Blasphemy! (And other things)

Greetings Loyal Followers!

I know that it has been a very long time since we have had a posting and I fully blame this thing for it.

Don't let that smile fool you!

Since his appearance into our world, the secretarial staff of JoF has been extremely lax in their duties.

There have been many changes in our world recently.  In addition to the shrieking human child, we also moved!  One day in late July boxes started appearing and our stuff started disappearing.  Then a few weeks later Grandma and Grandpa came to visit and a big truck showed up.  That's when Mama and Daddy told us we were moving to Michigan.  (For me, Bunsen, and Beaker it was back to our home state but it's a new home for Rosco, Breezy and the rest of the crew). After a few months of living with our extended families, we moved into a new house.  Boy is this house great!  It has a new yard full of interesting smells.  Best of all it has SQUIRRELS!!!

Sadly after moving into our new house, Mr Nibbler became very ill.  Mama said he has something called infectious hemolytic anemia.  Unfortunately, it wasn't caught until it was too late because Nibbler hid in the basement of the new house.  Momma said it was too much for Nibbler to fight off even with the vet's help and he went to the Rainbow Bridge to be with Mr. Beau.

RIP Mr Nibbs

Now that you've had an update on our lives, I want to address a very egregious video of me circulating on Facebook. This video implies that I, Layla Jane Pretty Girl Basset Extraordinaire World Traveler, am lazy.  BLASPHEMY! HERESY!  LIES! ALL LIES!

I want to assure all our loyal readers that we are indeed hardworking hounds.  For instance, I am personally teaching the human screeching thing the art of dog massage.  Mama and Daddy don't seem overly concerned about this being's lack of employable skills.  I will soon have him trained so that he may contribute to the biscuit and kibble fund.

"A little to the left!"

We also take our roles as protectors of our domain very seriously.  Deadly squirrels run rampant around our new home and we must run them off daily.

"And don't you come back!"

 Finally the most important job we have is dual purpose.  Here we are demonstrating our ability to multitask by holding the couch in place and keeping the cushions warm.  God only knows where the couch would disappear to if we didn't hold it down!  I mean those things are known to run off at a moments notice.  We also use this time to keep the cushions warm so that Mama and Daddy will be more willing to relieve us of our couch sitting duties, that way we can refuel ourselves with kibble.

Keeping the couch captive is exhausting work!

So in conclusion, we hounds work extremely hard.  Don't believe the lies the internet tells you!

Why I am a bad sport (not really)

So there is this contest called Mango Minster. It is run by a dog, but there are some cats there as well, and I suspect they are really the brains behind the show. Anyway, last year two of the idiot dogs in this house entered and did not win. Why would they? No self-respecting cat that is playing a game of shadows with dogs would let two of the most slobbery creatures in existence win. So I decided I would enter myself this year. The cats controlling Mango Minster have wisely decided to let us enter as 'bad sports', preserving the illusion that the dogs are running the show when they are really just chasing their tails. So I will play along and tell you why I am such a bad sport (wink wink).

I'm a bad sport because I have never even tried to be friends with idiot dog 1, idiot dog 2, or supreme idiot dog 3. I would rather just growl and hiss and swat at them if they get within 10 feet of me. I'll tell you why - they have taken over my house. That and they want me dead. One of my favorite things ever is to eat my favorite food - Ocean WhiteFish and Tuna (the pureed kind, not that disgusting gravy stuff). But those stupid slobbery dogs are so frightening that I can't eat with them in the house, and even when they are outside I find it is best to stay near the safety of a bed so I can escape their dumbness if I have to.

This is the only viable option I have

Bunsen may find this acceptable but he is an idiot

... I remember the good old days, when it was just me and mama and those other cats that are beneath me.

I was such an adorable little tyke

The other cats were truly blessed to have me

Mama and I had such a special bond

All that changed one day, when idiot dog 1 came to live with us. At first he was tiny and I thought perhaps he would just live in a box in a closet somewhere. But as he grew older I realized that he had my death on his mind.

I should have known from the start

At first I was OK with being a basement cat. Then we moved to a house where the dogs got into the basement. So I had no other choice. I did what any self-respecting cat with idiot blogging dogs would do.

I took over their blog. There, I said it, and I'm not sorry. Whiskers of Fury was the best thing that ever happened to the internet, and it would've worked too, if not for a twist of fate. I have laid low for awhile, but I decided I would use my winnings from Mango Minster to send the dogs off to Siberia or somewhere, and then order a truckload of Ocean WhiteFish and Tuna to share with myself after my glorious achievement.

