Just Call Me the Soul Cat

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

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


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

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

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

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.

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

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.


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.






Sociable