Tag: friend

Look What The Cat Dragged Home

I’ve been trying to be less of an Introvert lately.  You know, like visiting people and …… well, visiting people.  It’s not really working out for me because the first person to come for a visit wouldn’t leave when I was done visiting.

I should have known better when he came to the front door bearing a big-assed can of coffee.  I was so focused on being appreciative that I never thought about the ironic consequences.  I don’t even know him – Izzie broke into his house and refused to leave until he gave her treats – but I, personally, don’t know him any further than my apology regarding The Queen of Mean’s home invasion.  I’ve only spoken to him once and couldn’t even remember his name.  It’s Peter – I had to ask.

Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t have invited him in the house, but it was cold outside and I’m a responsible user of utilities.  And the coffee; how do you deny a guest coffee when he brings it as a gift? We were at that awkward point where you either invite him in or slam the door in his face and I couldn’t do that because coffee(!) and my fucking cat invaded his home!  Had I known we would be trading Home Invasions, I might not have accepted the gift or extended the welcome quite so fast.

Once inside, I gave Peter a cup of coffee and set a new pot to brew.  The Viking was busy hanging a television on the wall in the bedroom, but he popped out to chat for a bit.  After 45 minutes or so he went back to his job, leaving me alone with Peter.  To entertain him.  All by myself.  She’s not just my cat, you know, Viking!  And speaking of the cat, she just curled up on the side board behind Peter’s back and had a nap.  That’s the thanks I get around here.

I filled Peter’s coffee cup 5 times.  By then, I was just listening without responding (aka encouraging).  The Viking went out to blow the snow off the sidewalks around the entire block and came back home and Peter was still here.  I stood up and started to putter around the kitchen, putting things in the dishwasher, tidying up, that sort of thing and Peter still sat at the table.

via GIPHY

I stopped the refills after the 6th cup.  I was starting to get the feeling that he might be moving in and the coffee was a House Warming gift for us.  He said his house had finally sold and made a point of letting me know he was between residences.  “We have a tiny house, Peter, and you are a big guy!  AND we only have one bathroom!” 

This is the reason I’m an Introvert in the first place, Peter!!!  It doesn’t feel good, it feels like we’re hostages without a ransom demand.  Fucking Izzie!

He wouldn’t even use the bathroom, so I could escape to the garage and barricade us in with a snowmobile.

He must have some sort of space age-y bladder that can hold more than 6 cups of coffee for an insane amount of time.  I considered sneaking my cellphone into the bathroom and calling 911 – Help!  We’re being held hostage by our cat’s home invasion victim!  That would never work anyway because there is no law about how long a guest can stay unless it becomes a Squatter Violation but that takes months!

In the meantime, he’s going on and on about his failed marriage 11 years ago and how much money it cost him and why the political system was the foundation upon which his divorce was built on.

via GIPHY

I realize that he just wanted someone to talk too but I ran out of patience 2 hours ago.  Besides, I’m not even a friend!  I’m just a woman whose cat burglarized his house!

I put the cream back in the fridge after three and a half hours, put his cup in the dishwasher, turned the lights on and said, “Wow!  It’s getting late.”

via GIPHY

I took a moment to wonder if I’m just being selfish, but then I looked at the clock and decided, “Fuck that!!  My entire afternoon is gone! And just because Izzie held him hostage doesn’t mean he can hold us hostage or think he can move in with us – two wrongs don’t make a right, Peter!

The marathon finally ended after 4 hours and 49 minutes – just shy of the 5 hours Izzie held him hostage.  I locked the front door behind him and sagged onto the closest chair.

via GIPHY

Izzie wandered past without looking at me.  “No more dragging humans home!  If you must be a burglar, make sure you aren’t followed.  Seriously.  Do I have to make you watch Gone In 60 Seconds?”

I’m just going to chalk this up to bad luck and a learning exercise.  First things first – I need a front door with a one-way mirror in it and a trap door for those who make it past the front door before showing their true colors.  And then I’ll just go to the visitor instead of them coming to me.*

 

*This does not apply to my 4 top friends.  You can still come for coffee any time for as long as you want.  I’ll make a blanket tent in the family room and have a bowl of Jell-o powder so we can lick our fingers and stick it in the powder (don’t knock it until you’ve tried it).  Sure, it will stain your finger but how important is that compared to the fun?!  Right Judy?

