One Fat Cat With a Blog

Okay--why do most human morons buy a dog? Dogs are personal protectors, right? Hmmpf. I guess the people that use dogs for property protection have never met OUR dog. See Max, the Face of Stupid, is a useless pound hound who's afraid of his own shadow....and the garbage truck...and the garage door...and black hooded sweatshirts...and, oh, yeah, Gina--the five pound cat. OOOOOH! It's a scary world here in Frito Land. I only bring this up because the humans had four perfectly happy cats--then they adopted a dog, for which we can only assume was for protection, and NOW they are talking about needing a security system...

WHAT? Our cat food budget does not allow for an expensive security system!

Could someone explain to me why we need this flea carrying, slobber wielding, vaccuum powered snout of a hound dog if the humans think they need an alarm system? He's stupid, he smells, he needs a sitter, he can't go outside by himself, and he sleeps at least 23 hours a day.

Oh, I get it now...we only really need a security system for the twenty three hours that the face of stupid sleeps. Oh, God...I just realized something--rather than bemoaning the cost of a security system--I should embrace it. The alternative is 23 other worthless pound hounds working one hour security shifts in the House of Frito.

Okay--time to get some security company recommendations. What do you know about security monitoring companies that are sensitive to lean cat food budgets?

My New Year's Resolutions are a tadinsky bit late this year. (Blame human with thumbs rather than big boned city kitty for said delay--as usual.) As most of you know--the crazy human lady (the one with the thumbs in this writing team) asks that all of the resident cats rethink our wasting of our nine lives at least once a year in a thoughtful, motivational post. How will old Frito be the best cat he can be in 2012?

Develop a love/hate relationship with a new vet. Most of you have heard my rants and raves over the big boned city vet who enjoys poking fun at my Maine Coon physique. Well--sadly enough the vet who has been the brunt of my own fat jokes and dietary dribble has left the building. She moved to an office across town--and, as much as I hate to admit it, I miss her. Now I have to break in a new guy (who doesn't seem to find the humor in my sense of humor) and he has so little personality that I have yet to find a marketable/bloggable character flaw. Rest assured--there is not a human alive of which Frito cannot make fun. I'm sure after a visit or two, he'll give me plenty of blogging material for the rest of my nine lives. As for my old vet--we both lost a lot of weight last year. I would like to think we motivated each other...of course I do think dropping her litter of humanoids helped her a lot more than canned mouse ears helped me--but, nonetheless--we are both healthier for our efforts.

Continue my weight loss plan. Yes, I'm still eating the diet torture in a bag—simply because it keeps me peeing like a kitten. You know what else? I think I have found some canned cat food that I can swallow! It's not half bad--as long as they keep the fishy stuff off my plate.

I will exercise. As I said last year--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 still in training--just don't throw it down the stairs...I said I'm in training...not suicidal!

I will be nice to Max the Dog. (Yes, this is a human imposed New Year's Resolution for the cat) This was on the list last year...didn't happen then...not likely to happen now. Okay—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 am willing to let him sleep in the human's bed with me now--as long as he stays in his opposite corner. That counts for something right?

I will refrain from swatting the old folks. Yes--this is a repeat from last year too. 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 may even let the loud Grandpa human pet me a couple of times before I bite him. Fair trade, right?

I, Frito T. Cat, will still NEVER eat a mouse. (In case human with thumbs forgot this little detail of our relationship.) 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 again this year—but, until then, these are my 2012 New Year's Resolutions. As I've said before, 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.

Okay, cat pals--what resolutions do you wish to accomplish this year?

Okay—I’ll admit it. There were times when I used to get a little jealous when the humans would pack up the Face of Stupid (aka Max the Hound Dog) and take him away to places unknown for a few hours…or even a few days. They still do it a lot—and sometimes it seems a little unfair—but, in the end I think Fluff, the Girls and I are better off to NOT be packed along on little outdoor road trip adventures. Let me tell you why.

Road trips require a trip outside. I am Frito T. Cat—Watch Cat Extraordinaire of the INSIDE world. I’m a housecat. The outside world is generally too hot, too cold, too wet, too dark, too bright, too windy, too smelly, too loud, or just too darned scary. Avoid road trips…avoid the outside…be one happy house cat.

