Sunday, February 8, 2009

MY pillow.

Have I ever mentioned that I LOVE sitting on things? It's my hobby, and I'm quite good at it. One of my top sitting locales is the pillow at the head of my bed. The Tall Ones like to think that they deserve two pillows a piece, but the way I see it, I let them have the entire bed and they owe me the use of one pillow for all of the things I put up with around here.

Sometimes I wake up from this roost and a hand is petting me. I like this. Sometimes the hand is resting on top of me. I don't mind this. Sometimes the Tall One on my side of the bed scoots up and manages to cover half of me with her pillow. I dislike this. But I usually tolerate it.

Last night, however, I was pushed too far with this pillow piling and was immediately moved to protest by way of vomiting. A Tall One, jerked awake by my gag sounds, quickly removed her own pillow from the path of my projectile puke, inadvertently whapping the other Tall One in the face. She woke up, confused, just in time to witness my final heave, which left a pile of partially digested Purina inches from their heads. It was beautiful.

I jumped to the floor, and after one more yak on the carpet (cleverly laid on the path from the bed to the restroom), I paused to view the aftermath of my retaliation. The look on their delirious, nauseated faces was pure satisfaction.

Needless to say, I look forward to being left alone to sit on my pillow in comfort tonight.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Everything I Need to Know, I've Learned from Buddah

The quality of life depends not upon external development or material progress, but upon the inner development of peace and happiness.

If we integrate Buddha’s teachings into our daily life we will be able to solve all our inner problems and attain a truly peaceful mind. Without inner peace, outer peace is impossible.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Fuck Off, Poodle!

Sometimes it's hard being the only one with any intelligence around here. I am patient as can be, usually, but sometimes I just can't handle the pressure of being surrounded by pushy bastards (cats and Tall Ones alike). 

Beware, bastards! This is only a small taste of my wrath should your incessant neediness continue:

Sunday, January 4, 2009

What Belly-Dangle?

I was born small and cute and taut, like all kittens. But after the trauma of having my girlparts yanked without my consent, my belly has never behaved properly. The Tall Ones call this procedure "getting fixed." I'd like to "fix" them. 

My belly skin hangs and wobbles, like a pregnant woman after giving birth, but I've never had kittens. When I run, it rhythmically flops from side to side beneath me. When I lay on the arm of the couch, it mashes out to one side or another, never opting to hide it self beneath me. 

Here it is, in all of its glory.

I wrestled with this shortcoming for years, but I'm here to tell you now: Whatever. If you don't like it, scoop my litter box. I'm here. I have a belly-dangle. Get used to it.

Here is some helpful advice for the feline ladies with similar belly issues: "Even overweight, cats instinctively know the cardinal rule: when fat, arrange yourself in slim poses." --John Weitz
Let me demonstrate. Here is me laying on the couch arm, belly dangle mashed out to the left:

However, I had carefully positioned myself so that the majority of cats and Tall Ones entering the space will see me from the right side. From this angle...What belly dangle? 

Oh, and apologies for the blurry photo. The Tall One's camera is slow at capturing my beauty, and I quickly grow weary of posing in one position for too long.

Another helpful hint: Stretch A LOT. When you are stretching, the dangly parts stretch out too, giving a slimming appearance. 

Unfortunately, reader, I am tired of this line of conversation and must now groom myself. Ta.

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Now We're Talking.

The Dude, my housemate cat, (also called "Asshole" by the tall ones) was sniffing around in their stuff last night and found this super sweet package of mice. The best part is the cardboard! They took one off for me to play with, but I prefer the wrapping. I guess I did get a Christmas gift after all. Next year, we'll work on that huge cat tower I have been hinting around about.

Here is a sweet video of me showing off my mouse hunting skills last night. As you can see, I am still in my prime and totally capable of catching the real thing. If I wanted to.


A pet care manual says: 
"Don't be alarmed when your cats bring you gifts of birds, mice, or other wild critters. This is a natural part of their gift ritual, and they do it to please you."
Reader, although this is a terribly crude interpretation of our cultural traditions, it is true that I have brought the tall ones many gifts over the years. This Christmas, I thought it fair that in return, I should be able to pick my own gift from beneath the tree. 

With careful analysis of the shape and smell of each package, I made my choice. It is only a coincidence that it is the largest gift beneath the tree. I hoped that they might throw in the card as well (it reeks of massage oil, and I could really use a spa day).

I am a patient cat, but I soon tired of waiting for the tall ones to notice me. Insulted, I took my leave.

I shouldn't be so hard on the tall ones. It isn't their fault they don't know how to speak properly, so how could they have understood even my most clear message? I decided to be the bigger cat, and brushed this one off. 

But just for good measure I vomited on their bed later that night.