Tag: Izzie

UPDATE: Izzie’s Fight Club

We are still in the middle of a titanic struggle for passage rights between Izzie and her Arch-Nemesis.  Baloshi has the law on his side with owner rights, while Izzie is claiming historic migratory rights.

It’s not going well.

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The Viking, Teddy and I have taken turns trying to convince her to just go around Baloshi’s yard, but she’s a stubborn little fuck.  The Viking has always held the title as The Most Stubborn Fuck in the Household, however Izzie has made it into a real competition.  I’ve never seen The Viking with open war wounds though, so I’m going to award the title to the new champion.

Her face is a mass of scars, scabs and open, seeping wounds.  She’s more grumpy, sarcastic and shouty than she usually is too, and that’s saying a lot given her normal temperament is somewhere between Angry, Vengeful Harpy and Bite-y, Slappy Gorgon.  I’m beginning to get a complex.

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We really have only one solution…….two solutions…..if we listen to Izzie who wants us to descend on the Ladies and Baloshi and burn the place to the ground.  With a flame-thrower*.  So, the only viable solution would be to lock her in the house.  We took a vote:

The Viking:  Nay.  Do you want us to be lacerated to ribbons in the dead of night?

Teddy:  Only if you chain her to a corner with a short leash.  My fur is finally starting to grow back after her last temper tantrum.

Me:  I would be in favour of the leash but it won’t stop her shouting threats and curses and I’m the one who is in the house most of the time.  Also, I think she knows how to VooDoo.  So, Nay to the leash.

The Viking:  We could wear protective clothing.

Teddy:  Nay.  I’m not wearing clothes.

Me:  It’s 32°C today.  Nay to protective clothing.

The Viking:  Maybe we could reason with her?

Teddy:  HA!

Me:  I’m with Teddy on that one.

It was unanimous – we can’t keep her in the house and still remain blood-free.

All we can do is to tend to her war wounds and continue to encourage a detour around Baloshi’s yard.  She won’t listen, but at least we tried.

 

*I’m not allowed to have a Flame-Thrower due to safety issues but Izzie pointed out that The Viking could do it.

Izzie’s Fight Club

It’s official.  Izzie has started a Fight Club in the neighbourhood.

If you are a follower of my blog, you are familiar with Izzie.  The worst cat on the planet.  Cranky, sarcastic, stabby, name-calling, cursing, shouting Izzie.  I’ve never had to work so hard to teach a cat not to murder me.  Or The Viking, but The Viking is a Viking and doesn’t really need me to fight his battles.

A couple weeks ago, I met a new couple who moved into the house at the end of our block, and immediately had to apologize because Izzie held them hostage, forcing them to escape through their front door.  Everyone on the block has offered the newbies advice on how to deal with Izzie which, at the end of the day, boils down to “Don’t Touch Izzie” and “Call Lori or The Viking”.

And then about 10 days ago, I noticed Izzie’s face was swollen up and a small bald spot on her nose.  I assumed she was stung by a bee – tis the season after all.  The following day, she wandered by and her nose was huge!  It looked like it was broken, and that one bald spot had multiplied to four or five.

“Izzie!  What the fuck?  Are you fighting?!”

She didn’t answer.  Apparently, the first rule of Fight Club is that you don’t talk about Fight Club.  The Viking and I tried to get a better look but that went about as well as you can imagine.  So, all we could do was keep an eye on her.

3 days ago, she came home in terrible shape.  Her poor nose!  She was exhausted and slept all day.  It was awful.  And like every good parent, we turned on Teddy.

“Who is she fighting with, Teddy?!  Don’t you know that you should be helping her?  Brothers don’t let their sisters get beaten up!”  Apparently, Teddy is aware of the rules of Fight Club too because he had nothing to say.  Izzie is quite a small cat – maybe 5 or 6 pounds – while Teddy is a big guy, probably 8 or 9 pounds.  He doesn’t have a scratch on him because he’s a lover, not a fighter.  And any wounds he has ever had came from Izzie.

2 days ago she came home even worse.  Night before last she must have taken a day off from Fight Club, but this morning she’s Rock Balboa.

“Who the hell are you fighting with, Izzie?!”  Geezus!  “Look at your poor face!  Fucksakes!”  It’s kind of heartbreaking to see her pretty little face mauled.  Also, her ‘love eyes’ usually look kind of terrifying but now…..well….it’s inspires one to pee themselves.  Not me or The Viking because we know her, but you definitely would consider peeing yourself.

We contemplated and quickly rejected that these might be bee stings but the only way these are bee stings is if she is willing to take it in the face over and over and over again because they taste so delicious.  I’m not buying it though – and bees sleep at night.

We can’t imagine a cat that has lived in the neighbourhood for the past 4+ years and has already come to an agreement with Izzie would suddenly become this combative.  There must to be a new element.  Enter the new cat at the end of the block – Baloshi.