Road trips generally do not end in fun-filled destinations. Have you ever noticed that when cats get a road trip—it sure isn’t for a fun filled day at the beach? My trips have ended at the vet, the boarding kennel, Grandma’s house, the groomer (sad, sad day that was) or at the home of yet another stupid dog….or some traumatic combo of all of the above. All roads seem to lead to non-cat friendly activities. I would rather skip the drama.

Cats are often misunderstood. Grandma is scared of Frito. (Really? SHE is scared of ME? Hmmm.) Cats “tear up the furniture” (yeah…and tooth filled, snout of stupid just sniffs it, right?), cats “smell” (there’s no such thing as wet cat smell…dogs on the other hand…hmmm), litterbox duties put many off (how about pooper scooper duties for a 50 pound hound dog), and cats prefer to be left alone….well, maybe the stupid humans got that one right. Even if the human’

The Face of Stupid gets carsick. Once again, my humans managed to find the one defective hound dog in the pound. Has anyone ever seen a dog, let alone a HOUND DOG, that doesn’t like to ride in cars or trucks? EVER? Well, we have one…one that hacks up his breakfast in the minute car ride to the vet. Yep..I really want to be in the car with a sack full of dog yack for miles.

When the family takes a road trip—the cats are really the ones that get a vacation. See, when my family goes away…I get my blanket back…I get my room back…I get to roam the house…I get to sleep on the dining room table…I get to eat cat food in the little kids’ bed, I get to sleep in the laundry basket. Most importantly, I do not get carried around the house, I do not play dress up..or Baby Frito or any other demeaning game…I can let my guard down because the Face of Stupid cannot stay home alone for long. All in all..if I avoid road trip vacations, I truly get a vacation in the end.

So, if you cats out there are getting bummed about being constantly left behind while the family takes off—take a few minutes to think things through. I bet you have 5 good reasons why cats hate road trips as well!

I just got a cutesy little postcard in the mail from my vet. I am officially now a “senior pet”. They mean senior—as in senior citizen kitty. Can you believe it? They think I’m old, over the hill, beyond my prime….maybe even on the last few of my nine lives. At first I was a little depressed…then I got mad at the pure rudeness of it all…then I realized that if the powers that be are doing a countdown to my demise, it’s time to live life to the fullest. Hmmm. How exactly does one laid back, scaredy cat live life to the fullest without inadvertently cutting said life a few lives short? I guess I just throw caution to the wind and write down my bucket list for a start.

Here goes…10 things that Frito T. Cat wishes to accomplish in his “senior” years.

Catch a Mouse. Cats are supposed to want to do this, right? Maybe if I caught one, I could understand what all the fuss is about. I couldn’t EAT it or anything…that’s just gross and inhumane…but, maybe the fun of it is in the catching of the mouse. Anyway…I just think it’s something I should do at least once before the end.

Get Married. Everyone says that Lea and I were meant to be, but she’s more like a little sister. I met some cats on MyCatSpace that were Frito marrying material. There was a raven haired beauty in Pennsylvania… a spunky little Siamese in California…an older feline with Gina’s spunk and a lot more wisdom in Florida, and a younger gal that looked a little like me also in Florida. Maybe I should look them up and put myself out there. Maybe it’s time the Soul Cat settles down.

Have a Frito family reunion. Crazy human lady is friends with the lady that owns my brother Michael. We were the two runts of the litter…so we were up for adoption at the same time. (If I was a runt, I’d hate to meet my “healthy weight” littermates in a dark alley!) I should have a reunion with Michael. See if we still smell the same and all, you know?

Drink from the Fountain of Youth. I love to drink from fountains—and a fountain to make me a non-senior cat would make a whole lot of sense at this stage of the game. Anyone know where they keep that thing? (I’d do a car trip…but, no planes…I’m a little claustrophobic.)

Become viral on YouTube. I used to do flips in the air catching those plastic milk jug cap rings. Did the humans pick up the video camera then? NOOOOOOO. I could have been an overnight YouTube sensation about 10 pounds ago…Time to come up with a new gimmick. I think it’s possible.

