Thursday, May 21, 2009

Cata-tonic Cat Tonic


So mom gets home from teaching last night, looking a tad fretful. She wouldn't tell me what was wrong, despite my efforts to try and cheer her up by play wrestling with Cosette. She smiled when we were play-stalking each other, but I could read some anguish in her eyes. I knew her students weren't giving her any trouble because I know she enjoys her Monday/Wednesday night class.

Anyway, mom sits in bed, writes in her journal, and then goes to sleep with the journal on her nightstand.

She forgets that I'm
1. Literate
2. Nosy
3. Able to see better at night than almost any creature.

And what I read was more horrifying than the time I read Edgar Allen Poe's short story "The Black Cat."

She was writing about some sort of incident that took place during class, where a guest speaker was bragging about how one of his students wrote a story for the school's literary magazine, called "That Darn Cat." (I'm substituting "Darn" for the word he really used because I'm a way too classy tuxedo man to be using curse words.)

I'm sure that this student hated cats, so I'm sure that his short story wasn't very good.

Frankly, people misjudge cats all the time. Why are we always referred to as sneaky? Or mean? Or unaffectionate? It's really not accurate, and I just wish more people would give cats a chance.

Anyway, when I was done reading mom's journal, I sought comfort in my blankie, the new one mom bought for me. You can see how lovely it is in the picture, with its various colors. And you can surely see from the picture how happy I am with it. It's so pretty, and comfy, and cozy,

Now before you all become judgmental and claim I'm a substance abuser, I want to say right now that catnip causes euphoria, but it is not a drug. You know how I know? Because it's perfectly legal.

That's right. Legal.

Mom bought my blankie at the vet, and if catnip were illegal, the whole operation would be shut down because of its various catnip toy offerings. Pet stores stock it, and catnip is just about everywhere.

I love my blankie so much, I'm not even willing to spare a square!! In fact, I'm laying on my blankie as I write.

What was I writing about in the first place?

Meeeeeeeeeeeoooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwww for Now,

(I will discuss a future catnip-related topic.)

Sunday, May 10, 2009

A Tall Tail


This is Cosette. If you read the last blog post, Hemi was griping about how "underfed" he was that day that mom and her friend forgot to feed him enough food. Well, he's being a tad dramatic and has not gotten the story straight. The truth is, he is the food-grubbing member of the household -- eating mom out of house and home.

Today, for example, mom's friend picked him up to kiss him and said, "Wow, you've gained weight, Hemi." Now if a cat is underfed, he wouldn't be at a healthy weight. That was just one day that he wasn't fed enough at our household, and then mom and her friend were nauseatingly pouring accolades onto him due to their guilt. They then fed him almost a half-can more!

I, on the other hand, must deal with a whining brat who barrels over me to eat any morsel that belongs to me! Mealtimes are really bad, and I've had to stand up for myself to keep this interloper from eating what rightfully belongs to me.

Here's how mealtimes are at our household:

1. Mom gives me my anti-throw-up pill. Hemi and I are starving.
2. A half-hour later, mom sets down my bowl, the ration: a half-can. Hemi cannot be fed yet because he eats so fast that once he finishes, he badgers me for my food.
3. Mom has to stand guard in the kitchen so that Hemi doesn't barrel over me while I eat, hearing Hemi give plaintive cries. Trust me, I'm bigger and stronger and could knock him over with a single blow, but I choose to use my power for good instead of evil.
4. If mom leaves too early while I'm eating, I am curious and walk away, and Hemi scarfs down my food.
5. When mom feels I've had enough of a head start from this eating machine, she gives him his ration: a half can, which he eats faster than you can say, "Hemi is a hoggie."
6. I usually leave over a teaspoon or so of food, which Hemi gladly eats.
7. I do get the joy of hissing at him when walking away from him in the kitchen.
8. The same happens at night, minus the hiss.

Anyway, I just wanted to clear up any misconceptions about Hemi's and my feeding routines. He's so pig-like, that I'm surprised he hasn't yet given us Swine Flu.

Sow for now,


Thursday, May 7, 2009

Underfed and Fed Up


My mom is sleeping, so I figured I'd take advantage of this quiet time to write about a not-so-nice experience I had yesterday.

As you can see, I'm laying on top of my suitcase (formerly someone else's but now mine, although Cosette and I take turns) because if this keeps happening to me, I'm going to simply pack up my catnip toys and run away from home. I'm a good hunter and can live on wildlife. Right now, I hear birds chirping outside, so I know there's plenty of food outside.

There wasn't plenty of food for me yesterday, though, and this is the incident I must discuss. I had a nice morning meal, but at night I was food deprived. My mom was doing something called "teaching," and she asked a friend to pop by and feed Cosette, who needs a pill a half hour before she eats -- otherwise she upchucks.

And that ain't pretty.

Well, my mom made sure to tell her so-called friend all about Cosette's tender stomach, so when this person, whom I normally love, stopped by, she assumed I had already been fed. And you know what happens when you assume!!

So, to make a long story short, she got the lion's share of the food -- three-quarters of a can to be exact -- and I got the shaft by getting a stingy one-quarter "snack" because my mom failed to tell her that I hadn't eaten dinner yet.

I am appalled at this lack of service, and one day you may just find me the subject of one of those Animal Planet shows about neglected animals. What the heck, I might even make it on Oprah. And then, watch out world!

So when mom got home (she cares more about her students than me), she and her friend were "communicating," and mom told her I hadn't eaten dinner before she left for school. The friend was all -- "Oh Hemi I'm so sorry!" "You poor boy," "No wonder you seemed so hungry," "I thought you were just being your typical food-hound self."

How dare she compare me to a hound!

So I was finally given my due and fed. Like they did me a big favor. However, I must admit that I enjoyed the guilt-induced hugs, kisses, praises, etc. that were give by these two dottering humans.

Hey, they can take lessons on communication from cats. We say what we mean to say and don't miscommunicate. Humans, on the other hand, need to hone their communication skills with each other and other species.

There is an upside to this story: the humans became our puppets, using our favorite toys to play with us. Lemme tell you: Cat Dancer and Da Bird rock, although I am still coughing up feathers that my hungry self ingested from the bird toy.

Meow for now,


Monday, May 4, 2009

Close Encounters of the Feline Kind


As you can all see, this is a picture taken when Cosette and I had a loving moment. When cats are friendly toward eachother, they greet each other nose to nose, as shown in this picture. This is opposed to inferior dogs who sniff each other's butts. They are such butt-heads -- literally.

Anyway, basically we get along really well, and we like to rough it up a bit, but tonight the play turned kind of rough. Cosette loves to play, but she tends to not know her own strength. Or maybe she knows it, but she wants to give me grief. She's been chasing me around until now, and she's been very aggressive. She is finally tired of using me as her toy, so now I'm using this time to journal my feelings.

I do have to admit, I tend to instigate sometimes. Like the times I poke her in the face unprovoked (hee hee).

But deep down inside, I'm a pacifist, and I believe we all should just be friends all the time. I think I'm a pretty cool cat, very laid back, whether or not that's catnip-induced.

I must admit, I'm a little miffed that Cosette ruffled my tuxedo fur. She thinks she's so great because of her more wild striped pattern? Well, I'm an elegant, sophisticated tuxedo man.

She's just a bully.

Meow for now,