Why Do They Call it the 'Dog Days of Summer'?

Meeeyaawwnnooww! I've often wondered where the saying 'Dog Days of Summer' came from and what it means exactly. Speaking for myself (and surely 99.9% of the entire cat population), the last thing I'd choose to be on a sweltering summer day is a stupid, smelly, woolly dog. But then again, is there any season when it is acceptable to be a dog?

Regarding the prospect of being a dog in the summertime: aside from the matter of the shedding of fur that I hear dog owners fussing about, there is the issue of aroma. Every dog I've ever encountered travels about with an incredibly offensive odor that only gets stronger as the summer progresses. No self-respecting creature would choose to pant and drool and dig in their own fur for fleas. ((Ugh. I'm not sure I can continue to speak on this subject for fear my lunch will resurface...))

I am not making this stuff up about dogs: remember, I am forced to share my home, my manperson AND my ladyperson with a ... being ... that is the absolute definition of anything D-O-G. Throughout the day, I catch glimpses of her as I pass the window from my air-conditioned comfort and there she is in the backyard rolling in the hot grass or stretched out in her smelly little wannabe cabana (aka doghouse). I just don't get it. Dog Days of Summer? No thank you, I'll stick with being a cat everyday. That's a no-brainer. Kind of like that stupid brown dog in my backyard.

Oh the Humanity!!

MeeeethisisSOwrongoooww! You will not, you absolutely will NOT, believe what my ladyperson has done. Do you see that hideous red THING around my neck?? She calls it a "necklace" and strapped it on me so quick I didn't even realize what was going on. Who is this being that has mysteriously replaced my otherwise (ok, occasionally) sensible ladyperson??

First of all, it's very difficult to remain in stealth mode if I JINGLE with every movement. Then there's the itch factor, which I have desperately exaggerated in her presence with hopes she'll take pity on me and remove this despicable piece of adornment. But perhaps the most humiliating issue of all is that I don't think these are real diamonds on this ghastly thing. Now, that is totally crossing the line.

Perhaps I'll bribe the stupid brown dog with it ... yeah! I bet she'd love this hunk o'junk! Although I doubt it would fit around her gargantuan neck. And I certainly don't see myself getting close enough to her to help her put it on. Not to worry, though: this absurd and totally unnecessary bit of embellishment WILL be gone the next time you see me. That's for sure!

Happy Father's Day (I Guess...) to All Manpersons

Meee-ugh!-oowww. I know, I know ... my manperson DOES put up with alot from me. But c'mon, I put up with so much more from him than I should have to. For example:

--> He's the one that giggles as he splashes ice cold water in my face simply because I attempted to take a sip from his cup (a cup that's way too big for one person anyway)...

--> He's the one who whispers "Get that cat!!" to the stupid brown dog just so she'll lumber after me and bark as IF she could catch me and do some real harm...

--> He's the one who will 'pretend' to pet me but actually be petting pretty dang hard and grinning while the smelly brown dog eggs him on...

--> Never once has he even thought about replenishing my chow-chow bowl...

But I guess he's okay because sometimes (when my ladyperson isn't looking) he actually is really nice to me: petting me in just the right ways and making sure I know he kinda likes having me around and that he appreciates the way I take care of our ladyperson.

So, okay, I do hope he's having a good day. But, trust me, if he makes me mad I will get even. And I am so good at getting even ...

Pssssttt!!

Wooof!! I gotta be qwik here..... my name is Miss Pearl but you only no me as "the stupid brown dog". Poppy is sleepin and our ladyperson an manperson are out for the evenin. I got to set y'all straight: that cat Poppy been tellin you folks all kinds of stuff bout me an I just dont think he's givin me or my fellow dogs a fair shake. He dont no that I kin read an he sure dont no that I been monitorin his blog. I jes wanted all of you to no that theres another side to things he says but I'll hafta fill you in later. For now, I better get away from this here computer or Poppy might wake up an catch me and I just dont wanna think bout what could happen then. For such a little guy, he kinda scares me.... I'll chekk back later!

I Lost a Buddy Today

Mew. A really good guy had to leave us today. His name was Max and he was the best kind of buddy you could ever have. Max was the kind of cat that everybody always wanted at their party: he would make sure that everyone in the room was having a good time, even if it meant entertaining them himself. And nobody, I mean nobody, could get jiggy with the Catnip the way Max could. We're all going to miss him but I can assure you: he's up there right now in Heaven telling jokes and dancing a jig with a crowd of lovely, giggling kitty angels around him.