Izzie – Hell In A Hand Basket

Well, shit just went right off the rails and I’m not happy about it!  A cat’s house is supposed to be her castle.  Everyone knows you don’t just let any Tom, Dick or Harry into the castle.  Just ask Rapunzel.  That’s a universal law, isn’t it?  As a matter of fact, I think the 10 Commandments covered this situation – ‘Thou shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Cat’.

And what did I find when I came home after my morning tour of the Neighborhood?  A cat!  Even worse – The Viking petting the cat!!  Not cool, man!

And then Teddy showed up and he was like “Hey!  A cat!  What does his ass smell like?”

Am I in Bizzaro World?  Has everyone lost their damned minds?  We don’t need anymore cats!  I am more than enough for any one household.  Don’t I give you enough loves?  Don’t I sleep in bed with you?  Don’t I eat enough?

Of course I’m enough for you.  I accepted Teddy – reluctantly, yes – but I draw the line at any more cats.  This is my claw-mark in the sand!

If you prick us, do we not bleed?  If you tickle us, do we not laugh?  If you poison us, do we not die?  And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

I cursed Teddy for the Traitor he is.  Instead of standing in solidarity with me, he watched the One Cat Show.  It was pathetic, really.  It rolled around and around on the cement like a man-hussy!  No one needs to see such a ridiculous display to get more attention.  I levelled a couple of insults in his direction but he’s as receptive as Teddy to sarcasm, which is to say I’m wasting my talents on them.

It turns out that this interloper is called Charlie; The Viking checked the tag on his collar.

At one point he even tried to walk into the damned house!  Luckily Mom blocked the way.  The Viking is dead to me now, but at least Mom kept her integrity.  She didn’t fall for this disgusting display of blatant slut-iness.

Apparently his owners moved into the house next door despite my wishes to the contrary.  So he’ll be hanging around like a bad smell.  And I suppose Teddy will befriend it because that’s what Teddy does.  He’ll fall for anything if there’s a chin scratch involved.

Later, The Viking came in the house and tried to give me loves.  “Not today, Traitor!”  You’re unclean now.  This whole place has gone to hell in a hand basket!

What’s next?  Sleepovers?  Birthday parties?  Split holidays – one year at the neighbour’s one year with us?  Sweet Geezus!! What if they dress us up in matching costumes and parade us around the block?  Hallowe’en is coming, after all.  Gawd!

Well, there’s one cat here that won’t be taking part in any of that tomcatfoolery!  I have dignity.  I’m a lady!  

And why am I the one who has to monitor these things?  Isn’t there like a Feline Occupancy Law regarding how many cats are allowed in any one neighborhood?  The next time I see a By-Law Enforcement Officer, I’m going to lodge a firm and articulate complaint.

In the meantime, I will be watching The Viking very carefully to make sure he doesn’t get too attached to Charlie.

 

PS:  Sharing is caring.

 

 

Izzie – Making Friends One Bitch-Slap At A Time

Shit!  I’ve been outed!

Last night, Mom called for Teddy and I to come home.  She does it every night and most of the time we comply.  Every once in a while though, we are in the middle of something and we just can’t make it home.  She locks us out and we can’t get in to eat and poop until morning but that’s a price we’re willing to pay.  Sometimes.

Last night she called us a few times.  And then Peter – that dirty, rotten stool pidgeon – calls back to Mom….

“Are you calling for a little black cat?”

Mom:  Yes.  Have you seen her?

Man:  I see her all the time.

Mom:  Really?

Man:  Sure.  She’s a beauty.

Mom (incredulous):  Hasn’t she swatted at you?

Man:  Oh sure!  She swats at me all the time!  But I have bird feeders and she likes to lay under a tree and watch them.  She never catches them though.  They are too smart for her.

Mom had walked down the sidewalk by now and could see the guy that she was talking to0.  He was watering his lawn.

Mom:  Wow!  I had no idea!

Man:  She has a pretty bell and tag so I was sure someone loved her.

Mom:  Yes, we do.  I’m just surprised that she’s made friends with you.  She hates everyone.

Man:  She was in my basement day before yesterday.

Mom:  WHAT?!  She was in your basement?

Man:  She somehow got the screen off the basement window and was sitting on my washing machine.

Mom:  Oh my Gawd!  I am so sorry!

Man:  No worries!  I just let her out the front door when she was ready.  I saw her a while ago, really early in the morning, like 5:30 or something and she was hanging around my front door.

