Ok, so I wasn't TOO neglected...

Good or bad, I wasn't as neglected as expected because the Woman came home a lot earlier than anyone expected, especially her. She drove all the way to San Francisco and checked into a hotel and met some pink people and had dinner with DKM, and then had to come home the next day. She didn't even get to walk for boobies.

Nope, not one step. Apparently she had issues of the litterbox variety, and didn't want to...you know...in front of a thousand other people.

So she came home and made a lap for me, and we watched stuff that she recorded on the DVR. Which for me is a good thing because I like watching TV from her lap. It's nice and warm and squishy, like a lap should be.

The problem was that we watched the last two episodes of Under the Dome, and guys...that was a so-so show with a WTF ending, and it really pissed us both off.

I needed her to make that up to me so tonight we're watching an old episode of Doctor Who, and that is much, much better. It's been so long since I've seen it that I'm all like OMG WHAT'S HAPPENING?!?! and that's exactly how good TV should be.

It's also distracting her from her boobie walk disappointment. I dunno why she's not happy, I mean she gave money for the boobies and it only means she didn't have to walk all those miles and sweat so much, and doods, let me tell you, she doesn't smell good after that.

Well, she doesn't smell very good most of the time, but after sweating. Yeah. Gross.

I will be neglected all weekend. Again.

The Woman, as she does a couple times a year, with intent to throw my routine into chaos, is running off to The Big City to do another of those boobie walks.

For the whole weekend.

While this is all well and good for the boobies, for me it means relying on the Man to open cans, and he doesn't always open them at the right time. AND he skips the late night snack because of "work."

I knew it was coming up when she painted her head all pink again (and I'm really getting tired of that shirt. She wears that shirt all.the.time) but I thought I might have another weekend or so.

She really should consider how this impacts me.

And holy carp, look how big her forehead is in that picture. That's freaking huge. It must be all that internal hot air... I think the dye trapped it in.

Spiffy!

Almost a week ago the People went out in the morning, and when they came back the Woman said she bought something for me...but then didn't give it to me. I spent a lot of time wondering what it was. Food? Toys? Crunchies? WHAT IS IT?

But then she didn't give it to me and I kind of forgot about it, until last night when she unzipped the bag it was in and spread it out.

It's a brand new fuzzy blanket to replace the fuzzy blankets that she got rid of because they were too gnarly to clean!

AND IT'S A 49ERS BLANKET!

It's going to live in the nook by the fireplace where I like to lounge and nap during winter. I bake by the fire, then go curl up on the fuzzy blanket to snooze for a while, and then get up and do it again.

She put a new bed in there, but I didn't like it as much as I did the fuzzy blanket. The bed is still there, but she folded the new blanket up and set it on top, so I should be nice and comfy.

Now...winter needs to get here. I have some baking to do.

:::rolls eyes:::

He thinks he's King of the Pillows

I'm going to let him keep thinking that, because he's getting fur all over them AND he's getting his butt all over them, and at night the Woman has been known to plant her face into them. So it amuses me. But the only royal thing he really is is a pain...

OH COME ON!

Tonight, I was sitting on the arm of the sofa, enjoying the nice breeze coming in through the open window, when the Woman walked in. This is nothing unusual and I expected her to be there soon, since she had only gotten up a few minutes ago to visit the giant litterbox room, and I was contemplating that upon her return I would sit in her lap and allow her a few minutes of me.

Well. Buddah came in first, and when she followed she reached down and patted him on the head and said, "Hey there, Buddy."

Buddy.

THAT'S **MY** UNWANTED NAME!!!

He is LITTLE MAN or SPAZ or even one of those gag me names like SWEETYKINS, but he is NOT Buddy.

I am deeply offended.

Seriously. So I only sat in her lap for like 3 minutes, long enough to roll onto the laptop keyboard and screw up her game of Bookworm.

Let's hear her call him by the nickname I hate again...

Dood totally deserved it!

Ok, once upon a time the people bought a pet stroller with the intent to take me outside. I only have to suffer in it once, because they got it when there were lots of fires north of the area we lived and the air was filled with smoke. They were at least that considerate, and took me back inside...and I think they pretty much forgot we had one (DO NOT remind them...it lives in the rumbly bike room now.)

If they ever try to take me out in it again, I'm doing what this kitty did.


Oh yeah, dood totally deserved it.

I have a new name tonight

Seriously.

The Woman calls us by all kinds of different names and most of them make me gag because they're so...sweet.

Do I look cranky...?

But tonight she bestowed a new one on me, all because I growled at her when she told me I couldn't help Buddah finish his snack.

