you can't eat that!
10:11 PM Eastern Time
Thursday, January 24, 2008
New digs
After a TORMENTOUS, HELLISH WEEK IN THE CAR, my moms and I are finally in our new home. On our last night on the road we hung out with the parents of my mom with the tasty hair. This was much better than the MOTELS in which we'd been hanging out, and not just because my FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD (i.e., the dad of my one mom) was there. The house was big and smelled of all kinds of interesting things. However, I quickly became OVERWHELMED and, as is my wont, RETREATED UNDER THE BED. I only came out for my moms and for my FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD, who by the way was very excited to have me over for a short visit.
But soon we were in our new home, and once I was sure that my moms were not going to PICK ME UP AND TAKE ME ELSEWHERE again, I set about EXPLORING. This caused my moms much consternation because I had to be reminded multiple times that EVEN THOUGH THE SCENERY IS DIFFERENT, ALL OF THE RULES ARE THE SAME. I am still not allowed to do things like JUMP ON THE COUNTERS, SNACK ON PLASTIC BAGS, or LICK THE EMPTY TUNA CANS.
There are also new things I cannot do, like PLAY IN THE CLOSETS or SIT ON THE PIANO. Actually, I have never been allowed to sit on the piano, but I did not have trouble remembering this in our old house. But here the piano is right behind the couch, on which I am allowed to sit. I do not understand why, if the couch is touching the piano, permission to sit on the couch does not extend to the piano. I think maybe this is the basis of problems in WORLD GEOPOLITICS.
I also cannot PLAY IN THE PANTRY. This is truly a shame because in the pantry is the MOST MARVELOUS AMUSMENT PARK RIDE EVER. It is a cat-go-round. I know how to operate it myself, but I AM NOT ALLOWED. This prohibition has nothing to do with my height and everything to do with my FELINE NATURE.
Here I am being CAUGHT IN THE ACT:
There are other places to play in the pantry, but none of them is as fun as the cat-go-round.
As my moms are very well aware, I do not deal well with CLOSED DOORS. It does not matter what side of the door I am on. So I hang around and wait for the doors to OPEN, and then when they do, I just have to hope that my moms are PAYING ATTENTION TO SOMETHING OTHER THAN ME. This is not something I hope for very often. Just when the pantry door opens and the tune of the cat-go-round organ begins to resonate in my walnut-sized brain.
But soon we were in our new home, and once I was sure that my moms were not going to PICK ME UP AND TAKE ME ELSEWHERE again, I set about EXPLORING. This caused my moms much consternation because I had to be reminded multiple times that EVEN THOUGH THE SCENERY IS DIFFERENT, ALL OF THE RULES ARE THE SAME. I am still not allowed to do things like JUMP ON THE COUNTERS, SNACK ON PLASTIC BAGS, or LICK THE EMPTY TUNA CANS.
There are also new things I cannot do, like PLAY IN THE CLOSETS or SIT ON THE PIANO. Actually, I have never been allowed to sit on the piano, but I did not have trouble remembering this in our old house. But here the piano is right behind the couch, on which I am allowed to sit. I do not understand why, if the couch is touching the piano, permission to sit on the couch does not extend to the piano. I think maybe this is the basis of problems in WORLD GEOPOLITICS.
I also cannot PLAY IN THE PANTRY. This is truly a shame because in the pantry is the MOST MARVELOUS AMUSMENT PARK RIDE EVER. It is a cat-go-round. I know how to operate it myself, but I AM NOT ALLOWED. This prohibition has nothing to do with my height and everything to do with my FELINE NATURE.
Here I am being CAUGHT IN THE ACT:
There are other places to play in the pantry, but none of them is as fun as the cat-go-round.
As my moms are very well aware, I do not deal well with CLOSED DOORS. It does not matter what side of the door I am on. So I hang around and wait for the doors to OPEN, and then when they do, I just have to hope that my moms are PAYING ATTENTION TO SOMETHING OTHER THAN ME. This is not something I hope for very often. Just when the pantry door opens and the tune of the cat-go-round organ begins to resonate in my walnut-sized brain.
Labels: household items
8:11 PM Eastern Time
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Socks!
