Things That Make Me Smile....

Mee-yaaaawwwnn-ooww. As part of my whole ‘New Year, New Me’ (well, enhanced Me), I thought I’d be nice and call attention to some of things that make me smile. I’m speaking of things that give me that same warm & cozy feeling that I give everyone else.

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On the occasional evening that my ladyperson desires a snack, she will partake of a dish of dried cereal with milk. This choice of snack appears to have something to do with her intent to remain a healthy ladyperson. All that’s fine and well, but the most pleasing part of this ritual is this: while she enjoys her cereal snack she allows me to rest cozily on her lap. And when she is finished with the cereal part of her snack, she offers the remaining milk in her bowl to me. The milk is always just a tad bit sweetened from the flavor of her cereal and is quite delicious. Afterward, I stretch a bit … I bathe alot … and then I peacefully snooze with a bellyful of that creamy goodness.

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I’ll wait until another day to discuss with her the cereal flavor choices she’s making: surely she realizes that not EVERY flavor of cereal has the proper effect on the taste of the accompanying milk. But, yaawwwnnnn …. we’ll save that for another day….

Know What This is?

MeeeI'mLosingMyPatienceoowww! This is yours truly, waiting for my turn to use the PC. There are times that I've acually fallen asleep waiting my turn. It's absurd, I tell you!

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You see, my ladyperson has taken it upon herself to begin some sort of schooling and she is forever occupying the home office. You should see her sitting at the PC muttering, "If 9-4x=8x, then what the heck does x mean??" And it takes everything I have not to just jump in and give her the answers just so she'll be done with it and I can reclaim my space at the keyboard (Algebra always was one of my stronger subjects.)

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Sure, if I see her struggling too hard I'll offer to tutor her but I suspect she'll eventually catch on. I just hope it's sooner than later: I am behind not only on my blogging, but also on my internet shopping. Yes, things are going to have to change around here very soon, I tell you....

They've Already Made Me Break My First New Year's Resolution

Meee-thatdidn'ttakelong-oowww! I should have known. You see, one of my New Year's Resolutions was to TRY to be more tolerant of my manperson and ladyperson this year. But thanks to them, that one is down the tubes already. And it wasn't even technically 2007 yet when they messed it all up! You see, it started with Christmas day when they invited all of these other people over to my house for celebration. They even welcomed those tiny people referred to as the "grandkids". (By the way: I've come to learn that tiny people are as annoying as regular-sized people ... perhaps even more so because they sit lower to the ground and do not think twice before grabbing at my ear or such as I dodge past them.)

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Anyhow, there was food and drink galore for the big people and little people alike but not once, not ONCE I tell you, was I invited to the dinner table. Then, for New Year's Eve I specifically requested my own bottle of fine champagne but did they purchase it for me? Well of course not! Fortunately I had a back-up plan and some of my kitty-friends (of the female persuasion, thank you very much) showed up with champagne and party favors. So fun was had by all, but with no thanks to my manperson and ladyperson.

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I knew this would be a tough Resolution to keep but I thought maybe, just maybe, they'd have finally learned proper Catiquette. Of course I should have known better.

How Was I to Know the Chicken was for THEM??

MeeeeOooopsooowww!! I was alone in the house, minding my own business when I noticed that my ladyperson had set a nice array of chicken breasts on the kitchen counter to thaw. There was absolutely no reason for me to question whether the tasty tidbits were for me or not. And as any red-blooded male cat would do I pounced on them, carried them to the master bedroom and had them for lunch.

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Fast forward 4 hours: my manperson discovers the empty package and the remnants of a few pieces that simply were not to my liking and, instead of being decent about the whole thing, he left the evidence in plain view so he could gloat to my ladyperson over my alleged wrong-doing. She was a bit upset and I think she whipped me, but I'm not sure because I never really had a whipping before. Anyhow, she picked me up and carried me to where the evidence lay and she scolded me. She shook her finger at me and as she held me close, she said ridiculous things like, "Bad Poppy!" Then she strutted back to my manperson and announced proudly that she'd whipped me. I thought whippings were a bad thing but all she did was hold me close and giggle at the chicken scraps on the carpet.

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Just when I think I understand these people they pull something like this. One thing's for sure: I can't wait till seafood night!

My Backyard is Really Empty These Days....

