Witness Protection Program

BROADCASTING TO YOU FROM H'S HIDEOUT:

Dear Readers:

It has been exactly a week since the disastrous lock-down incident of 2009. Although many paws and hands are pointing in my direction, I swear the crime was purely unintentional. Please let me explain my side of the story, as there is an unnamed striped individual who is misinterpreting the event.

First let me introduce myself: My name is Mr. H. The "H" is provided for my protection, and for your information, it stands for anything other than Hemi. As you can see from my picture, as I am a dangerous ladies' man, they are protecting my eye-dentity.

OK, here's what happened: Mom and a group friends were having a BBQ on the patio. They closed the sliding glass door so that smoke wouldn't get into my eyes and in the house through the screen door. Besides, I don't like having my tuxedo reek of charred mammal flesh in briquette.

Also, we cats tend to push on the screen door, causing mom to fear that I and a certain tabby individual by the name of "C" might venture outdoors. So she made sure the sliding glass door was unlocked, and she shut it.

From a previous experience, I have learned how to box quickly and furiously. I was using my newly found techniques and wily ways to get attention from the humans. So I rat, tapped, tapped fast and repeatedly on the sliding glass door. I've even improved my techinque by managing a good rhythm on the door.

The guests starting pointing and laughing, thinking I was "cute," and quite the little drummer boy. (By the way, I'm planning to start my own cats-only garage band, but that will be covered in a future posting).

Basically -- and I'm ashamed to admit it -- the lock to the sliding glass door that I was boxing jiggled shut, locking mom and her friends outside. The front door was also locked, and so was the garage door.

I overheard mom saying a certain feces word and scratching her head, wondering how she was going to get into the house. And I was thinking, I could use a head scratching. And I could use some food. And then, to my horror, I couldn't get either a head scratching nor a bowl of kibble until mom figured out the solution to HER problem.

After all, she didn't have to close the sliding glass door and should've repaired the lock so it could stay put.

Luckily, the key to mom's car was in her pocket, and she was able to get into her car, open the garage, and get into the house.

I was so happy to see her because I was hungry.

And I'm still in trouble and am on the lamb. Which reminds me that I'm hungry for lamb. Gotta go now.

M for now,

H (stands for anything but Hemi)

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,

Cosette