So long, Good Buddy ... save a spot for me on that cloud you're hanging out at now, and tell the pretty little kitty angels to save some sugar for me.

Till I see you again, Max: Peace, my brother.

I Finally Understand What It Means

Meeeoooww to you. All of my life I have seen this red, white and blue striped thing billowing about outside my window and while I always found it pretty and nice to watch, I did not know until today just how important it truly is. You see, it is the American Flag and there are many, many people who have fought very hard to keep this graceful symbol flying. For over 200 years, American people have even gone so far as to sacrifice their own lives just so I and my ladyperson & manperson can live peaceful, contented lives. I know it's that same sacrifice by those very brave men and women that lets me leisurely stretch in a sun spot on my carpet and watch the lovely flag gently dance in the wind as it lulls me to sleep. Those people who fought so hard (and continue to fight today) are called "Soldiers" and my ladyperson and manperson have adult children who are Soldiers but, until now, I never really understood or appreciated what that meant. I've seen them in their sharp uniforms with stripes on their coats and I can tell by the way their chests stand out that they are very, very proud to bear that uniform: perhaps even as proud as I am to have this very important symbol of everything that is right posted prominently outside my window as confirmation of our appreciation and respect. So today my Love, my Respect, and my Gratitude are extended to all of those brave and giving Soldiers who keep my flag, my family and my country safe.

Cat On A Mission

Morenipformeeeennooowww!!! Where's the 'Nip? Where IS the 'Nip??!! I am haunted by the memory of my last hit o' the 'Nip. It calls my name in the middle of my deepest slumber and I find myself wandering aimlessly searching for more. And I've got that creepy feeling that I'm always being watched. I can't sleep, I can't eat (well not as much anyway), and I haven't even noticed the stupid brown dog in days. The lure of the 'Nip has consumed every ounce of my persona. If only I could be an occasional nipper but I simply CAN'T! I want it all ... ALL the 'Nip for meeeee!!!! I've heard soooo many tragic tales of cats who've let the 'Nip get the best of them. They talk of a cat from Ohio who rode that "Nip-train" every night till dawn, stumbling home with twigs and such tangled in his fur. And the 'Nip has been known to turn some of my feline buds into (pardon my foul language): Gutter Cats!! Eeeeeewwwwww! I refuse to think that such could be my destiny. I am stronger than this Nip. I am, afterall, a CAT!! And Poppy D. Cat, at that!!!

I've Been Taken Hostage by the Lure of the 'Nip!

Woe-is-Meeeeoooww! I can't believe this has happened to me. I found the Catnip stash (or should I say the stash found me) that my ladyperson had tucked away and I'm so ahamed ... I truly believed I was stronger than this. My keen feline senses got a whiff of it this evening and I could not let it go. I methodically searched the entire house, entranced by the magnetism of the 'Nip. I carefully roamed each bit o'square footage when I centered on the laundry room and Bingo!! there was my glorious bounty in a neat little fabric pouch hidden above the clothes dryer. I called out several mournful meows while my ladperson and manperson pretended not to notice. I then bounded to the top of the clothes dryer, snatched that 'Nip and ran to the cool tile of the kitchen floor where I embraced my new-found prize. I drooled uncontrollably while I nuzzled its intoxicating fragrance, all the whilst my fingers and toes were splayed out in a most embarassing manner. Could it be that my manperson and ladyperson are using the 'Nip in a lame attempt to weaken me? To turn me into a simple, blithering idiot in a desire to make themselves seem superior to me? Because, heaven knows they couldn't even begin to appear superior to me when I am at my normally robust feline capacity. But this 'Nip! It gets the best of me and I am at its mercy! I know I should Just Say No but I can't! I won't! In fact, I want more, I tell you!!

Happy Mother's Day to All Ladypersons

Meeeyyooowww!! Perhaps there are times when I may appear to be a bit critical of my ladyperson, but I know deep down inside that she really, really loves me. Here's how I know:

* She always shares her bed pillow with me at night.

* If we are all sleeping and I have a bad dream, maybe about fleas jumping on me from the smelly brown dog or something like that, she always lets me snuggle up with her and she'll even hug me tight until I'm not scared anymore.

* Anytime I wanna play mousie (that's our little game where she throws my purple mouse toy and I fetch it and bring it back to her), she plays with me and she will continue to play as long as I want her to.

* If I determine that the water in my water bowl is not cold enough, I can tell her and she will very promptly swap it out for fresh, cool water.

