Still doing a lot of this:

The Woman and I are working our way through all of Doctor Who (well, New Who) a couple of episodes a day, 3-4 days a week. That's pretty much it.

I can tell I'm getting to be an old guy. I sleep more now than I did just a year ago, and I really won't put up with any of Buddah's nonsense. I'm still very eager to eat, though, and once in a while I play with something or run back and forth like my asterisk is on fire, but still...I'm probably sleeping more than anything.

When a guy just sleeps and watches Doctor Who, there's not a lot to blog about. I still post to Facebook a few times a week and I'm still telling the Woman what to write for the next book, but I really feel like this is the quite time of my life.

No, don't worry, I'm not sick, there's nothing unusual going on. I'm just getting older and doing what senior kitties do. Life is good, there's steak cut into tiny bites in the fridge and in a minute I am going to go ask for some, and then I am going back to bed and sleep until I hear the Woman make her lunch.

Maybe she'll put the Doctor on while she eats.

Buddah is feeling his age a little, too. He used to be able to eat and eat and eat and he was svelte; now he's getting kinda fat. The people weighed him the other day and he's almost 17 pounds. I'm 17 pounds. Yeah, he's fat.

He doesn't run around as much as he used to, either, but he still jumps to the high places and has made the top of the TARDIS his favorite napping spot. You'd think I would have claimed it, but I prefer napping in the tower in the bedroom or the one in the office. He can have the top of it as long as he doesn't claim the whole thing as his.

He's up there...you have to look close.

But, yeah...that's why the blog posts have been few and far between, I think. Not much for an old, sleepy dood to write about.

SHE CHEATED ON ME!

For reals.

The Woman was gone for like, forever, or maybe for like 3 nights, and I thought she was out doing walking things , but no. You know what she was doing?

She was spending time with That Damned Dog Butters and his new sister, Lady. And not just "time." She was there all day and all night THREE TIMES IN A ROW. All her clothes were covered with dog hair when she got back. I could smell where they licked her. The worst part?

SHE LIKED THEM.

And then things got all worse when the Man left the house Monday and was gone for a few hours and came back smelling like them. Because of THIS:

I am so unhappy right now.

I may have to ignore them both.

For, like, WEEKS.

Except around breakfast, lunch, and dinner time, because I am practical, even when I'm annoyed.

I know, I know...

I have been absent from the blog for a very long time. Over a month. I don't think I've ever gone that lone between posts before.

The thing is...I have been seriously blog blocked.

I've been doing quite a bit of this:

Watching Doctor Who on Netflix with the Woman. We started with series 1 and are working our way through, so that we're ready for the new season when it starts on September 19th.

Lest you think this is unusual:

I really do watch it with her. She starts an episode and I hear the music and come running. The Woman has her theories about why I do that, but none of them are the simple truth--I want to watch Doctor Who. I mean, how difficult is that to understand?

I want to watch it right now, even, but no... "I have things to do, Max."

Well, yeah, fine. Put it on for ME, then. I don't care what you do.

Sheesh.

I had an AWESOME birthday!

Doods, I'm not sure I could have had a better birthday. I got breakfast on time, got to nap where I wanted to all day, and then I went into the kitchen and saw this:

Real live fresh dead shrimp and real live fresh dead steak. I counted the steaks, too. One for the Man, one for the Woman, and one for me to split with Buddah (which is okay because even I can't eat a whole steak.) And I thought that was awesome enough, but it got even awesomer when the Woman only ate half a steak, which meant not only did I get steak for my birthday, but she cut the second half of hers up into bite sized pieces and put them in a container that went into the fridge so that we could have steak treats for DAYS.

And I thought that was it, because I don't really ask for toys anymore because I only really play with one, but then she had a box and said it was from my friend Beth who lives way on the other side of the country, and doods. HOLY COW. Look.

She sent two toys that have a thingy underneath to chase, one for me and one for Buddah, and NIP BANANAS! I freaking LOVE nip bananas. That's the toy I play with!

I love nip bananas so much I had to do this:

I plopped down on the pile and rolled in it a little bit, inhaling all the awesome nip goodness, until I heard the Woman say something. Well, she had to say it a couple of times because I wasn't paying attention.

"You need to pick just one for now, Big Guy."

Well, I wasn't happy about that, but she did let me roll around on the pile for a few more minutes so that I could pick the perfect first banana.

