One Fat Cat With a Blog

WHAT THEY CAN DO NOW

2012-01-09T09:07:00.001-05:00

Thanks to Olga Quinn

I looked into getting a security system for our home. I called rochester ADT and decided to set up an appointment for next week. My sister in law and brother recently got one installed. They were teasing me and telling me that I needed to bring myself into the 21st century. When I went over to their house, they showed me all of the things that the alarm system did other than just having a loud siren. It actually was wired and would call the police if it went off. It has glass break alarms and fire alarms that call the fire department. It has motion detectors for the evening when everyone is asleep. There are also panic buttons on the key pad, that if for some reason you can’t get to the phone for some reason that you can call emergency services at the click of a button. Alarm systems have come a long way since they first started being put in homes. We are looking forward to getting ours.

New Year Resolution Time in the House of Frito

2012-01-09T08:46:00.003-05:00

My New Year's Resolutions are a tadinsky bit late this year. (Blame human with thumbs rather than big boned city kitty for said delay--as usual.) As most of you know--the crazy human lady (the one with the thumbs in this writing team) asks that all of the resident cats rethink our wasting of our nine lives at least once a year in a thoughtful, motivational post. How will old Frito be the best cat he can be in 2012?

Develop a love/hate relationship with a new vet. Most of you have heard my rants and raves over the big boned city vet who enjoys poking fun at my Maine Coon physique. Well--sadly enough the vet who has been the brunt of my own fat jokes and dietary dribble has left the building. She moved to an office across town--and, as much as I hate to admit it, I miss her. Now I have to break in a new guy (who doesn't seem to find the humor in my sense of humor) and he has so little personality that I have yet to find a marketable/bloggable character flaw. Rest assured--there is not a human alive of which Frito cannot make fun. I'm sure after a visit or two, he'll give me plenty of blogging material for the rest of my nine lives. As for my old vet--we both lost a lot of weight last year. I would like to think we motivated each other...of course I do think dropping her litter of humanoids helped her a lot more than canned mouse ears helped me--but, nonetheless--we are both healthier for our efforts.

Continue my weight loss plan. Yes, I'm still eating the diet torture in a bag—simply because it keeps me peeing like a kitten. You know what else? I think I have found some canned cat food that I can swallow! It's not half bad--as long as they keep the fishy stuff off my plate.

I will exercise. As I said last year--if I don’t stay in shape, how can I beat the crap out of one floppy eared pound hound on a daily basis? I may dislike exercise—but, I LOATHE that floppy eared pound hound. Bring on the milk ring fetching game. Frito’s still in training--just don't throw it down the stairs...I said I'm in training...not suicidal!

I will be nice to Max the Dog. (Yes, this is a human imposed New Year's Resolution for the cat) This was on the list last year...didn't happen then...not likely to happen now. Okay—I will be nice unless I catch him looking at me, or at Fluff or the girls. If he barks, I’ll bash him. If he wags that hound dog tail, I’ll bash him. If he breathes in my presence, I’ll bash him. I’m only so strong. I am just one cat. I am willing to let him sleep in the human's bed with me now--as long as he stays in his opposite corner. That counts for something right?

I will refrain from swatting the old folks. Yes--this is a repeat from last year too. It seems that I have been labeled by the GrandHumans as unfriendly—even intimidating. I would not be intimidating if they would not try to pet me, touch me, goo-goo/gaa-gaa at me or walk within 6 feet of me. Is this so hard to understand? In an effort to regain my kitty charm, I agree to refrain swatting the feeble except on the occasional third Sunday of the month. They don’t visit as often, so this should increase their odds of a swat free weekend. I may even let the loud Grandpa human pet me a couple of times before I bite him. Fair trade, right?

I, Frito T. Cat, will still NEVER eat a mouse. (In case human with thumbs forgot this little detail of our relationship.) This is more of an admission than a resolution--but, it is time that I stand up for my convictions. In the past, the humans have requested that I catch a mouse. I refuse. I now openly refuse. I am a passive kitty. I love peace. I love harmony. I may eat the occasional bug or butterfly—but, a mouse. EEWWWW.

The crazy cat lady will likely give me some secondary, “personal reflection” assignment again this year—but, until then, these are my 2012 New Year's Resolutions. As I've said before, at least the face of stupid doesn’t have a blog…boy that would offer some though provoking reading….Bubba says this…Bubba says that…blah blah blah…duh duh duh.

Okay, cat pals--what resolutions do you wish to accomplish this year?

One Fat Cat with a Blog Disclosure Policy

2011-12-09T07:23:00.003-05:00

Okay, cat pals--although I'm publicly blogging, I didn't see the need to add a disclosure policy to One Fat Cat with a Blog. Well, I'm beginning to have some advertisers interested in what I have to say--and in marketing to those who sometimes listen to my ramblings. And--a cat's "gotta" eat, right? So--Here is my statement about advertisements, paid posts, reviews, and money making on One Fat Cat with a Blog.

I accept paid advertisers--and use sites like Google AdSense, Amazon Affiliates to generate revenue on this site.

I will sometimes accept complimentary or discounted items to review--but, in true Frito fashion, free doesn't change my opinion. If a product should be in the litter box--I will tell you. If I like it--or the parent humans like it--I'll tell you. My opinions are my own and are not really for sale.

I will sometimes write paid or sponsored posts with links to advertisers websites. Again--paying me doesn't make me like your site--and my readers will only see these posts if I would recommend the site without payment. (The extra $$ just helps ensure a steady stream of salmon cat treats and blueberry muffins!)

So--that's my disclosure statement and advertising policy. If you would like to advertise on One Fat Cat with a Blog, send me note and I will run it by the humans.

Frito T. Cat has Ditched the High Calorie Cat Food

2011-12-09T07:08:00.007-05:00

In case you haven’t noticed the “fat cat blogging” string of human alphabet characters on my blog url….I, Frito T. Cat, once had something of a weight problem. In fact, for 4 of my 10 years, I was berated and downright ridiculed by a vet, albeit a somewhat portly vet—but, a vet nonetheless, for my Maine Coon and beyond physique. Well—as many of you know—the Diet Police—a.k.a. the psycho mom-human put me on a vet inspired diet. Frito T. Cat suffered diet drama for several years--all in the name of good health and yada, yada, yada…blah, blah, blah. Well—I’m here to tell you—I have finally dropped 4 of my 24 pounds. I have officially ditched the high calorie cat food habit once and for all. I may have even gained a life or two since I’m lighter and a lean, mean, Frito machine.

How did this cat lose weight? Well—my favorite vet—the one who sympathizes with us big boned city kitties rather than criticizing us (like some big boned vets who remain unmentioned but always on my hit list)—suggested that I avoid high calorie cat food and try some low carbohydrate options with higher, more cat friendly protein ratios. We gave it a shot—although I was pretty particular about my fast-food-grade cat food. After a while, Fluff, the girls and I actually craved the healthy, high protein stuff. It was amazing. We could eat half of the amount of the healthy stuff as the high calorie cat food and be full—but, when we ran out of the “healthy” food; we were starving all the time! Psycho mom lady and economist dad even realized the HEALTHY food was more cost effective in the long run because we ate less and I had fewer, “help, I’m in the litter box and I can’t pee” inspired trips to the vet.

Frito T. Cat says wet food isn’t really canned mouse ears. Yeah—I wonder if the affinity toward canned food doesn’t come with age because I absolutely hated the stuff when I was a youngster! I’m still not a fan of the weird fishy gruel-in-a-can—but, bring on the lamb and turkey! The vet said wet cat food was good for my urinary tract (to which the crazy mom human insists on constantly drawing attention) –but I gagged at the sight of a plate of it.

So, cat pals, the moral of Frito’s story is….sometimes you can skip the high calorie cat food for some healthier options and regain a few of those lost nine lives. Check out Become.com (crazy human lady just discovered them and economist dad is pretty excited about the prices) for some of your healthier cat food needs---the rest of your nine lives really does depend on it. If this fat cat with a blog can shed some pounds…you can too.

5 Reasons Frito T Cat Hates Road Trips

2011-09-14T19:01:00.005-04:00

Okay—I’ll admit it. There were times when I used to get a little jealous when the humans would pack up the Face of Stupid (aka Max the Hound Dog) and take him away to places unknown for a few hours…or even a few days. They still do it a lot—and sometimes it seems a little unfair—but, in the end I think Fluff, the Girls and I are better off to NOT be packed along on little outdoor road trip adventures. Let me tell you why.

Road trips require a trip outside. I am Frito T. Cat—Watch Cat Extraordinaire of the INSIDE world. I’m a housecat. The outside world is generally too hot, too cold, too wet, too dark, too bright, too windy, too smelly, too loud, or just too darned scary. Avoid road trips…avoid the outside…be one happy house cat.

Road trips generally do not end in fun-filled destinations. Have you ever noticed that when cats get a road trip—it sure isn’t for a fun filled day at the beach? My trips have ended at the vet, the boarding kennel, Grandma’s house, the groomer (sad, sad day that was) or at the home of yet another stupid dog….or some traumatic combo of all of the above. All roads seem to lead to non-cat friendly activities. I would rather skip the drama.

Cats are often misunderstood. Grandma is scared of Frito. (Really? SHE is scared of ME? Hmmm.) Cats “tear up the furniture” (yeah…and tooth filled, snout of stupid just sniffs it, right?), cats “smell” (there’s no such thing as wet cat smell…dogs on the other hand…hmmm), litterbox duties put many off (how about pooper scooper duties for a 50 pound hound dog), and cats prefer to be left alone….well, maybe the stupid humans got that one right. Even if the human’

The Face of Stupid gets carsick. Once again, my humans managed to find the one defective hound dog in the pound. Has anyone ever seen a dog, let alone a HOUND DOG, that doesn’t like to ride in cars or trucks? EVER? Well, we have one…one that hacks up his breakfast in the minute car ride to the vet. Yep..I really want to be in the car with a sack full of dog yack for miles.

When the family takes a road trip—the cats are really the ones that get a vacation. See, when my family goes away…I get my blanket back…I get my room back…I get to roam the house…I get to sleep on the dining room table…I get to eat cat food in the little kids’ bed, I get to sleep in the laundry basket. Most importantly, I do not get carried around the house, I do not play dress up..or Baby Frito or any other demeaning game…I can let my guard down because the Face of Stupid cannot stay home alone for long. All in all..if I avoid road trip vacations, I truly get a vacation in the end.

So, if you cats out there are getting bummed about being constantly left behind while the family takes off—take a few minutes to think things through. I bet you have 5 good reasons why cats hate road trips as well!

Frito T. Cat’s Bucket List

2011-09-06T08:55:00.002-04:00

I just got a cutesy little postcard in the mail from my vet. I am officially now a “senior pet”. They mean senior—as in senior citizen kitty. Can you believe it? They think I’m old, over the hill, beyond my prime….maybe even on the last few of my nine lives. At first I was a little depressed…then I got mad at the pure rudeness of it all…then I realized that if the powers that be are doing a countdown to my demise, it’s time to live life to the fullest. Hmmm. How exactly does one laid back, scaredy cat live life to the fullest without inadvertently cutting said life a few lives short? I guess I just throw caution to the wind and write down my bucket list for a start.

Here goes…10 things that Frito T. Cat wishes to accomplish in his “senior” years.

Catch a Mouse. Cats are supposed to want to do this, right? Maybe if I caught one, I could understand what all the fuss is about. I couldn’t EAT it or anything…that’s just gross and inhumane…but, maybe the fun of it is in the catching of the mouse. Anyway…I just think it’s something I should do at least once before the end.

Get Married. Everyone says that Lea and I were meant to be, but she’s more like a little sister. I met some cats on MyCatSpace that were Frito marrying material. There was a raven haired beauty in Pennsylvania… a spunky little Siamese in California…an older feline with Gina’s spunk and a lot more wisdom in Florida, and a younger gal that looked a little like me also in Florida. Maybe I should look them up and put myself out there. Maybe it’s time the Soul Cat settles down.

Have a Frito family reunion. Crazy human lady is friends with the lady that owns my brother Michael. We were the two runts of the litter…so we were up for adoption at the same time. (If I was a runt, I’d hate to meet my “healthy weight” littermates in a dark alley!) I should have a reunion with Michael. See if we still smell the same and all, you know?

Drink from the Fountain of Youth. I love to drink from fountains—and a fountain to make me a non-senior cat would make a whole lot of sense at this stage of the game. Anyone know where they keep that thing? (I’d do a car trip…but, no planes…I’m a little claustrophobic.)

Become viral on YouTube. I used to do flips in the air catching those plastic milk jug cap rings. Did the humans pick up the video camera then? NOOOOOOO. I could have been an overnight YouTube sensation about 10 pounds ago…Time to come up with a new gimmick. I think it’s possible.

Thoroughly Bash the Face of Stupid. I’ve talked about Max the Pound Hound, AKA the Face of Stupid. One good bashing of the hound and I think I could die a happy Maine Coon.