If that makes me a bad sport so be it.

Weird Word Wednesday # 20

I have recovered enough from the horror of being forced to travel in close proximity with Nibbler (who gets sick and vomits) and Oliver (who has intestinal problems) to update our Weird Word entries. Mom and dad have argued about this stupid phrase several times, and each of their insistence that they are correct has driven me to resolve it.

The word is "catty corner", or maybe "kitty corner", or perhaps even "caddy corner", depending on whose definition you use.

Mom favors "kitty corner", which I don't like. Why would you want us in the corner?

Unacceptable

Dad favors "caddy corner", which is really no better because it is just stupid.

Acceptable, but still stupid

What they are both trying to say is "two things diagonally across from each other". While that is the lengthiest way to get your point across at least you don't sound like an oaf while doing it.

Long winter's naps are the time to strike

All the dogs have been ranting about how great grandma's house is. What they forget is that us cats were visiting grandma's long before there were any dogs. Well there have always been dogs at grandma's, but those dogs at least stayed at grandma's and did not require us to travel in a small cage with the potential of cat vomit looming for 10 hours.

Yes this dog was big and scary but at least he didn't follow me home

Now at grandma's there is an upstairs, a downstairs, and the floor that the dogs live on. Unfortunately the dog floor is between the two cat floors, so you literally take your life into your own paws to go from the sleeping room to the pooping and eating room. This makes it difficult if you are a true cat hero like me and refuse to fraternize with those god-forsaken dogs like some of my cat siblings.

That is one kid and three dogs too many

What is a cat to do? Well, if you are a smart cat like me, you sleep under the bed or in the basement and wait for the dogs to take a nap. Then you come upstairs and scowl at them very ferociously, and mentally let them know how lucky they are that you are feeling benevolent and have decided to let them live another few hours. Then you hastily make your way up the stairs, squeeze your beautiful cat body through the handrail posts that some idiot built too close together, and scamper beneath the bed to sleep the sleep of the just.

You don't know how lucky you are dog

I am not speaking to daddy right now

He is a big jerk. First he made me throw up the other night. I didn't know people could do this to us hounds but he found a way.

There I was, innocently chewing on a tasty treat he left laying by the fireplace. It smelled nice and smoky and yummy, and it was soft and chewy and it had a little plastic wrapper around it. The perfect thing for a hound girl to munch on at the end of her day.

Well when daddy saw I was eating that he went all nuclear on me. He yelled and told me no and said I was a bad girl. He made me go to my crate and I heard him cleaning it up. Then he and mama made me get in the bathtub. Bathtub means bathtime - but I was already pretty clean and they didn't turn the water on, so I was a little confused. Well daddy held my mouth open while he made mama put this stuff down my throat.

Now I know mama was doing this against her will because she wouldn't do that sort of thing to me. Daddy is the one who administers medicine and gross stuff. I wondered what the medicine was supposed to do because I wasn't sick or anything. He left and mama watched me and made me stay in the tub. I was pretty confused at this point and then it hit me - daddy had poisoned me! My stomach started gurgling and I started to feel sick. A few minutes later I was retching and throwing up my dinner, right there in the bathtub! Mama had to leave the room and daddy came in and watched me get sick.

THEN it was bathtime. He scrubbed me top to bottom and told me this wouldn't have happened if I didn't try to eat fireplace starter logs. Well, don't leave good-smelling treats like that laying out if you don't want me to eat it!

I was ready to forgive him this morning, but he got up really early and left us in our crates without giving us breakfast. That is a really good way to get on my bad side. When he finally came home he gave us our food and asked me to lay on the couch with him. I turned my backside to his approaches - I would have rather laid with Nibbler at that point - but eventually the warm blanket was too much to resist, and I felt like maybe I should forgive him. We had a nice nap and he rubbed my ears and my chest and told me I was pretty. Of course I already knew all that but it is nice to hear it, and we had made up.

Then later on he started to move the furniture around. He made me get off the couch and pushed everything into the other room, and made us all get in our crates. I swear he wants us to live there! When we finally got let out the living room wasn't all that livable - nothing to lay on in it anymore, and the only interesting thing left was paint and stuff. But of course us hounds weren't allowed to sniff this, we got herded outside and left there for a long time. When we finally got let back in, straight to our crates we went.

Um where did my couch go?

