I get email sometimes. And a lot of that email is kitties asking questions. Like I'm Dear Abby or something. So I got to thinking, since I'm working on another book (I am!) it might be fun to have a whole chapter on Questions For PsychoKitty. And you get to help!

Ask me anything. Either email me or ask the question in the comments. I won't answer them here...but chances are very good your question will wind up in my book and you'll be famous!

Asking a question in the comments constitutes legal permission for me to print the question in my next book, ok? So you have to be 18 or have someone who is 18 or older to ask.

Kinds of questions can be looking for advice, wanting to know something about me, or asking about People (because we know they need lots of explaining.) I have to be able to answer them in a no worse than a PG-13 kind of way, too...

:::sits back and waits:::

And thank you for your help.

HAHAHAHAHAHA! Could be me but it's not!



From Stuff On My Cat, which I fear is giving my People too many ideas...

It's Two, Two, Two Snacks In One!

There was SHRIMP tonight! Real live fresh dead SHRIMP!!!! The Man cut up an entire piece for each of us and Buddah didn't want his! SO I GOT IT!!!

Oh man, life is good.

Fair warning to the People: there is NO WAY you are EVER using THIS THING on me. Not veer. Not in your wildest dreams. If you ever try, bad, bad things will happen to you and the things that you love. This invention totally has me thinking WTF???

If you would not stay out all night long, we would not stand on top of you while you're trying to sleep the day away, asking you what the heck your problem is. Stay home, sleep at night, and we'll keep our obnoxiousness at the usual levels.

Someone please make Buddah take a better bath!

You know how People are always trying to pick us up and huggle us, and how they complain that we don't sit in their laps anough?

Yeah, it's annoying.

So why do they complain when we finally relent and decide to give them a thrill by curling up and snoozing?

So what if they're sitting on the giant people litterbox?

Really.

You can't have it both ways, Peoples. You either want us on your laps or not. Make up your minds!

The Bad:

The People have started shoving those CHUNKS down my throat again. Why? I'm fine! I really think they just enjoy torturing me.

The Good:

WE WON!

The Woman gave up on keeping our litterbox in the Kitty Klubhouse, so now we have it back and we can do with it whatever we want. She moved it to in front of her desk, so the first thing I will want to do is sit there and take things off her desk. That annoys her, and thusly amuses me.

This is why I could not get to the chicken after the Man threw it away last night.

This is what the People use to keep the good stuff from us.

On a good day there's usually a lot of stuff in there we would like to sniff or lick or play with, but no...the People, in all their lack of trust, opted to own one of these.

If we worked together we could probably get stuff out of it. One of us would have to sit on the foot thingy while the other sat on the counter and waited for the top to open, but then the kitty digging in the trash might fall in and not be able to get out. If that were Buddah, no big deal. But it might be me, and I don't want to spend my day waiting in all that gunk, hoping some People will finally come by and let me out. I'd never hear the end of it.

And it's too heavy to knock over. Trust me, we've tried.

So they throw away perfectly good things--not even just food things, but things we'd like to play with--and we can't get to them.

I blame Buddah. We used to have a trash can we could get into, but he got caught getting into it one time too many, so now we have this.

It's not fair. That chicken is still in there, I just know it.

Further proof that Buddah is insane.

He doesn't like People food.

Now, granted, a lot of what People eat barely counts as food, but once in a while they make something that's not just edible, but quite tasty.

The other night the People had hamburgers, and the Man gave us each a tiny bite. It's not steak, but it's decent. I'm sure not turning it down. Buddah sniffed his and then walked away. Since it's not steak or shrimp, I can understand that. Plus, I got to eat it.

But tonight...tonight the Woman made this chicken that she cooked all day long in this really tasty creamy chicken soup--just the smell in the air has me drooling all day--and as long as we're good kitties and don't try to jump up on the table, we always get a bite. So when the Man was done--he was the last person done eating and we have to be good that long--he cut up a little bit and put some on our plates.

Buddah sniffed his, and walked away!

He's NUTS!

Worse, I didn't get to eat it. The Woman said I had enough on my own plate and made the Man pick Buddah's plate up before I could get to it. He threw it away! They wasted good chicken!

Now clearly this is the Woman's fault, and if I wasn't curious about what's on the menu for tomorrow, I'd punish her. But it might be something really good, so I better not.

Every once in a while the People look at me, make some snide comment about my weight, and discuss cutting off the Stinky Goodness supply.