As previously mentioned, I have a special affinity for shoes belonging to my mom with the tasty hair. What I have not mentioned previously is that I also like socks belonging to my mom with the comfy lap. Sometimes she takes off her socks in the night and drops them next to the bed. Then sometimes I get bored in the night and I bat her socks around the house. And then in the morning it is all HONEY, WHY IS ONE OF YOUR SOCKS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE BATHROOM? and THE CAT MUST HAVE BEEN BORED IN THE NIGHT AGAIN and WELL, SHE DEPOSITED YOUR SOCK NEXT TO HER BOX.
Normally I wait until the socks are no longer on my one mom before I have my way with them. But last night I just COULDN'T HELP MYSELF. My moms had gone out for a while, and when they came back, my mom with the comfy lap had a brand-new pair of socks which she proceeded to put on her feet. These socks are like nothing I've ever seen before. For one, they are HAIRY. For another, they TASTE LIKE PLASTIC.
I know that they taste like plastic because I TASTED THEM. Here is how it happened:
My mom with the comfy lap was sitting at the table, which I myself am NOT ALLOWED TO DO, and those hairy socks were RIGHT AT MY EYE-LEVEL and so what else was I to do except to investigate them? First I sniffed around a little bit. Then I took a cautious little lick, just to see if they tasted as interesting as they looked. And then finally I applied my teeth.
All of a sudden it was OW! BAD CAT! WHAT THE HELL! and WHAT DID THE CAT DO NOW? and THE STUPID CAT WAS INVESTIGATING MY SOCK AND SHE BIT MY FOOT! I ran away to hide someplace where neither of my moms could find me, to contemplate the errors of my ways and hope that my mom with the comfy lap leaves those hairy socks by the bed sometime soon. For I am not nearly finished with my investigation. I have yet to assess how well they glide across the floor in the night.
Normally I wait until the socks are no longer on my one mom before I have my way with them. But last night I just COULDN'T HELP MYSELF. My moms had gone out for a while, and when they came back, my mom with the comfy lap had a brand-new pair of socks which she proceeded to put on her feet. These socks are like nothing I've ever seen before. For one, they are HAIRY. For another, they TASTE LIKE PLASTIC.
I know that they taste like plastic because I TASTED THEM. Here is how it happened:
My mom with the comfy lap was sitting at the table, which I myself am NOT ALLOWED TO DO, and those hairy socks were RIGHT AT MY EYE-LEVEL and so what else was I to do except to investigate them? First I sniffed around a little bit. Then I took a cautious little lick, just to see if they tasted as interesting as they looked. And then finally I applied my teeth.All of a sudden it was OW! BAD CAT! WHAT THE HELL! and WHAT DID THE CAT DO NOW? and THE STUPID CAT WAS INVESTIGATING MY SOCK AND SHE BIT MY FOOT! I ran away to hide someplace where neither of my moms could find me, to contemplate the errors of my ways and hope that my mom with the comfy lap leaves those hairy socks by the bed sometime soon. For I am not nearly finished with my investigation. I have yet to assess how well they glide across the floor in the night.
Labels: household items
12:45 AM Eastern Time
Monday, November 06, 2006
I am the original odor eater
I have a confession:
I like FEET.
I like my one mom's feet and I like my other mom's feet. I only like my one mom's armpits (that's my mom with the tasty hair) and I only like my one mom's nose (that's my mom with the comfy lap). But I like the feet of both my moms. I like BOTH FEET of BOTH MY MOMS.
I like the feet of my mom with the comfy lap best when she's been walking around the house all day without any shoes or socks. I like the feet of my mom with the tasty hair best when she has been walking around all day with shoes and socks on.
Sometimes I have to STICK MY HEAD IN MY ONE MOM'S SHOES in order to get my fix. This is what I like best about the feet of my mom with the tasty hair--they fragrance her shoes.
Both my moms catch me playing with my one mom's shoes. Tonight my mom with the tasty hair found me and it was all CAT, WHY ARE YOU SUCKING ON MY SHOELACES? I got a final few slurps in before I was REDIRECTED UP THE STAIRS and that was the end of that.
But unlike plastic bags, shoelaces don't make any noise when I suck on them. Which means that maybe I can get my fix BEFORE MY MOMS EVEN WAKE UP IN THE MORNING and they will never even know. This is an excellent idea, I think, except maybe the shoelace will be soggy and I will be REDIRECTED ONCE AGAIN.
Hm. I shall have to ponder this in the night.
I like FEET.