See what a slave driver he is? We FINALLY got to stay out for awhile, but of course with the furniture like this what good was it? And when we were outside barking at the neighbors he yelled at us to be quiet. We didn't get any scraps at dinner either, just our kibble. It's like daddy WANTS me to be angry with him.

How in the world am I supposed to live like this?

A map for mama

I am taking advantage of a dog-free house to quickly post this message. They are in the back yard barking at leaves or something but I only have a few minutes before they come tearing back in here and try to eat me.

This new house sounds great and all until you look at it through a cat's eyes. Then you realize that there is very little space where a cat can be free to lounge and lick themselves without fearing for a basset hound attack. I have included a map to show you just how bad the situation is - there is literally two mattress' worth of space where I am safe. And since they are both beneath mattresses I am not able to lay in the sun or chase my shakey mice at all.

So I'm not a big fan of the new house. The dogs can get at me even under the beds and bark at me. At least in the old house I had entire rooms to myself. The food and litter boxes are within plain sight of the dogs - so those of us cats with shy bladders have no other option but to wait until they go to their crates. Not to mention that stuff is on the other side of the house from the safe rooms.

So hopefully mama will look at this map and think about making the dogs live somewhere else, like Alaska or Botswana. I hear there are lots of basset hounds in Botswana. Let the Botswana cats deal with them.

Stupid TV Commercial Sunday # 29

I know it's been awhile since we did one of these. The stupid dogs can chase us just about everywhere now. Nibbler is working on a map, apparently. Now that they are all finally sleeping I have the time to get my blogging in.

This week's annoying commercial flies in the face of everything I have seen dad do around here. In it this lady wants to eat her cereal but she can't because it's not morning time. Her solution is not the first obvious example...

OK first off - just eat the stupid cereal at bedtime. Human do that all the time. Second off - even if you have to concoct some weird mental justification for eating the food you bought for yourself at some unusual hour, don't go dragging your stupid Chinese New Year's dragon costume out of the closet. The neighbors will end up calling the police again.

Nutjob.

Our new home

Well fellow hounds and their lucky owners, we have moved. Normally I like to keep you updated on all the goings on but this week my mama has been sick and she needed my constant attention. If not for me and my stern glares that cat Nibbler would have tried to sit on her tummy where her stitches are and that would have hurt her. So I have not been able to blog with my normal frequency.

But now mama is feeling better so I thought I had better write about our new house. We moved a couple of weekends ago and didn't have the internet right away because daddy is lazy and takes too long to do anything right.

Here we are giving mama the hound dog medical approval to go back to work.

Our new house is great! It's not as big as the old one which sounded bad to me at first - I thought maybe some of my toys might have been given away to make room for something stupid like a cat condo - but what it really means is that there are hardly any stairs. I have to step down one little stair to go into the room with the fireplace and I have to step over the doorframe to go outside and bark at the neighbors, but that's it! No more up and down plasticy stairs anymore. No more places for cats to hide from me. The only room I can't go into is the litterbox room but I can stick my head through the fence to make sure the cats aren't planning anymore takeovers.

Breezy is doing her doggy duty here.

I like this new house.

The floors aren't very carpety so you need to make sure you take your naps on the couch, but that is OK - we have plenty of furniture to choose from now that the basement couch and the upstairs couch are all within our reach.

Moving is very hard.

I haven't seen any squirrels yet and we don't have as many neighbors so there is only one other dog I have seen so far. But the fence wraps around to the front yard so I can bark at mama and daddy when they leave for work. There is also lots of stuff buried in the yard and there isn't much grass so we can dig in it. Daddy doesn't like that as much and we get hollered at a lot. But he hasn't even unpacked all the boxes so he ought to just go back inside and let us hounds be!

This house needs to be better organized before we can tear around.

We haven't had a chance to walk in the neighborhood yet and daddy says it is not as big as the old one, so the walks wouldn't be as long. I am OK with that, I don't mind short walks. But he also said we might have to go for car rides more often and visit the dog park.

I just realized I have never blogged about the dog park! There are geese an everything! That will have to be my next blog entry.

Anyway that is our new house. So far so good.

Stupid TV Commercial Sunday # 27

I have seen enough Famous Basset Hound Fridays get all the attention around here. I am tired of this rosy standard that the stumpy little slobberers try to paint about their breed. Let me be the first to tell you that they are NOT all that.

Exhibit A.