Sleep on My Blanket without the Kid that Says My Blanket is Her Blanket. Once upon a time, I had a blanket. MY BLANKET. Along came a brat kid…then another…and suddenly my blanket was community property…THEN it took up residence on the bed of human brat #1 as HER blanket. I want my blanket back---without the kid.

Eat a Butterfly. Every year, the humans raise butterflies from cocoons on my napping table. It makes me crazy. Before I die, I WILL eat one of those butterflies. I just need to put my mind at ease. I’ve heard they taste like potato chips…and I don’t much like those…but, I just need to know for sure.

Taste every variety of tuna and salmon cat treats on the market. I am a soft cat treat kind of guy—and I love tuna and salmon. I have time to test every tuna and salmon option available and if I can get my paws on the human’s credit card, I will Amazon.com’s #1 cat treat buyer.

Sample Blueberry Muffins from every Bakery in Columbus. Does anyone know where I can get the best blueberry muffins in Columbus? I am not a people food kind of cat—but, there is just something about a good blueberry muffin that old Frito cannot resist. I’ll get a list of bakeries…maybe websites that take credit card orders. Won’t the humans be surprised when I find a blueberry muffin of the month club?

What to try first….bring on the salmon cat treats—Frito needs to live what’s left of his life!

One Fat Cat With a Flea

2011-08-31T14:18:00.003-04:00

Human mom lady found a flea on my belly this morning. A FLEA!!!!!! In all of my dignified, senior house cat years, I have NEVER, EVER and I mean NEVER EVER had a FLEA!!! Psycho Sal E. Cat may have had fleas….if a flea was stupid enough to grace his white fur and claw presence. Dumb Dumb Fluff looks like he should have fleas….but, even he’s never had one in all of his adventures and misadventures in the outside world…The girls have never had fleas…Even the face of stupid, pound hound that surely presents himself as a flea magnet purely by nature of breeding has never been caught red-pawed with a flea.

But, yet, she found A FLEA???? A FLEA ON FRITO????? Now it seems that I have been harboring this blood sucking little vermin for days because I’m having some weird allergic flea reaction. (Mom called it a money sucking trip to the vet for a cortisone shot—but, it’s ME these vermin are victimizing and sucking the Frito-ness out of!!!) Can I help it if I’m a sensitive kind of guy? Can I help it if I respond allergically to trash and vermin invasion? So my lip's a bit puffy and I have skin issues…I am the Soul Cat…I need peace and love….not fleas and grief!

AAAAAGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If I go to the vet for a cortisone shot, I get weighed. If I get weighed, I am the immediate target of diet plan restructuring and the inevitable fat cat jokes. I just went in for my annual ridicule and fat cat abuse session last month…aka the annual kitty “wellness checkup”…I was not supposed to be subjected to the vet calling out the fat cat for MONTHS yet. It’s just not fair.

Who caused this? If not the face of stupid…then I must blame recent house guests. Could my brother’s mum have brought me FLEAS? Nah….not her…My brother Michael is as citified as I am…Oh no….it was the county cousin Shih Tzu! She came to visit…there was talk about a neighbor dog with fleas…there was talk about flea baths.

AAAAAGHHHHHH!!!! I knew I should have chased her to the garage.

Why didn’t Max, the Face of Stupid, chase her to the garage? With that ridiculous hound dog snout, you’d think he could smell a flea from 4 counties over…. Who am I kidding…Face of Stupid evidently holds Snout of Stupid.

I am on my own in this crusade against the dreaded flea. **Note to crazy, flea obsessed, human mom lady….Frito can handle this…no need for trip to insulting vet or to degrading outdoor flea bath….fleas are no match for Frito T. Cat. Really. They aren’t.**

HELP????? I see the outdoor flea bath being readied for one sad big boned city kitty.

Central Ohio Weather Inspires Pole Dancing

2011-02-01T08:49:00.003-05:00

Okay, conservative cats—before you go wrapping your tails around your eyes and ears, I’m not talking about THAT kind of pole dancing. If I was talking about that, then the old human mom lady certainly wouldn’t have been as actively participating this morning…the world does not need that kind of entertainment. Trust me. The girls and I got the laugh of the morning when the crazy lady took the pound hound out for his morning stroll. The weather gave us a layer of ice last night and apparently humans and hound dogs aren’t as sure footed as we felines.

The Face of Stupid hit the steps and the sidewalk first—literally. The stupid dog went bounding out the front door right on his face. Luckily for the crazy lady that this happened, because that little misstep slowed him down just enough that she was able to stay upright until she could grab onto the rose bush. Yes. The giant four foot, sticky sticker filled rose bush was a better option than a repeat of the broken tail bone two years ago. This was an utter shock to me and the girls since we did not realize humans had a purpose for a starter tail!

Well, the rose bush is the last point of balance and stability before one reaches the street with mailboxes and street light poles. Hee hee…oh, it was another Looney Tunes inspired morning. Remember when Bugs Bunny was “helping” Yosemite Sam find gold that time. He’d do somersaults and cartwheels and get that crazy look in his eye. You would have thought the lady found gold all the way down the driveway—until the Face of Stupid pulled her into and ALL THE WAY around a street light pole about seven times.

We are not experts in the art of pole dancing—but, if it were an Olympic event we would have given her a 7, 8 and a 9 respectively for technique and creativity. Costume was a little off (we think the droopy sweat pants and 30 pound winter coat may has stifled movement). We even gave the Face of Stupid a 6 for his creative belly slides and side rolls.

I would encourage you to the watch the news in Central Ohio today—I bet there’s lots of creative ice maneuvers out there on video. I wish I had a camera and thumbs with which to operate it this morning, let me tell you.

Be safe; don’t let your humans break any hips. Remember, this may make it easier to be a lap cat—but, trust me; it will be harder to get fed.

This could possibly go down as the first stupid human trick for February in the House of Frito.

If a Cat Kills the First Robin of Spring, Does Mother Nature Retaliate?

2011-01-24T15:00:00.001-05:00

Hypothetically speaking, if a cat kills the first robin of Spring, do you suppose Mother Nature retaliates? Hmmm. Yep. I do too. No need to check things out with the groundhog this Groundhog Day, Toms and Tommies—Dum Dum Fluffsy just gave us 6 more weeks of winter—he KILLED the coming of Spring!! It’s bad, I tell you---BAD BAD Predator Cat…wait until the humans hear about it! Oh—and when the little ones find out what he’s done…so long Fluffy D’Tail snuggle time!

What is old Frito rambling about? Oh, nothing much---except the fact that we are finally seeing robins, as misguided and misdirected as they may be to show up in Ohio when it’s below zero, they are ROBINS nonetheless. The bearers of the coming of Spring. Robins make the humans happy—happy humans loosen the strings on the cat food bags and they are a little more forgiving during kitty visits to the vet. So what does Dum Dum do? Oh, he just KILLS and freeze packs a robin—and left a full fledged crime scene for all to see.

Oh, yeah, right on the front step—he even cracked the storm window on the glass door with the head of Spring. (Of course, HE claims that the bird lost its mind and flew into the window….at 18 inches off the ground at THAT force???? He needs to work on that story a bit if he’s going to get it by Detective Mom—she ALWAYS knows what happens around here…and she has this weird third eye somewhere that lets her know not only WHAT happened…but WHO did it.

Then—instead of at least eating it (which I am TOTALLY against for the record) and destroying the evidence; the Fluff-in-Stuff headed buffoon LEFT IT IN THE SNOW…RIGHT IN THE FRONT YARD when he came in for the night. He was safe for the past few days because we got a few inches of snow and the bird was covered….but now we’ve had a little rain and a little thawing…and there’s a tail featherless, frozen bird butt-sicle with two legs sticking up in the front yard! We don’t need more of a sign than that screaming, SPRING KILLER!

Six more weeks of winter…I can feel it in my whiskers…six more weeks of cooped up coon hound…six more weeks of “dress up the kitty in ridiculous dresses”….six more weeks of prying eyes examining every morsel of food I eat…every trip to the litter box. All because of Dum Dum Fluff.

Did we need a psycho killer cat on the outside? Well—maybe occasionally…just on the days when the humans expect me to rid the inside world of an invading mouse or something—but, I draw the line at innocent birds. I draw a double line on robins. (Oh, yeah, and Cardinals…and Blue Jays…and Woodpeckers.) WHAT WAS HE THINKING??

He’s really done it this time….really done it. Well, I guess there’s only one thing left to do….let’s see if I can help him frame the dog for the murder of Spring…

Why Do Some Cats Not Cover in the Litter Pan?

2011-01-19T13:30:00.003-05:00

Wednesday's Weekly Guest Post:
Featuring Guest Blogger~ Gina T. Cat, Frito's Free Spirited Roommate

Can someone please shed some insight onto why exactly some cats (namely Frito T. Cat) find themselves unable to cover up the doodie in the litter box? Lea, Fluffy D’Dum Dum, and I have tolerated this oddity for years—and have decided that it’s time to seek some outside guidance. Either Frito learns to cover or we are going to block access to the downstairs litter boxes.

Really—it’s disgusting. It’s unsanitary—and we cannot understand why he cannot grasp the concept of potty and cover. I even watched him yesterday! He dropped a Frito sized load of crap (in the box not onto the web)—stepped out of the box, looked around to see if anyone was looking, and then made a quick paw or two into the litter box (without moving any litter) and then stopped to look at the uncovered pile. It seemed that he was honestly perplexed by the fact that it was not covered.

Hello, Frito—it requires MOVEMENT OF LITTER OVER the pile. What did he do when he realized that it wasn’t covered, you may ask? He turned around and pawed like a madcat OUTSIDE the litter box on the carpet. What was THAT supposed to accomplish? He turned to check the status of the potty pile—and was immediately distressed that it was NOT covered. Hmm. Then, he proceeded to try pawing the carpet on the other side of the litter box. Guess what? He turned to check out the potty pile again. Bewilderment struck. What did he do next? He pawed the wall behind the litter box! THE WALL. Not kidding. With one more look at the uncovered pile of poo, he took one more look around the area for witnesses and ran as fast as could waddle out of the hallway and onto the stairs.

For the millionth time, I followed along, entered the litter box and covered his potty wotty doodle. Apparently someone missed the litter box training in kitten school. You’d think as many times as he’s watched me cover for him over the years that he would have gotten the hang of it.

I think I’ve been uncharacteristically patient for the past 8 years. I have followed his litter trail, covered his messes, and have never even made a hiss. Really, though, I’m getting to old to keep covering up his messes. I have kids to bite, humans to trip, and a floppy eared pound hound to bash—you never know when my nine lives will be up. I really do not have time to be on constant litter box patrol. I just don’t get it—any insight? Any good intervention/potty therapists out there? Perhaps a litter box training guide for dummies that I’ve missed?

See you next week! Same cat time. Same cat channel.

Gina

Short Term Memory Loss...Or Just Plain Stupid

2011-01-11T10:04:00.002-05:00

Some of you may remember when the humans took in Fluffy D’Tail a few years back. He was a whiny, hungry, scruffy looking dust mop of an excuse for an outdoorsman. While he’s still whiny and scruffy looking, he does manage to eat his share of the indoor cat allotment of diet friendly kibble—and his own canned mouse ears. The girls and are starting to worry about him…see, since the Central Ohio weather turned yucky and blucky and downright cold and snowy—Fluff D has presented some peculiar behavior. His behavior is so ridiculous, in fact, that we are questioning either his mental faculties or his intellect—or both.

Every morning, he goes to the door and throws an absolute, caterwauling FIT to be let out into the snow. SNOW, I tell you! (While I think that alone screams of a loss of mental faculties—I believe in to each his own and all.) However, after minutes outside—two to three at the most—he’s outside the door again throwing a whiny tail fit to be let back inside. Then he continues to do this throughout the day in 2 to 3 hour increments. Now—the girls and I must ask the question….does he somehow forget that it’s wet, freezing and snow covered outside---or is he just an idiot?

One look out the window is proof that it is snow covered (hence the frigid temperatures and resulting icy, wet, frozen paws). Why then would the cat repeatedly venture out to only prove that it’s miserable out there….there simply must be something wrong with him! I have the sense to know that if the floor is cold once I venture off my blanket that perhaps I should stay on my blanket. There seems to be a missing cause and effect sensation in that cat.

*Sigh*….I guess it just goes to show you that the human’s judgment in animals worthy of adoption has certainly declined in recent years.

Restless Tail Syndrome Creates Pain in the Tail for Cat Roommate

2011-01-07T10:49:00.002-05:00

Pondering the theory of restless tail syndrome for the morning....

For a long time now, I have discussed the many imperfections in the resident pound hound that the humans so felt necessary to “rescue”to adopt (and pay good cat food fund money for) from the shelter. These flaws include those floppy ears that get in his food and water, the big vacuum cleaner power suction device attached to the end of a ridiculous hound dog snout, and silly spots that look like dirt--which even a much needed weekly bath fails to remove—and a tail that just does not stop wagging.