Oh, one of them usually acts all sympathetic and says I would be miserable and unhappy, but the other always points out I would get used to not getting it and I would survive just fine on dry food alone.

So? What good is surviving if you're deprived of the one thing that makes life bearable? What good is living if you have to face the same thing day in and day out? Really, do these People not realize what they're contemplating?

Let's make them live on one thing for the rest of their lives, see how they like it! I bet within three days they'd be crying like the little girls that they are deep down inside.

Oh, they have the power to take away my Stinky Goodness, but they should be reminded, that I have the power to poop at will, and I would most assuredly do so in and on the things they treasure most.

But not the computer. No, the Woman may love this thing, but I need it. It's my only venue to talk to the world, and the world needs to know what how backwards people can be.

Really.
No Stinky Godness?
Not ever again?
Even prisoners get treated better.

Don't they?

He's getting brave, eh?
And look at him, licking his chops...
Just before I stomped on him.

Ha.
This is Buddah's bed.
Only Buddah never seemed to figure out that it was a bed, so the Woman moved it from the bedroom into her office, where I now use it every chance I get. Someday he's going to realize that's it's a nice, war, comfy place to sleep, but it will be too late. It now has my kitty germs and my kitty stink on it.

And look at this.
The box Buddah is sitting on.

The People got it in the mail today. It's a really spiffy box all covered in carpet and it has a hole on one end for us to get in and out of. We got all excited thinking we had a special Kitty Klubhouse, and we both got in it to check it out...but do you know what those People did???

They stuck our litterbox in it!

This super sweet Kitty Klubhouse, and they fill it with POOP STUFF! Why can't people leave well enough alone? Why do they have to ruin everything?

I am so going to poop somewhere else.

I wasn't going to eat the chocolate.
It was in a shiny red wrapper, and it spinned quite nicely.
I was going to play with the chocolate.

There's a difference, and if the Woman would pay attention to things like that, she wouldn't get so upset. And it's not like SHE needs any chocolate.

Oh, and she made more stuff with me on it, a bunch of blank journals. Because, apparently, I am so adorable.

Now, when she's not looking, I am so totally going to grab that piece of chocolate and spin it across the floor. And I'm not sharing it with Buddah.

First things first...the Woman spent a lot of time pimping my book, so it's only fair that I pimp her endeavor. She has a store where she sells t-shirts and stuff, including books. A couple people asked her for an all-in-one edition of her 3 novels, so she plopped down at the desk--taking up blogging time for me and Buddah--and put it together. Now all 3 books are now squished into one giant, special edition tome, and if people buy it, she won't have to prostitute herself to pay Uncle Sam this year.

It's very good. Her mother said so.
And who's Uncle Sam?

Anyhow...pimping duties done. I am now waiting for Buddah to fall asleep so I can jump on top of him with my full weight, just to annoy the little monster. He has spent about 60% of his day following me around, trying to bite me on the butt. I'm not even doing anything to him, he just walks up and starts to bite! The Woman got really mad at him one time and stormed down the stairs, picked him up, and took him back upstairs with her, and the whole time she was chewing him a new one. "We don't bite Max! It's not nice to bite someone on the butt!"

I hate to tell her, but Buddah didn't care. I doubt he was even listening. Or he was thinking "Maybe YOU don't, but *I* do!"

So at some point tonight, he's going to meet the glory that is 15 pounds of Max flopping down at full force. Maybe that will make a bigger impression than head-butting him down the stairs...

Really now.
Do we need to encourage dogs to do this?
Do dogs not know what people do in those???

We actually had sun spots to sleep in today; the best place was up on the rolly-ball table, right smack in the middle, where we both left lots of fur for the People to enjoy when they're playing with their rolly balls. Though I don't know why they play, because they tend to let fly with a lot of not-so-nice words when they do.

In any case, it's not raining and we have sun, at least for a couple of days. The guy on the idiot box says more is coming, but not nearly as much.

That's good, because if we go that long with that much rain and no sunny spots, I'm going to have to start biting things.

Look, I pushed Buddah off the railing by the stairs because the little crackhead likes it when I do that. He thinks I'm playing. So don't get your shorts in a wad when you see me do it. If you give him 15 seconds, he'll jump right back up so I can do it again. Besides, if he doesn't like it, he shouldn't walk on the outside of the railing, where it's so freaking easy to headbutt him down to the landing.

Oh, and it can stop raining anytime now. We're suffering from lack of suitable sunspots to nap in.

It's that time of year again.


clicky