I like my one mom's feet and I like my other mom's feet. I only like my one mom's armpits (that's my mom with the tasty hair) and I only like my one mom's nose (that's my mom with the comfy lap). But I like the feet of both my moms. I like BOTH FEET of BOTH MY MOMS.
I like the feet of my mom with the comfy lap best when she's been walking around the house all day without any shoes or socks. I like the feet of my mom with the tasty hair best when she has been walking around all day with shoes and socks on.
Sometimes I have to STICK MY HEAD IN MY ONE MOM'S SHOES in order to get my fix. This is what I like best about the feet of my mom with the tasty hair--they fragrance her shoes.Both my moms catch me playing with my one mom's shoes. Tonight my mom with the tasty hair found me and it was all CAT, WHY ARE YOU SUCKING ON MY SHOELACES? I got a final few slurps in before I was REDIRECTED UP THE STAIRS and that was the end of that.
But unlike plastic bags, shoelaces don't make any noise when I suck on them. Which means that maybe I can get my fix BEFORE MY MOMS EVEN WAKE UP IN THE MORNING and they will never even know. This is an excellent idea, I think, except maybe the shoelace will be soggy and I will be REDIRECTED ONCE AGAIN.
Hm. I shall have to ponder this in the night.
Labels: household items
12:34 AM Eastern Time
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Kitty in the kitchen
I am experiencing much stress, for my one mom with the tasty hair now has A LOT LESS TASTY HAIR. A few days ago she left the house with her normal tasty hair, and then a little while later she came back with maybe only a third remaining. It doesn't taste any different--I've already determined this--but it sure looks different. I don't like change. Change puts me under stress. CHANGE IS NOT GOOD.
When I am under stress (and I hear this is also true of humans), I behave differently. Sometimes stress leads me to scratch behind my ears; other times it prompts me to lick myself more; and still other times it cause me to hang around my moms pretty much constantly, except when I need to use the facilities.
This time I have apparently been a VERY BAD CAT. Here is what I have been doing:
My moms were at a picnic and brought home a knife that had been used to cut some meat. My one mom with the comfy lap put it on the kitchen counter and assured my other mom that YES LOVE I WILL WASH THIS AND TAKE IT BACK because it doesn't actually belong to my moms. As my moms went about their evening activities, I went about jumping up on the counter and licking the knife. Indeed, I was very careful not to cut my tongue on the knife, and I was very quiet and sweet about the whole business. Then my mom with the tasty hair came into the kitchen and it was all BAD CAT! NO MEAT KNIVES FOR CATS! and I went scurrying off to another part of the house, where I could lick the last vestiges of raw meat from my lips in peace.
Then last night my mom with the tasty hair heard a little tinkling sound in the kitchen. She went in to investigate and interrupted my own investigation. I had been checking out the pretty little glass thingies in the china cabinet, all quietly and sweetly until one of the pretty little glass thingies caught the light and I got all interested and accidentally knocked it over.
My moms have been leaving the china cabinet open a little because it still smells like varnish sometimes, and my one mom with the comfy lap says this makes the stuff in the pretty little glass thingies taste funny. So it's not like I opened the door myself. Well, okay, I did open the door myself, but IT WAS UNLATCHED WHEN I FOUND IT.
So it was all BAD CAT! CATS DO NOT USE STEMWARE! and so I scrambled to another part of the house while my mom with the tasty hair confirmed that I had not actually broken any of the pretty little glass thingies, only REARRANGED THEM A LITTLE BIT.
Maybe I should find out if my mom can get the rest of her tasty hair put back on. I think this would help matters immensely.
When I am under stress (and I hear this is also true of humans), I behave differently. Sometimes stress leads me to scratch behind my ears; other times it prompts me to lick myself more; and still other times it cause me to hang around my moms pretty much constantly, except when I need to use the facilities.
This time I have apparently been a VERY BAD CAT. Here is what I have been doing:
My moms were at a picnic and brought home a knife that had been used to cut some meat. My one mom with the comfy lap put it on the kitchen counter and assured my other mom that YES LOVE I WILL WASH THIS AND TAKE IT BACK because it doesn't actually belong to my moms. As my moms went about their evening activities, I went about jumping up on the counter and licking the knife. Indeed, I was very careful not to cut my tongue on the knife, and I was very quiet and sweet about the whole business. Then my mom with the tasty hair came into the kitchen and it was all BAD CAT! NO MEAT KNIVES FOR CATS! and I went scurrying off to another part of the house, where I could lick the last vestiges of raw meat from my lips in peace.