* If the manperson starts taunting me, she gives him THE LOOK and he quickly backs down. That look even works on the stupid brown dog, too!

* She always buys me the name brand chowchow; no generic stuff for me, baby!

* If she's in the backyard playing with her flowers or in her vegetable garden, she lets me go outside with her so I can lay in the soft grass and enjoy the sunshine, too.

* And most of all: Every single evening after a hard day's work (I mean MY hard day's work, of course) she comes home and she scoops me up and she hugs me and hugs me, then hugs me some more. And nobody can scratch my chin and make me feel as yummy inside as she does.

She's very special indeed, but then, that's why I picked her!

Why Can't I Go Outside??!!

Meeefreakinoowww!! My ladyperson will NOT let me go outside thru the front door and I have just about had enough of this! Everybody else gets to be outside in front of my house! Birds are always out there chirping away like they own the place. Noisy little children skip along my sidewalk. I've even seen the occasional lowly neighborhood dog out there sniffing on bushes. And sometimes at night? CATS!!

Sure, she lets me go outside in the backyard and I have a great time but, c'mon! There's a 6 foot wooden fence surrounding me back there! How can a worldly cat such as myself expand my horizons from behind a wooden fence?

Not to worry though. I will continue to perch myself at this front door and one day ... one glorious day ... I will escape to the oft-dreamed of FRONT YARD. My only consolation is that on the rare occasion that the stupid brown dog gets to go thru the front door, she's tied to the manperson's hand by a long rope of some sort! Ha! Never will you see me tied to a human's hand. NEVER!

It Ain't Easy Being Me

Meeedoubleoowww! It seems that everywhere I go I have Poppyrazzi following me. I run from them. I hide amongst the monkey grass. I shield my face in an attempt to discourage them but still they attempt to follow my every step. Are these photos being sold to others without my knowledge? And, if so, WHERE IS MY CUT o' the ca$h??

My cattorney is looking into this and I assure all of you Poppyrazzi types: prepare to share the wealth because I can not (WILL not!) have snapshots of me dancing about cyberspace without my permission. It simply will not happen! I expect complete creative control of anything pertaining to myself.

But then again, perhaps the right agent could turn this into a positive situation for everyone concerned. Hmmm ... I've gotta go. I have some phone calls to make. Now what's that area code for Hollywood, California?

Where's the Tuna??!!

Meeeewhatthe?ooww!! Could it be that I will never understand people? My ladyperson assumed she was doing me a favor and, as she prepared herself a tunafish salad sandwich, she drained the tuna juice from the can into a bowl and gave it to me. Yes, I said just the juice. What was she thinking? Do I look like I should be on a liquid diet?? Not to worry though. As soon as she turned her back, I slapped her tuna sandwich off its plate, the stupid brown dog jumped for it and, consequently, received a major scolding. I simply grinned and pretended not to notice. Well, until my ladyperson gave me the tuna sandwich as reward, that is. Maybe I have figured the people out....

That's It!! I Need My Own Computer!!!!

Meeedangittooww!!! It should not be this difficult for me to find computer time but here's the problem: my manperson has a new, ridiculous video game and you know how those human types are: now I seem to NEVER have access to the PC! It is utterly absurd. If any of you are wondering why I don't take advantage whenever he's at his dreary place of employment earning $$$ to buy me chowchow, might I remind you that I stay quite busy during the day what with napping, bathing, lunching with friends and the like? And to think I was just about to hire a pretty little Personal Catsistant to do my typing for me. I think my manperson's little "game" is about to be over and, guess what?? He loses!!! I would suggest that the stupid brown dog is behind this but she can't even spell PC.

PS: I will continue to accept applications for the Personal Catsistant position. Minimum qualifications are: Silky fur ... Large green eyes ... Dainty purr. That's about it. Oh yeah, I guess some typing ability would be helpful. Any interested kitties out there??

Can Anybody Teach An Old Dog ANYTHING??

Meeehhaaaacckkooww!!!! Here's a photo of me imitating the stupid brown dog who insists on sneaking into MY room and stealing my chowchow. Well, I finally showed her: I tucked a chicken bone in my bowl underneath the kibble. She musta gagged for 20 minutes!! Bet she'll think twice before she tries to steal my food again. No wait: she's yet to think the first time and she's nearly 12 years old. Maybe I'll use a fish hook next time. Here doggie, doggie...

I Take Back Anything Bad I Ever Said About My Ladyperson and Manperson!