I picked this one. That one you can see behind me, on the needs-to-be-vacuumed rug? That's a really old one that has one end chewed open. We always chew an end off so that we can pour the nip out, and no one even gets mad! The Woman always says, "It's fine. I own a vacuum." Well, yeah, she owns one but it would help if she actually used it once in a while.

Still...I had an awesome birthday. THANK YOU BETH!!! I love my toys!

And than you everyone for the happy birthday wishes!

Bonus: I made it to an age the Woman was pretty sure I'd never see.

I am going to go howl at the end of the hallway now, so that she'll open the linen closet for me so I can lounge in there. She does't seem to mind, so why the heck not?

Oh hey! It's Max's Birthday!

This is how much Max and I get along.

But since today is his birthday, I kind have to be nice to him and not just because it's the right thing to do but because he doesn't like toys very much so that means he's going to get real live fresh dead steak and real live fresh dead shrimp and if he gets some I get some unless I jump on his and bite him or something, so I don't want to do that because I do want to have steak and shrimp.

Now, this is what he wants to do when he's not eating because the Mom's lap is is favorite thing to be on and getting skritches is his favorite thing to do but a lot of the time she has a computer on her lap so he has to squeeze in there which is okay sometimes but maybe not on his birthday so I think while she's asleep tonight I'm chew on the power cord and kill it or something, and that will be my present to him, a whole day of her lap.

Anyway, today Max is 14 years old and on the first birthday he had when I was here the Mom wasn't sure he would make it even to 5 because he got so sick and she always said that if he lived as many years as the Cat Who Came Before Him, Dusty, and as many years as Hank the Dog I Never Met, 13 of them, that she would be happy but here he is 14 years old and even though he's slowing down he seems pretty happy.

So HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAX! I'll try to be nice to you all day.

I am not worried, not really...

A few days ago, when she should have been getting up to feed me, the Woman was playing with something on her phone, as if that was more important that my growling tummy.

I sat myself down on the end table by her chair and gave her the Why Are You Not Feeding Me look, because a person ignoring the needs of the kitty totally deserves to get that look.

So what did she do?

Well, she didn't get up to feed me. Instead she shoved that damned camera in my face and took my picture.

I know I'm a lovely model and all, but really...I just wanted food.

Then last night she was sitting there, again with the phone in her hand (and the computer on her lap...it's like she thinks she has important things to do even though I know all she's really doing is playing Trivia Crack and surfing Facebook) and I was lounging on the top of the short cat tree, looking out the front door which is all the way on the other side of the house.

She thinks I look worried.

No, I'm just looking at stuff outside. There were giant moths and stuff flittering around the light outside, and I was just watching them.

If one had gotten inside--and it's possible because the screen door has gaps at the top and bottom--it could have been very exciting.

Oh, and I might have also been contemplating the fact that the People had steak for dinner a couple of nights ago and the Woman only ate half of hers so she took the rest and cut it into tiny bite sized pieces and we've been getting those as treats, and what if they're all gone? That's been a freaking good treat--bites of steak AND chicken on one plate--and it will suck when it's gone.

I am trying to think of a way to get them to have steak more often.

I overheard the Woman talking about how her doctor said to have more protein before she works out...maybe that should be my angle. Technically any time after she works out is now the time before she works out, so she should totally eat steak as her protein.

Damn, I'm good. 

The Woman hijacks the blog: about the cost of the shirts...

Having been bitched up one wall and down another for the price of the t-shirts...look, I didn't set the price. Fifty bucks is about what it will cost me to order each shirt and ship it; it might be a little less but probably not more than $5 less.

I won't make a profit. I might even lose 50-75 cents after shipping. Not a big deal for a few shirts.

I put it out there because, when the picture of the one shirt was posted to FB, several people said they wanted one. If you don't want to pay fifty dollars for a shirt, that's fine; I can order 1 or 2 or 20 at a time, so those who do can still have one.

If you're offended by the price because you wanted one but can't afford it...I'm sorry. If I ever win the lottery there will be t-shirts for all (ok, don't hold me to that...t-shirts for the first 500, for sure. If I win over a million.) But the price is not up to me, I'm not trying to make anything off of them; it's just what they cost.

There's also no hurry. If you want one 6 months from now, I'll still be able to get it.