Meeesighhhhoowww. I truly can not believe it. In fact, I'm having difficulty even writing this. Miss Pearl, whom I previously only referred to as the "SBD (Stupid Brown Dog)" is no longer with us. She's gone ... Just like that. I think she knew she was leaving but she never really made a big deal about it. And now that I think about it, she had taken an especially strong interest in me of late and it's likely she was trying to teach me all about how she manages the backyard and other issues that were traditionally her responsibility so I could take over in her absence. I know she went painlessly and that she had made her peace with me and with this earth but I must say: I'm still going to miss her. Maybe not as much as my manperson will because I can tell they were special buddies. But as Miss Pearl hinted, it'll be my job now to step up to the plate and help my manperson and ladyperson through this. I am comforted by what I heard my manperson tell my ladyperson on the dreadful day that it happened. He said, "You know ... God takes care of drunks and old dogs." That makes me feel just a little bit better.

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From now on, if you hear me refer to her as the "SBD", it's going to mean "Sweet Brown Dog". Peace, Miss Pearl ... Keep in touch.

Hey y'all:

Wufff! It's me agin, miss pearl (poppy calls me stoopid brown dog but you no better). You probly been wonderin where i have been but dont worry, i still been keepin my eye on things and specially on that cat poppy and this wannabe blog.

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But i havent really been feelin well too much lately. Its got nuthin to do with that bighead cat poppy. I think its what peoplefolk call 'gittin old'. I kinda been feelin like i might not be aroun here too much longer so i been busy takin care of persnal matters so things kin go on properlike once im gone.

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For ezample, i hafta make sure that my manperson remains well takin care of. I know he counts on me to keep the backyard safe and free of vermin so i been tryin to teach that imbussil cat how to do stuff like that. But you know its just like my manperson says, you cant teach a cat nuthin. Me and poppy can only have these trainin seshuns in the afternoons because poppy doesnt like mornin dew to git on his paws!

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We been makin some progress but i know eventshully im gonna hafta keep an eye on things from above. And i will say this: with all the diffrences between me and that silly cat poppy, i think he might be able to take care of things for me. And we agreed to keep in touch but never mind how we do that. Its a animal thing that peoplefolk dont really get.

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Anyhow, in case i dont make it back to this here blog to keep tellin my side of the story i will still be keepin an eye on things. Poppy and me have made all our amends and he akshully told me he would miss me if i go away. He might git embarrased to know i told that part but its true.

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Everbody take care of yourself and dont forget that dogs reelly are smarter than cats and the proof is that cats are to stoopid to know that.

TRICK OR TREAT, KIDS!! >^..^<

MeeeeeBOOooww!! Look, kids ... I know there will be tons of you winding your way through the streets of my neighborhood on Halloween night and eventually each of you will end up at my house looking for goodies. Well I can tell you right now: my manperson and ladyperson will have eaten all of the good candies before you get here. Don't think you'll be getting Snickers or M&M's at my house. No Sir! I suspect the only thing left for them to pass out on Halloween night will be some sticky peanut butter kiss things (if you're lucky!) or some stale candy left over from LAST YEAR! So if I were you, I wouldn't bother stopping by. Besides, as soon as things quiet down at my house and my manperson & lady person retire for the evening, my pals are dropping by for a little Halloween party of our own. I've already conned the stupid brown dog into being the valet parking attendant ... what a dolt! Happy Halloween, all!!

Don't You Wish You Were Me?

MeeeeeI'msobeautifullllooowww! Gosh. Just look at me! Even standing on top of a ladder in front of a window: I'm spectacular, I must say!

Who's the Wiseguy that put Peanut Butter in My ChowChow??

Meeepffffoooww! I cannot believe that SOMEBODY had the nerve to put peanut butter in my chowchow bowl. There I was, enjoying a quick afternoon snack when suddenly my mouth stopped cooperating! My tongue behaved as though it were cemented to the roof of my mouth. I'd never experienced such a thing.

But you know who I think it was? My manperson. In fact, if I were a gambling cat I'd bet all of the stupid brown dog's food and her outside house that my manperson was behind this. Can't you just see that smelly dog spurning him on? "C'mon .... do it! Put big giant globs in there! Maybe this will keep his big ol' cat mouth shut!"

They are sooooo silly. For when a cat seeks revenge, all but the cat become losers. He He He ...

Don't You Just Love Autumn?