For a long time, I just assumed the dog was stupid. I thought he was simply in a doofus, la-la land of perpetual happiness. An idiot. Now, though, I wonder if there is not some medical reason or malady causing this constant, unusual (and downright irritating) wagging of the tail. After all, NOBODY can be that darned happy. Then it hit me. He must have restless tail syndrome.

You cats have heard of restless leg syndrome in humans, right? It’s a real thing, you know? My Swat-A-Granny has it and she is miserable without her medication—especially if she’s not moving about (and that make her the perfect Swat-A-Granny contestant I might add). So—I’m thinking (and you know that Frito T. Cat is ALWAYS thinking)—maybe the dog isn’t a clueless buffoon. Maybe he just looks stupid and has Restless Tail Syndrome—making him appear to be unwittingly happy all the time!

I just did some online research and it seems that the vet world is entirely missing this highly plausible, overly irritating phenomenon! I’m going to email this to the human lady immediately—she needs to call the vet. Maybe he needs sedated! Maybe it’s incurable and the only humane thing to do would be to put him down and out of my…er…HIS misery. Did I mention that he even wiggle-waggles that silly tail in his sleep? (The human says he’s dreaming—I say he’s possessed by the moron ghost of hound dogs past—but, of course, nobody ever listens to the fat cat!)

I may have just discovered the cause of irritating wag-worthy happiness in dogs everywhere. Do you think they’ll give me credit? Do you think this discovery is worth any money? (Either the cat food fund is low these days or those humans are enforcing the evil vet diet plan in preparation for my upcoming vet visit—this visit I like to call “The Fat Cat Weight Check and Ridicule Session”.)

I think it’s answered. The stupid dog, while he may be inherently less intelligent than we felines, is suffering from a real medical illness. He needs help—he needs drugged…um..he needs medicated! He may even need to be put down for humanity sake. I’m a strong advocate for humane treatment—we cannot wait on this—we need to act quickly, human!

Frito T. Cat's New Year's Resolutions 2011

2010-12-26T11:42:00.007-05:00

What are some of this cat's New Year's Resolutions? The New Year is almost here and I wanted to get a jump on the crazy cat lady’s annual “self improvement” demands. Every year, she wants me to create my personal New Year’s Resolutions—and do some soul searching and self evaluation in some goofball human inspired effort to be the “best cat that I can be”. Most years, I grumble and complain and just simply rewrite or paraphrase last year’s list to humor the crazy mom human. This year, though, I’m a little more thankful for each passing life and I think I’m going to put more thought into my New Year’s Resolutions.

The vet will never again call this big boned kitty fat.
Does this mean that I will lose more weight? Eat my canned mouse ears and innards without complaint? Uh, no, it means that when the farsighted vet criticizes Frito T. Cat, I plan to bite her with all of the force that my manly 23 pounds can muster. Hey, I’ll continue the diet torture in a bag—simply because it keeps me peeing like a kitten—but, the fat cat jokes stop here. (And unless the vet’s about to drop another litter of two or three little humans, a few cans of diet mouse ears should probably grace her lunch bag as well.)

I will exercise.
Surprised? Don't be! After all, if I don’t stay in shape, how can I beat the crap out of one floppy eared pound hound on a daily basis? I may dislike exercise—but, I LOATHE that floppy eared pound hound. Bring on the milk ring fetching game. Frito’s in training!

I will be nice to Max the Dog
(Yes, this is a human imposed New Year's Resolution for the cat) Hey—I will be nice unless I catch him looking at me, or at Fluff or the girls. If he barks, I’ll bash him. If he wags that hound dog tail, I’ll bash him. If he breathes in my presence, I’ll bash him. I’m only so strong. I am just one cat.

I will refrain from swatting the old folks.
It seems that I have been labeled by the GrandHumans as unfriendly—even intimidating. I would not be intimidating if they would not try to pet me, touch me, goo-goo/gaa-gaa at me or walk within 6 feet of me. Is this so hard to understand? In an effort to regain my kitty charm, I agree to refrain swatting the feeble except on the occasional third Sunday of the month. They don’t visit as often, so this should increase their odds of a swat free weekend.

I, Frito T. Cat, will NEVER eat a mouse.
This is more of an admission than a resolution--but, it is time that I stand up for my convictions. In the past, the humans have requested that I catch a mouse. I refuse. I now openly refuse. I am a passive kitty. I love peace. I love harmony. I may eat the occasional bug or butterfly—but, a mouse. EEWWWW.

The crazy cat lady will likely give me some secondary, “personal reflection” assignment—but, until then, I think I’ve developed a realistic, inspiring list of New Year’s Resolutions. Maybe if I impress her with this list, I’ll get enough computer time to keep up with my blog on a more regular basis. At least the face of stupid doesn’t have a blog…boy that would offer some though provoking reading….Bubba says this…Bubba says that…blah blah blah…duh duh duh.

Well—I’m sending out my New Year well wishes a bit early—but, I think it will help me focus! I’m ready to put 2010 to rest and come out swatting in 2011!

What resolutions do you wish to accomplish this year?

5 Toxic Plants to Cats

2010-12-09T09:58:00.003-05:00

The holidays are here and all of our stupid humans seem to love to bring in pretty greenery to deck our halls—unfortunately some pretty greens just smell so darned good that we feline folk just can’t resist their toxic draw! What are some plants that will make you yack up last year’s hairballs—and maybe even ones still in progress or worse yet, take that last ninth life you’ve been saving up for your Bucket List adventures? I love green veggies as much as the next guy—but, here are 5 plants that the vets and science gurus say are toxic to cats. Avoid them, boycott them if necessary—or suffer the consequences.

Holly. My humans have some strong Celtic roots—and we ALWAYS have holly in some form or other hanging out. Looks pretty, smells good, chews well…skip it. Hacking up a hairball is NOTHING compared to Holly induced yacks. Holly hits so hard you yack from BOTH ENDS…sometimes at once.

Mistletoe. Who needs the kissyface crap anyway? Apparently human-folk think this stuff is cool to stand under—but, for the sake of Magical Mister Mistopheles—DON”T EAT IT! If the yacking from both ends doesn’t get you, you can have some trips that NO CAT would believe. I’ve heard of cats seeing some Black Lab sized MICE, I tell you…Skip the Mistletoe.

Amaryllis. Pretty flower, pretty greens—pretty darned nauseating. Sure, the puke factor is bad—but, if you eat too much of this one you can drool like a doofus, convulse like none other and have some high powered tummy cramps that a few extra helpings of cat food never brought on!

Lilies and Baby’s Breath. Okay—lots of humans get those floofsy-poofsy flower arrangements from the local florists as gifts during the holidays—and what do they stick in there? Random lilies and baby’s breath. Both of those awful things can make you sick as a dog—or even wish you were a dog. If you human doesn’t put them up out of tongue’s reach, summon your willpower and skip the holiday pretties.

Christmas Tree water. Okay, this isn’t a plant—but, since the Christmas tree becomes planted in your living room for weeks, it’s important to remind everyone about the dangers of Toxic WATER??? What will these humans think of next! First of all they bring in a tree that you are not allowed to climb, decorate it with shiny pretties that you aren’t allowed to swat—and then fill up a basin of water for the tree to sit in that can kill you??? Yep. Skip the tree water. It can have nasties like fertilizers and bacteria that grow in there when it sits for weeks on end. Save the tummy trouble and skip it!

Okay, it’s a given that humans sometimes do stupid things (especially during holidays and special occasions.) For the next few weeks, why don’t you skip eating ANY green, leafy veggie that magically appears in your midst? There are other things like poinsettia which may not kill you or make you deathly ill in small doses—but, should NOT be eaten in meal sized quantities. Use your cat sense—but also hope that your humans eliminate holiday hazards from your decked halls this year!

Why Cats Get Stressed Out During the Holidays

2010-12-06T10:39:00.005-05:00

Okay, some of you cats and human typists know that I, Frito T. Cat, develop some annual holiday stress related health issues. In fact, the Mom human has battled my annual Thanksgiving psychosis and urinary tract stress-distress so long that she and the vet debated drugging me through the entire holiday season! I am generally a pretty laid back cat—so why do I lose it from November through January every damned year? Let me tell you—and I bet many of you other cats can relate….

Strangers invade and sometimes stay for days. I like meeting new people as much as the next cat—but, only in small doses. If I happen through a room full of strangers during a Thanksgiving meal, so be it—but, when those weirdos move in for a day or two—I kind of lose it. It’s a matter of too much new noise, new smells, and new artifacts---too much NEWNESS in general for TOO LONG. Cats like routines, we like patterns….no new Fruit-Loops for days one end. Too stressful for even a peace loving, laid back kind of cat.

Umm…Black Olives on the Thanksgiving table? HELLO—Frito T. Cat LOVES black olives. What do humans serve for Thanksgiving? Turkey? Ham? Aromatic veggies? HELLOOOO???? Cats eat birds in the wild. Turkey=Wild Bird. I am a self proclaimed vegetarian—but, black olives are my friend—and if they are on the Thanksgiving buffet, I consider myself invited. As for Fluffy D’Tail, the resident outdoor psycho-bird-hunting killer cat? You wonder why he goes a little nutso over turkey? Really?

Luggage moves in. While I do not have a problem with new artifacts in my living space—some cats like my roommate Gina—take issue when the living space becomes disorganized or cluttered. Some cats—like my roommate Gina—tend to take matter into their own paws and show the humans who rules the floors around here. While the other cats and I think Gina’s crazy (although not one of us has the whiskers to say that to her face), we can see how the disruption can cause stress and anxiety. (Note to humans staying in Gina’s house: Sit a suitcase on the floor unsupervised and you had better have a brave dry cleaner and a lifetime supply of Nature’s Miracle because she can and will pee on it.) Not kidding. If I was joking—it would be funnier.

Tinsel, tree pretties and music—oh my! My name is Frito and I eat plastic. Hey—after 10 years in Plastic Eater’s Anonymous, I can admit such things. Now—bear in mind that it sounds like plastic, tastes like plastic and exhibits a glorious sheen like plastic; even an intelligent cat like myself may view it as plastic. Tree tinsel is my weakness. Skip it this year. You, I, my intestines and the vet will appreciate the beauty of a tinsel-less bare tree. Who needs it anyway? As for the pretty hangy-downy-cat teasers….Fluffy and Lea cannot resist. Make it easy for all of us—skip those or move them up at least 3 feet from the cat’s eye view, please. Is motion activated musical nonsense necessary? Sure, sending a cat to the ceiling once may be pretty funny—but after that first time, must we really be subjected to blaring rifts of “Grandma Got Ran Over by A Reindeer” at 3 a.m. for a full month?

Humans bring a TREE into the living room. Hey—I’m a house cat. Too big to climb trees, too chicken to consider it, in fact. However, the other cats in my house are either ex-outdoorskitties or freaking insane. They climb trees. They love trees. Since Gina sent the family tree over a 12 foot landing drop off about 6 years ago, my humans wedge the tree into a corner of the dining room to keep it safe—but, still lose their minds when the girls or Fluff try to climb it. Cats climb trees daily—apparently I need to take video or something to remind my stupid humans of this fact. Skip it or learn to deal.

Okay, cats…the holiday season is stressful. Do your best to get through them. January is less than a month away—and then we are all good until the stupid Easter bunny comes along with that damned Easter basket grass….Be brave, be strong—be smarter than your humans and have a happy, safe, vet free holiday.

My Buddy Tiger Could Use a Forever Home

2010-11-30T10:04:00.005-05:00

I’m taking a break from my usual dog hating, sarcastic rants today because I have a cat pal in need. His name’s Tiger and he’s a pretty cool guy. Well, I’ll be honest, I haven’t met him personally—he’s my “cousin”, and the Mom lady says he’s the best cat she’s ever met besides Me, Fluff, Lea, Gina and the late, great Salzi Doodle. The Mom lady’s a pretty good judge of cat character, you know.

See, I haven’t met Tiger because Mom says he has an illness. It’s called Feline Leukemia. He tested positive for both FLV and FIV and my Aunt and Uncle who took him in off the streets are having a hard time trying to decide what to do. They can’t bear the thought of having him put down because he is such a loving cat—so full of life still. But, they have three kitties that have not been exposed to FLV/FIV and they are afraid to risk giving them Tiger’s disease.

Tiger really needs to be adopted by a loving family—and live in a one cat household. He’d love to be a lap cat—and find someone to devote himself to for the rest of his life. My Aunt and Uncle adopted Tiger—and promised to love him, and it’s out of that love that they have been so determined to find him a good home to offer him the care and attention that he needs.

Right now Tiger has to be isolated from my other cousins. Dixie, Callie and Grey have the run of the house—and lots of lap time. The vets suggest that Tiger be put down. The animal shelters cannot take him because he is too much of a risk to their other cats and would be too difficult to adopt out.