And really, when you drop a line to Max at his email address and tell him he should be ashamed of his Person...come on. Think before you hit Send. Really think about who actually gets that email.

~Thumper

It's a super soft version of me...

About a week ago the Woman posted this picture on Facebook...she had me put on a t-shirt--front and back--and it came out awesome.

A few people said they wanted one, too, so we're putting feelers out to see if people really want one or if it's just "oh hey, that's spiffy." Which is cool. But if you want one, we need to get an idea of how many people actually want one...because they're not cheap.

With having the shirt made, and then shipping, it's gonna cost about $50. That's a lot, I know. The upside is that the shirts are high quality and don't seem to fade at all--the Woman has like 60 shirts from this company and they're holding up really well. The downside to them is--and you can see it in the pits--is that because of the print process you get white lines in the armpits, but they don't show when you're wearing one.

Here are some possible shirts:
(ignore the arrows...it's a screen shot)

It takes about 6-7 weeks from the date of order to get the shirts in, and giving time for people to chime in and then order, you'd be looking at getting them toward the end of summer.

If you think there's a better than 50-50 chance you'll buy one, just leave a comment. Once we have a better idea how many people will want one, I'll get the Woman to create a way to order them, and she can do whatever she needs to.

Oh, and if you have an iPhone...you can custom order your own shirts with the SnapShirt app. It's pretty spiffy.

This is one the Woman made for herself using the artwork from one of her books. It came out way better than she hoped, and no one else in the world has one.

Clearly, the one with me on it is better...but I'm glad she got one she likes.

Hahahahaha lookit Max

The Mom had some chicken for lunch and Max sat there staring at it and at her and he waited and waited and waited until she was done and then she said "Ok" which means the kitties get a bite so he jumped down and went into the kitchen and we both got bites and all he really had to do was chill out like I did and he still would have gotten a bite and sometimes I think he works too hard to get the things he's gonna get anyway.

Copped from the Woman's blog from 2 years ago...

'Cause I was asked...

Memorial Day = honoring those who died in service to their country.
Veterans' Day = honoring those who served.
Armed Forces Day = honoring those currently serving.

Have a good one; have fun, enjoy the cookouts and the beer and party on...but take some time to remember what it took to have this holiday, and say a few words of appreciation for the men and women who made the lives we have in the U.S. possible.

Inhale deeply, doods

Inside this super slow hot thingy is some real live fresh dead chicken. And it's not for the people--it's for me! Well, for me and for Buddah.

I don't know why, but the Woman started doing this a couple of weeks ago, and she always has some real live fresh dead chicken all shredded in a bowl, and she's been giving it to us instead of crunchy treats.

Doods, I don't even mind.

CHICKEN ON DEMAND.

Well, almost on demand. I asked for some a little while ago and she said that it was too close to dinner. But tonight I get some for a treat, and tomorrow, and the next day. AND SHE'LL MAKE MORE!

The Man has been building things!

And clearly, he built this one for me.

I think I'm going to take my next nap here. Maybe up a level, where I can use the towels as a squishy, soft bed.

This is awesome!

Humans. Sheesh.

Okay. So this morning I woke the Woman up at 4:30. And then again at 5:30, 5:50, 6:15, 6:30, 6:45, 7:00, and 7:15. Then the Man came home to open a can for Buddah and me, so I ate and enjoyed it, and then went back into the bedroom, jumped up right by the Woman's pillow, curled up, and meowed every 27.492 seconds until she got up at 8:30.

As she got dressed, I curled up in the warm place her body had made on the bed, and she asked me why I wanted so badly for her to get up.

She's not very bright, is she?

I stayed on that spot until 2:15, snoozing and turning over every now and then. I heard people-stuff going on in the kitchen so decided it was time to get up and stretch and check it out, and you know what she did?

She pulled a giant container of real live fresh dead chicken from the fridge--she made a couple pieces in the What A Crock Pot last night without any non-kitty-friendly things in it--and without even asking she shredded some up and gave Buddah and me some fresh chickeny treats! Bonus: she heated mine up in the fast-cook box for 5 seconds so it was warm but not hot and smelled really, really good.

I'm not complaining, mind you. But I am suspicious. I mean, I kinda tossed her out of bed before she wanted to get up and then she turns around and gives me real food as a treat and not crunchy stuff (which would have been fine, you know) and then...THEN she opened the window so I could sniff the fresh air.