Meeeemmmmmooww! Is it just me or is Autumn the very best time of year? The air is fresh and clean and there's that awesome 'crunch' when you walk on fallen leaves .... But perhaps the most special part of this time of year is that my ladyperson is now inclined to prop the backdoor open (just for me, thank you) and I am free to meander outside into our giant backyard and explore at my whim. Sometimes I climb the tree just to see what our neighbors are up to. There are 3 huge, despicable dogs of northern descent living on one side of the fence and I like to keep an eye on them because as you know, no dog can be trusted regardless of his ancestry.

Sometimes my kittenish nature gets the best of me and I'll bounce around to catch the falling leaves before they hit the ground. My ladyperson calls that "Poppy's Harvest Dance" {{whatever...}} and, as corny as that is, I humor her just so she'll keep propping that backdoor open for me.

But sometimes I just lie in the soft cool grass hiding amongst the long shadows. I do have to share my backyard with the stupid brown dog, but she knows better than to disturb me when I'm resting. I'd like to see HER try a Harvest Dance ... Well, maybe not!

Yes, It's a Real Cat!

Meee-everybodyhasapurpose-ooww!! Ladies and Gentlemen, may I introduce to you my nephew: 'Royal'. I know he's an odd-looking creature but he is a cat, none-the-less. His ladyperson rescued him just in the nick of time after his mother (a feline of questionable character, I'm afraid) had decided to make a construction site 'home' for her new babies. So now he's got his own ladyperson and manperson to look after him and I know they'll nurture him into being everything a proper cat should be (and vice versa of course). However, I'll have to agree with you if you say he is one peculiar-looking critter. But, hey -- that's my boy Royal!!

S.B.D. (Stupid Brown Dog) & I Have a New Game

Meeeyouaregettingverysleepyooww! I've invented a new game that I simply love to play with the stupid brown dog. The greatest part of this game is that she gets in trouble every time we play so that means I always win! It goes like this: when she's lying in her disgusting little dog bed on the floor, I perch myself on the arm of the sofa and I glare down at her. I give her my eeriest jungle cat stare. At first she tries to ignore me. She'll look away a few times, turning back only to be suckered in again by my hypnotic gaze. Sometimes she'll burrow her face in her smelly bedcovers trying to escape my powers, but from the corner of her eye she sees me still there. Finally, she'll get so antsy and out-of-sorts that she'll bare her crusty, orange teeth and growl at me. Of course, her grumbling prompts my ladyperson to wag her finger and call her a "mean doggie" and thus the stupid brown dog is reprimanded for being unsociable.

I've decided that if I am to be forced to share my abode with this canine being, I might as well get some entertainment out of it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: "Let the games begin!"

Cats Do Not Eat Pesto But a Stupid Brown Dog Will Eat Anything ...

Meeeickoowwww! Ugh. I've just tried my first taste o' pesto ... Ick! Can you feel my misery?! I just can not believe my manperson had the audacity to lure me into a pesto-tasting. He was just beginning his dinner and he offered me (well, okay ... maybe I just TOOK) some of the pesto-tossed pasta from his plate. Of course, the pesto pasta was plated next to a sizzling, freshly grilled Porterhouse steak so I don't know why he'd think I would be interested in the pesto. Anyway, I tried the pesto and may I say here, right now: it's absolutely disgusting and no self-respecting cat would ever imbibe of something so ... green! But I did, however, guilt him into sharing his Porterhouse with me so after I recovered from the pesto-tasting incident, my tummy was alllll better. But get this: after I'd filled up on the delectable perfectly cooked steak (medium-rare, of course), he offered his plate up to the stupid brown dog and she was thrilled to slop up the remnants of his pesto! Ha! Dogs. Who needs them? And who needs pesto? Not I, that's for sure.

I Am The Champion!

Meeeyeeehawooww!! Ladies and Gents: you are looking at the world's newest Bocci Ball Champion. I did it! And this is not an easy sport for someone who moves as close to the ground as I do. But, once again, my athletic prowess and my ability to outsmart ANY opponent has brought me success. All of my bro's were over for a party to celebrate the fact that football is FINALLY on TV again and we ended up in the backyard for some music, Bocci Ball and a wee bit o' the finest scotch I ever wet my whiskers with. I don't know if it was my elation about the start of football season, the richness of the scotch, or the relaxing sunshine but my Bocci Ball techniques were spot on. But then, I was greatly inspired by our audience. Have you ever seen a dainty silver Tabby in a cheerleader outfit? How about a frisky Siamese with pom poms? I rest my case.

