Operation: Litterbox

Most of the rooms in this house we dogs own. I don't care what the cats tell you about Cathalla or anything else. When the gates come down the hounds come running. But there is one room that we never get to go in, and we get yelled at the moment we set one of our feet in the doorframe.

The laundry room.

Here is the laundry room

The laundry room is where mom and dad clean their clothes. While I do enjoy a good game of throw-the-sock, that alone does not make the laundry room so enticing. There are noisy machines in there that wash and dry clothes, and the floor is concrete (like our old basement, which was also a room where no dog was allowed to go). This is also the room with the cat food (up on a table, so we hounds cannot reach it).

Dumb ole cats

So this room has several mysteries. But it is well-guarded and difficult to enter, and most of what is in there is even harder to inspect because of how short a time you get to wander around. So we have limited opportunities even if we penetrate the laundry room's main defense - a tied off door.

Basset scientists are hard at work to unravel this mystery

But the biggest reason we are interested in that room is this: litter boxes. The litter box is a mystery to me. Cats do their outside business there, even though they get to go outside every once in awhile. Now don't get me wrong - we certainly don't want the cats coming out and pooping in our yard, chasing our birds and squirrels, or meowing at our neighbors (we have our neighbors trained to run at the sound of our howls - they would probably think we had been put in our place by those dumb cats). I just wonder why they have to go in a box. Then mom yells at dad because he has forgotten to clean the boxes (there are 7 of them, including one that runs by itself sometimes).

A robot that cleans poop - cats are so spoiled and lazy

I have made a few clandestine entries into the laundry room when the tied-off door is open (I used to be small enough to squeeze through until I was caught and then the tied-off door got tighter). I took some basset samples from the litter boxes for the basset scientists but I got caught by mom and dad. Then they scruffed me and yelled at me and brushed my teeth. They said I was a bad dog. I tried explaining to them that it was all in the name of science but they were pretty ticked off. So I laid low in my crate and analyzed my basset spy techniques to improve my chances of getting in and out of the laundry room without being detected. They had soon forgotten about it and I got some belly rubs.

The laundry room is still a mystery, but we are learning things slowly. There is something called a 'water heater' in there - I think it has to do with when they give us baths. Re-entry has gotten pretty hard though - now they have the new gate that we can't knock over PLUS the tied-off door.

All this to guard a bunch of cat poop?

But I'll keep trying. After my nap.

The perils of cathood

I haven't written on this blog in quite awhile. The last time I did I was extolling the virtues of Cathalla. I haven't been able to take advantage of it for some time. It's been really hot lately, we knocked our water dish over the other night and I was pretty sure mom was going to kill Bunsen for it, the sink broke and we weren't allowed to explore the cabinets beneath, the dogs (especially stupid Breezy) keep chasing us, our dog cousins (Chopper and Aksel) chased us (and they are a lot bigger than the dogs that live here), we aren't allowed to go outside, and worst of all, I have cat bowel problems.

Don't laugh.

Cat bowel problems are not fun. I end up running for the litter box and sitting there for a long time before the problem goes away. I also end up having to take tons of different pills and medicine and eat all kinds of different food. It hasn't quite progressed to a vet visit yet - they took me there once and the vet told us to try different food and medicine - but I am getting the feeling it will turn into another vet visit soon. So I have been hiding beneath the bed a lot lately.

Kind of a boring post, I know. I will try and escape into the yard again and find an adventure for my next post!

Whiskers of Fury is not the utopia we all hoped for

When I joined this resistance movement I thought we would all be a nonviolent protest organization that would overwhelm our dog counterparts with citizen unrest and group singing sessions. I did not plan on being the target of nightly showcases of cat bigotry and warmongering, and I wouldn't have signed on if I'd known this right-wing outcome would come to be. I was lured into this deal with promises of the finest catnip and cushy pillows to sleep on, and assurances that the dogs would only be mocked from afar once or twice a week. Nibbler does it every night and he tries to swat them while they are sleeping.

Nibbler is a liar, a coward, and a cheat. He always runs from Oliver during Cathalla (which is stupid in and of itself, and also violent). Also, he is pompous and doesn't carry his fair share. Even with his massive, pendulous man-cat-boobs (I like to call them McBoobs). Then he saunters up to mama when she comes home and plays the loveable little kitten role, like there ever was a 20-pound kitten in the world that wasn't a tiger.

I honestly feel sort of sorry for the dogs. Sure, they chase us sometimes, but to be fair we chase each other and mice and all sorts of smaller stuff. Moths in particular are a lot of fun to chase. Does that make the chaser evil? No, it makes the chaser a cat, and a particularly good one if they actually catch what they are chasing (clue: Nibbler doesn't even try to chase anymore. McBoobs make pursuit a little difficult).  Rosco is trying to win a contest (click the link here), so maybe if we all helped him out it might lift his spirits a little (you have to go on Facebook, and then like the site it takes you to, and finally like Rosco's picture to vote for him).

Whiskers of Fury is a sham.

We are not comrades.

Cathalla

You have probably heard of Valhalla. It is the Norse mythology's Hall of the Dead, where slain heroes fight battles endlessly, and the vanquished rise again and again to fight. We have something similar here. We call it 'The Hallway Upstairs', or simply, 'Cathalla'.

Lord Nibbler inspecting the battlefield, and the remains of the vanquished

We fight there nightly. We have that prerogative as Cat Overlords.

That's me on the right. The awesome one.

I'm the undisputed King of Cathalla, and have reigned supreme every night since we left the Place of Stone Basement to come to this Place of Carpet Basement. Every night I challenge a cat of my choosing, and growl at them fiercely until they make the first move. In this fashion I am able to determine their weakness, and allow them to get a few attacks in before I exploit it and send them running. My shrieks of fury and anger are enough to frighten them, and my razor claws and viselike bite really drive the point home.

However the shrieks can't be too loud or they wake dad up, and he thunders upstairs like a demon and hurls decorative pillows in my general direction. It also does not pay to try and do the Cathalla thing in the bedroom, as it typically gets you launched out into the hallway.

All the cats in the house fear me, and a couple of the dogs do, too. They're not as dumb as they look.

King of Cathalla forever!