Oh yeah. With all the stuff that's been going on here--painting and stacks of boxes of things the Man is putting together (giant closets, I think)--she moved one of my perches right where I can curl up and look out the window.

It's not even my birthday yet.

And. AND. I heard her say there's real live fresh dead shrimp in the fridge, too, and if the Man will chop some up (she doesn't like touching it) I can have some of that later.

I tried to ask her if she was being nice because I'm sick or something but all she did was kiss me on top of the head and tell me I'm a good boy.

Yeah, she didn't think so at 4:30 this morning.

I'll take what I can get.

It was...a day.

I was not really surprised when I got up from my morning nap to find messy things such as this going on. The TV was pushed away from the wall, the chair practically in the kitchen, and the Supreme Commander Kitty Tower was gone.

Buddah came out, and immediately crouched down low and started slinking around, as if the people doing stupid things was something new.

I figured they'd get whatever it was done before dinner, and went back to take another nap. And a little while later I heard the Man bring Buddah to the back of the house, promise him it wouldn't be too long, and then the screen down in the hall squeaked shut.

Again...not a big deal. I'm used to these people.

And I was right; before dinner time the Man opened the screen door and said we could come out. Things were still in disarray, but the Woman was vacuuming the furniture off and the TV was back where it should be, and the Man re-hung the curtains that he washed.

Just before she opened a can for us, everything in the living room (but only there...somehow this required trashing every other room in the house) was in place and it looked all spiffy and bright.

Everything except her feet. Doods...she was wearing shoes and socks while she painted, so I have no idea how this happened.

But Buddah...it's been over 3 hours since we had dinner and the People stopped messing things up, but he's still acting like we're going to be forced into another M-word.

I should tell him he's moving, but the rest of us are staying here.

That would be mean, though, wouldn't it?

Heh.

Today is the Man's Birthday...

...and that means STEAK.

I got a bunch of bites, but ate most of them before the Woman could get her phone out to take a picture.

Birthdays also mean BOXES.

There were a bunch of boxes in the living room but they had presents in them, so Buddah was mostly looking forward to being able to have the biggest one. And it's a pretty big box; he could stretch out in it and there would still be a lot of room in it.

It was big because it had this in it:

It's a Klingon weapon. I think it also means DON'T TICK THE MAN OFF. It's all pointy. I fat, it's so pointy that he put it back in the foam container it was in until he can make a display space for it, a place Buddah and I won't accidentally jump onto and wind up surprised and 3 kinds of dead.

I think he had a good birthday. I can't be sure because the people were out all day, but they came home with a couple of plastic cups with Doctor Who stuff on them, so I'm guessing they were out having fun.

If they met the Doctor, though, I'll be 183 kinds of ticked off, and something of theirs will meet a toothy death.

This is sad, but a family needs help.

Doods. A couple of nights ago we sat here watching TV and playing online, and heard a soft pop-pop-pop off in the distance. Well, about 8 pops, and the Woman surmised it was either idiots with firecrackers or someone shot a gun. Just a few minutes later people were on a Facebook page where info from around our town is shared, and they already knew what it was: a teenager was shot while just hanging out in the park.

Cops got there quickly; EMS got there quickly. He was still alive when they rushed him to a hospital in Vacaville, about 10 minutes away...but he died when they got there.

He was only 17 years old.

He was murdered by a 16 year old.

This is a pretty small town. When the Woman walks around it, she can only go about 5 miles from the front door, loop around the entire place, and back. It's the kind of place where you don't necessarily know everyone, but you've seen most of them. The Woman didn't know this kid, but she's seen him around. She doesn't really know anything about him or his family, but she didn't remember him because he acted out of turn when she saw him. He was just a kid, being a kid.

He was just a boy in the park, hanging with his friends.

Now he's gone and his family has to pick up the pieces. Two kids' lives are ruined. Two families ripped apart. The friends who saw it happen will never be the same. The Woman said on FB that the one ripple in the pond is going to become a giant tsunami in their lives, and the first wave is that this boy's family needs money to bury their son.

The Woman gets leaky eyed at the thought: what if it was The Younger Human? How would life go on? How would it even be possible to get from morning to night time and then have trying to scrape up enough money to give him a proper final place to rest piled on top of that?