"Back off, Captain Crankypants. I'm bigger than you are and I'm not letting you take his food."

Well.

I'm not sure I like that.

Not at all.

DOODSDOODSDOODSDOODS!!! LOOK!!!

Tonight while I was looking out the back window and enjoying the nice breeze that was blowing in, the Man and the Woman came into the living room, and she sat down on the sofa--which she never does--and said, "Max, come see!"

So I went and saw and SHE HAD TWINKIES!!!

After she opened the box she let me sniff...holy carp, doods, it smelled like AWESOME and SPIFFY! The only problem was that I could not just reach in and grab one, so I had to rely on her opposable thumbs and hope that she wouldn't rip one open, only let me sniff, and then shove it into her own mouth.

She really did it, guys. She got one, took the plastic skin off, and then ripped it open so that I could get to the silky smooth white guts inside.

Buddah wandered up to see what was going on and when he did he wanted some, too. And doods, I had no problem with that. There was more than enough Twinkie to go around. Besides, I HAVE A WHOLE BOX. I might even let the Woman have one.

The Woman got smart...she ripped it open the long way so that we could slurp up the innards. Wonderful, creamy innards.

Last bite. We nommed that thing to death.

I'm not sure when I get my next one, but I can be patient. Besides, I saw where the Woman put the box and I can get to it, and since it's now open...let's just say I have no problem with tearing the skin off a Twinkie with my bare teeth. So there might be some hunting going on tonight after the People go to bed.

I GOT TWINKIES!!!

Word has gotten out, doods

Yep. The world knows I enjoy a really good poop. And that I am discriminating about the litter I use. I've always been a Tidy Cats man, though I've been willing to entertain the idea of another brand. Sometimes (like, not often) I'll use it, most of the time I won't.

But when Tidy Cats emailed and said they wanted me to try one of their new litters, it was a no-brainer. I freaking love Tidy Cats. Now, granted, I was a little skeptical because I really don't want any change to my beloved kitty litter, but I had to try it.

It even came in a special box.

I was. I was prepared to be amazed!

I didn't try to lift it, but the Woman did and she didn't even grunt!

Okay. A sticky person. I wasn't too sure about that. I don't take things from sticky people as a rule, because, you know, they're sticky. And they touch things. Like my tail. I did entertain the idea that perhaps the litter is composed of ground up sticky people, but even I don't think I'd like that. Because...gross.

Now, this is the new thing. The container is super lightweight. The whole thing weighed less than 9 pounds, which the Woman says is a spiffy thing when you're hauling those suckers out of the store and then out of the car, and especially when you're trying to pour it into the box with feline help.

This gives you an idea. The one on the left is the new stuff. On the right, my tried and true Tidy Cats. It weighs 20 pounds, and is only slightly bigger than the lightweight stuff.

Now, lightweight is all well and good, and frankly I'm tired of hearing the Woman whine about having to lift the litter to pour it out and how much her back hurts, but what counts is how it works.

And doods...it works just as well as the stuff I've used all my life. It filled the box the same, it clumps and scoops the same. It's just as good, just not as heavy. So this means no more excuses from the whiny people when it's time to change the litter (and I dunno about you, but I like having all fresh litter a lot more frequently than the people like changing it.)

There was only one drawback to it, and that was the Woman's issue: it's kind of perfumey. She does not breathe well around perfume-type things, and didn't like how it smelled, but she also says it wouldn't stop her from buying it. She'll just hold her breath when pouring it out and she didn't think it was overwhelming after we used it. If your person doesn't have a reactive airway or asthma, the perfuminess probably won't bother them.

So...I really like this stuff. It's familiar, works really well, and now I can tell the Woman to stop whining. This isn't going to hurt her back. All four paws up for this one...but don't touch my tummy while I'm sticking 'em up, or I will treat your hand to a toothy death.

She says I'm not helping

I think I am. 

I mean, I'm even scrolling the screen for her.

If she doesn't like it, she needs to learn to read faster.

Doods, I am sad, but also kinda celebrating

This dood.
Homer the Blind Wondercat.

I never met him and I doubt he knew I existed, but I admired the frak out of him, and I am very sad to hear that on Wednesday his people had to help him to the Bridge. It wasn't exactly unexpected because he'd been declining a bit lately, but still. Knowing the world is without one of the coolest cats ever bites a bit.

If you haven't read his book yet--well, the book about him--you really need to. The things this guy lived through and the things he did (like 9-11, and chasing a freaking burglar out of the house. A FREAKING BURGLAR!) are just a testament to his awesomeness.

