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
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.

Sociable