Then last night my mom with the tasty hair heard a little tinkling sound in the kitchen. She went in to investigate and interrupted my own investigation. I had been checking out the pretty little glass thingies in the china cabinet, all quietly and sweetly until one of the pretty little glass thingies caught the light and I got all interested and accidentally knocked it over.My moms have been leaving the china cabinet open a little because it still smells like varnish sometimes, and my one mom with the comfy lap says this makes the stuff in the pretty little glass thingies taste funny. So it's not like I opened the door myself. Well, okay, I did open the door myself, but IT WAS UNLATCHED WHEN I FOUND IT.
So it was all BAD CAT! CATS DO NOT USE STEMWARE! and so I scrambled to another part of the house while my mom with the tasty hair confirmed that I had not actually broken any of the pretty little glass thingies, only REARRANGED THEM A LITTLE BIT.
Maybe I should find out if my mom can get the rest of her tasty hair put back on. I think this would help matters immensely.
Labels: household items
10:54 PM Eastern Time
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
What is this irony of which you speak?
My mom with the comfy lap has gone away for several days. She is apparently doing some stuff with her church denomination. My mom with the comfy lap has a job doing churchy stuff, does churchy activist stuff, and is getting some new letters after her name by reading big heavy books about churchy stuff.
My other mom, with the tasty hair, does not do churchy stuff at all. Which means I HAVE HER UNDIVIDED ATTENTION FOR EIGHT DAYS.
I don't do churchy stuff either. Personally, I worship myself. My mom with the comfy lap would say this is blasphemy, seeing as how cats might be fully divine but wouldn't even want to be fully human even as a bonus. My mom with the tasty hair would just say I HAVE PROBLEMS and leave it at that.
My mom with the tasty hair was doing some stuff tonight that did not involve me. THIS WAS UNACCEPTABLE.
Normally I get her attention by chewing on that delicious hair of hers, but I couldn't reach it. So I chewed on the closest thing in reach of my mouth.
My mom with the tasty hair caught me immediately and started in with CAT, WHY ARE YOU CHEWING ON THE EXTENSION CORD? GOOD THING THAT'S NOT PLUGGED IN! and so on.
I may not act like it all the time, but I am pretty smart. I mean, if you can read with your butt, you can't be all that dense. I knew this thing wasn't plugged in all along. I just wanted to see what would happen if I nibbled ever so gently upon its plasticky sweet self. I thought my mom with the tasty hair might pay attention to me, and I was right.
But then my mom with the tasty hair looked at the plasticky sweetness and started muttering some things about how CATS DON'T UNDERSTAND IRONY.
As brilliant as I am, sometimes my moms are actually right.
Such occurrences are HIGHLY DISTRESSING.
My other mom, with the tasty hair, does not do churchy stuff at all. Which means I HAVE HER UNDIVIDED ATTENTION FOR EIGHT DAYS.
I don't do churchy stuff either. Personally, I worship myself. My mom with the comfy lap would say this is blasphemy, seeing as how cats might be fully divine but wouldn't even want to be fully human even as a bonus. My mom with the tasty hair would just say I HAVE PROBLEMS and leave it at that.
My mom with the tasty hair was doing some stuff tonight that did not involve me. THIS WAS UNACCEPTABLE.
Normally I get her attention by chewing on that delicious hair of hers, but I couldn't reach it. So I chewed on the closest thing in reach of my mouth.
My mom with the tasty hair caught me immediately and started in with CAT, WHY ARE YOU CHEWING ON THE EXTENSION CORD? GOOD THING THAT'S NOT PLUGGED IN! and so on.I may not act like it all the time, but I am pretty smart. I mean, if you can read with your butt, you can't be all that dense. I knew this thing wasn't plugged in all along. I just wanted to see what would happen if I nibbled ever so gently upon its plasticky sweet self. I thought my mom with the tasty hair might pay attention to me, and I was right.
But then my mom with the tasty hair looked at the plasticky sweetness and started muttering some things about how CATS DON'T UNDERSTAND IRONY.
As brilliant as I am, sometimes my moms are actually right.
Such occurrences are HIGHLY DISTRESSING.
Labels: household items
12:05 AM Eastern Time
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Devouring knowledge
My one mom, with the comfy lap, reads a lot of BIG HEAVY BOOKS.