Okay, Frito fans—can any of you help him out? Do you know someone that would be willing to adopt him and help him live out the rest of his life in peace? I sure hope so. See when I developed my urinary tract issues a few years back, the Mom lady refused to listen to talk about putting me down—and I’d consider it an honor to be able to give Tiger the same chances I’ve had through the years.

Leave me a comment or shoot me an email if you have questions or think you can help my buddy Tiger.

Maine Coon Meets Coon Hound: Canine Affinity Treatment Step Two

2010-11-27T20:39:00.006-05:00

If a cat fails to accept the given logic that cats are the polar opposite of dogs, it is up to the owner to find his or her cat's anti-cat...a.k.a. the dog absolutely most un-like the cat and set up a meeting to set a dog loving cat on track.

I wish my family had kept the Face of Stupid, my anti-cat dog, for only an initial meeting--but, NOoooooooooo, they had to adopt it. The most important aspects of this step in a cat's Canine Affection treatment are twofold. (1) The dog must be the ultimate opposite of the cat for the maximum impact and (2)The dog should be a loaner dog--not a permanent resident.

*Ignoring aspect two can cause personality disorders, unmanageable anger, and other psychosomatic illnesses leading up to and including one Frito sized kitty meltdown! Because I understand that humans often lead by example--I am offering my own personal memories of my Step Two. My cat pals know that I am something of a "soul cat"--I am laid back. I enjoy calm, peaceful living. I like calm music, a clean litter box, and a quiet napping table. The humans decided it was time for me to meet my anti-cat. Then THIS happened.

(You may need to switch the view at the bottom of the video window from 360p to 480p in order for the YouTube music to play with the video--there's some AudioSwap bug that's causing a glitch at the present)

Canine Affection Therapy Step 1: Understand differences?

2010-11-27T07:12:00.008-05:00

My therapists at the CAT (Canine Affection Treatment) Institute are thrilled with my total reversal in dog-affinity. So much so, in fact, that I have been asked to write an advice manual intended for the Institute to use in healing their toughest, dog loving cats. Ah, what the hey--the Institute has offered payment in black olives and complimentary anger management counseling. All I have to do is map out my treatment techniques.

Let's begin at the beginning. Step One. Cats are Different than Dogs.

Okay, cats, I realize that this is an obvious, basic assumption. However, it is one that many dog loving cats seem to ignore and resist. I had my dog Bear. He was sweet, he was fluffy, he never barked, he was actually smaller than I was--I think in my heart I felt that he was really a cat. It clouded my judgement and my common cat sense. I was confused.

When the parents discussed adopting a hound mix mutt puppy from the shelter, I heard the words "coon hound". Well, swat my tail and call me a Shih Tzu! I am a Maine Coon--the new dog was originally believed to be a Tennessee Walking Coon Hound mix--this was going to be awesome! Do you suppose our grandmothers were related? Maybe it was on my dad's side. Wonder how the coon clan made the moves between Maine and Tennessee???

See? I was obviously confused. Whatever difference the state of Maine made to my coon genes was signficant--and whatever Tennessee did to Max's relatives was quite horrific. See? I was totally delusional! Once I met him, I realized that he was surely adopted into the family...or perhaps the result of inbreeding...or cross breeding. Maybe just flat out bad breeding!

Related? No. Even shared naming and the possibility of confused ancestors does not create any similarity between dogs and cats. None. We are different. It's a fact. It's a reality--and accepting this difference is necessary to successfully begin your canine affection treatment.

Has Anyone Noticed that the Kids are MISSING??

2010-11-26T11:00:00.005-05:00

Okay, one minute I was asleep on my blanket (the one that the middle little kid think is hers) and the next minute, I wake up and all three little irritating human kids are GONE. They have absolutely disappeared. Vanished. G-O-N-E. The weird thing? The Mom and Dad humans seem not to notice.

Do you supposed they've lost their minds--or maybe they've come to their senses and gotten rid of the time sponging brats...Oh...could it be? Do you supposed they got rid of the dog too? #%^@ Nope, the Face of Stupid is still upstairs in bed with the Dad human.

They must have been KIDNAPPED! Okay..let's go back here. What do I remember before the kidnapping? Yesterday morning, Fluffy stole a turkey neck, the mom human was making banana pudding (Fluffy tried to get the milk and was thrown outside), Gina was reminded that not every human belonging was in "the wrong place" and that she needed to be tolerant, Lea moved into her "company's coming" hidey-hole under the littlest little kid's bed...now the kids are gone. What happened?

OH NO!!! I slept through Thanksgiving! I missed the black olives! I missed swatting my Swat-a-Granny! I missed biting the Aunt that thinks I'm cute and cuddly! I missed the first eight hour of peace once the brats...er..the little humans are off to Grandma's. I must be getting old! How does a cat like me sleep through the annual holiday feast and guests.

Did I lose a life? Should I get my hearing checked? HOW OLD AM I??? I blame the dog. He must have slipped something into that catnip! Yeah. That's it. The dog ruined my Thanksgiving. The girls and I need a sit down.

Stupid Human Trick 10,025...Bug Removal For Dummies

2010-11-21T07:55:00.004-05:00

Well, the humans really outdid their previous stupid human tricks with their latest adventure in moronic action. Let me set the stage for you: The humans took a trip to Hocking Hills a few weeks back—they even shipped the little humans off to my Swat-a-Granny and the Shih-Tzu Grandma and the Aunt that thinks I’m cute and cuddly. The Face of Stupid, AKA Max the Dog, visited the boarding kennel. It was a great 4 days. Peace, quiet, relaxation. Since I knew that the cat sitter was going to be stopping by, there were no unfortunate cat food burglar misunderstandings. It was a nice vacation. Fluff, the girls and I really enjoyed it. Mom and Dad even came home early and spent a day with just the cats before the kids and the dog came home. So what was the latest stupid human trick?

The humans came home on a Saturday night, unloaded the car, unpacked all of their stuff, and went about their normal routine. Sunday morning, the Mom human made several trips up and down the stairs. She brought in the newspaper, packed away the suitcases, fed us, cleaned out cat litter—and even talked to the cat sitter on the front landing. Then it happened. Mom saw the ugliest, most awful, bug like creature she’d ever seen right on the front landing where she had been walking all morning! (For those of you unfamiliar with Hocking Hills—it’s a nature area in Eastern Ohio and the humans stayed in a rustic cabin in the woods, etc.) Mom was immediately convinced that this bug hitched a ride home with them!

Let me tell you, Mom’s not a panic freak. She’s the official designated spider killer, house centipede remover, and generally not very excitable. When she started screaming for the Dad human, Fluff, the girls and I perched ourselves at the top of the stairs for a bird’s eye view of the action. Dad, who had been asleep, headed down the stairs—and stopped midway as soon as he saw the bug.

“What is it?” Mom was asking him.

“I don’t know, kill it.” Dad squinted from his spot on the stairs.

“You kill it!”

This went on for several minutes. It was a riot. Mom was not very happy with dad. The girls and I were rolling! Fluff got bored and walked down the stairs to see if there was any breakfast left in the bowls—walking right by the bug.

“See?? The cats won’t even mess with it! You kill it!” This somehow proved to Mom that this was a bug to be reckoned with if we cats wouldn’t play with it.

“I’m not killing it.” Dad turned around and went back to the bedroom.

Mom decided that killing it would make a big mess—so she opted to scoop up said bug onto the dustpan (and pray she didn’t get stung by some prehistoric psycho bug). When it didn’t move, she considered herself lucky and tossed it quickly outside.

Why exactly was this the latest stupid human trick? Why did the girls and I find it so utterly hysterical? Little did the humans know at the time, but the psycho killer bug was actually a very well rendered plastic Halloween treat that the middle little kid had received during Trick or Treat. Fluffy had found it on the kid’s window ledge and carried it upstairs to play with it and left it on the landing. It was even funnier later when the parents were relaying the story to Grandma and Grandpa—with photos—and the middle little kid said, “That looks just like the bug I got for Halloween!”

One mad little kid demanding a bug replacement....$2.00

The look on the faces of Mom and Dad when they realized the truth of the situation...priceless

Stupid Human Trick 10025….at least.

Guest Post: Gina's Canine Cohabitation Plan

2010-11-19T09:35:00.003-05:00

As Frito mentioned, as part of our canine adaptation plan, Mom wants us each to write our coping techniques which will be employed to learn to live with this horrible animal. I was chosen to present my plan next since I am the most direct, straightforward and sincere. Here goes.

As in Lea’s Plan, I too will need to start with a newspaper ad:

Wanted: To Buy or Trade

One copy of the book, “You Too Can Make it Look Like an Accident” by Joe D’Hitman.
Book’s condition is not important, nor is the version. I’ve lost my original—if someone could even just fax me a copy of Chapter 3: The Art of Stairs, that would cover it.
Contact Gina T. Cat directly. I will purchase or trade for one small, striped, slightly Loofa-life cat. Humans need not be involved or named to protect the idiots that allowed this beast into our happy home.

What?

Gina

Guest Post: Lea's Canine Cohabitation Plan

2010-11-19T09:19:00.006-05:00

For those of you who don't know me, I'm Lea. I found Frito's family a long time ago when I was cold and hungry--I was just a baby--and they took me in. It was a good life for a few years--then they adopted this thing they called Max. I call him a vacuum cleaner with hound dog ears--but, the humans didn't care much for my analogies.

ANYWAY--I have been asked by the Mom Human to develop a plan that would allow Frito, Gina and myself to peacefully, safely live with Mister Max. This is the best option I could think of.

For Sale or Trade

One slightly used floppy eared hound dog like thing. Razors…uh..teeth are in like new condition. While not attractive to cat taste, coat, ears and general appearance must be pleasing to someone. Makes messes when it eats—often from both ends. Apparently this is also pleasing to humans. Makes horrible wake up alarm sound human calls a bark and has a turbo charged suction device over mouth razors that humans call its “hound sniffer”.
Will sell for 48.99 or trade for one bag of our Vet Diet cat food. Also willing to throw in a slightly unpleasant white cat with grey spots—no charge.

Contact Lea T. Cat directly. Humans need not be involved. They have entrusted me entirely to complete said transaction.

What can I say? This is the only way I see of working this out. Just because the cats and I don’t like him doesn’t mean that there isn’t a creature out there somewhere willing to take him in!

Lea

Frito's Canine Cohabitation Plan

2010-11-19T09:11:00.004-05:00

After months and months of trial cohabitation with the awful Beast from the Humane Society (the humans call it Max), we are no closer to accepting this situation. We have tried to talk to Mom about it—but, she says the dog stays. She says that we cats need to learn to adapt.

As part of our adaptation, Mom wants me and the Girls each to write our plan to learn to live with this horrible animal. I have had great difficulty writing my proposed plan. My world has gone into a state of total disorder to such an extent that I can barely compose my thoughts. Here goes.

Unlike the girls, I feel that I owe it to the humans to at least try to compose a plan to live in one house with the pound hound dog.

First, I would like to say that this “dog” has been a disaster to my psyche. I was a dog supporter from birth. I am now questioning everything I thought I knew and believed about dogs. I loved my old dog Bear. It was because of my relationship with Bear that I rebelled at the CAT Institute. I even formed a Cats Who Love Dogs Support Group….now I am lost.

What is this monster they call Max?!?!?! Why does he bark at me even after I go at him with a right cross?? Why does he keep growing??? I had no idea that house dogs were this big! I thought the Great Dane I met at the vet was some cross breed with a horse or a giraffe or something. OMG!!! Was my Bear even a Dog????

HAS MY ENTIRE LIFE BEEN A LIE?????

Well, as you can see, I’ve become a slight bit fragile in the past month. I have decided that it is time for me to return to the CAT institute from my early blog posts and see if the counselors there can work me through this.

In the meantime, I will hope that the girls have some success with their cohabitation plans. I am sure that there is a way to accomplish this, but I have been emotionally and intellectually drained by this whole situation and I just can’t seem to grasp an appropriate answer.

Anyway. I’ve got to take some time to recompose myself, regain some composure—go to some group therapy in a friendly all-cat environment.

I will put together a plan when I return….unless the girls have a solved our dilemma.

Frito

Frito T. Cat—Watch Cat Extraordinaire

2010-06-29T17:19:00.003-04:00

The humans decided to take a vacation a few weeks back—without consulting the cats, of course. Luckily, they opted to ship the Face of Stupid Hound Dog off to a boarding facility—where he learned to make the most awful full blown hound from Hell noises that I will address at another time. The humans decided, again without consulting the cats, that because of my delicate psyche and urinary tract system, that Fluffy D’Tail, the girls and I would stay at home with a cat sitter. Can I ask you sane others WHY the humans would make such a decision without consulting the cats first? In fact, I thought the girls and I were GOING on this trip until Mom tossed me out of the suitcase for the fifth time. I mean the humans were calling it a family vacation—and we cats are the most important assets to this family. Hmmpf. Family vacation indeed--seems that the vacation missed half the family.

