One Fat Cat With a Blog

Some of you may remember when the humans took in Fluffy D’Tail a few years back. He was a whiny, hungry, scruffy looking dust mop of an excuse for an outdoorsman. While he’s still whiny and scruffy looking, he does manage to eat his share of the indoor cat allotment of diet friendly kibble—and his own canned mouse ears. The girls and are starting to worry about him…see, since the Central Ohio weather turned yucky and blucky and downright cold and snowy—Fluff D has presented some peculiar behavior. His behavior is so ridiculous, in fact, that we are questioning either his mental faculties or his intellect—or both.

Every morning, he goes to the door and throws an absolute, caterwauling FIT to be let out into the snow. SNOW, I tell you! (While I think that alone screams of a loss of mental faculties—I believe in to each his own and all.) However, after minutes outside—two to three at the most—he’s outside the door again throwing a whiny tail fit to be let back inside. Then he continues to do this throughout the day in 2 to 3 hour increments. Now—the girls and I must ask the question….does he somehow forget that it’s wet, freezing and snow covered outside---or is he just an idiot?

One look out the window is proof that it is snow covered (hence the frigid temperatures and resulting icy, wet, frozen paws). Why then would the cat repeatedly venture out to only prove that it’s miserable out there….there simply must be something wrong with him! I have the sense to know that if the floor is cold once I venture off my blanket that perhaps I should stay on my blanket. There seems to be a missing cause and effect sensation in that cat.

*Sigh*….I guess it just goes to show you that the human’s judgment in animals worthy of adoption has certainly declined in recent years.

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)

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 bed...now 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 brats...er..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.

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.)

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.

I think I am a pretty tolerant cat. I realize I have had issues with things in the past, but I’ve worked on them…I attend my Plastic Eaters Anonymous meetings, I am active in my CAT Institute therapy, I am even working on a support group for cats who love dogs! I swear I am giving this awful diet thing a shot—I may even start exercising as soon as soon as Dad becomes more willing to fetch my milk rings when they go too far. (i.e. more than 12 inches from my right front paw). So, why is it that I always get the grief in this house?


They said I was supposed to be the king here! The king of my castle. Or so I thought. Somehow, I've been turned into a Princess Bride instead. Now, the kids are home from school for spring break—and the humans have no trips planned for them or anything. What are the kids doing for entertainment this week, you may ask? Enter Frito, babysitter extraordinaire. See, I’m the cat that refuses to bite or scratch a child—no matter how ridiculous they make me look.

And this was pretty darned ridiculous. If memory serves, this was my "day at the nursery" outfit. I believe my name was Baby Freda during this particular photoshoot.

There are six females, including Gina and Lea, in this house and I get to be Miss America?

Well, this break should be a doozy….the girls got new dress up clothes for Christmas. This cat doesn’t beg often, but, here goes: Please, please, please, please, please, please, please send the kids to Grandma’s! You can even send them to the Grandma who sets me up with plastic spiders! Send them to the Aunt’s—send them to the moon—hey, you can send ME to Grandma's--even to the Grandma with the yippy, snippy dog, but, just please don’t leave me here with them for a week!

Well, I have been successful in my refusal of canned mouse ears. Mom returned me to my diet crunchy plan...the premeasured one. Now, we've been busted again! This time, the one I affectionately call Dad is in big trouble! This is his second offense. It looks bad. What crime? Feeding a dieting (starving!) cat! Can you imagine? One or two extra feeding and he's in hot water with the Chief.

The first time we ran into issues with Mom, AKA, the Chief of the Diet Police, was right before Thanksgiving. Mom had worked out a portion control plan with the vet on some healthy schmelthy cat food. No more free feeding. Two meals a day—MEASURED meals. Well, I don’t know what five-pound-cat-kind-of-feeding-plan this was designed for, but I am a manly man kind of kind. You’ve seen Hungry Man dinners? I need the Hungry Cat dinner plan. Of course, there is no reasoning with the humans!

Miraculously, around Christmas, some unknown benefactors (umm, Dad, the oldest human kid, and the middle little person) began to supply an extra portion or three throughout the day. Under the radar of Chief Mom, of course. It was wonderful. Things were virtually back to normal. I was again a well fed, happy Frito. It began to unravel when Mom picked me up one Friday and realized that perhaps I wasn’t losing weight. She brought out the scale. 23 ¼ pounds. Down ¾ of a pound?? How could that be possible? Maybe I had a thyroid problem? Should we go to the vet? Uh-oh. That went so well for me last time.

She began a little undercover investigation of sorts and we were busted! We had a great little system going. Mom would feed me my dinner when she put the little people to bed…then Dad would feed me in the middle of the night when I raised a “ruckus”—but, I would make sure to have it all gone before Mom came downstairs to feed me breakfast…then before the middle little one went to school, I would hit her up for a little midmorning snack. Handful (or two—her hands are small) of treats. Then I’d hold out all day, a good six hours, until the oldest came home from school…then I’d beg and plead and even let her pet me. Degrading, yes, but well worth that handful of cat food. Then it came crashing down. Mom got up extra early one day to iron and found a full food bowl!! Not possible since she had watched me eat ½ the bowl the night before. The interrogations started. Dad broke first. Mom’s a tough one. Then the oldest admitted to the mid afternoon feeding. She hasn’t broken the middle kid yet, but I don’t see any treats in my future.

Now Dad's been nabbed again for coming to my aid. This time, I may really be on a diet for good. It's bad, very bad.

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?