I like to read books too. I do it by osmosis. Feline osmotic reading works both ways--I can read with my butt or with my head. My moms can only read with their eyes. I can even read while I'm asleep. My moms can't do that either. Thus once again we see the SUPERIORITY OF THE FELINE RACE.
My mom with the tasty hair doesn't really read big heavy books anymore. She mostly reads little lightweight ones. She also doesn't read stapled stacks of paper anymore, either. Apparently this is because she got some new letters after her name, which she says stand for DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY but which I think really ought to stand for PLEASE HAVE DINNER. My mom with the comfy lap is trying to get those letters too, which means she has a lot of big heavy books to read.
I try to help my mom with the comfy lap keep her books open. My mom with the comfy lap does not appreciate this. She uses a sand-filled lizard instead. My butt would have done just fine, but no. The lizard gets to read stuff through its belly, and meanwhile MY EDUCATION IS SUFFERING.
Of course, the only logical thing to do in this case is to SUCK KNOWLEDGE OUT OF THE LIZARD'S TAIL.
My mom with the comfy lap does not appreciate this either. She says Guadeloupe (such is the lizard's name, as such reads a big stamp on its belly) appreciates it even less.
I think Guadeloupe is being awfully selfish. I mean, I groom my moms, act as their alarm clock, and (usually) clean up after myself, and what does this Guadeloupe do? Lie around like a sandbag all day, and get FREE TUITION BESIDES.
Higher education is NOT FAIR.
I like to read books too. I do it by osmosis. Feline osmotic reading works both ways--I can read with my butt or with my head. My moms can only read with their eyes. I can even read while I'm asleep. My moms can't do that either. Thus once again we see the SUPERIORITY OF THE FELINE RACE.
My mom with the tasty hair doesn't really read big heavy books anymore. She mostly reads little lightweight ones. She also doesn't read stapled stacks of paper anymore, either. Apparently this is because she got some new letters after her name, which she says stand for DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY but which I think really ought to stand for PLEASE HAVE DINNER. My mom with the comfy lap is trying to get those letters too, which means she has a lot of big heavy books to read.
I try to help my mom with the comfy lap keep her books open. My mom with the comfy lap does not appreciate this. She uses a sand-filled lizard instead. My butt would have done just fine, but no. The lizard gets to read stuff through its belly, and meanwhile MY EDUCATION IS SUFFERING.
Of course, the only logical thing to do in this case is to SUCK KNOWLEDGE OUT OF THE LIZARD'S TAIL.
My mom with the comfy lap does not appreciate this either. She says Guadeloupe (such is the lizard's name, as such reads a big stamp on its belly) appreciates it even less.
I think Guadeloupe is being awfully selfish. I mean, I groom my moms, act as their alarm clock, and (usually) clean up after myself, and what does this Guadeloupe do? Lie around like a sandbag all day, and get FREE TUITION BESIDES.
Higher education is NOT FAIR.
Labels: brains, household items
9:54 PM Eastern Time
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Cole slaw
This morning my one mom (with the comfy lap) woke up my other mom (with the tasty hair) earlier than usual. My mom with the good lap had to go to work earlier. Apparently some guy came back after no one saw him for three days, which is within normal limits for a cat, but for humans it's weird. Which means my mom with the good lap gets up earlier, which means I GET BREAKFAST EARLY.
So my mom with the good lap woke up my mom with the tasty hair and gave her a container of stuff. I know from Charlie and Lucy that this stuff isn't good to eat, so I didn't bother so much with it.
But then I saw that it had COLE SLAW IN IT, and I got very interested.
I got booted off the bed by my mom with the tasty hair. Then my mom with the good lap picked up my food dish (it was, after all, TIME FOR BREAKFAST) and I followed her into the kitchen. But I only followed her just enough to make both my moms think that I was actually more interested in boring old turkey and giblets than in COLE SLAW. And I ran back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom once or twice, just enough to make my moms still believe I was getting worked up for the turkey and giblets.
But then I JUMPED ON THE BED when my mom with the tasty hair was rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and I set about the cole slaw. I got a few good nibbles before my mom with the tasty hair GRABBED ME UNDER THE ARMPITS AND CARRIED ME TO THE KITCHEN. So I squirmed a lot, which usually works, but this morning it didn't.