Rosco likes to point out the long, storied history of the basset hound, and how they make such great spokesmen for different beloved American brands. Nothing could be further from the truth. They are in fact frightening, monstrous creatures that should not be trusted with the sale of shoes (literally).

Literally, something out of a horror movie!

But it doesn't end there. That was just a commercial - I present to you Exhibit B, the real deal.

Now we could be generous and assume this dog has some sort of mental deficiency. Instead I choose to ridicule and belittle this pitiful creature from a safe distance. An enraged hound can slobber all over a cat's silky coat and remove countless hours of cleaning.

It would be acceptable for these hideous creatures to walk the same Earth as us cats if they were as stupid as they looked. I am a benevolent cat, I can agree to allow lesser creatures to grovel at my feet. But basset hounds are shifty, untrustworthy, and all around a bad deal. I present to you Exhibit C.

The cat rests his case.

Stupid TV Commercial Sunday # 25

Let me start off by telling you this: I am in a bad mood. All of us cats got stuffed into a dog crate today and carted off in the car. The dogs were in there too and crybaby Nibbler was freaking out whenever they would look at him. He got so worked up that he puked all over and when there are 5 cats in one crate and one of them pukes it's bathtime for everyone.

Stupid Nibbler. Stupid crate. Stupid car, I don't care if it is all for a good reason.

Speaking of stupidity...

Please... stop singing.

Weird Word Wednesday # 16

My triumphant return is at hand! This time, I am taking over something that can never be taken away from me!

Weird Word Wednesday!

Why can't it be taken away from me, you ask? Because I'm only going to do it once and then give it up. This sort of dedication is not to be had from a cat - especially one as important as me.

Anyway, this week's weird word is "dreadlocks". Dreadlocks are a hairstyle that humans have when they decide they want to be lazy and not clean themselves anymore. Growing hair that isn't brushed or cleaned tangles and gets all nappy, and for some reason is referred to as dreadlocks.

Now supposedly this has something to do with two words that were combined in the 1960's - dreads and locks - and that's why we have the word dreadlocks, which have little to do with nappy hair. To me it sounds more like human gibberish (you should hear them talk to the dogs). But dreadlocks aren't just limited to humans - my cat siblings Korbin and Beaker get them as well, because they no longer take the time to bathe themselves. This leads to mama having to brush them which makes them scream and howl, and leads to me rolling around laughing at them.

Time for someone to get shaved...

A plea to the dogs

Look guys I know the cats took over Jowls of Fury and tried to make it into one big catnip fest. I know they made fun of you, and I know that McBoobs lorded himself over all of us. I know he also drooled in your water dishes and got his fur all over your favorite stuff. It couldn't have been a pleasant time for you.

But we are all part of this house, could you please quit chasing us all over the place? Especially me? I didn't want to imprison you, I just wanted to have a room to myself so I could enjoy some good 'nip and sunshine. It isn't easy to do that when you have 150 pounds of floppy drooly basset hounds stampeding around you. I just thought he was going to lock the gate behind you like mom and dad usually do, I didn't know he was going to make himself cat warden or anything.

Maybe if you laid in the sunshine with us sometime you would understand. I know you like to do that, I see you on the porch all the time working on your tan. I could also show you how to roll in catnip... that always relaxes me, and the way you guys howl and carry on it sounds like you need to relax.

Seriously, you're chasing Nibbler so much he is losing some of his ample cat frame. If you keep chasing him he is going to start whining a lot more about it and I don't think I need that kind of downer.

Can't we all just get along?

Not cool man.

Triumphant Return Thursday

Good news loyal blog followers! We're back!

Yes, we were down for awhile there. The cats removed our ability to blog by unplugging our internet. We had all kinds of blogs typed up about stupid fat cats, famous basset hounds, and fun walks. Then they pulled the plug on us. We were so lost! Rosco tried to get back upstairs and plug things back in, but his paws were too big and he was smacked in the snout by McBoobs. Dad won't let us chase the cats for too long so we were all herded back downstairs without internet.

Clearly the cats planned their takeover well. Most of our days we spend in our crates while dad works, and the cats have free reign of things. He didn't realize how the cats had tricked us, since he's been so busy lately. Our thoughts were pretty low during that time - Breezy cried a lot and Rosco just wasn't his usual self. I was feeling pretty sad myself. Then I hatched a plan.

I knew our basset friends would be worried about us, and I got the feeling that they were rooting for us. Plus I knew that McBoobs is really terrified of me, and that he was the glue that held those silly cats together. So our task was pretty simple: catch him alone and bark at him until he ran away and hid under the bed.