After giving the situation some thought, I think I’ve figured it out.  Teddy is a home boy and he is the guardian of the yard.  Slinky, the crazy cat next door, frequently tests Teddy’s resolve by trespassing, but it’s mostly posturing and name-calling before Slinky retreats.

Izzie, on the other hand, is a free spirit and a wanderer.  The world is her oyster!  She visits everyone on the block, sometimes even beyond the block if something interesting catches her attention.  She watches a guy down the street work in his garden all afternoon.  He loves her.  She used to poop in Mark’s flower bed but once he put Cayenne Pepper in it she just sits and gives him The Stink Eye.  He loves her, too!  Even the traffic on the busy road at the end of the block stops for her.  Everyone loves the miserable little thing, including The Viking and I.  And she has managed to install herself as Queen of the World by bluster and bullying alone and no one has seriously called her bluff.  Ever.  Until now.  Baloshi.

The conflict is, most probably, about the Right of Passage.  Izzie doesn’t want to inhabit Baloshi’s yard, she just wants to wander through and maybe take a hostage or two when she’s bored, just as she’s always done.  But just try convincing her that there’s a new cat in that previously unoccupied yard who isn’t prepared to allow her access whenever the hell she feels like it.

She isn’t taking the news very well.  Queen’s don’t make exceptions for peasants.  We can’t stop her unless we lock her in the house and that’s just a recipe for disaster.  So, we inspect her face every morning in case she’s in need of emergency care and tell her in our most loving of voices…….

“Izzie, please stop using your face to hit Baloshi in the mouth.  You look like shit.  We love you but we will start calling you Rocky.  Now, go to bed.”

 

Welcome to the Neighbourhood and Sorry for Our Cat

On Saturday morning I happened to glance out the window that faces the back alley and saw two women stop and point at our fifth-wheel trailer and Goldwing.

That’s weird and who are those women?

Should I go out and see what they’re looking at?  I don’t want to look like a nosey, busy-body who charges and confronts everyone who walks past though.  On the other hand, maybe there’s a dead body – human, feline or canine.  Under those circumstances, I should definitely get out there because I don’t want any corpses lingering around.  Perhaps they aren’t pointing at anything at all but practicing dance moves – like John Travolta in Grease – and they don’t need my interference.   They’ve got the pointy finger bit perfect.

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Or, maybe there was something wrong with the trailer and because I don’t want to appear aggressive, the problem escalates into a full-blown catastrophe.  I could also wait until they move on and then rush out, but maybe they are stalking homes to burgle and me going out there might convince them this isn’t the neighbourhood for that kind of activity.

Decisions, decisions.

Okay.  I’m going out there.  However, I’ll pretend I’m on my way to put something in the garbage, so it doesn’t look like I’m suspicious of them.  They are both holding coffee mugs and that doesn’t seem like something a nefarious gang of robbers would have in their hands.

I started whistling as I sauntered toward the alley and at the moment the women could see me, I pretended surprise.  “Oh!  Haha!  I didn’t see you there.”

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They bought it.

Woman 1:  We are just trying to get our cat to come home and he’s under your trailer.

Phew!  So glad I didn’t come out like a Pitbull.

Woman 2:  He’s grey and white.  See, there he is, up on the fence!

Woman 1:  Hi, my name is Steph and this is Erin.

Me:  Nice to meet you.  I’m Lori.

Erin:  We just moved into the house at the end of the alley.  Our cat is Baloshi.

Me:  That’s wonderful.  Welcome to the neighbourhood!  I have two cats.  One is gray….

Steph:  That’s Teddy, right?

Me (wondering how they know that):  Yeees.

Have the neighbours been talking?  Of course they have! It’s the first law in Neighbourhood Rules:  Get to the Newbies first and spill all the dirt on everyone else.  You’re just being helpful after all and saving them from getting involved with the bad seeds on the block.

Erin:  He’s such a nice boy!  He’s making friends with Baloshi and it’s going really well.

Me:  That sounds exactly like Teddy.  He’s a sweetie.  Umm….I also have a black cat…..

I watched the smiles fade from both woman’s face.

Steph: Izzie.  Right?

Me:  I’m so sorry.  What did she do?

Erin:  She sits on our back step so we can’t get out.

Steph:  We tried just stepping around her but apparently that’s not a good idea.

Okay, that isn’t as bad as I was expecting.  It’s a simple Hostage-Taking.  Considering some of her past sins, this isn’t even 4th on the list.

Me:  Did either of you bleed?

Erin:  Oh, no!  She just refused to move so we couldn’t get the door open.

Okay.  No physical damage then.  That’s good news.  Probably a little emotional trauma though.  I’m going to put this at a solid sixth on the list.

Me:  I’m really sorry.  We’ve tried talking to her but she either ignores us or calls us curse-y names.

Steph:  Oh, don’t worry.  It wasn’t that big of a deal.

