These little farkers...

Photo by Steve Baranoff...found on a GIS and tracked his URL to http://birdsbybaranoff.com/

...are evil.

There are a couple of them living in a nest in the cherry tree in our front yard, and they're mean. They know there are kitties living here, and they know we can't get to them, so they take an immense amount of sick, twisted pleasure in getting really close to the screen door and yelling at us.

If the front door is closed, they sit outside the window and look in, mocking us with their outsideness.

I can ignore them; I'll watch for a few minutes and then go do something else, because I know I won't be able to get to them, so what's the point in letting them torment me?

But Buddah...he just doesn't get it, so he sits there--or stands and contemplates climbing the screen door--and gets all flustered. He really hates being yelled at, and having it come from a bird is worse than getting yelled at by a person. He really, really, really wants to pounce on one of them and rip their angry little feathers off, right after he bites their little heads off.

Normally I'm in favor of tormenting Buddah, but this is bordering on torture. But we will get a measure of revenge...next week the People are getting someone to come out and thin the canopy in the tree those birds nest in, and probably cut off a bunch of branches.

Let's see how those little farkers like having their day disrupted.

Ohhhh yeah...

Doods. Doods. Doods. I totally scored tonight.

You guys know our dinner rule, right? If a kitty is good and doesn't try to get on the table or bite anyone or be too obnoxious, he gets a bite if what the people are eating it kitty friendly. If it's not kitty friendly, then a couple of crunchy treats are given as a substitute.

Well, tonight was crock pot chicken, which is totally kitty friendly, so I was as good as I could be, and when the Woman was done she put a little chicken on my plate, and a little on Buddah's, and then she asked me where Buddah was because he didn't come out.

Well, my mouth was full so I couldn't answer.

She went about putting stuff in the dishwasher and I went over to the Man, who was still eating, but he said I was out of luck because I already had some. Which is fair, but it still sucks.

But doods. The Woman said, "Come over here, Max," so I went over to her...and she picked me up and put me on the counter and let me eat Buddah's chicken!

"Ya snooze, ya lose," she said.

He was asleep in the back of the house and didn't even know it was dinner time, and the People don't announce it so it's not like I took anything away from him. A guy really has to be on his paws to get dinner bites, and he was not on his paws at all. No, he was flat on his back, cooling his junk in the breeze from the overhead fan.

Best thing? In about 45 minutes it'll be time for our regular night snack, and I'll still get my full share even though I got TWO dinner bites.

I totally need a fishing pole now

Buddah would never figure it out.

See, Woman? It could be so much worse

I could be a dog...


Man, I bet if Hank had ever done this, no one would complain about the way I wake them up.

Here we go again...

The reappearance of a Dammit Machine...

Only this time it's not blocking my fire thingy, it's behind the Woman's desk in the room where all the books live.

I'm not sure why it's not in front of the fire thingy since it appears that I am not getting a fire anytime soon, and I know she likes to watch TV while she dammits an hour away.

She also has one of these that she takes outside. Well, theoretically. I'm not 100% sure that's ever really happened, unless it happens during my morning nap.

But really, guys, with all the dammit machines that have come an gone, I am now reasonably certain that this house is where good intentions go to die.

Dood, WTF?

That chit's like a punishment, not something you want...

Um. Yeah.

He's trying to look out the window.

And it might be the most intelligent thing he's done all weekend...

Yes. Yes, I do.

Phffft. She asked me, quite seriously, "Do you really need all those toys right now?"

What kind of boneheaded question is that?

Man, I hate to do it, but...

It's time to give these up.

I love them, I do, but I'm losing my girlish figure.

My muscles are hard to see.

It's time.

I've had my last Twinkie.