Mom:  That dirty cat!!  She wouldn’t come home so she had to stay out all night.  But that only happens once in a blue moon.

Man:  I was pretty sure that was the case but I went and bought some cat food and I put it out for her now.

Mom:  Wow!  Thank you for looking out for her, even though she tries to kill you a lot.

Man (laughing):  No worries.

Mom:  I’m Lori, by the way.  I live in that house there.

Man:  I’m Peter.  Nice to meet you Lori.  Don’t worry about Izzie.  I keep an eye out for her.

Mom:  Nice to meet you too Peter.  Stop by some time for a coffee.  We run a business out of our home so we’re home all the time.

Peter:  Thanks.  I always have coffee on too.

Mom:  Well, I hope to meet you in the daylight sometime.

Peter (laughing):  Same here.  Oh, there she is!  Good night.

So!  Now she knows!  She told The Viking all about it and he started laughing like an idiot.

They think they’re so smart!  Ross, the guy across the back alley, tattled on me for taunting his dumb dogs and now when they start barking Mom hollers “Izzie!  Leave those dogs alone!”  Ross wanted to be friends but I nipped that in the bud with a good Saa-lap!  I’m only here to bully your dogs!

But then, my collar got caught on the fence and my beautiful beads snapped apart.  Ross brought them to Mom as proof and now I have to wear my baby collar and it’s hideous.

Then there’s RJ and Stephanie who live next door; they are okay I suppose. I like to run through their sprinkler when RJ is watering his lawn.  It’s best when I get really wet and then come home and walk all over Mom’s paperwork.  She loves it.  And again, RJ wanted to be friends but I gave him a Saa-lap! too.  I’m only interested in getting on your garage roof so I can bully the neighbor’s cat!  His kids are a different matter.  I kind of like short people; they don’t tower over me so much.

On the other side of RJ is a guy who wanted to be friends.  Saa-Lap!  I’m only interested in bullying your ginger cat!  The guy told The Viking that I was a bitch.  Me!  A bitch!  Asshole.  Apparently they like Teddy but Teddy won’t get anywhere near other people.

My point here is that I don’t mind people if they just let me do my thing. And once Mom finds out what I like doing, she suddenly doesn’t want me doing them.  So, now I will have to be super vigilant so she doesn’t find any of my other hang-outs.  A girl needs her own places, you know.

Oh!  A Happy Black Cat Appreciation Day!  Go ahead and appreciate me.

 

Help a starving author and share.

 

 

Sarcasm, Belligerence or Condescension

Hi!  It’s so nice to see you, especially since you came to the Back Door – I’ll explain that in a minute.  Here’s a mug, coffee is in the thermos and you already know where to find the treats.  It’s not like it’s the first time you’re here.  You are family now.  You’re lucky I don’t assign a chore.

Yes, that was a joke.  I would never force you to work for your coffee because that would be wrong and I hate having chores when I visit one of you.

So, I’ve had to answer my front door 3 times this week.  3 times!  And I always approach the Front Door Summons with some trepidation because there are a finite number of things that happen at my Front Door and not all of them are pleasant.  And rarely is it a friend.

Everyone I know comes to the Back Door.  You do.  You knock once, come on in and yell, in a very high voice, “HELLOOOOO”.  I had a weirdo friend once that wanted everyone to use the Front Door all the time.  I had to stop visiting her because who knows what other kinds of horrible things she’s got going on?  What was she hiding in her back entry?  Did she have small children chained to the wall or something?  Who knows?  No one was allowed to go back there!

And a Summons from the Front Door isn’t like a phone call where any sort of fuckery can happen, there’s usually only a few reasons someone might be on the other side of that door.

Good Reasons Someone Would Be At My Front Door:
  • To give me 2 Night Vision Goggles so The Viking and I can play Hide ‘n Seek in the dark.

That pretty much ends my list of good things that happen at the Front Door.

Bad Reasons Someone Would Be At My Front Door:
  • It could be the police wanting to know if I’m a Grow-Op (no), or if I own a Rav 4 with front end damage (maybe), or if I own any firearms (no), or where I was night before last between the hours of 11:00pm and 3:00am (probably asleep in bed but I couldn’t prove it).
  • It could be armed assailants that want to steal our TV. It is a really nice TV.
  • It could be someone complaining that we forgot to close the curtains for Naked Hockey Night.  That doesn’t happen very often though.

