes after that I race across the room towards it. But I’m not stalking it. I’m just making sure that there’s no one else around it.
Besides, for all you know there is a good reason to attack the water dish. For all you People can know, there’s things near the dish that have to be dispelled before I can safely take a drink. Remember, I have much better eyesight than you People do. I have a better sense of smell, too, and let’s just say some of you need to lick yourself more thoroughly.
And even if I did stalk my water dish, that’s not really the point. The point is that it’s rude to talk about a cat behind his back, especially if you’re laughing at him. I have good hearing, too. Want me to tell the world what kinds of sounds I hear emanating from you when you think no one else is around?
I also heard the Woman saying she was going to pick me up and squeeze me. She so is not going to do that. I may not have my claws anymore, but I still have teeth. People would do well to remember that.
Look, no matter what she says, I did not lay across the Woman’s face this morning.
I was merely stepping over her head, and stumbled.
Any resemblance to laying across her face is coincidental.
See? See what I have to do to get warm enough to take a nap?
TURN UP THE HEAT!
My nipples are inverting...
Okay. For the last week or so, the Man has gotten up at a reasonable hour to feed me. I’ve enjoyed it, to be honest, getting fed before my stomach is rumbling so loud it wakes the birds outside.
This morning he got up especially early and left. He went back to work! So right around the time I was getting hungry, the only Human left in the house was still asleep. I was not happy. Not at all. It was nice to not have to work to get someone up and get them downstairs, and I would have appreciated notice that I was going to have to fall back on old routines in order to get the food out of the freaking can and onto the plate.
I was nice, I didn’t head butt her, not until I heard the birds outside, mocking me. And when that didn’t work, I crawled onto her chest and stuck my nose up hers. And when that didn’t work, I knocked her glasses off the night stand.
Let me tell you, she hates that. But it works. She gets all pissy on me and makes me get off the bed, but she gets up. Usually the getting up is accompanied by all this muttering and swearing, and threats of locking me in a bathroom, but she doesn’t mean it. After all, if she were really mad, she wouldn’t get up. She’s toss me across the room, and she hasn’t done that.
You know it’s a strong wind when the birds are getting up-ended onto their feathery little asses. Makes me very glad I can sit here inside, where it’s nice and warm, looking out the window, laughing at them.
The People want me to note that the aforementioned non-cat blog link goes directly to an Adult Human Pervert-type site, so click the link at your own peril.
I mean, I thought it was obvious, but then I forgot I'm dealing with People here...
Last night the People cooked their food out in the back yard—don’t ask me why, that’s just asking for the birds to poop on it—and it smelled really good. I mean really good. But did I get any, even after being very good and patient while they ate? Hell no. All I got was this lame explanation for not sharing : “I don’t think kitties can have pork.”
I don’t know what “pork” is, but it smelled good enough for me to eat, so why not at least let me try it? You let me eat fish and chicken and turkey, why not pork??? They’re all dead things, aren’t they?
On the plus side, the Man did give me treats early in the morning. He felt bad because he kicked me in the ass while trying to walk through the dark. He could have turned a light on, but no…he just wanders through the dark, waiting for a cat ass to kick.
It all worked out. He gave me food, so I wasn’t starving ten minutes after he left the house, and I didn’t have to wake the Woman before she was ready to get up. She was happy, and even came downstairs to feed me the good stuff before she went upstairs to shower.
Still…I wanted that pork last night. And since I didn’t get it, I had to head-butt her awake this morning.
That’s only fair.
It is not funny to lift the lid on the giant litterbox when you see me running into the bathroom to spend a little quality time with you.
There’s water in there!
Look, I don’t know what your last nerve is, but if I’m on it, I don’t care.
I don’t know what Professional Wrestling is, nor who Hulk Hogan and Steve Austin are. I don’t care.
But if a “body slam” gets your lazy ass out of bed in the morning to feed me, I’m going to keep doing it.
If you would get up a couple hours earlier, and feed me before you head for the litterbox and before you get dressed, I wouldn’t have to do it. So until then, enjoy the 14 pounds of slick, black, furry feline wonder dropping onto your gut, baby.
Oooh. Shrimpy Goodness.
The Man shared, and nicely, so it's now naptime...
The Sticky Little Creatures are back; at least, they’re outside more often, yelling and screaming and laughing at these horrible, ear-splitting levels. I sit in my window and watch them—heck, even the birds scatter when one of them gets close. Who can blame them?
The other day the Woman left the front door open, and took the glass off the screen so we could get some fresh air, and the Man put a box in front of it so I could see out better. They went outside, I think to talk to other People (though I haven’t figured out why that’s so much fun, just standing there and talking without food being involved), but after a while he brought one of the Sticky Little Creatures to the door to see me.
I don’t mind this one so much, as long as he stays on that side of the door. He doesn’t squeal at me, and even if I press my face up to the screen, he doesn’t poke. There’s some kind of game he was trying to play—he kept crouching down where I couldn’t see him and then he popped back up—but I didn’t get it. It amused him, so what the heck.
The key is that door…as long as the Sticky Things stay on the outside, I can tolerate them, I suppose. They are entertaining sometimes, especially when they’re rolling down the street on their wheeled toys, and sometimes even when they get seriously ticked off at the Big People.
I love a good temper tantrum.
It’s nice out today, but I haven’t seen any of them out there yet. I think the Big People are hiding them.
Let’s get something straight:
If it’s on the floor, it’s mine.
If you drop it, it’s mine.
If it’s on the table and you walk away from it, it’s mine.
If it’s on the counter and you’re not looking, it’s mine.