Well, once we were alone—I took on my role of the man of the inside house. I had a job to do. I had to protect us from the evils on the outside. While Fluffy D’Tail was sleeping, I was on guard. Then it happened. A dreaded intruder entered. It was terrifying. She came in and was heading right for my cat food!! It was a cat food burglar!! It was my duty to protect the cat food—after all, who was to know how long those crazy humans would be gone—it could be hours!

I puffed myself up to my best Maine Coon size and charged forward—hissing and growling—sending all 24 pounds of me barreling down the stairs. Thank God I didn’t miss that one step this time—it detracts from my ferocity when I roll myself down the stairs like tumbleweed.

I ran—and once that cat food burglar saw me—she ran and locked herself into the bathroom by my food bowl. I had her cornered. But what could I do with her? I mean I don’t have thumbs—I don’t even have front claws! I did the logical thing and woke up Fluffy (he has claws, you know)—but, instead of quietly making a move, he started howling and yowling—and the cat food burglar opened the door a crack. What a genius—what a plan! He conned her into opening the door! Did he shred her? Tear her to ribbons? Bite her? Scratch her? Nope—Dumb Dumb Fluff let her pet him. Disgraceful! I stood in utter disgust. I had briefly considered him an evil genius. I should have known better!

Then, I realized that the cat food burglar was putting food INTO the bowls. Could I have misjudged the situation? I opted to keep up the façade so as not to make myself look like a total doofus—I continued to hiss and growl—but, from afar. I had to make sure she could reach the food bowl you know?

Now, don’t you think someone should have told the Watch Cat to expect an invasion? It could have saved both me and the cat sitter a lot of stress and anxiety.

Insanity. Perhaps this should have been noted as the latest Stupid Human Trick in the House of Frito.

Stupid Human Trick #9,721: Taking the Face of Stupid to the Vet Solo

2010-06-03T11:08:00.003-04:00

I love the crazy cat lady—I do. She buys me cat food, she tosses me the occasional black olive, I get Blueberry Muffins on my birthday…all around, she’s an okay human. However, she has these idiot moments that only Gina, my psycho cat roommate, and I seem to understand.

Today, for example, she scheduled Max the Hound from Hell for his vet visit at a time when she would have to take him by herself. Solo. A-L-O-N-E. The other cats and I knew she’d be sorry. I get a bad rap for the one time (yes, I said one time) that 25 pounds of Frito climbed onto Dad’s Bengal’s hat in the checkout lobby. I realize it was on his head, but at the time it seemed like the safest thing to do. Gina gets a bad rap for using Dad’s shoes as a litterbox. Lea shredded the “big boned” vet during her first visit and nearly knocked herself unconscious by jumping into the window when somebody walked the vet’s house parrot by the exam room door. Fluffy D’Tail is…well, he has a head full of stuff –n-fluff that inhibits rational thought and the vets have labeled him ‘the sweetest cat in the world”. We all have had bad vet stories—except Dum Dum Fluff. Another story for another day. We knew that the Max-at-the-vet experience would not be pretty—and I nearly lost 10 hairballs in my fits of laughter at the crazy lady’s depiction of the story.

When she first walked in the receptionist asked that she put The Face of Stupid, A.K.A. Max, on the floor scale. After she got him out of the cat food displays, the weighing of the devil dog went off without a hitch. 47 pounds of stupid hound dog---that’s what $150 donation at the pound will buy you. Well—no great surprise to you intelligent felines out there, but the vet visit went downhill from there.

First, the vet was running behind because they had had to double team to field some unexpected emergencies. During the 15 minute wait in the examining room, The Face of Stupid had to relieve himself—and dropped two 50 pound coonhound sized stink-deposits. Mom remained calm and reached for the towels and sanitizer. Towel dispenser empty. Oh, crap. (Literally.) Never daunted, she reached for the tissue box. There were two (about the size of each deposit). Stress began to surface. A few minutes later, the deposit was cleaned up—but the aroma lingered. I was rolling by this point. Even Gina has never made the vet staff fumigate the examining room! Mom said it worked out because she had forgotten to take a “sample” and she was able to retrieve it later when requested. (I would have loved to have seen her taking a “sample” to the vet. Where exactly does one store such a sample to carry to vet-land?)

With the poop issue behind her, she was ready for the vet tech. So was Max—in true Dino-from-the-Flintstones style, he vaulted himself across the room onto the technician, thoroughly covering her in Max slobber and drool. (Yuck). The vet came in—and before the tech could warn her, Max had apparently vaulted from the floor onto the poor woman—sending her eyeglasses flying. Luckily, Max didn’t really want to give her kisses—instead, he wanted to taste the stethoscope dangling from her neck. I would have paid to have seen the crazy cat lady’s face by this point. I’d even go be ridiculed by the fat vet who calls me fat to hang out in the room for that one.

To give The Face of Stupid his four vaccinations, the tech was handing out dog treats as a distraction. (Have I mentioned that Mister Max gets car sick?) They must have given the idiot 20 of them to get the shots administered. By that point, the Mom Human was becoming a little more stressed.

Poop issue resolved, vaccines done, lick impeded physical exam done—things were moving right along. Then I guess things came to a screeching (well, barking, growling and snarling) halt. Sir Doofus had to have blood drawn because he had taken a few months off from his heartworm preventative (because the human is lucky most days to remember her favorite color let alone long term once monthly meds.) ANYWAY—the blood draw wasn’t quite the glistening success. The Face of Stupid bit the vet. Now—let me tell you—I will openly criticize the weight of the vet…I may even pee on her table….but—NEVER—and I mean NEVER have the girls, Dum Dum Fluff, nor I bitten her. Bad things happen when you bite the vet. Sir Doofus met snout muzzle—and two extra techs to hold him down. The Mom Human’s stress level was nearing maximum strength—and the fun had only just started. (The other cats and I think the muzzle would make a good regular fashion accessory for the Hell Hound—but who listens to us?)

It was time to pay the price for taking care of precious animal friends. As human mom lady headed to the land of checkout via credit card—Max the Snout found a trash can in the food and supply room inches behind the checkout area. Mom retrieved someone’s half eaten lunch and three dead flowers from the hound snout—and tried to pay the bill. Max sniffed/drooled and licked all over a fellow vet hostage (i.e. the next lady paying to leave with her flea infested beagle)—then he discovered the lollipop basket on the top of the counter…and Sassy the vet's office cat in resident.

At last, Mom said relief set in. She was able to lead him to the car—unfortunately because he yaks up his toenails every time he sets paw in the car, he doesn’t go in willingly. Mom was exceptionally pleased that she was able to get him out of the car and into our front yard before he lost the pound of vet-distracting-dog treats on the mini-van floormats.

We can honestly say that Mom’s never come home and poured a rum and coke after taking one of us cats to the vet. We were rolling. Stupid human. Face of stupid dog….need I say more?

The Face of Stupid

2010-06-02T10:45:00.003-04:00

Okay—those who know me know that I once loved a dog. I am cat enough to admit it. I loved my dog Bear more than anything in the world. I even went so far as to start a support group for other cats who developed attractions for creatures of the canine variety. There were a lot of cats in need of support out there.

Then—it all changed. Bear moved on to Rainbow Bridge—and the stupid humans brought me Satan in a Hound Dog Suit. They call him Max. I affectionately call him Asshole. (When the general smell, the appearance and the behavior warrant it—I improvise—sometimes not so generously.) I hate this dog more than anything I’ve ever despised. Gina playing with my tail, the 3 brat kids dressing me up in doll clothes, the fat vet telling me I need a diet---all of these things were irritating. Max however crosses all boundaries. I, a once professed dog loving cat, absolutely hate him.

I mean look at him! Could you really take this seriously?

His ears are never where they are supposed to be--they are turned the wrong direction or in his water bowl...just silly. Throw on a straw hat and a bandana and you have a bad Hee Haw rerun from the 1970s. I’m a city cat. I don’t do Hee Haw. I do not pick…I do not grin—in case you haven’t noticed.

This pound hound is the face of stupid—and as they say such an affliction cannot be fixed.

Most people cannot even give one of these face-of-stupid creatures away free to a good home—and my humans PAID for it. Do you know how much cat food they could have purchased with that $150 adoption fee??? (Okay---maybe not much diet cat food—but, they could have kept Dum-Dum Fluffy D’Tail in canned, squished mouse ears for MONTHS.) Did they think of this at all? Hmmpf. Mom was an engineer….good with science and no sense…but….the Dad human supposedly studied economics…

Let’s see, Dad--
1 Face of Stupid $150
or
Sustenance for one mild mannered, well liked cat for 8 months $150

Someone in this house apparently doesn’t calculate comparisons well.

Leads one city cat to wonder what one would pay for 2 Stupid Humans……What do you think I could sell them for? If there’s a market for Max, the Face of Stupid—surely someone would pay me for these two morons.

Frito's 2010 New Year's Resolutions

2010-01-05T07:38:00.004-05:00

If you know me from MyCatSpace, you know that the crazy cat lady with whom I live has pretty high, generally ridiculous, expectatations of the cats in the house. She wants us to be expressive, to be artistic and she also expects us to examine our "inner cat" to live above and beyond a basic furball existence.

Anyway--to make a longer story more reasonable, the other cats and I are required to compose an annual listing of resolutions, or self improvement goals for the year. I listed mine over on MCS with the Dumb Dumb Fluff and the girls--but, I thought it would be a good post here to sort of get me focused for the New Year. Here goes. The other cats and I give the Mom lady a list (which I've noted below in bold)…You will see the edits and my personal thoughts on each resolution in italics. Find my "inner cat"....crazy human.

Frito’s List
Lose More Weight. I will lose 8 pounds before my next physical at the vet.
I am pretty darned proud of myself. I lost 1.4 pounds last year. So what if my vet lost about 25—she had a baby--twins I think! It made things easy for her! As I’ve mentioned, I am mostly MAINE COON. I’m FLUFFY..Fluff is not lost by daily consumption of canned mouse ears or whatever pet food composite can be found in the bag of "diet food". If I lose 8 pounds, it would be like hacking up a normal sized cat in a hairball. Ridiculous. I will aim for 2 pounds. No more. I expect, unless the vet is set to drop two more kids, she'll be back up to her less than ideal weight by my next physical. She wasn't eating canned mouse ears the last time I saw her.

Exercise.
I will engage in exercise. I hate that dog. I will participate in the daily running of the puppy. I will chase him at every waking opportunity. I will sock him in that overgrown hound dog snout at every sniff. For the record, I still think he’s a fitness trainer in a foxhound suit.

I will be nice to Max the Dog
Are you kidding? See the last resolution.

I will not swat Human Grandma Lady when she comes to visit.
I will not swat Grandma every time she comes to visit. And I will only bite her on the occasional third Sunday of the month. That way she'll have good odds of visiting on a non-biting weekend. I think that’s fair.

I will catch a mouse.
This was on my list last year and it didn’t happen then either. Me catch a mouse? Hell no. I will let Fluffy D’Tail catch any mouse he wants without interference from me in any form!

I am sure that the crazy human lady expected more from me. I am the pillar of the house and all--but, I am just one cat. (Being the size of two cats does not require that I be held to a higher moral standard.

Oh--and on my own note--I plan to write more in 2010. The human lady needs to set some priorities around here. If she wants me to be the rock--she'd better kick out some of the time sponging pebbles around here and give me some computer time.

If you want to see the other cats' resolutions, you can check out our profile on MyCatSpace. We are Fritoandthegirls.

Happy New Year!

I've Been a Little Out of the Loop

2009-09-23T09:04:00.003-04:00

Well, all, this hound dog has totally disrupted my world. He has to be the most human-hogging, time consuming creature ever created. Have I mentioned that I hate him? Yes? Thought so--but, it's been so long since the human has logged me into my blog that I've forgotten where I left off!

As if the pain in the tail pooch hasn't been enough, the Fluffy D'Tail stray that the one we call Mom insisted on adopting, managed to hurt his leg somehow and she moved him INSIDE too! Can you believe this? She didn't even let the cats vote on it--she just moved him right in! Sharing my litter box, sharing my FOOD BOWL, sharing MY BLANKET that lives on the middle little kid's bed.

Then, Sir Whiney Butt Fluffy Tail had to go to the vet more times than you could imagine, he had to have surgery to fix whatever it was that his outdoor roaming had done to him and now the rest of us cats get into big trouble if we even look at him! He gets to eat first, he gets to pick the spot where he sleeps (and it is generally the one spot that I was looking to use for a nap), he gets to be the lap cat whenever he feels like it--and those humans just stop everything to sit and hold him. I could keel over from starvation and they can't even open a treat can!

So--I've had enough. Starting today--the fat cat is back. No more laid back, Soul Cat. I'm going to crank up some of Gina's music and take over my blog! I've been silent long enough!

(But, remember, I am limited by the lack of thumbs--and it may be a few days before I figure out how to will open the door to the computer room.)