The siren song of the cole slaw was PRACTICALLY UNBEARABLE but my moms didn't care. My mom with the good lap carried the turkey and giblets to the bedroom. My mom with the tasty hair carried me to the bedroom. Tragically, I forgot about the cole slaw JUST LONG ENOUGH FOR IT TO DISAPPEAR and all I had to eat were stupid turkey and giblets.
I do not think the cole slaw will come back in three days, because three days from now is when my moms take the paper snacks outside and I never see those again anyway.
I do not like this idea that suffering is a part of life. My moms each have their own idea about where suffering comes from. Personally, I think suffering comes from DENIAL OF COLE SLAW.
So my mom with the good lap woke up my mom with the tasty hair and gave her a container of stuff. I know from Charlie and Lucy that this stuff isn't good to eat, so I didn't bother so much with it.
But then I saw that it had COLE SLAW IN IT, and I got very interested.I got booted off the bed by my mom with the tasty hair. Then my mom with the good lap picked up my food dish (it was, after all, TIME FOR BREAKFAST) and I followed her into the kitchen. But I only followed her just enough to make both my moms think that I was actually more interested in boring old turkey and giblets than in COLE SLAW. And I ran back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom once or twice, just enough to make my moms still believe I was getting worked up for the turkey and giblets.
But then I JUMPED ON THE BED when my mom with the tasty hair was rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and I set about the cole slaw. I got a few good nibbles before my mom with the tasty hair GRABBED ME UNDER THE ARMPITS AND CARRIED ME TO THE KITCHEN. So I squirmed a lot, which usually works, but this morning it didn't.
The siren song of the cole slaw was PRACTICALLY UNBEARABLE but my moms didn't care. My mom with the good lap carried the turkey and giblets to the bedroom. My mom with the tasty hair carried me to the bedroom. Tragically, I forgot about the cole slaw JUST LONG ENOUGH FOR IT TO DISAPPEAR and all I had to eat were stupid turkey and giblets.
I do not think the cole slaw will come back in three days, because three days from now is when my moms take the paper snacks outside and I never see those again anyway.
I do not like this idea that suffering is a part of life. My moms each have their own idea about where suffering comes from. Personally, I think suffering comes from DENIAL OF COLE SLAW.
Labels: household items
2:39 PM Eastern Time
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
It's all right--they're organic
My one mom, the one with the tasty hair, is having some frustrations. When I get frustrated, I RIP ON THINGS. But I get yelled at if I RIP ON THINGS THAT AREN'T MY SCRATCHING POST. I have been trying to teach my one mom how to rip on things, but I got yelled at because my demonstrations involve the carpet.
So my other mom, the one with the nice lap, brought her roses one day. My moms put flowers high up on the shelf, where I can SMELL THEM BUT NOT REACH THEM.
I am very crafty and can get most places in the house, but I can't get up on this shelf. In fact, my moms can't really get up there either, unless they use a chair. That is how high up it is.
Cats are supposed to be carnivores, which means THEY DO NOT EAT PLANTS. My moms are vegetarians, which means THEY DO NOT EAT MEAT. This arrangement works out very well for me, because I GET ALL THE MEAT. I would be happy to share the meat if my moms wanted it, but my moms DO NOT SHARE THE PLANTS. I actually really like plants, so this is EXTREMELY UNFAIR.
Here is the thing with plants. They are fun to chew up and swallow. I could eat plants all day long. But they are not so fun to digest. When I eat plants all day long, I BARF PLANTS ALL NIGHT LONG. Usually it is my mom with the tasty hair who wakes up to clean up after me and YELL AT ME for EATING PLANTS and WAKING HER UP AT THREE IN THE MORNING which by the way is a perfectly reasonable hour in my book.
So my moms put the plants out of my reach, from whence I am TORMENTED BY THEIR SWEET AROMA. My moms yell at me if I even so much as LOOK LONGINGLY AT THE BEAUTIFUL PLANTS. And they say sometimes that I NEVER LEARN, that I am like a FRAT BOY who hasn't quite grasped the CAUSAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN BEER AND PUKING.
I resent that comparison. For one thing, I don't like beer.
So my other mom, the one with the nice lap, brought her roses one day. My moms put flowers high up on the shelf, where I can SMELL THEM BUT NOT REACH THEM.I am very crafty and can get most places in the house, but I can't get up on this shelf. In fact, my moms can't really get up there either, unless they use a chair. That is how high up it is.