I've asked you guys for donations for stuff in the past, and there's almost always a fun bent to them: the Woman walking for something and dying her hair and wearing goofy clothes, the Younger Human jumping water while wearing a dress, and there are prizes and things to point at and laugh about.

This time I'm asking without offering anything other than my deepest, most sincere thanks. There's nothing to laugh about. No one to point at. Nothing I can give. Just my thanks.

If you can help at all, please go to the Go Fund Me page for Charlie Moore, Jr., and donate. Any amount will help.

Last night they started out asking for $3000 until it was pretty clear that was nowhere near enough. The goal now of $12,000, and the fund is, as I write this, a bit shy of half. I'm pretty sure they'll need even more than that, because things are always more expensive than the quotes. But just to get them to goal, that would warm my fuzzy heart a bit, and maybe the Woman would leak a little less.

Doods...he was only 17.

Damn.

Underappreciated. I iz.

I was very, very nice to the Woman and didn't wake her at all until 7:15 this morning. I also did not tell her that the Man was home and already fed me, but she kinda figured that out when I breathed into her face and she could smell the stinky goodness. Did she appreciate the fact that I didn't wake her at 3:30 or 4:30 or 5:30? Or that I woke her before she wet the bed, because she obviously had to go as evidenced by her getting up and going into the giant litterbox room? No. Not one iota of thanks. Well, she gave me a couple head skritches but that was it. Sheesh.

I've been writing a lot of poetry lately, because sometimes my thinks are just farking poetic and should be shared with the world some day, and I'm really tempted to write an epic one about her not appreciating me as much as she should. I'll title it Well, Yeah My Breath Stinks, But So Do You.

Win the damned Nobel Prize with that one, for sure.

Max's Totally Awesome Very Good Day

Hello.

"Every morning, Max," she said. "Every morning, between 5:15 and 5:30. Meow meow meow meow. It's getting old, dood."

Why is she not happy? I used to sing out at 4:30. I GAVE HER AN HOUR. Cripes.

In other news, there's a Doctor Who marathon on today, so I can be pretty sure she won't go anywhere, which means she'll have a ham sandwich for lunch, which means I get Doctor Who all day AND ham!

Oh! And in other other news, not even on Facebook, my day was capped off with STEAK! I got ham, for lunch, Doctor Who all day, and STEAK!

It's not even my birthday yet.

Damn, I'm nice...

Yeah, she was buzzed...

Ok. So yesterday the People fed us dinner 2 hours early and then left to go eat meaty things with the Younger Human. And that was all right, because it was his birthday. It was not all right when they didn't get home until late night snack time, because I had dinner early and was 2 hours hungrier.

Then the Man stayed up really late, as he does once a week, and because the Woman had had several stupid drinks with her dinner, he fed us at 4 this morning, and then asked that we not wake her up at 5 like I have been lately. I agreed, this sounded reasonable.

So I waited and woke her up at 5:30. And then at 6. And 6:30. And the last time at 7, when it was food o'clock.

See? I am a considerate kitty. Truly.

.

Where Have I Been This Time?

I know, I know; I'm a bad blogger. Most days there's just not a lot to write about, because I spend a good part of my days doing the same things: bug the Woman for food, nap, bug the Woman to help me write, bug her for food, nap, poop, repeat. It just seems like every time I sit down to blog I'm repeating things I'v said a dozen times, so I go eat something and take another nap.

But yesterday I did something totally out of the realm of normal. I've been telling Weezer for about 2 years now that I would take her out for a date on the second Tuesday of next week, and even though yesterday was the first Tuesday, I decided what the hell. She was never going to stop pestering me, so I took her out to enjoy a movie and some popcorn, and then dinner after.

And guys. She's really special. She didn't bug the crap out of me during the movie and even offered to pick up the tab at dinner, she told a lot of funny jokes, and she thinks Buddah is a sandwich and a half away from a full picnic, too.

There is no letting a girl like that get away. So I borrowed the Woman's topless car and we drove 3 hours to Nevada, where I paid an Elvis impersonating minister to officiate at our wedding.

I'm a married man now, doods.

We haven't worked out the living arrangements yet, but I'm pretty sure she's going to come here since I really don't like going outside.

We'll have a housewarming party soon. I'll let you know the details when we decide.