And deep down I think that just by being himself, and that his people were generous enough to share his story, he made life a little easier for a whole lot of black cats that might have been overlooked in shelters but people who read about him decided black cats were all right after all, and he for sure made more people sit up and take notice of the fact that just because a kitty is blind that doesn't mean he needs to be put down.

His life was testament to the wonder of blind kitties and the natural abilities they can have, and their deserved place in this world. His story surely saved a lot of furry little lives.

I don't like that he's no longer somewhere on this earth, being awesome. But I also celebrate that we got to know him at all, and that he leaves a legacy that will go on and on and on. And I really celebrate that he's at the Bridge, where he can see if he wants, or not if he wants.

Homer, my man, thanks for all you did in this world. I hope that when I get there, I can give you a hearty paw-bump and a totally manly hug, because I admire the snot out of you.

I defy you to not watch this guy for a full minute...

Boing boing boing boing boing boing boing...

You know what's mean?

I'm gonna tell you what's mean.

Mean is frying up a giant pan full of sausage for pizza and telling the kitty, "No, not yours."

Mean is putting it on a plate covered with paper towels to soak up the grease and taking a piece for yourself, and then telling the kitty, "Sorry bud, you can't have any."

Mean is sticking that plate in the microwave so the kitty has NO CHANCE to get a bit while it sits on the counter to cool.

THAT'S WHAT'S MEAN.

It's World Cat Day

Why are you not worshiping me?

:::DRUMROLL:::

And the comment number picked is #16.

If I counted right, that means the Island Cats will get the chance to try World's Best Cat Litter!

Doods, drop me a note at psychokitty at gmail dot com with your shipping address, or send me a PM at Facebook. I'll pass your address on to the WBCL people and they'll send you some!

I got to try some litter for free!

Buddah had to get up close and personal

Yep, the doods at World’s Best Cat  Litter emailed with an offer to give some of their litter a try; at first I was like, Ummmmmm, because I’ve tried new litters before and it hasn’t gone well, but after some consideration I decided what the heck. Why not? And there was always the chance that even if I didn’t like it, Buddah would.

So once the litter arrived, the Woman dutifully mixed a little in with my normal litter; it was good timing because that was right about the time the People decided I needed a way bigger box to accommodate my incredible quantity of awesome, so she the old box with the mixed litter close to the new box with my regular litter.

Well. You can kind of guess how it went. I do not like change, not at all. So here I was with my old box with new stuff in it, and the old stuff in a new box, and doods, WHERE WAS I GOING TO PEE? I wanted my old box with my old litter in the usual spot where I would probably wind up with my butt hanging over the edge of the box and peeing on the floor THE WAY GOD INTENDED.

Pick? HOW CAN I PICK??!?!

I did not know what to do*, and the Woman was all, “Oh just pick one” and Buddah was like “Wheeee!” because he’s not always all there, you know.

He freaking PLAYED with the new litter at first. Don’t ask me why, I have no idea. But after he decided it wasn’t the World’s Best TOY he decided to pee in it. And then he declared it Perfectly Acceptable, though there was a little disappointment in that he didn’t track it all through the house after he got out.

Yeah, it doesn’t dust up in an aromatic cloud of Eau de Litter the way we wanted.

Well…I couldn’t let Buddah Pest have all the glory. While I was using the new box and found it quite roomy, I decided I better give the World’s Best Litter a fair shake...so when I thought no one was looking, I climbed into the old little box and gave it a whiz. But…it turned out someone was looking and the Man totally caught me using it.

And then I used it again.

And again.

Look closely...see my artwork on top?

Doods, this litter is pretty freaking sweet. I mean, it’s not perfect. I enjoy tracking my litter out of the box and leaving piles of it in the laundry room, up the hall, and then on the coffee table or fake fireplace where I go the wipe the last of it off my feet. This not only assures I have clean tootsies, but it gives the Woman something to complain about and then clean up. And trust me, people love to be needed, and cleaning up after me? She needs that. She even says so while she’s doing it. “Oh thanks, like I needed to get up and wipe your paw prints up.”

See?

In the box, the litter works just fine. I even managed a good, hard power-whiz and it didn’t break into tiny flacks that splattered up onto the wall. Trust me, I tried. It just clumped the way litter should clump, and when the Woman went to scoop she said it cleans out of the box really easy. And easy is important when your people are basically lazy. Which means…most people need it to be easy.

One of the things I worried about when I said I would try it was the smell. The Woman has scent-induced reactive airway issues; perfumes and the like make her cough, and then make it hard for her to breath, so this was a concern. After all, it does me no good if she ends up passing out because she can’t breathe. She passes out, and there’s no one there to open cans of gooshy food for me until the Man wakes up. But this stuff doesn’t have a really strong odor, even after some Max-sized deposits are made onto it.

