The Poop Scoop
Sorry we've been away for so long. Oh boy have our kitty lives been turned upside down.
That thing Mom and Dad were doing? Yeaaaaaaah, they brought a creature into our house. They call it a "baby". Well, the baby stinks. And she is loud. And she pulls our ears and fur. Granted, she also likes to pet us, but the ears! Leave the ears ALONE.
I taught her to growl though. So it's not all bad. Maybe she will turn out ok.
Although I do think Tweaker is onto something (definitely something mysterious--Mom won't let me snuggle on her belly anymore, which has to mean something--she's not normally that bitchy), I have to say she is wrong about the lack of new cat toys. Every day a new cat toy comes into the house. BOXES! WOOHOO!
Check me out, yo!
Something is afoot...
Something strange is going on with Mom and Dad.
First, they built us this wicked awesome outdoor cage that attaches to our own private little door. Cool, right? Yes, it is, actually. Very cool. But I grew suspicious of their intentions when they closed off our access to the upstairs bedrooms. What gives?
Then, back in January and February, Mom started to get agitated even MORE when we would present her with a token of our bile. I barf, therefore I am. That's my motto. But when I'd barf, Mom would freak out and run out of the room. I believe I could hear her own barfing in the background. Sorry, lady, but practice what you preach.
But lately, it's gotten weirder. Mom is fat. And I don't mean squishy Lola-like fat. FAT. Big. Rotund. When I'm at her feet, I can't see her face anymore.
And the stuff!! Normally, "gifts" mean "cool crap for the kitties." But ya know what? We haven't gotten new toys in months. MONTHS. Mom and Dad keep bringing in these things that I could swear are kitty toys, but instead they whisk them away to one of the upstairs "forbidden" bedrooms. It's enough to drive a cat mad, I tell ya.
I wonder, are they planning a big surprise kitty room for us? Or is there something else, something more sinister afoot?
Prozac Poster Cat
That would be me.
I am so wicked cool that Mommy, Daddy and my vet decided I needed to tone it down a notch. Or rather a few notches. Ok, so I really love biting the hell out of Booga and Jet. Ok, so I chew off my fur on my legs and belly (it's very sexy in France, you know.) And ok, so I run around in circles, quivering and mewing in quakes. It's because I'm eccentric.
I refuse to give in to the Man. I will show them you can't keep a cool cat back. Because I'm already awesome.
What a rotten day
I was having a pleasant Saturday morning. I ate some delicious meat-meat-&-more meat cat food that Mom bought us at Whole Foods. Then I had my morning poo. I was lounging on Mom & Dad's new IKEA furniture when she brought IT downstairs.
The cat carrier. It never bodes well when THAT thing is brought out. We knew what was coming--one of us was going to the freaking vet. As luck would have it, it was ME.
I hate the vet. Hate hate HATE the vet. They poke me, prod me, touch me in bad places, and then tell me I'm fat. Know what? They can kiss my fat ass.
So we arrive at the vet. Mom lets some sticky-faced, dirty little urchin pet me. Almost as much as I hate vets, I hate KIDS. Especially that kid. She was stinky and dirty and wouldn't shut the hell up. After a good 15 mins of her riveting tale of the neighbor's cat who is either a boy or a girl or a dog or a llama (who could tell with her rambling, unfocused story) and her petting my fur the wrong way, I finally screeched, "Dirty bitch!!" in cat language. It startled her and she pulled her hand back. Score one for the fat calico!
Here's the kicker. After this horrible experience of bloodletting and name-calling, we get back in the car. Now I'm a classic rock fan. That's how Nixon rolls. The Who, the Stones, Journey. Pure GOLD (see that pic over there to the right--remember that badass cat in the Stones' Harlem Shuffle
video? Who can't love that?!) After a long morning of evil tagteam Vet and Child, all I wanted for the ride home was to kick back in my carrier and sing a little duet with Mick Jagger.
Let me tell you all a little secret about MOM. She claims she is so cool, musically. "I love Queens of the Stone Age," "My favorite band is Radiohead," and "I just looooooooove Ween." Mmhhmm. Well, when it's just me and her in the car, bitch sings along with "Gold Digger" and Ashley Simpson. Yeah, I told your little secret Mom. Stop taking me to the vet because I got a lot more dirt on you, lady.
More kitty birthdays!
Since most of us were born in June, for some odd reason, we typically celebrate our collective birthdays at once. Makes it easy for the simpletons of the group (read: Effie).
Happy birthday Nixon!!!
Happy birthday Mojo!!!
Happy birthday Effie!!!
Happy birthday ME!!!
What did we get for being good kitties for another year? We got snackies galore. Oh, and Effie bummed a bite of Mom's California Rolls at dinner tonight. Sneaky blonde.
Tweaker (the best cat)
Happy Birthday Lola!
Big old fluffy marshmallow kitten, Lola, is two years old today!!
Happy birthday Lollie!
Love The Mommy