Fitness Trainer in Hound Dog Suit

2009-06-23T15:35:00.004-04:00

I had originally thought that the beast with which the humans are forcing my cohabitation was a piranha disguised as a hound. I mean the teeth are his only feature aside from those ridiculous ears. Those ears are in his water bowl, the doofus tries to eat them when he sucks up his food like a vacuum cleaner...they are just silly...why does a 10 pound Puppy need ears sized for a Great Dane? After a few days of detaching the pooch from my tail fluff, I thought that he couldn't possibly be a dog because he was trying to eat me! Obviously Beagle bred with Piranha...a Beagranha, I guess.
Then I realized it's true breeding! It's a Fitness Trainer! The worst species of the worst in the world of a Big Boned City Kitty! The humans have disguised a fitness trainer in a hound dog suit to run me around the house. (Bear in mind, I do the chasing--but, nonetheless, I spend a great deal of my napping time RUNNING!) It's like a built in Treadmill that I can't resist. I see Puppy, I chase Puppy. I hear Puppy, I have to run to find Puppy so that I can CHASE Puppy. It's a horrible fate! I may actually lose weight at this rate!

Surprise...it's a PUPPY!

2009-06-13T12:47:00.007-04:00

Things had just started to get back to normal around here. The kids were home for summer, the girls and I had gotten used to life without Stink Doggy Dog, I had the vet appointment under my belt and we had a new diet plan in place. Things were settling in. I felt pretty good about things.

The humans had to go to a graduation party-two day event out of town. I had even decided that this wasn't going to upset my delicate urinary system. I could handle the separation anxiety--even when they locked Fluff INSIDE the house with us for the weekend. I could do it. As a matter of fact, the weekend went well.
Until Sunday night...then THIS happend.

There is absolutely no way I'm letting this beast move into my house. The humans didn't even get a dog--they got a puppy. They call him Max. The girls and I call him a piranha disguised as a hound dog.

Oh, it's been a blast. He "trees" Gina on to the fireplace mantle, he makes Lea so stressed out, she won't eat...well...she won't eat much, Fluffy seems to like him which only furthers the conclusion that Fluffy has nothing between his ears...Me you ask? I don't like him. The only time I see any value in him is when he's sleeping...on a different floor of the house. I'm trying to get used to it. I won't let him go downstairs...he's not allowed in the Little Human's room...he's not allowed in my cat food bowl...and he's not going to take my whole chair.

You don't think he's staying do you? Even humans can't be this crazy...can they?????

Spring Cleaning Trauma Zone

2009-05-24T06:03:00.008-04:00

The humans have been on a Spring Cleaning, “rid the house of grey fur” mission for over a week now. If you’ve seen pictures of my kitty family then you know that grey fur is where it’s at around here. The little white psycho cat even has grey and black splotches of fur! I will admit that there was a lot of grey fur hanging around after the winter.

Last Monday the crazy human lady discovered that the motor was ka-put on yet another vacuum cleaner. She goes through a couple a year—and this one’s number was past being up, so we weren’t sure why she was surprised or irritated by this. Sometimes humans just get ticked by the small stuff. Example: Empty food bowl for 8 hours=big stuff. Noisy sweeper not making noise=not so big.

She got a new sweeper. Of course, it’s louder, scarier and far more traumatic for us than the old one. I personally despise vacuum cleaners. When I was younger—and smaller—I had a favorite nap spot under the oldest human kid’s bed. There were often stuffed animals under there…the occasional dust bunny…even a few milk bottle rings that had gone astray. It was a cool place. Very rarely does the Dad-Human take on sweeper duty—but, when he does, anything that he deems insignificant (i.e. Barbie shoes, checkers, game pieces, etc.) that gets in range gets sucked up—and if it’s too big for the attachment hose, he says it’s easier to pick up from the end of the hose than from the floor. Dads. Who understands them? He was sweeping away and I was sleeping away in the kid’s room one Saturday. Next thing I knew, Dad mistook MY tail for a stuffed animal tail and tried to pick me up from under the edge of the bed with his handy dandy attachment. Woke me up, I’ll tell you! The Dad-human thought it was hilarious. Frito find it funny? Not so much. (Gave Gina first time permission to launch Covert Operation P in Dad’s laundry basket)

Needless to say, I hate sweepers—and when Dad’s at the controls, I head for higher ground every time. We cats think they wouldn’t need to sweep things constantly if those crazy humans would just buy something besides WHITE, Off White, Beige and tan. Carpet, every piece of furniture, rugs, blah! They wouldn’t even know the fur was there if they would just go grey!

Furniture should be required to match the cats—then everyone would be at peace. I’ve been told that cat fur brings good luck, you know. This is one lucky house, let me tell you! I just heard that Dad’s home today. Hopefully he’ll go mow something down in the yard and not in the living room! Just in case, I think I’ll sleep up on the back of the sofa today….need to start the graying process on the furniture again anyway!

Lea's Ode to Butterflies

2009-05-13T10:05:00.004-04:00

Those of you who know me, know that Lea the cat is the love of my life. She is sweet and peaceloving and so wonderful. Well, these butterflies that the humans are growing are turning my little peace loving flower kitty into a Gina style violent protester. She has been so out of character that we hardly recognize her.

In an effort to rediscover her peaceful, artsy side, she wrote some poetry...but, again, we find it a little out of character for her. It's not even in proper sonnet form! Lea is a stickler for proper grammar and poetic rhythm in her work, you know? Even Gina is ready to get the old Lea back! We have reached a group cat decision: It's time for those darned butterflies to move out!

Lea's Sonnet #1 Ode to Butterflies

Shall I compare thee to an olive black?

Thou art more crunchy and more brown:

Olive round doth roll down a hallway and back,

But would not be so tickly on the way down:

Sometime too fast away the olive rolls,

And oft' is disappeareth from my sight;

And the olive fair is oft’ but merely holes,

By chance it seems it too dries out by night:

But thy eternal goodness shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that flutter thou owest;

For shall Death thou meet after we have played,

Where in my tummy for a time thou un-growest:

So long as cats can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, I shall still taste thee.

See? She's gone off the deep end! Butterflies, be gone! We need Lea back!

The Outdoors Are Highly Overrated

2009-05-06T07:49:00.003-04:00

Of course, this is just the opinion of one, petrified-of-the-outdoors fat cat, you know? The humans have been so wrapped up with yard work and running around with time-sponging little human creature critters that the cat-folk have been practically abandoned for nearly a week!
I have no clue what's great about the outside. When I get dragged out the door (and I mean DRAGGED), I put up a fight with every ounce of my being. Ask my vet, that's a lot of fight. I am an inside cat, and proud of it.
I see no redeeming qualities to the so-called Great Outdoors. It's been wet and muddy here for days. Wet paws are not an option for this big man. The dog smells horrible after he comes inside....of course, he doesn't smell April Fresh anyway, I guess, so the outside may not be entirely to blame for that.
The Great Fluff seems to like it out there...but, the girls and I are pretty sure he's missing more in the upstairs than an attic....dumb dumb Fluff we call him not so affectionately...I like to watch the birds from my window--they are so pretty. Couldn't imagine trying to eat one. (Although if the diet police don't lighten up, I may just give one a try...I think I'm a leg man..)
I guess the abundance of bugs and spiders could (and I said could) make going outside worthwhile....if I could get them without getting my paws dirty or burrs in my furs...nope, I really think I'll just let them bring the outside in to me. I can average a spider or bug every three to four days on the inside...that's good enough--I have a sensitive tummy anyway.
But--the humans seem to like it out there, so, of course, the cats get punished. Can't get on the computer, have to be subjected to Gina's unsupervised rants on the wrongs of the world for HOURS now since she isn't in hiding from the little humans, and I have to worry about when my food bowl is going to get its daily crumbs...the stress.
I have grumbled about the rain a lot for the past week or so...Heck, we are in Ohio, I've grumbled about the rain and snow my whole life! But, I have been enlightened. I am seeing some value in the rain: the humans have more time for the cats. I'm torn...wet dog smell on a rainy day or humans to indulge me...Bring on the rain.

Frito's Potty Talk

2009-04-22T10:11:00.003-04:00

Mom has been on a mission to help me with my urinary tract issues. As I’ve mentioned, every so often, I get irritated, freak out a little, and my bladder goes crazy. I end up at the vet for some poking and prodding (and the occasional shave), get some medication to drug me for 5-7 days, then I get over the stress of whatever caused the initial upset and all is good for a few months. Well, she has been following all sorts of advice—and this is what I think of it all.

· The Vet says I need more water. The lady bought me a fountain. It’s pretty cool. We can keep the fountain.

· The Vet thought maybe I was having some territorial issues with the Great Fluffsy—so, now we have litter boxes everywhere. It’s like a beach, there’s so much cat litter in this house. This works for me though. No waiting in line, no rushing, and no gawkers (except for the crazy lady that feels the need to examine my "deposit" after every visit). We can keep the extra boxes—I’d just appreciate it if the lady could back off a bit.

· The Vet says I seem to have separation anxiety. Now there’s an example of a human with an overinflated sense of self-worth. The humans were home last week before my latest episode, but they were outside a lot. See, I don’t really like any of the humans. If they’d just top off my food bowl before disappearing for hours, I wouldn’t get so stressed! Of course, the Chief of the Diet Police has a strict feeding plan and empty food bowls are about all I see. The humans can go for weeks—hey, they could move, take Fluffy Tail, and give me and the girls the house, but the food bowl needs to be filled or I’m going to freak out. Separation anxiety? Try Fear of Starvation, Dr. MindControl.

· The Vet says I need to lose another 8 pounds. 8 POUNDS??? That’s like losing Gina! If I lose 8 pounds, they’ll be able to pull my loose fur/skin into a 5 inch Mohawk down the length of my backside! Remember when I said Dad’s eye doctor was getting kickbacks from the vet by making Dad see me as overweight? Well, this crazy vet must be on contract with a plastic surgeon because if I lose 8 pounds they’ll be able to cover some balding cat in need!

· The Vet says I need to eat only wet cat food. I’ve made my position on canned, stinky squirrel innards quite clear. I won’t eat it. I refuse. It makes me gag. Fluffy Tail loves the stuff! He must have had his nasal cavity ripped out in a catfight—because any cat with a sense of stink could not be in the same room as that yuck.

· The Vet says I need exercise. Bring on the milk rings, but don’t expect miracles! I’d have to fetch milk rings 18 hours a day for 10 years to lose 8 pounds—and I do not believe my life expectancy is 18, so I don’t see the need to waste my life!

· The Vet says I need a “dietary supplement” sprinkled on my food. Hey, I’m cool with that. I’d be willing to eat dietary supplement sprinkled on the crunchy cat food 8- 10 times a day. All in the name of urinary health.

Since it’s not likely, she’ll follow my feeding plans—and I have yet to see one that I’m going to follow, we’ll see what new ideas the vet has here in about 3 months!

Frito Studies Leonardo DaVinci

2009-04-17T09:28:00.003-04:00

I think I am a well cultured cat. I enjoy fine food, (canned mouse ears do not qualiby as fine food), I love music, and in an effort to be a more well rounded cat (don't tell my vet--she says I'm round enough), I have started to dabble in the arts.
I read a quote this morning by Leonardo DaVinci that said, "The smallest feline is a masterpiece". Well, this lead me ponder the thoughts of a genius. Some of you have met my housemate, Gina, who I hear is starting her own blog soon to prove that she is the cat in the house with attitude and worthwhile thoughts. Anyway, Gina is the smallest feline I know, but she is more of a drug induced, abstract work in progress than a masterpiece, I think. Surely, DaVinci intended this thought to be applied to the greatness of wonderful cats, such as myself, in general and not to be applied to specifics. So, if the smallest feline (except for Gina) is a masterpiece, this leads me to conclude that a larger feline, perhaps a big boned one such as myself, would be a master's collection of pieces, right?

Frito the Spider Hunter Captures his Prey

2009-04-10T10:44:00.003-04:00

---only 1 unsuspecting bystander injured in the attack.

I was sleeping with the one we call Mom last night. Since she has everyone on her Frito Feeders Watchlist, there isn’t a soul in this house willing to slip a starving cat so much as a piece of cat food! I’ve developed a new plan of attack. I sleep with her, wait for her to get up to head to the bathroom, and then hope that in some sleep induced coma, she mistakes me for Lea in the dark and sits down Gina’s cat food bowl from the countertop where only the batcat can attempt to reach it! It hasn’t necessarily worked out for me yet, but, I am holding out hope!

Anyway, as I was saying, I was sleeping with Mom. (I’ve also discovered that if I sleep on her feet long enough, it raises her body temperature to about 120 and she wakes more often during the night—just a little tidbit I thought I’d share) So, I’m lying there, waiting for signs of movement from the human and I spotted movement on the wall above her head instead. It was spider! A big one! A CRUNCHY MEATY plaything! My prayers were answered! I gave two Frito style chatters, a couple of butt wiggles, and CHARGED. The last thing I saw was Mom’s eyes open as I vaulted off her chest, up the wall after the spider. (She heard my chatters, saw my gaze fixed on the wall over her head, and after initially thinking I’d lost my mind, she seemed to understand what was up.) She was not so understanding, however, when my jump up the wall led me to nothing to hang onto—I have told the humans that they need a headboard on that bed--and I bounced backwards onto her side as she made a very, valiant effort to roll out of my landing strip. Darned laws of physics.