Thoroughly Bash the Face of Stupid. I’ve talked about Max the Pound Hound, AKA the Face of Stupid. One good bashing of the hound and I think I could die a happy Maine Coon.

Sleep on My Blanket without the Kid that Says My Blanket is Her Blanket. Once upon a time, I had a blanket. MY BLANKET. Along came a brat kid…then another…and suddenly my blanket was community property…THEN it took up residence on the bed of human brat #1 as HER blanket. I want my blanket back---without the kid.

Eat a Butterfly. Every year, the humans raise butterflies from cocoons on my napping table. It makes me crazy. Before I die, I WILL eat one of those butterflies. I just need to put my mind at ease. I’ve heard they taste like potato chips…and I don’t much like those…but, I just need to know for sure.

Taste every variety of tuna and salmon cat treats on the market. I am a soft cat treat kind of guy—and I love tuna and salmon. I have time to test every tuna and salmon option available and if I can get my paws on the human’s credit card, I will Amazon.com’s #1 cat treat buyer.

Sample Blueberry Muffins from every Bakery in Columbus. Does anyone know where I can get the best blueberry muffins in Columbus? I am not a people food kind of cat—but, there is just something about a good blueberry muffin that old Frito cannot resist. I’ll get a list of bakeries…maybe websites that take credit card orders. Won’t the humans be surprised when I find a blueberry muffin of the month club?

What to try first….bring on the salmon cat treats—Frito needs to live what’s left of his life!

Human mom lady found a flea on my belly this morning. A FLEA!!!!!! In all of my dignified, senior house cat years, I have NEVER, EVER and I mean NEVER EVER had a FLEA!!! Psycho Sal E. Cat may have had fleas….if a flea was stupid enough to grace his white fur and claw presence. Dumb Dumb Fluff looks like he should have fleas….but, even he’s never had one in all of his adventures and misadventures in the outside world…The girls have never had fleas…Even the face of stupid, pound hound that surely presents himself as a flea magnet purely by nature of breeding has never been caught red-pawed with a flea.

But, yet, she found A FLEA???? A FLEA ON FRITO????? Now it seems that I have been harboring this blood sucking little vermin for days because I’m having some weird allergic flea reaction. (Mom called it a money sucking trip to the vet for a cortisone shot—but, it’s ME these vermin are victimizing and sucking the Frito-ness out of!!!) Can I help it if I’m a sensitive kind of guy? Can I help it if I respond allergically to trash and vermin invasion? So my lip's a bit puffy and I have skin issues…I am the Soul Cat…I need peace and love….not fleas and grief!

AAAAAGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If I go to the vet for a cortisone shot, I get weighed. If I get weighed, I am the immediate target of diet plan restructuring and the inevitable fat cat jokes. I just went in for my annual ridicule and fat cat abuse session last month…aka the annual kitty “wellness checkup”…I was not supposed to be subjected to the vet calling out the fat cat for MONTHS yet. It’s just not fair.

Who caused this? If not the face of stupid…then I must blame recent house guests. Could my brother’s mum have brought me FLEAS? Nah….not her…My brother Michael is as citified as I am…Oh no….it was the county cousin Shih Tzu! She came to visit…there was talk about a neighbor dog with fleas…there was talk about flea baths.

AAAAAGHHHHHH!!!! I knew I should have chased her to the garage.

Why didn’t Max, the Face of Stupid, chase her to the garage? With that ridiculous hound dog snout, you’d think he could smell a flea from 4 counties over…. Who am I kidding…Face of Stupid evidently holds Snout of Stupid.

I am on my own in this crusade against the dreaded flea. **Note to crazy, flea obsessed, human mom lady….Frito can handle this…no need for trip to insulting vet or to degrading outdoor flea bath….fleas are no match for Frito T. Cat. Really. They aren’t.**

HELP????? I see the outdoor flea bath being readied for one sad big boned city kitty.

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…

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.

Pondering the theory of restless tail syndrome for the morning....