All in all, I give it two paws up.

Now here’s the thing you might like. I can have them send a bag to someone. So the fair way to do it is for you to leave a comment—it can be about anything, say you want to win, or you think I’m pretty; anything nice—and on Saturday I’ll count the number of comments and run the numbers through a random generator; whoever’s comment falls under the generated number will win a bag of World’s Best Kitty Litter. Be sure I’ll be able to contact you to get your snail mail address, and that you’re cool with me passing it on to the Litter People.

*Yeah…I was supposed to review this by July 22^nd, but that’s how long it took me to get with the program and use it long enough to give it a fair review. IT’S NOT MY FAULT! I’M PARTICULAR!

Can't even enjoy a box in peace...

See? SEE?
=sigh=

Is that...a dog food can???

Man, that kitty better have gotten some premium stinky goodness after that...

She's not the brightest bulb in the pack

I know the Woman's morning routine, in what order she should do things, and I make sure she gets them done. When she finally gets her asterisk out of bed I lead her to the giant litterbox room, march her to her special litterbox, then while she does her business I jump up next to the sink and stare at the box on the wall where she stores her drugs.

After she dopes up, I get down and lead her into the kitchen so that she remembers to get a drink, because she has issues with drink things, and she needs to have something first thing. After that, my job is done; I munch a little dry food, and then go take a nap.

Now, half the week, things are turned a little upside down because the Man stays out all night passing gas, and when he comes home he feeds us. When he stays home at night, it's a crap shoot about who will get up and open cans. Buddah has gotten really good at getting the Man up at Open A Can time, but sometimes we get the Woman up. She stumbles out, opens a can, and stumbles back to bed. I know that when that happens, I don't need to lead her to her drugs, because it's not time for them.

But this morning it was like it just occurred to her how much I really do. She figured out a long time ago that I make sure she gets things done in the right order, but it just now occurred to her that my job begins before she's even awake. This morning was one of the mornings the Man feeds us; after he did that and fed himself he went to bed, and then I waited the right amount of time before pushing the bedroom door open before jumping up on the bed to wake her up.

When I meowed she rolled over, sighed, and guessed the time. Like I was supposed to be impressed that she knew that without looking at the clock. But then she looked at me and said, "You're pretty good at coming in here within the same ten minute time frame every morning, Big Guy."

Looking down at her lazy asterisk...

As she sat up she added, "Hell, even if I get up to feed you, you still come back at the right time to get me up."

Duh.

While I waited on the counter near her drugs, she kept yammering on. "Okay, so how do you know when to not wake me up? Because you do that, if I'm sick you let me sleep. How do you know?"

You stink when you're sick, that's how.

"And how did you figure out that when I do get up to feed you that I'm going right back to bed and not taking my meds, hmm?"

Because you're lazy and predictable, that's how.

"I'm not sure what I would do without you, furball."

Probably forget to pee.

You'd think that with all the work I do to make sure she does what she's supposed to when she's supposed to, I'd get a pay raise or at least get to spend my own money, but no. All I get is a skrtich on the top of my head.

But she noticed, so I guess that's something.

I've been blog-blocked the last few days

Seriously blog blocked. And today is no different; I woke up this morning and had nothing of importance to talk about, but then I went on Facebook and my heart broke.

I really, really like this picture of him...I stole it from his Facebook page.

Some of you guys know Wendell; he used to blog, but the last couple of years he was mostly on Facebook, where he routinely made me snort crap out my nose laughing at the things he posted. He was freaking funny and could out-snark me on even his bad days.

He's had a very hard time of it lately, not feeling well, fighting hard against Teh Diuhbeeteez, and not always winning. The fight got to be 159 kinds of hard and he was feeling miserable and sad, so his mom Carli took him to the stabby place and let him go. She's been fighting hard for him, too, but it was time.

Doods, you have no idea how hard that was for her. Wendell was THAT special. It was just so hard, even though it was exactly what he needed.

If I was going through what he did, it's what I would want for me, too. Now, I believe in the Bridge and all the wonderful things there for me, but Wendell wasn't so sure, and I think that's okay. We're cats; we love a good nap, and if that's what we get, it'll be one glorious nap. But my heart tells me I'll get to see Wendell on the flipside, and when I go, doods, I am going to high five him because he was just that awesome.

Wendell, my man....BRUCE lol...I'm gonna miss you. A lot. You da man, my friend. You da man...