Most probably though, whoever is on the other side of my Front Door wants to sell me something or teach me something – neither of which I’m interested in.  Unless they want to teach me how to do handbrake turns and drifting because I really, really wish I knew how!  The Viking won’t teach me for some bewildering reason.

Of the three times(!) I had to trek to the Front Door this week, two times were because the Religiously Active are apparently concerned about The State Of My Soul and which direction I will be heading immediately after my death.  The first visit was from two little old ladies that were so sweet I couldn’t be rude.  I took their pamphlet and smiled and wished them a wonderful day.  I put the pamphlet directly into recycling without reading what would be involved in saving my soul.

The second visit from the Religiously Active was a sweet old man with very short arms.  I don’t know why his arms are so short because while I was running through a mental list of all the possible reasons his arms could be so short he became less sweet and more Inquisition-y.  I told him I already had the pamphlet he was showing me and he didn’t believe me!

“Oh reaaally.” He said slowly.  “Have you ever seen these two ladies before?  Are they from the neighbourhood?”  I think he’s been knocking on doors for far too long; there was definitely some bitterness there.

I hesitated.  It was like looking at a Bunnie that just bit me; it was so cute but it had big teeth!  And how should I reply?  With Sarcasm?  Condescension?  Belligerence?

I decided on the Carefully Neutral But With A Hint Of Sarcasm tone.

“As a matter of fact, I’ve never seen these ladies before in my entire life.  Well, maybe I did before they got old – wrinkles sometimes change a person’s face – but I definitely haven’t seen them in the last decade for sure.  You aren’t going to make me go through my recycling bin for the pamphlet, are you?  Because I would really hate that.”

It was his turn to have a moment of indecision but eventually he said.  “Well, thank you for your time.  Will we be seeing you at our Memorial Celebration?”

“Probably not.  Have a lovely day.” I smiled kindly.

The third visit to my front door was Canada Post delivering a catalogue.  I really hate this kind of Summons because the Postal Person is already two houses down the block before I open the door so I’m forced to holler “THANK YOU!” and she just waves back at me.  That is an extremely unsatisfying interaction with another human being.  I like a “You’re Welcome” when I say “Thank You”.  It’s a start and an end.  Satisfying.  A backhand wave from half a block away isn’t the same thing at all and I don’t particularly like having to bellow my appreciation.  To add insult to injury the catalogue wasn’t even for me – which might have made up for the walk all the way to the Front Door.  But no, it was for The Viking.

Okay.  End of Pet Peeve Rant.

You have a weird look on your face.  Do you think I’m nuts?  Is it because you just haven’t thought about it or do you not mind people coming to your Front Door willy-nilly like there’s no order to the chaos in the universe?  Without order and rules we could be facing an onslaught of people knocking on Front Doors and running away like in the 1970s, and no one wants that, my friends.

So!  How was your week?

Thanks to Part-Time Monster for inventing and growing Weekend Coffee Share and Nerd in the Brain for hosting the event.  You guys are awesome.

Two Cats, One Week – A Review

Hello!  Come in!  We don’t have to huddle in my bedroom this week and can have our coffee at the kitchen table like normal people do.  Muffin?

First things first, we finally settled on a name for poor Kent: Teddy Bear. Because he’s quite literally a fuzzy, sweet Teddy Bear and since he’s already a year old I can’t see him outgrowing it. He looks bigger than Izzie but that’s because his fur is ridiculously fuzzy. It’s like he’s wearing Chinchilla pajamas.  There’s no other way to describe the way his fur feels. So, while he looks bigger than Izzie, she actually weighs more.

Mim approved of the name, The Viking liked it and, best of all, Kent came running when we called the name.  So, ‘Teddy’ it is.

The first couple of days were….well….hair raising. The profanities and curses were completely out of control. I had no idea cats could be so precise, eloquent and long-winded in their opinions and the blizzards of slapping were, to be honest, appalling.

But that was then and this is now and the situation has calmed down significantly. Izzie has transformed from Indignant, Profane, Furious Feline to Resigned, Defeated, Slightly Confused and Excited Feline.

And while the household has eased back to normalcy, there have been complaints.

“Something is playing with my toys. Make it go away.”

“A turd was on my Castle and now it has The Stank.”

“You touched it and now you have The Stank.”