For a long time now, I have discussed the many imperfections in the resident pound hound that the humans so felt necessary to “rescue”to adopt (and pay good cat food fund money for) from the shelter. These flaws include those floppy ears that get in his food and water, the big vacuum cleaner power suction device attached to the end of a ridiculous hound dog snout, and silly spots that look like dirt--which even a much needed weekly bath fails to remove—and a tail that just does not stop wagging.

For a long time, I just assumed the dog was stupid. I thought he was simply in a doofus, la-la land of perpetual happiness. An idiot. Now, though, I wonder if there is not some medical reason or malady causing this constant, unusual (and downright irritating) wagging of the tail. After all, NOBODY can be that darned happy. Then it hit me. He must have restless tail syndrome.

You cats have heard of restless leg syndrome in humans, right? It’s a real thing, you know? My Swat-A-Granny has it and she is miserable without her medication—especially if she’s not moving about (and that make her the perfect Swat-A-Granny contestant I might add). So—I’m thinking (and you know that Frito T. Cat is ALWAYS thinking)—maybe the dog isn’t a clueless buffoon. Maybe he just looks stupid and has Restless Tail Syndrome—making him appear to be unwittingly happy all the time!

I just did some online research and it seems that the vet world is entirely missing this highly plausible, overly irritating phenomenon! I’m going to email this to the human lady immediately—she needs to call the vet. Maybe he needs sedated! Maybe it’s incurable and the only humane thing to do would be to put him down and out of my…er…HIS misery. Did I mention that he even wiggle-waggles that silly tail in his sleep? (The human says he’s dreaming—I say he’s possessed by the moron ghost of hound dogs past—but, of course, nobody ever listens to the fat cat!)

I may have just discovered the cause of irritating wag-worthy happiness in dogs everywhere. Do you think they’ll give me credit? Do you think this discovery is worth any money? (Either the cat food fund is low these days or those humans are enforcing the evil vet diet plan in preparation for my upcoming vet visit—this visit I like to call “The Fat Cat Weight Check and Ridicule Session”.)

I think it’s answered. The stupid dog, while he may be inherently less intelligent than we felines, is suffering from a real medical illness. He needs help—he needs drugged…um..he needs medicated! He may even need to be put down for humanity sake. I’m a strong advocate for humane treatment—we cannot wait on this—we need to act quickly, human!

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!

I think I am a well cultured cat. I enjoy fine food, (canned mouse ears do not qualiby as fine food), I love music, and in an effort to be a more well rounded cat (don't tell my vet--she says I'm round enough), I have started to dabble in the arts.
I read a quote this morning by Leonardo DaVinci that said, "The smallest feline is a masterpiece". Well, this lead me ponder the thoughts of a genius. Some of you have met my housemate, Gina, who I hear is starting her own blog soon to prove that she is the cat in the house with attitude and worthwhile thoughts. Anyway, Gina is the smallest feline I know, but she is more of a drug induced, abstract work in progress than a masterpiece, I think. Surely, DaVinci intended this thought to be applied to the greatness of wonderful cats, such as myself, in general and not to be applied to specifics. So, if the smallest feline (except for Gina) is a masterpiece, this leads me to conclude that a larger feline, perhaps a big boned one such as myself, would be a master's collection of pieces, right?

We love music in our house. The girls have been nagging to post playlists over on the MyCatSpace site, but, like always, Mom attached “rules” to it. We have to each make our own list that reflects “who we are as a cat”. Well, it has taken a while for us to each find the right songs to express our individual personalities. Since we are all three very different cats, we decided that I’d go first and post my list. As you may imagine, I’m a soul-sey, peaceful, laid back kind of cat. I am just a “Soul Man” in my cat world. I also had to find some singers that I can identify with. This music is ME. It’s my favorite.
Let me warn you in advance, Gina is NOT a soul cat. She is more of the Grunge-Metal-Alternative kind of cat and Mom said Gina could post her own playlist next week. As for Lea, she is more of the bubble gum, lalalalala kind of girl. They both scare me personally, so please, once they post their playlists, remember this soul man will be listening with earplugs. Gives me heartburn.
Anyway, I posted my list over on MyCatSpace for your listening enjoyment. Hey, like me, like my tunes.


Frito