(Well, my ladyperson anyway.) Meeeeyowzawoooww! The people came home from the store with the typical, non-useful things they always shop for but this time they also bought something very special just for me. It's this fragrant, greenish-brown stuff and I believe the package said 'C-A-T-N-I-P' on it. wOw!!! This stuff is grrrreaaattt!! They put the package on the floor and I was drawn to it like nothing ever before. I sniffed the package, I nibbled on it, I even rolled my whole body all over it! I was totally oblivious to the stupid brown dog as she stared at me in disbelief. I have NEVER experienced such a treat! And no headache afterward! I'm telling you: if they want to keep me on their good side, they'd best keep the pantry chockfull of this stuff. I'm calling my broker immediately and we are loading up on stock in this stuff. wOw! <--- I said that already, didn't I? Could it be that I'm giddy?

If There are Olives in the Glass, It's Not Ice Water

Meeeehiccuppoowww! I don't know if my manperson did this on purpose or what, but the 'ice water' I thought I was stealing from his glass turned out to be some vulgar-tasting beverage he calls vodka. Next time I'll check the glass for green olives before I indulge myself. Ooooohhh my aching head... intentional or not, he will certainly pay for this!

Diet Soda is Evil & The Dog is Gonna Pay

Meeeeickooowww!!!! My manperson and I have this little game that I (er.... WE) like to play. He always has this gigantic cup of beverage at his side while watching television or engaging in some other typically non-productive human activity. So anyway, our game involves me stealing sips from his cup when he's not looking. And I'm very, very good at it. He can have the soda level down to less than 1/2 full and I can slip my head down in there and slurp up all the tasty beverage I desire without getting so much as a hint of moisture on my silky whiskers.

x

But now he's got this thing for diet soda and it absolutely must stop. Just because he thinks HE needs a diet beverage, MY already svelte physique does not need any tweaking at all, thank you very much. Plus sometimes when I'm playing the game, the stupid brown dog wakes up from her snoring slumber just long enough to nudge his arm and show him what I'm doing. Then my manperson will dip his fingers in the cup and try to spray my face with the soda! And diet soda at that! And the stupid brown dog justs sits there next to him with a disgusting, tartar-encrusted grin.

x

Not to worry, though: I have contacted my cattorney and let's just say the wheels are in motion. It's bad enough that I must be subjected to drinking the diet soda but for the stupid brown dog to encourage my manperson to spray the soda on my face? I think she is about to learn the hard way to stay out o' my business. GAME ON, DOGGIE.

T.G.I.F.!!!

Meeeewhewooowww!! It is safe to say that nobody truly appreciates or even understands all of the work that goes into being a cat. My job is exhausting! Here's a quick run-down of just a FEW of my many workday duties:

* I must visit every pillow in the house at least twice to test the fluffiness.

* If there are dishes from the night before left in the kitchen sink, it's my duty to remove any tasty remnants.

* In the mornings, I am to perch on the sunniest windowsill to thwart off any potential break-ins from neighborhood birds.

* In the afternoons, I have to take a nap on the windowsill facing the backyard just to remind the stupid brown dog that she's outside and I'm inside.

* I meticulously bathe from ear to tailtip: I'll start on the people's bed, then I'll bathe several times on the sofa, and I ALWAYS bathe at least once in the manperson's Lazy-Boy recliner.

* I must empty my chowchow bowl and practice my weakest and most pitiful cry so I am ready to admonish my ladyperson the instant she walks in the door at 5:00.

Whew! You think you could do it? I think not!!

I Sure Do Miss Football

Meeeeyawnoooowww. Sundays just aren't the same. Used to be when I stretched out on the sofa on a Sunday afternoon, I'd share it with my ladyperson while she screamed at the TV and hollered strange things like, "Run, Bus, run!!" and "C'mon, boyz ... sack Peyton!!". Even though I do have the whole sofa to myself, NOW I HAVE TO GET MY OWN BEERS!! Yep, I reeeeally miss Football....

Do these people know it's winter around here??

Meeeefreakinowww!!! I don't know what the deal is, but my People are so ignorant to the fact that it is C-O-L-D this time of year and they refuse to turn up the heat in the house! Either they are too freakin cheap to pay a higher heating bill or they've got some Yankee blood in them but it is cold in this house! You'd think my ladyperson would catch on since she wakes up every morning to find me sleeping ON HER FACE. You could assume she'd be tired of finding cat hairs stuck in her eyes every morning but then, it is MY hairs we are talking about so ... never mind. She probably feels lucky!