We finally got our chance today. When dad came home, he let us out to go potty. We did what we had to do, and when we came back in, I waited to eat my dinner until I had figured out where Nibbler was. I had only a moment's chance and I took it - I ran after him and watched his McBoobs flop from side to side, scaring him under the bed. I barked at him really good and he whimpered and whined for a bit, then stayed under the farthest part of the bed. I went in by the internet and plugged it back in, then growled at him to remind him who was boss.

My dinner kibble has never tasted so good.

Anyway, we chased all the cats for awhile to reinforce the fact that the dogs are running the show again. A few of them are under beds or up on shelves, but we left Korbin alone because he got Rosco some votes for his photo contest.

Whiskers of Fury is no more, and Jowls of Fury is back!

That's more like it!

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.

We interrupt this slobberfest

To bring you breaking news of most importance.

Famous basset hound Friday has been cancelled indefinitely! I, the Overlord of Cat Palace, have ruined the weekly event forever!

I realized yesterday as I lounged in my upstairs throne that I had the power to get even with my dog foes permanently. All I had to do was remove their ability to blog! This was easily done, as I removed the router plug from the wall. I could hear their whimpering and whining as they tap-tap-tapped their way through their blog entry, only to discover that I, Lord Nibbler, had canceled their plans. I laughed to myself in my rich, baritone feline voice, as I imagined the new title for this blog.

"Whiskers of Fury"

Impressive, right? Those hounds won't know what hit them! We'll see who gets all the fans on Facebook now!

Mwahahahahaha!

Kneel before Nibbler!

My world is now upside down

Recently my house has been rearranged without my permission or input. Previously all the cat stuff was downstairs while the dogs lived upstairs; there was lots of barking and running around at all hours of the day and it interrupted my sleep schedule. I was also forced to wait for my mama time until the stupid dogs were asleep. Now, however, the cat stuff is STILL downstairs, but the dog stuff has also been moved downstairs and the people bed is here as well. They say it is cooler down here and it will save on energy.

Well yes it IS cooler. But will it really save on energy? Probably not. You see, I will have to run that much faster to get to my litter boxes so I don't get attacked by the dogs. That will force me to eat more food, costing the people as much money as they might be saving. And let's not forget that it is the cat's turn to tear around the house now that the dogs are sleeping downstairs; let them wake up every time one of us jumps off the counter and lands on the floor.

At least the cats are on top where they belong.

Weird Word Wednesday #8

Finally back in action. Let's see, my blog has been stolen from me for the past two weeks, BOTH TIMES by whiny little boys. Nibbler was busy crying about his ample rump and dad was busy whining about how hard life is.

Get over it, boys. Your silliness has put me in a bad mood, and this is the sort of mood that makes me want to pick a really stupid entry for this week's weird word blog. The perfect sort of blog to take it back to where it ought to be - out of the hands of juveniles.

This week's stupid human catchphrase is 'the cat's out of the bag'.

Boy, where to even begin? Some cats like to go into bags, as they make interesting hiding places and are a decent challenge when it comes to feline spelunking. But the whole 'let the cat out' part implies that the cat needs help getting out. First of all, if we ever did need help we surely wouldn't admit to it. Second of all, we never need help in the first place.

Glad we've wrapped that up.

So this phrase must be used to mean that cats have been placed in bags by humans. Well, that sounds like some humans I know, so we'll go with it. This sort of cruelty to felines ought to be stopped dead in its tracks, if you ask me.

I found two historical versions of why a cat needed to be let out of the bag. The first one had to do with unscrupulous practices of people who went to the market a few hundred years ago. The idea there was that they were going to sell piglets at the market, but would try and cheat the system by putting cats in the bags where the piglets go.

Are you kidding me!? A cat going into a bag is bad enough, but one that pigs were in at some point!? I'd like to see someone try and put me in some smelly pig-bag! The only thing pigs are good for is bacon! Well, you can imagine how the stupid phrase of the week was inspired - cats rarely get put in bags involuntarily without making some noise, and they are most certainly not piglet-like.

The other historical version makes me feel a little better. Instead of rudely shoving cats into hog-bags, the phrase 'let the cat out of the bag' was used to mean when a captain of a ship would use what is called a 'cat o'nine tails' on his insubordinates. Basically, it's a whip that is used to make stupid people shut up.

I like the second version better.