Meet My Cousin: Potato Salad

Meee-aloha-ooww! I’ve finally met my cousin, Potato Salad. Yes, that’s really his name. And as you can see, he even has his name monogrammed on his bed. (I’d like to know why my Manperson and Ladyperson haven’t done that for me but we’ll save that argument for another day.)

He resides on the exotic island of Oahu and while he has lived there his entire life, he actually considers himself a good ol’ Southern boy. Hence, he’s a firecracker rolled up into a wild-eyed, snaggle-toothed mass of black fur just itching to explode. Nobody really knows how old cousin 'Tater is, including him. Well, I'm sure he knew once but that was waaaay back before he took a liking to the Gin & Tonic with the twist o’ lime.

We are definitely having some grand times right now during his visit and he’s invited me to vacation with him on his island ('the Rock', as he calls it). I certainly do intend to visit him in his tropical paradise: I’ll be one of those cats you see in the travel brochures reclining on a chaise on the sunny sands of Waikiki with a sweet little kitty hula-ing her way toward me as she delivers my tasty beverage in a coconut shell….. Aaaahhhhh …. I can't wait!!

Does Anyone Have the Number for Catnipaholics Anonymous?

Meeeohmyachingheadooww!! OK ... don't ask any questions. Just somebody give me the number to Catnipaholics Anonymous, please. I think I need help. And isn't that what they say is the first step: admitting there's a problem? Well, the problem is that my ladyperson keeps giving me this catnip stuff! She sprinkles it on my scratching pad ... she gives me a little pouch full of it ... she thinks it's funny. I NEED SOMEBODY TO STOP HER FROM FEEDING ME THIS STUFF!!! Perhaps I really need CatnipSuppliersaholics Anonymous. Yes, that's it. She definitely has a problem and must be stopped!

I'm on My Way to Vote ... How About You?

Meeecountrytisoftheeoowww!! Elections are being held around the country this month and I certainly hope you are planning to cast your votes. I won’t tell you who I think you should vote for because that’s what makes our country so grand: you can vote for whomever you very well please. I will tell you, however, that I haven’t seen a single cat on any ballot but it's just a matter of time ... sigh. I do know which candidates are friends of cats so they certainly have my support. I’m afraid there are also a few dog friends on the ballots, as well, but because I am opposed to any sort of dirty politicking I’ll keep those names to myself.

Most importantly, we must each and every one of us make the effort to vote. Even if it means a tiresome wait in the hot sun remember that, by comparison, that is a tiny price to pay compared to the sacrifices of our soldiers throughout history who fought and died so that you & I could have this freedom. Voting is not really about the candidates at all: it’s about showing respect and gratitude to those who preserve this right for us by exercising your right to vote at every opportunity. Thank you.

Vacations Are Simply Exhausting!

Meeeyaawnnooww ~~ I've just returned from my vacation on the coast. It was a reunion of sorts with my university Fraternity brothers and I am going to require daaaays to recuperate. It was a time full of frolicking in the sand and sun; dining upon delectable dishes served up by the finest of chefs (not to mention the continuous flow of wine!); shopping, shopping, and more shopping; and a non-stop supply of beautiful kitties on the beach who demanded my attention. I had a fabulous time but even my little pawpads are sore from the hot sand of the beach (next time I go, I'll have my driver pull the limo right up on the beach). And I learned something new about the girl kitties: they reeeeally like like it when you peep out over the top of your sunglasses to speak to them. They got all giggly everytime!!

Did I mention how exhausted I am?

Blah, Blah, Blah...

Wufff! Its me agin, miss pearl the brown dog who lives with poppy. "Blah, blah, blah..." THATS what i think about mister fancypants poppy and his commints bout dog days of summer an all that. He just wishes he could be a dog: i see him lookin at me from inside the house when im ousside havin a good time rollin aroun in the grass. He jes dont get it. Hes the one whose missin out. If he wasnt so dumb hisself, i might offer to let him hang with me ousside in the backyard all day but no way now! You wanna here somethin funny? I was watchin him one time an he was inside on the windowsill takin a nap and then he stretched and then he fell smack off the windowsill onto the floor! Ha Ha Ha poppy! I saw it and I laffed and laffed. I laffed out loud too cause im not scared of him. Well ok maybe he didnt see me laffin at him but he hassta know he looked pretty dumb. Ok i hafta go before he wakes up an comes in here an sees me sittin at his desk usin his computer. Wuff!

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.