As Mom grumbled off to the bathroom with her standard, “psychotic, nutcase of a cat” rant, I made a second attempt at the spider. I caught it! We both fell to the floor. I won! I had him under my paw! Victory was mine!

Then Lea came and ate him. So close.

Mom threw me out of the bedroom, of course, but, I’ll try again tonight. She'll forget...hey, if not, I'll tell her I was simply protecting her from the big, scary spider.

Frito, Guard Cat. Yeah, I like the sound of that.

The Easter Baskets are Here!

2009-04-09T12:23:00.003-04:00

Now I would never say that one can judge a cat's worth by the size of his Easter basket, but I got a Frito sized basket this year! I love Easter baskets! They always have salmon treats in them (Mom orders them like that just for me!)and lots and lots of catnip laced playthings! It's wonderful! I usually even climb in the box. This year, I discovered Cattoids. Mmmmmm. I think I love Cattoids. Thanks to the folks at Purrfectly Rebarkable Pets for getting my basket here on time again this year! Aaaagh...Easter. Who needs chocolate bunnies and eggs when you've got catnip and honeysuckle!?

A Birthday Tribute to Big Sal

2009-04-04T21:11:00.005-04:00

We wanted to take a minute to shout out some birthday wishes to Big Sal E. Cat up on Rainbow Bridge. We all miss you, Big Sal--Even Gina. You were one cool cat and our lives just haven't been the same without you.
We love you, man. Keep those chipmunks in line up there, okay? We'll see you when we get done down here. Mom still needs us right now, but we'll be along when the chores are through. Love, Frito, Gina and Lea.

Spring Break and the Kids are WHAT?

2009-04-04T08:39:00.005-04:00

I think I am a pretty tolerant cat. I realize I have had issues with things in the past, but I’ve worked on them…I attend my Plastic Eaters Anonymous meetings, I am active in my CAT Institute therapy, I am even working on a support group for cats who love dogs! I swear I am giving this awful diet thing a shot—I may even start exercising as soon as soon as Dad becomes more willing to fetch my milk rings when they go too far. (i.e. more than 12 inches from my right front paw). So, why is it that I always get the grief in this house?

They said I was supposed to be the king here! The king of my castle. Or so I thought. Somehow, I've been turned into a Princess Bride instead. Now, the kids are home from school for spring break—and the humans have no trips planned for them or anything. What are the kids doing for entertainment this week, you may ask? Enter Frito, babysitter extraordinaire. See, I’m the cat that refuses to bite or scratch a child—no matter how ridiculous they make me look.

And this was pretty darned ridiculous. If memory serves, this was my "day at the nursery" outfit. I believe my name was Baby Freda during this particular photoshoot.

There are six females, including Gina and Lea, in this house and I get to be Miss America?

Well, this break should be a doozy….the girls got new dress up clothes for Christmas. This cat doesn’t beg often, but, here goes: Please, please, please, please, please, please, please send the kids to Grandma’s! You can even send them to the Grandma who sets me up with plastic spiders! Send them to the Aunt’s—send them to the moon—hey, you can send ME to Grandma's--even to the Grandma with the yippy, snippy dog, but, just please don’t leave me here with them for a week!

Frito & the Diet Breaking Gang Apprehended...Again

2009-04-03T11:21:00.005-04:00

Well, I have been successful in my refusal of canned mouse ears. Mom returned me to my diet crunchy plan...the premeasured one. Now, we've been busted again! This time, the one I affectionately call Dad is in big trouble! This is his second offense. It looks bad. What crime? Feeding a dieting (starving!) cat! Can you imagine? One or two extra feeding and he's in hot water with the Chief.

The first time we ran into issues with Mom, AKA, the Chief of the Diet Police, was right before Thanksgiving. Mom had worked out a portion control plan with the vet on some healthy schmelthy cat food. No more free feeding. Two meals a day—MEASURED meals. Well, I don’t know what five-pound-cat-kind-of-feeding-plan this was designed for, but I am a manly man kind of kind. You’ve seen Hungry Man dinners? I need the Hungry Cat dinner plan. Of course, there is no reasoning with the humans!

Miraculously, around Christmas, some unknown benefactors (umm, Dad, the oldest human kid, and the middle little person) began to supply an extra portion or three throughout the day. Under the radar of Chief Mom, of course. It was wonderful. Things were virtually back to normal. I was again a well fed, happy Frito. It began to unravel when Mom picked me up one Friday and realized that perhaps I wasn’t losing weight. She brought out the scale. 23 ¼ pounds. Down ¾ of a pound?? How could that be possible? Maybe I had a thyroid problem? Should we go to the vet? Uh-oh. That went so well for me last time.

She began a little undercover investigation of sorts and we were busted! We had a great little system going. Mom would feed me my dinner when she put the little people to bed…then Dad would feed me in the middle of the night when I raised a “ruckus”—but, I would make sure to have it all gone before Mom came downstairs to feed me breakfast…then before the middle little one went to school, I would hit her up for a little midmorning snack. Handful (or two—her hands are small) of treats. Then I’d hold out all day, a good six hours, until the oldest came home from school…then I’d beg and plead and even let her pet me. Degrading, yes, but well worth that handful of cat food. Then it came crashing down. Mom got up extra early one day to iron and found a full food bowl!! Not possible since she had watched me eat ½ the bowl the night before. The interrogations started. Dad broke first. Mom’s a tough one. Then the oldest admitted to the mid afternoon feeding. She hasn’t broken the middle kid yet, but I don’t see any treats in my future.

Now Dad's been nabbed again for coming to my aid. This time, I may really be on a diet for good. It's bad, very bad.

Mirror Mirror.......

2009-04-02T09:45:00.004-04:00

For years, I have heard about all of the groups studying the fact that older couples, after years of life together, begin to physically look alike. After seeing this picture of Lea and myself in the human’s top secret photo files, I think these scientists may really be onto something! I read this article this morning about some research that was done in Michigan by a Dr. Zajonc about 20 years ago…wow…it’s some pretty amazing science! It makes sense that the facial muscles, after years of sharing similar emotions and life events, would mimic each other. May be a little scary for some to accept, but I think this phenomenon is real!
Lea and I have only been together for about 5 years—and as you can see, we share a lot of similar mannerisms and characteristics. (Aside from the grey stripes…since that’s just a genetic quirk of nature and all). You know, all of the articles and research I’ve found have been about facial similarities. But, this picture makes the scientist in me hypothesize that belly muscles must also be affected by this empathetic mimicry. There’s no other possible acceptable explanation!
I’m going to call the vet! I was right—I don’t need a squishy mouse ear and giblet diet. Put Lea on the diet and we’ll both be transformed! Everyone wins. Lea likes fresh, slimy canned dinners—she’ll eat it, regain her girlish figure—and my belly muscles will mimic over time! Everyone’s happy. This is an experiment that I’m willing to try. I think we’ll start this morning!

Feed Me, Seymour!

2009-04-01T09:54:00.002-04:00

This new diet threat is getting serious! The crazy human lady is literally refusing to give me real food! Well, I’m not stupid. I may not always be able to figure out how to get a milk bottle ring off my paw, but I know where they keep the good fat, uh, I mean CAT food!

The lady was not going to give me anything but Sludge-in-a-Can last night. I hadn’t eaten anything in at least three HOURS! We’ve played this game before, a few months ago, when they tried to “mend my ways”. Then, I simply waited until she got the little humans to sleep and I headed to the closet where the “good stuff” is kept. Just so happens to be about 5 feet from their bedroom door. I yowled and howled and pawed at that door until the middle little kid woke up! I got into a bit of trouble for that and Mom and I would have a 20 minute staredown over a plate of ground mouse ears. I would wait until she got distracted and I’d head back to the door and proceed to repeat my performance. You have heard nothing until the 24 pound cat stands up at midnight and pounds on a door. It was priceless.

I tried this last night, and she sat out the smelly gruel again, sprinkled some crunchies on it and really expected that to make a difference. My beloved crunchies were contaminated by buzzard innards or whatever “fillers’ make it into the vat of yuck that gets canned and dumped onto my plate!

Well, I refuse. I am a cat with principles on a mission. Anybody got an extra bag of Friskies lying around? I’ll even eat the crunchy Science Diet healthy stuff! Anybody?

Surprise Diagnosis at the Vet: Frito is Overweight.

2009-03-31T22:07:00.003-04:00

Please control your shock and amazement. It seems that the vet, with all of her incredible knowledge and wisdom determined that I was, indeed, fat. Even after I lost almost a 1/4 pound since my last visit four months ago! (I am just thanking my lucky stars that we put in that one extra brushing before we left! Dodged the bullet on that one!)

Well, the vet is again pushing the portioned controlled wet food diet plan. All in the name of urinary health or some other vet mind control nonsense--and once again, the human lady is buying into it. They’ve given me diet food before. First it was crunchy diet food. It’s not my favorite, but I’ve always eaten it. Then, a few months ago, they tried the wet food diet plan. CANNED, wet, stinky food! Does anyone know what’s in that stuff??? Why would anyone EAT that? It’s dumbfounding. I can only imagine what parts of unsavory critters get put into that stuff! Yuck. I’d rather eat plastic spiders (but don’t tell the middle kid!)

We had some ups and downs with that first trial. For a few days I gave in and ate it—but, we had some issues. I don’t care for fish, I insisted on turkey and only turkey. Of course, I prefer a plate rather than a bowl....I have some whisker clearance issues. And I hate to eat alone so my human Mom had to adjust her schedule to sit with me. I ate it for almost a week--I even lost a little weight.

Then it happened. I got a whiff of the roomate cat, Lea’s, breath and realized that the girls have crunchy cat food stashed somewhere! The betrayal! Well, that did it. I was going to get some real food! Mom put out the so-called turkey and giblets...I’m sorry, I know what giblets are—and even big psycho Sal E. Cat left behind the “giblets”…So, I, ever so casually, moseyed over to the plate and proceeded to pretend to bury it. I thought it was a good one. One of my best. Mom wasn’t amused. Then I summoned my best hairball gag sound and walked away. Mom didn’t find it nearly as funny as I did.

Oh, joy. We'll get to try it all again. Well, I refuse. If that bundle of ground up mouse ears and innards packaged into a cutesy little can is cat food, I must be a dog!

Oh, Joy! It's Going to the Vet Day!

2009-03-31T09:21:00.006-04:00

Oh, good news today, folks! I am due for my Rabies vaccines at the vet. In case you haven't noticed, I hate going to the vet. It’s embarrassing. First of all, like always, the receptionist who witnessed my one little meltdown in the lobby will make a point to tell the new receptionist all about me. One time. I had one little lapse of character in the waiting room...a dog came in and barked something in Great Dane and I climbed up on Dad’s hat. One little freak out and I’m labeled a nutcase! As usual, I'll get rushed into the examining room to avoid an anticipated loss of composure and they'll send in the 98 pound vet tech to get my measurements. Okay. The 98 pound vet tech can never get a handle on all of me at once. We look ridiculous, she always nearly drops me and it’s humiliating. Why they subject me to these things I will never understand.

Then, the vet will come in. Oh, yes, and if I'm lucky, it will be my favorite one in the practice! Last time I was there, not only did she poke and grope and prod me, but she immediately started the “fat cat” rant. Oh, and then, I had to spend a full day with this lady! She had the nerve to put me on a diet! Hmmpf. Well, I sat in the hospital through her lunch and snacks…and apparently, her NutriSystem meals were delayed or something because that McDonald’s lunch and the Nutty Bars were surely not part of her diet plan. Somebody else needs to give old Jennie a call besides Frito, let me tell you.

Of course, since I'm not exactly a featherweight kind of kitty cat, they'll bring in not one, but two, extra vet techs to control me during my shot. Oooohh. I'm a mean one. They'll all grab me like I'm going to go Cujo on them or something--I won't move a muscle--and they'll feel like idiots...been there done that. It's really not as funny as it used to be, you know?

Wonder what the practicing moneymaker, a.k.a., the Vet, will find wrong with me today. Think my weight is too obvious? Gee, I wonder if they'll change my diet plan? That's been working so well for them. Well, I've decided that I'm not going without a fight today. I think I'll grab onto the front door with all four paws, then I'll refuse to get into the van, then I'll insist on sitting on the human's lap with my paws around her neck, and, ah, what the heck, I may just climb up onto her head for fun in the lobby...even if there isn't a dog...you know for old time's sake.

Vets. Phooey. Frito the cat is no lab rat....my new motto, like it?