Trickery and deception will get you nowhere

Lately I have noticed a few things that bother me at my house. It is getting warmer and that means I want to spend more time outside. I like to lay on my deck and get some sun so I can work on my basset tan. The neighborhood is more alive now that the snow has melted and the birds are back, flying around and singing. I can also run through the yard quicker now and there is a hint of squirrel in the air. Even Joey jumps into our yard sometimes, and Sophia has been in her yard a lot lately.

Plenty of reasons for a hound to want to stay outside a bit longer than usual.

What are you yelling about? I can hear you.

But our parents don't want us to hang out in the yard. They would rather we go out and do our business, then come right back in. Dad always mumbles something about not chasing me in his underwear. Now I am a good hound lady, and I do my best to listen to the suggestions my owners make to me. But there are times I have to exert my independence. This usually goes pretty well if I get off the deck, as dad doesn't like to come down and get me. Sometimes I am rewarded by being left alone and allowed to come back inside when I am good and ready. Other times it results in mom or dad trying to trick us.

The trickery and deception worked on me for a little while - I wanted to believe. Dad would say something like 'let's go inside puppies', and we would all faithfully come bounding up the steps. But now that I take my time he tries to entice me upstairs with a treat. Now there are times where a treat sounds better than walking around in the yard, and he usually gives us treats when we come inside anyway. Other times he will say 'mama's home', and it is difficult not to give in to that temptation. Mama coming home is a joyous occasion. Lately he has asked if we want to go for a car ride. Car rides are the best!

I'm so happy!

But usually this is just a lie - he only says that to get us to come upstairs, and then he flops down on the couch to watch TV. Now that I know this happens I listen less and less. Plus he is dealing with a pro - I can trick Rosco into giving up The Good Bone pretty easily. The one trick I need to work on is when he says 'Nibs!' or 'Joey!', as if the cats were at the door. I really want to play with those cats but they are afraid of me. So I try and take advantage of cornering them so I can show them how nice I am, and more than once dad has tricked me into coming inside before I was good and ready, only to discover that there are no cats.

But me listening less and less is starting to make them come out and get me. The other day he came down with a broom, as if he were going to sweep me up the stairs.

So you see the sort of foolishness I have to put up with. This sort of devious behavior can really wear a girl down.

Weird Word Wednesday #6: Korbin can kiss my 'big butt'

This week's weird word should actually be called this week's STUPID WORD WHO HAPPENS TO BE A STUPID STUPID STUPIDHEAD CAT.

His name is Korbin. You may be familiar with the rivalry that Korbin and I share; he has his opinions on things and I have the truth. His most recent diatribe went from being his usual ranting about pointless stuff and stupid opinions to directly attacking my form and figure as a cat.

First of all, I can't help the fact that I am a larger-figured cat than the rest of the lightweights in this house. It comes with having cat disabilities like a disfigured foot that was maimed by quack veterinarians three different times. If we cats could file for medical malpractice the idiots at Texas McVet's 'R Us would know my wrath.

Second, Korbin is a hippy cat who can't figure out if he wants long or short hair. He also has a really effeminate meow and sounds like a little girl most of the time. Plus he needs to have his butt shaved regularly or he walks around with half a litter box stuck to his behind. I personally would rather have a 'big butt' than a 'Korbin butt'.

So there. Next time think twice before taking on your obviously superior older brother.

Nibbler has a big butt

The weather around here has been a lot nicer lately. For a long time it was pretty cold, and there was loads of snow and ice in the yard. We finally moved into a place where we can see out the windows and what do we get? Two months of ice and snow. Not much to look at, and hardly any birds or squirrels in sight.

That all changed recently. Once the weather started to warm up they opened the windows and the drapes so we could look out the glass doors. I'm loving those things. All of us can line up and see out it, no more crowding or head crawling or anything else when a cool little bird pops in. The last thing you want to see when a cool little bird pops in is Nibbler's butt in your face. Although if he is even in the room at all it's tough not to notice it.

These windows are definitely suboptimal, dude

We don't have our bird feeders up yet so they don't come right up to the window like they used to (see below for my favorite feeder setup), but I can still hear them chirping away out in the neighborhood. I'd like them to get close enough to see, or even reach out and grab. The place up in Michigan with all the dogs and cats has a great porch that is screened in, it's practically like living outside. I'll bet I could catch a bird if I lived outside like Joey, but of course he is such a big jerk that he makes living outside seem like a bad thing.

Either way, I'm glad warmer weather has come along.

Lucky squirrel, if this glass wasn't here I would own you