In fact, if it’s in your hand and I can get to it, it’s mine.
If you don't like waking up with my ass in your face, may I suggest that you get your lazy self up about an hour earlier than you normally do? It would benefit both of us: I would get fed when I'm hungry, and you'd avoid the glory of the remnants of things YOU had cut off WITHOUT my consent.
Strange fishy, found while sneakily poking through the Woman’s hard drive:
I think I’m glad this never winds up in one of my cans of Stinky Goodness.
That skin looks awfully hard to chew through…
See? See what happens when you let sticky little people touch you?
NOTHING GOOD, that's for sure!
I could have told them that, but they never listen, anyway.
The Man let sticky little people touch him, and now he's sick. He's got this nasty cough and he keeps blowing his nose like it's some sort of magical horn, and he sounds like he ate a blowtorch.
All this from letting one of THOSE creatures get too close.
I'm telling you, People, you need to get rid of the little ones. They're dangerous things to have around.
It’s not fair. I got to the comfy chair first, and what do you do? You pick me up and stick me on your lap. If I wanted to be on your lap, I’d climb up there myself. But I’m flexible, so I wander into the other room and curl up in the desk chair. I get nice and comfortable, and almost asleep, and what do you do?
You freaking come in there, pick me up and take me back to the other chair, so you can sit at the desk!
And you do the same damn thing at least twice more in one evening!
Make up your fricking mind!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, so you actually moved me from one chair to another nice one, when you could have just dumped me on the floor…but Lady, you could have just let me sleep! You only moved me ’cause you’re afraid I’ll leave you a present on your pillow.
If God didn't want me to head-butt you awake every morning, he would not have placed your nose so far out from your face, where it is within easy reach.
Here's a thought: if you don't want me to lick the chicken, don't leave it on the counter.
Simple as that.
You know what's not fair? People can eat whenever they want, whatever they want. I have to freaking ask for food, and nine times out of ten they're so dense they don't understand what I want, which means I have to resort to begging. They leave out this dry crap for me, but dammit, they should know what I want! I shouldn't have to humiliate myself for a can of Stinky Goodness!
I hate people.
Damn them and their opposable thumbs.
The sky has been falling all over the place, in huge white chunks that have pretty much covered everything outside. I’ve given up trying to warn the People, because they just don’t seem to care about it.
Today, though, the Man went outside and scooped up a handful of the stuff, and brought it inside to show to me. Like I wasn’t already a little freaked out about the whole thing! But he held it out to me, and I sniffed for a few seconds, pretending I didn’t give a damn, but you know what?
The sky is freaking cold!
Kind of makes you wonder why the birds bother flying through it.
The Woman has been drinking this stuff she calls “hot chocolate.” It smells pretty good, but she won’t let me get so much as a taste of it. There’s all these excuses: “you’ll burn your tongue. It’s not cat food. Kitties can’t have anything chocolate.”
Just be honest with me, will you? You won’t let me taste it because you just don’t want to share. Don’t pretend it has anything to do with trying to do what’s right for me; you have something good, and you want it all for yourself.
I’m not stupid. Hey, I might not even like it, but I should at least get the chance to find out.
I’d let you have a taste of my food, it you asked.
Really I would.
In fact, if you go in the kitchen, you can lick my plate right now.
TK's Person seems to think that Me in a BAG is funny.
Like I would ever play in a bag.
The ground outside is white, and the People don’t seem to like it any more than I do. The Man was complaining about it getting all over his truck, and the Woman says it’s just cold, nasty stuff that she won’t drive on. Granted, I’m not terribly sure what that means, other than they agree with me. The white stuff has to go.
I thought it was, a little while ago. Most of it had disappeared overnight, but then the sky began to fall and there it was again. The Woman says it’s “pretty” even though she wishes it would stop, but I think the whole thing is just nasty. And I’m pretty sure that white stuff is why it’s so damned cold.
Sure, I have my warm places to lay, especially the warm spot where my bed is now, but the windows are too cold to sit next to, and I usually like sitting on my window perches, looking outside. Why bother when it makes all my useless nipples pucker? And I can feel that, you know, as they crinkle and try to invert. It’s not terribly pleasant.
I’m going back to bed. Wake me when its over.
There are more places in the house where warm air comes out of the wall right by the floor. There's also one in the room where the Younger Humans stayed, and one in the room where the People sleep--and today the Woman took my basket with the comfy pillow from its cold spot downstairs, and brought it upstairs to put it right in front of the rushing warm air for me. Now not only do I have my perpetual spot of sunshine, but I have it plus a cushy, comfy bed in which to enjoy it.
Oh yea, I be stylin'...
My People are obsessed with my teeth. Perhaps because the lovely PK lost a few of hers, or perhaps because they merely like to torture me, but in the end, it’s an obsession, and it involves my mouth.
Look, I don’t care for having things shoved in my mouth. Not even the good things, like shrimp or sharp cheddar cheese. If it’s something I want, I’m perfectly capable of getting it from wherever it is into my own mouth, thank you very much. So I don’t understand why they feel compelled to hold me down and force that stick on me just about every night now.
I get the grasp of it, finally. It’s the “brushing of the teeth.” Supposedly, it’s to keep them healthy and useful until the day I drop dead from the plaque clogging my arteries—plaque that will be there, we can be sure, from the miscellaneous treats they give me, especially the meaty ones I manage to guilt them into every once in a while.
So yeah, when I keel over at age 15 from massive heart disease, my teeth will be blindingly white, and I’ll still be really pissed off that every freaking night they do that to me.