Veterinarian: A Definition by Frito

2009-03-31T09:05:00.005-04:00

Let me ask you something, do you know the function and purpose of the vet? Webster's Dictionary has defined the word Veterinarian as a person qualifed to practice veterinary medicine. This lead me to wonder the definition of veterinary medicine, as according to good old Daniel Webster....veterinary defines a term which means: of, relating to, practicing or being the science and art of prevention, cure or alleviation of disease and injury in animals and especially domestic animals.

Uh, let me get this straight....a veterinarian practices preventing, curing and alleviating disease and injury in us domesticated critters as a career....so, then the financial livlihood of a veterinarian depends on them finding issues in us to prevent, cure and alleviate, right? I am putting my health, happiness and wellbeing into someone's hands who gets paid to practice their art on me? Who signed me up to be a lab rat? I may be stupid, which I doubt, but, if I only get paid to fix and prevent illnesses and such, then I would imagine that if I looked hard enough in any critter, I could find something to prevent and alleviate in order to make that next house payment.

Frito is a cat--not a rat. I will no longer be someone's practice dummy.

And Now for Frito's Version of the Rest of the Story

2009-03-30T14:26:00.005-04:00

After a temporary hiatus, the fat cat is back! As many of you know, I had some embarrassing bladder issues which, as usual, the crazy lady I call Mom, announced to the world. Well, it’s time to tell my side of the story, from the soul cat point of view. As I’ve said, I’m a pretty sensitive, laid back kind of cat. Leave out a bowl of cat food, a water fountain or two, my blanket (that the middle kid still hides on her bed), and let me peacefully coexist with the world….the “inside my house” world.

The real problem started when tSee, out of the blue, the parents insisted on adopting the great (scary, chipmunk eating, whiny) Sir Fluff—this upset the harmony in my world….and it upset my tummy. Then, the parents went away for the weekend leaving me and Lea alone with Gina, the punk rocking psycho cat….Oh, the hairballs! Well, naturally, I was upset, I got a little stressed out and I couldn’t pee. That was it. A little tension induced peeing issue. No need to panic. But, oh, no, Mom panicked and it was off to the vet for Frito. Vet visits always go SSSOOOOOOOO well for me. Gee, guess who has a little weight problem? Now, I'm a stressed out cat on a diet. That will really help my anxiety issues, eh?

Just Call Me the Soul Cat

2008-07-31T20:09:00.002-04:00

We love music in our house. The girls have been nagging to post playlists over on the MyCatSpace site, but, like always, Mom attached “rules” to it. We have to each make our own list that reflects “who we are as a cat”. Well, it has taken a while for us to each find the right songs to express our individual personalities. Since we are all three very different cats, we decided that I’d go first and post my list. As you may imagine, I’m a soul-sey, peaceful, laid back kind of cat. I am just a “Soul Man” in my cat world. I also had to find some singers that I can identify with. This music is ME. It’s my favorite.
Let me warn you in advance, Gina is NOT a soul cat. She is more of the Grunge-Metal-Alternative kind of cat and Mom said Gina could post her own playlist next week. As for Lea, she is more of the bubble gum, lalalalala kind of girl. They both scare me personally, so please, once they post their playlists, remember this soul man will be listening with earplugs. Gives me heartburn.
Anyway, I posted my list over on MyCatSpace for your listening enjoyment. Hey, like me, like my tunes.

Frito

Falsely Accused....Again

2008-07-12T13:32:00.001-04:00

Once again I, Frito, have been the subject of false, unfounded allegations! It seems to be a constant theme in this house. When something happens, they blame the fat cat. Maybe it's because I'm usually the one SLEEPING and don't make it out of the given rooms in question before the girls run for it. When someone (Lea) was toilet-papering the dining room, who did they blame? Yea..me. When someone (Gina) was mistaking good old Dad's laundry basket for a new litter box, who do you think had to go to the vet for some unnecessary testing? Yep. Me. When someone eats a roll of Mom's gift ribbon, who do you...oh, wait, that was me, but the girls were there, they were standing lookout....
Well, I can't take it anymore. This time, the little, middle human has taken it too far. I mean she already took my favorite blanket that I used for years before she came along and now, she has called me a toy thief. She went to Grandma's a while back, not my Swat-A-Granny buddy, the other Grandma...I don't think my Swat-a-Granny granny would set me up like this...Anyway, the kid came home with a little plastic spider. Yes, I have a bit of a negative reputation where plastic bags are concerned--but, this is a plastic toy and they are not the same. And I did get a little out of character when they moved those dreaded butterflies onto my napping table, but a plastic spider is not the same. It doesn't move, doesn't flutter, and I, frankly have zero interest in it. Well, it happend. I was asleep on the kid's bed, after she stole my blanket again, and all of a sudden I was awake and PICKED UP and taken to the upstairs and put on trial for EATING her plastic spider and was banned from her bedroom, where she hides MY blanket on her bed. Did they suspect Lea the psycho? Of course not. Did the even question Gina, the Gremlin cat? Oh, no. Just me.
And you know what? The kid found it two days later on her desk. Did they apologize? Did I get any black olives for dinner? Did anyone offer me MY blanket back? Nah. No respect around here. I need to file a slander lawsuit...or is it libel? I'll have to look that one up. Here's hoping that none of you cats have to put up with this nonsense.

The Fat Cat is Back

2008-06-17T11:13:00.001-04:00

Well, I see that Gina luckily had no "purrsonality" to create any interesting material in my absence. Whew. I was worried about the things that may have popped up behind my back during the CAT institute fiasco. Here I am. They have decided that I am, indeed, a "cured" cat. I let them think they broke my dog loving spirit, but they are wrong. All wrong. I came home, ate a few black olives, made the one called Dad feel loved and appreciated for Father's Day, I even sat on his lap for a while, then, I cautiously, some may call it with "cat-like" stealth, found my dog and TOOK A NAP WITH HIM. That's right. No hissing. No growling. A peaceful nap with MY DOG. Even the threat of diet food is not going to make me lose my best friend. Gina and Lea are my girls. I love them. Okay, I love Lea and tolerate Gina to the best of my ability. But, Bear the dog...well, he is my buddy. My pal. Yes, he's old and grouchy and smelly and going a little deaf and may be hitting senility...but, they say he has congestive heart failure and I don't think I have much longer left with him and CAT institute or not..I LOVE MY DOG. There. Said it. Now, before they clean out the good stuff from the food bowl, I'll take my leave and have another breakfast before lunch and then, I'm going to find my dog for our afternoon nap. Hopefully, the senile old coot finds a good sunny spot for our nap today.....

C.A.T. Center

2008-06-02T12:04:00.001-04:00

Thank you, Gina! It seems that with a little inspiration from your pal Louie, that the humans and some of the other cats think I have some issues with being a cat. Well, I guess it is time to come clean. I am cat enough to admit that I love a dog. Yes. I said it. A dog. D-O-G. It's not just any old hound dog or anything. It's MY dog. He's a pomeranian. His name is Bear. Before the pictures pop up in all of my friend's profiles, I used to sleep on him when I was a kitten and I know there are some incriminating photos. Lucky for me that Gina doesn't have a scanner compatible with the new PC. Yet.
I had mentioned to a few cats that I was thinking of starting a support group for other cats living in this situation. Well, the parents have found the "purrfect" program for me. It seems that they think my emotional attention to the one I affectionately call Stink Doggy Dog is unhealthy. The program is with the local CAT institute. (Canine Affection Treatment Institute) I get to relearn to be a cat. They are currently interviewing for other exemplary cats to "train" us in hunting like a cat, sleeping like a cat, thinking like a cat, and they are actually encouraging intolerance to dogs. I'll go to the program since they have given me a choice between a steady stream of diet food or this two week course in nonsense. I am a cat. I just happen to be a cat that loves my dog. I think maybe they should have Bear tested to see if maybe, just maybe he isn't a cat in some kind of a sick disguise. My bags are packed for this trip to the Institute. I have some extra snacks packed and my milk rings, and there has even been some talk that there is something less than catlike about fetching too!
Let me know if Gina gets carried away with the blog while I'm gone.
Frito

Toilet Paper Turmoil

2008-05-29T10:25:00.001-04:00

Okay, we are having some issues around the house at the present! It seems that one of us cats has developed an affinity toward the toilet paper in the human's upstairs bathroom. Someone that I will not name (Lea) has decided to shred a roll of toilet paper on a nearly nightly basis. Two nights ago, someone (Lea) decided to run through the upstairs with the toilet paper wrapped around her--unrolling the entire roll as she ran. She successfully toilet papered the dining room table and two of the kids toys before the paper broke. The humans were not impressed. As usual, they blame the fat cat. Like I could fit under the rungs of the dining room chairs while RUNNING? The one we call Mom has taken to "hiding" the toilet paper from us cats...but the only one that cannot find it in the middle of the night is Dad. Someone (Lea) still finds it and tries to eat it or unrolls it. I could really use that camera that Mom's always shoving in my face. One picture of Lea the Lunatic caught in the act and maybe, just maybe, they'll throw her out to protect the garden. Mom wants another "outside" cat anyway and in this economy who needs another mouth to feed? I'm only thinking of the human's financial well being here. It has nothing to do with my own food bowl economics. Sound convincing?

Sun's Out in Ohio

2008-04-17T11:28:00.001-04:00

Whoo hoo. There seems to be a small patch of sun today coming into the human's cave today. I am convinced that I live with vampires. For some reason, they have actually opened the blinds and the doors today and there's SUN! Yes, finally, there is SUN! The girls that I coexist with have been fighting over the front door sun all morning. I generally wait until they have chased each other away before making my move. Some days I let the dog snooze with me. If he's had a bath, of course. Stink Doggy Dog has some grooming issues that they humans claim are relative to age. The girls and I think he just needs a good, strong deoderant. One strong enough for a skunk, made for a dog. Anyway, it looks like they may be making their move from my window sun, so time to move into position.

2008-04-14T14:27:00.001-04:00

It took me nearly two days to regain composure after hearing that it’s time for me to head to the vet again. Thank goodness it did not affect my appetite. Anyway, I am almost over the feeling of dread about that finally. THEN, yesterday morning, the one they call Mom thought she spotted a flea-on ME no less. Thank you, smelly old dog who has to go outside 30 times a day. You go outside and I somehow get the blame for the flea. I’m sure it wasn’t really a flea, but do they ever listen me? Yeah, right. Spring is here in Ohio-and out comes the first dose of flea medicine since November. Who gets it first? Better yet, who do they catch first? Yep. The fat cat. Everybody always picks on the fat cat. If there is anything that I dislike as much as going outside—it’s this flea stuff. First they have to hold me down. Degrading. Then, there is always some “I can’t find his shoulder blades, can you?” line of hardy har hars. Oh, yeah, the humans are a riot. At least, when I’m finished (passively, of course), I get to watch them try to put it on Lea. She is a complete psychotic. All of those forgotten, wild, outside cat characteristics come out. She becomes the little fireball of claws and teeth that we met and originally voted to throw back outside. I wished for popcorn. Now, this scene is a riot. Lea is about 8 pounds and they can’t do a thing with her. Later today, they’ll spot Gina and I’ll hang out to watch another show. Gina has agression issues. But, I’ll talk about that later. Fleas. On ME? Please.

Whispers about the V-E-T

2008-04-10T12:12:00.001-04:00

Okay. I'll admit it. I hate going to the vet. Actually, I hate going outside. Newsflash, humans, if I hate going outside, the trip outside to get to the vet just may make me a little more than temperamental. To top off the fact that I hate getting to the vet, I have some other more embarrassing issues with the place. See, a couple of years ago, one of them (and she isn't so petite herself) suggested that I lose a few pounds and I haven't really followed my diet plan for a while now and I know there are going to be all the fat cat jokes and snickers and stares. It's just humiliating. Yes, I weigh 23 pounds, give or take a hairball, but I am mostly a MAINE COON. I'm not supposed to be a little lap cat. It's just not in my genes. And then there is also the fact that they have me "labeled" as a freak-out risk on my chart. That's like my permanent record in this world and they go and make little red sticky notes everywhere because of one teensy weensy little loss of composure a couple of years ago. I sort of flipped out a little bit once in the waiting room while we were in line waiting to pay bill. A dog walked in, barked something in Great Dane and I climbed up onto my Dad's head. It was a one time thing. Dad's a big guy, he handled it. It should not have been the defining point in my veterinary office behavior background. Out there for everyone to see. Horribly embarrassing. Now, I hear I have to go next week. I'll let you know how it goes.

Rest In Peace, Sal E.

2008-04-09T10:17:00.001-04:00

Although I hate to admit it, Sal E. was a pretty cool cat. A little crazy--but, he did a good job as the outdoor caretaker. He knew that he was the man of the outside house and I was the man of the inside. We understood each other. Except for his chipmunk addiction. I never really understood that. Just the thought makes my stomach turn. I'm a little sensitive about those things. The humans, especially the woman called Mommy, have been awfully upset since he passed away and I think that a fitting start to my daily blog would be a tribute to big Sal.

To Sal. We'll miss you.