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.

um. clicky.

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.

Calm 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.
Right?
So I get a present.
Right?
RIGHT?

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!

The nerve!

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.
The entertainment.

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?

The Mows.
You gotta check 'em out.
It's about time cats got their own comic!

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.

Really now.
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.
Really.
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:

Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
Feliz Navidad
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.