“A very large hairball is in my tunnels and I like it not!”

“It touched my tail! My TAIL!”

“The Turd put a turd in my litter box! I can never use it again. Ever!”

“The Hairball ate all of my food and now I’m starving to death.”

On several occasions she didn’t bother with complaining at all but took matters into her own paws.

Me: Is that some of Teddy’s fur between your toes?

Izzie: Maybe.

Me: Stop slapping him! He just wants to be your friend!

Izzie: ……

For his part, Teddy is just happy to be here but he’s not above disturbing shit.

“Hey Izzie!  Look! I’m sitting on your precious Mama!”

“Oh! Oh! I’m touching your castle!! “

“YooHoo! I’m in your tunnel! Ha HA!”

“Are you going to finish that? No? Perfect! I’m still hungry.”

And it turns out that Teddy isn’t too nice after all and is quite capable of defending himself, as evidenced by a few well-placed slaps of his own.  However, as the week progressed, the slaps lost momentum until now it’s more poking than slapping.

They are experimenting with chasing each other at the moment but there seems to be some tricky negotiating going on. Apparently Teddy got too close for comfort once……“Whoa!  That’s my Lady Parts, Buster!  Back off!”…….and then Izzie was just a little too enthusiastic for Teddy’s taste…….Holy Shit!  It’s just a game!  Dial it back, Sister!”…... so there is a flurry of shouting, cursing and name calling.  Playing has never been so complicated. A short burst of Spontaneous Patty Cake went surprisingly well though.  I call it a win.

And then, there was ‘The Incident’. While Izzie was taking a nap on my keyboard, Teddy figured out how to get on top of the fridge and invaded her Secret Place To Sleep. He settled himself comfortably and then called:

“Izzzzie! I’m in your BE-ed! It’s so nice I think I’ll sleep here forrrrr-evvvvver.”

Izzie launched herself off the desk and onto the window sill, behind the curtains and then a big jump onto the fridge. Every bone, sinew and muscle was ready for battle. Except Teddy wasn’t easy to push around anymore and he was settling in for a good, long nap.

 

 

 

Which necessitated another complaint.

“Mom, we need to talk about Hairry. He has to go. Seriously. He has taken over my bed and now I won’t be able to sleep ever again.”

Obviously, I had better get another bed. Pronto.

They are greeting each other with nose touches and Ring A Round The Sofa is a success. Teddy has taken to The Viking and The Viking has taken to Teddy. It’s a Bromance. Just two guys hanging out, watching TV. In the meantime, Izzie curls up with me, just a couple of girls hanging out, making fun of the two guys hanging out and watching TV.

I am cautiously optimistic at this point.  Izzie is learning how to give Love Eyes that don’t look like she’ll kill me in my sleep and Teddy has learned that a collar isn’t the end of life as he knew it.  The only problem left then is that our desks simply aren’t big enough……

Perhaps The Queen of Mean has met her match.

PS:  The cover photo isn’t mine – I found it on the Internet.  All other photos are actually Izzie & Teddy.

 

A Ladder, a Tablet and My Daughter

If we were having coffee I would have to tell you that I’m UNHAPPY. And maybe a little depressed. Mostly UNHAPPY. And it’s all Mim’s fault.

Mim lives in a teeny-weeny town northeast of Edmonton and I like it not! I didn’t think it would bother me since it’s only a 4 hour drive – 3 hours the way The Viking drives – but I’m totally bothered. We talk on the phone but it’s not the same as in person because many of our conversations include body language, head waggles, weird faces and arm swinging as punctuation and emphasis. Now, we’re confined to GIFs and photos and we have to use our words way more than we did when she lived just down the street.

via GIPHY

Anyway…….she’s refusing to move back to Calgary for my convenience. When she was a kid she was determined to move to the other side of the planet and never, ever see me again. Ever! I said it was impossible to never see me again because I would hunt her down like a dog. I would buy the house next door and become the Village Eccentric who always wears pajama pants, rubber boots and T-Shirts that say “I’m Mim’s Mom!” under a picture of her adorable face.

I’m only explaining all of this because Mim sent me two pictures this morning on Facebook. Both showed a large red spot on her forehead.

Her: I ran into a ladder. A ladder! And the mark is still here after an hour!

Me: OUCH! Nielsy dropped his Surface on my head when we were cuddled up reading. He fell asleep and the tablet fell on my head. Corner first. And that tablet weighs 903 pounds!

