One Fat Cat With a Blog

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.

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…

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….

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.

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.

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.)

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!

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!

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.

---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.

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.

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?

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.

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?

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.