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

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

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

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

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

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?

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??

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 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 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

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

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.



Guest Post: Lea's Canine Cohabitation Plan

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!


Frito's Canine Cohabitation Plan

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????


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 T. Cat—Watch Cat Extraordinaire

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 fa├žade 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

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

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
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

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.

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!