Me: Did you run into the ladder because you couldn’t make a decision fast enough whether to go under it or around it?

Her: Haha!! Maaaaayybeeee. Dirty Viking! He should watch where he falls asleep.

Me: LOL! Last night he held the tablet AWAY from my head.

Me: And at least half of my accidents are caused by too many options for one action. I definitely would have run into the ladder, too. I would be like:

Oh look! There’s a ladder between me and the exit.

I’ll just go around.

Wait! It’s shorter if I go underneath.

Yes. I’m going underneath.

Wait! Isn’t that bad luck?

Do I even believe in those old wives’ tales?

No, I don’t, but it never hurts to be on the safe side.

Why are my legs still moving?

I should probably stop moving until I’ve reviewed all my options and my beliefs regarding them.

That would be The Viking’s advice.

Fuck that!  I’m not a child.  I’m perfectly capable of making a decision in the 2 seconds before I hit the ladder. 

I can just imagine what The Viking would say if I hit it.  He’d probably roll his eyes at me.

He’d probably also put ladders in the same category as Flame Throwers, Fire Extinguishers and Skill Saws – not to be trusted in my hands.

I’m getting awfully close.

Hurry! Make up your mind!

Around or under?! Superstition and shorter or longer and around?!

Too many choices!

Go right!  Go right! 

No!! Left!  Definitely left!

FUCK! I hit the ladder! It was the only obstacle in the entire room!

Her:

 steamroller

See what I mean? So many words when we could have just leaned a ladder against the house and did re-enactments. We’d have to change our underwear, of course, because we laugh at ourselves so hard that we get into ‘Pee-my-pants’ territory.

I miss her! And I can’t believe SHE WON’T MOVE BACK TO CALGARY LIKE A GOOD DAUGHTER SHOULD!!

Anyway, thanks for stopping by. I definitely needed someone to talk to today.

Until next weekend, then.

Thanks, as always, to Part Time Monster for Coffee Share.

Spayed and Betrayed! Yes, There’s Coffee

Whispers…

Come in, come in, come in! Did anyone see you? Were you followed? Are you sure?

Phew! That’s a load off my mind, my friend, because I’ve had a hellish week. Here’s some coffee – I’ll explain later. We can’t lay in the sun today either. Come along, my blanket is behind the sofa. It’s actually quite cozy.

Oh yum! I forgot how good coffee is and, to be honest, Salmon juice just doesn’t cut it as a morning beverage.

So……my week started great – just like every other week – but on Tuesday The Missus started acting a little funny. She was all sweet and cuddly and attentive. The Viking was even better! He was ‘tut tutting’ me all the time and coo-ing. I thought “Finally!! I’ve finally trained you people how to serve me properly!!” But it was a ruse! I was tricked!

They took me to the Vet and the people there shaved my belly, cut me open, took some stuff out and sewed me back together. See?! My beautiful belly is ugly now! It turns out they took away my right to decide if I want a bushel of kittens or not! I don’t know what having a bushel of kittens would be like but that’s not the point! The point is that they took away my right to decide. And that’s nothing compared to what they did next.

Whispers….

They put a microchip between my shoulder blades. They can track me now. Big Brother, The Overlord, The Borg…..they’re watching me. They know where I am all the time!

No, I don’t have a tin hat! Gawd!! You’re a terrible friend sometimes. I don’t know why I even put up with you. This isn’t a conspiracy theory like the Siamese twins down the street who think their owner is an alien. This is serious and all too real!

I overheard the Vet and The Missus talking. Apparently ‘AVID’ is the name of Big Brother and he can tell exactly where I am, any time, day or night. Millions of pets are being tracked! Well, not the cat I saw pooping in my neighbor’s flower bed because I’m pretty sure they would have eliminated him by now if he was microchipped.

Oh my Gawd!! I just realized…….that’s what “Animal Control” is!! It’s The Overlord’s minions trapping pets that have gone rogue. They could come for me any time. There are posters all over the neighborhood about missing cats – The Missus thought it was some cantankerous old guy with a cat trap but I’d be willing to bet a whole can of food that it’s The Overlord.

Well, how should I know what he wants with all those cats! I don’t know everything – just most things. What’s important right now is to come up with a strategy to minimize my exposure to Big Brother. As long as I stay in the house The Viking will protect me.