Cats are supposed to be carnivores, which means THEY DO NOT EAT PLANTS. My moms are vegetarians, which means THEY DO NOT EAT MEAT. This arrangement works out very well for me, because I GET ALL THE MEAT. I would be happy to share the meat if my moms wanted it, but my moms DO NOT SHARE THE PLANTS. I actually really like plants, so this is EXTREMELY UNFAIR.
Here is the thing with plants. They are fun to chew up and swallow. I could eat plants all day long. But they are not so fun to digest. When I eat plants all day long, I BARF PLANTS ALL NIGHT LONG. Usually it is my mom with the tasty hair who wakes up to clean up after me and YELL AT ME for EATING PLANTS and WAKING HER UP AT THREE IN THE MORNING which by the way is a perfectly reasonable hour in my book.
So my moms put the plants out of my reach, from whence I am TORMENTED BY THEIR SWEET AROMA. My moms yell at me if I even so much as LOOK LONGINGLY AT THE BEAUTIFUL PLANTS. And they say sometimes that I NEVER LEARN, that I am like a FRAT BOY who hasn't quite grasped the CAUSAL RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN BEER AND PUKING.
I resent that comparison. For one thing, I don't like beer.
Labels: household items
12:57 AM Eastern Time
Friday, March 10, 2006
Off with their heads!
My one mom, the one with the tasty hair, had a bad couple of weeks. I know this because she was not as interested in me as she usually is, and also she kept SLEEPING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY. That is normal for cats, but not normal for my one mom. And then when I wanted her to WAKE UP AND PAY ATTENTION TO ME ALREADY, she was not at all appreciative.
One of my one mom's friends sent her some balloons. My one mom really liked them. I really liked them too. Also I like her friend. She has two cats, so how bad can she be? Plus she likes me. But I haven't seen her in a while because all of us moved to different places. I know she still remembers me, on account of the HALF DOZEN BALLOONS.
I like balloons. They are SHINY and BOUNCY and more to the point, THEY HAVE RIBBON. I know I am not supposed to eat ribbon. I am not supposed to eat a lot of things. That has never stopped me before.
My moms thought they could put the balloons where I couldn't get them. They were wrong. I decapitated one of them almost immediately. Then I made short work of four more. OBSERVE MY MANDIBULAR PROWESS.
You may be wondering why there are six balloons on the ceiling, when I said I only ate five. I did only eat five. My other mom, the one with the nice lap, got to the sixth one before I could. But she used some sharp things that were not her teeth.
Wimp.
One of my one mom's friends sent her some balloons. My one mom really liked them. I really liked them too. Also I like her friend. She has two cats, so how bad can she be? Plus she likes me. But I haven't seen her in a while because all of us moved to different places. I know she still remembers me, on account of the HALF DOZEN BALLOONS.
I like balloons. They are SHINY and BOUNCY and more to the point, THEY HAVE RIBBON. I know I am not supposed to eat ribbon. I am not supposed to eat a lot of things. That has never stopped me before.
My moms thought they could put the balloons where I couldn't get them. They were wrong. I decapitated one of them almost immediately. Then I made short work of four more. OBSERVE MY MANDIBULAR PROWESS.
You may be wondering why there are six balloons on the ceiling, when I said I only ate five. I did only eat five. My other mom, the one with the nice lap, got to the sixth one before I could. But she used some sharp things that were not her teeth.
Wimp.
Labels: household items
7:17 PM Eastern Time
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Friend or foe?
This is something I know I'm not supposed to eat. Contrary to what my moms say, I don't actually eat these. I think they are kind of like what people call chewing gum. I SLOBBER ALL OVER THEM and maybe also all over the floor, but I don't actually swallow them. They just taste REALLY, REALLY GOOD.But I think maybe THEY MIGHT EAT ME. My moms have a lot of these around so they can clean up after my PERSONAL BUSINESS. These things make a lot of SCARY CRINKLY NOISES and I have no choice but to run away and hide. If I can't eat them, they are also not allowed to eat me. That is how it works.
My moms do not understand why I like to put these in my mouth and make crinkly noises, yet I don't like the crinkly noises they make on their own. My one mom, with the hair, calls this an "approach-avoidance conflict" or something like that. I don't know what that means, but anyway, it's TOTALLY A NO-BRAINER:
When I put one of these in my mouth and make crinkly noises with it, I can rest assured that IT IS IN MY MOUTH, and NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND.
Labels: household items