Well, of course he can protect me. He’s a Viking! That’s what they do…..when they aren’t pillaging and berserking.

And to be honest, today is the first day that I’ve felt good enough to contemplate the ramifications of my microchip. Thursday I could only sit in the sun or fall asleep. Yesterday I wasn’t as spaced out but my belly hurt really bad.  Today, I am quite a bit better.

And while The Viking and The Missus were still feeling sorry for me this morning, I managed to pilfer coffee, sugar and a touch of cream.

You’re welcome. They caught on to me fairly quickly though when they saw me trying to sneak away with the Treat Bag. Hence no treats to have with your coffee. I’m only one cat after all.

Watch your back, my friend. Big Brother is watching me and I can only assume they will target my friends and associates. You may be scooped up one day…….

Let’s Have Coffee! You Won’t Believe What Just Happened!

Come in, come in! I know I said that I would let you talk this time but I just can’t!  Here’s some Chicken Broth and a crunchy treat instead of coffee because I’m still not allowed to have sugar.

Sit, sit, sit…I know you love my blanket in the sun.

Okay.  You won’t believe what happened! I can’t quite believe it myself! I heard, through the underground, about such a thing, but never once thought it could be real.

It is real though! And I know it’s real because I saw it: Pharaoh the Sparrow!

Don’t scoff, it’s so unattractive. Have I ever lied to you before?

That wasn’t a lie……it was an exaggeration. There is a difference, you know. Just listen.

I did what I do every morning – annoy The Missus and The Viking until they get up and feed me. The Viking came out first and I sat on his shoulder and watched while he made coffee then stuck my amazing whiskers (they look like Sam Elliott’s droopiest mustache!) into his ear. That’s how I remind him my food dish is still empty. And while he was eating his breakfast, I sat in the front room window, checking out my domains.

AND THAT’S WHEN IT HAPPENED!! A bird flew right to the window and sat on the ledge. It stared at me, right in the face! We were only separated by 2 panes of glass! It was a Sparrow and it hunched and fluffed itself up and dared me. I started slapping the window and that damned bird just stared at me without the smallest shred of fear.

I stood up on my back legs and whipped my tail at it and still it just sat there blinking at me. It was obnoxious! What the hell kind of bird can stand against all the aggressive majesty that is a cat? Oh, Magpies and Ravens do it all the time – they have size! – but this was a SPARROW! A dull, boring, brown Sparrow! I could swallow it whole!

I was like “What. The. Fuck?” So I started whispering all the horrible and painful things I will do to it when I finally catch it and that fucker only blinked. It was then that I recalled the legend of Pharaoh the Sparrow. He has dared some of the most dangerous cats in history! There’s talk that he stood up to Angry Cat. ANGRY CAT!! Can you believe that?

There’s a bounty on his head: 4 tins of Beluga Caviar to the cat that finally takes him down. If he’s smart he will leave here. I do not take taunts lightly.

What do you mean you don’t believe me? It’s the absolute truth! I believe everything you say! When you were bragging about your epic battle with that mouse did I call you a liar? No, I did not. Because I’m supportive.

Well, here’s the proof, smart guy!

And don’t even think about hanging around here, hoping to get The Pharaoh from right under my nose.  Now, leave me. Come back when you’re ready to be a good friend.

Underestimations

I underestimate all the time. Here’s a list:

  • The length of time it will take to finish a game of Spider Solitaire which means that I’m always running out the door a little bit late. This, in turn, means that I drive like an asshole because I don’t want to be late for whatever the hell I’m doing.
  • The impact of a new haircut. I’m always a little disappointed when I realize that I’m not a size 3 and I don’t look like a young Jane Fonda.
  • Ditto a new find on Zulily.
  • How good macaroni and cheese tastes. Or pancakes. I fight the craving for weeks or months but when I finally break down it never tastes as good as I thought it would taste. Then I’m pissed off because of the massive amounts of willpower I’ve wasted.

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My First Stalking Victim

There is a woman who lives in my neighbourhood and I really want to stalk her but not in a bad way. I live in the city so I see a lot of people every day and I almost never want to stalk them.  I noticed her last summer so I think she probably just moved into the neighbourhood.  She had a pretty blue dress on that ended right at her knees.  She has medium-length black hair, a very large butt, a prominent nose and isn’t particularly beautiful but I was captivated!

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