Sure, you say that now but wait until she steals your car.  She’s already stolen two – the first time with the owner still in the actual car.  She made the critical mistake of having her window rolled down.  One of the neighbours heard her screams and came to get us.  The second time, Izzie just declared the vehicle as hers and refused to let the owner have it back until The Viking physically removed her.  That guy will lock his truck door next time he comes around.

So, I had a chat with Izzie.

“Izzie.  Stop taking the new people hostage.  I honestly didn’t think I would have to spell this out, but here we are.  Hostage Taking is forbidden.  Yes.  Another forbidden thing.  And since we’re already here, let me take the opportunity to remind you of the other forbidden behaviors.  Again.  You cannot….

    • Break into a person’s home and block them from getting out of their own house. Yes, I’m talking about Peter.
    • Steal household appliances. Yes, I’m still talking about Peter.
    • Steal vehicles, whether the owner is inside the vehicle at the time or not.
    • Stop traffic while you clean your ass in the middle of the street. All the honking brings the police.
    • Slap young children.
    • Take people hostage, even if you don’t draw blood – it’s a felony and you can be prosecuted!
    • Bully the dogs on the other side of the alley. Don’t bother denying.  Ross found your collar stuck on the fence.
    • Pick fights with Magpies or Ravens because they come back en masse and turn the entire block into a scene from Hitchcock’s ‘The Birds’ and I’m forced to rescue you. Three birds shat on me last time.
    • And while I’m on the subject of ‘Birds’, you cannot catch birds outside and bring them inside to ‘finish them off’. That’s just gross.
    • And for fuck’s sake, stop beating up Teddy! Geezus!”

Have I missed anything?  Probably.  Give her a couple of days and I’m sure she’ll find something that will require my deepest apologizes to random strangers.  Our long-term neighbours don’t even require an apology anymore – we’re all in this together, I suppose.

So, welcome to the neighbourhood and we’re sorry about our cat.

Enemy At the Cat Door

The Viking installed a Cat Door – a move to save my sanity as two cats badgered me relentlessly to open and close the door 179 times a day.  Overall, it’s been a mixed blessing.  The first couple weeks were wonderful as they came and went as they pleased.  Teddy was so happy with the arrangement he felt the need to bring me gifts:  a live bird, a live mouse, a dead mouse, a half-eaten dead mouse, another live bird, a dead bird, and a half-eaten dead bird.

After a year of gifting and slaughter, I have finally convinced both Teddy and Izzie that wildlife is not allowed in the house – dead or alive.  I am proud of them for their hunting prowess, but please leave all gifts on the back step where I can fully appreciate them without stepping on cadavers in the middle of the night as I stumble to pee.

I thought that was the end of negatives issues regarding the Cat Door but this morning I was proven wrong.

It’s a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly on our eastern-facing back door/cat door.  I was just happy to see the sun and didn’t realize there was a problem until I heard hissing.  Izzie hissing, to be exact.  I had my back to her and the door, checking Face Book, so turned around to see what was going on.

Izzie was staring hard at the Cat Door.  And there, just at the very bottom of the cat door, I saw two pointy shadows that I soon realized were Cat Ears slowly moving upwards.

Holy Shit!  There’s an Enemy at the Cat Door!! 

Then, because he must have heard Izzie hissing, Teddy came creeping through the kitchen, watching the cat door.

I sat down between the cats, in front of the cat door.

We sat in silence, watching the Cat Ear shadow rise and lower several times.  And then we had a discussion because this was a crisis that needed to be given careful consideration.

There was little doubt that the cat sitting on the other side of the Cat Door was Slinky – the crazy cat from next door.  Even his owners call him batshit crazy.

Once we decided who we were dealing with, we now considered what actions needed to be taken.  And action definitely needed to be taken or Slinky might misconstrue our lack of response as weakness and launch an invasion right into our home!

Cat Ear Shadow slowly rises.

I could beat on the door and scare Slinky away and hope he would never come back, but Slinky is crazy and who knows what goes on in that twisted mind.  Teddy and Izzie voted against that action anyway as it had a taint of cowardice in the face of aggression at our sovereign Cat Door.

Cat Ear shadow slowly lowered.

Or, we could wait until Slinky poked his head through the flap.  The physics of the Cat Door means that once you embark on a passage through the flap, you can’t change your mind, you’re fully committed.  If you try to back up, the flap lodges behind your head and effectively traps you.  Izzie liked the sound of that immediately.  Teddy, on the other hand, thought we might be flirting with Un-Sportsman-like Conduct and that’s not something to be taken lightly.  So the whole option was turfed before we even discussed what to do with the head once it was trapped – whether we spray it with the water bottle or mock it for not understanding the science involved in Cat Doors.

Cat Ear shadow rises.

At this point, Teddy wondered if someone should go wake up The Viking.  This is kind of his area of expertise, is it not?  There’s nothing quite as terrifying as Vikings in the morning – just ask the Monks at Lindesfarne.  Teddy and I are peaceful Hippies, ill-equipped to deal with aggression, while Izzie is only mean from a distance when it comes to other cats and prefers name-calling and cursing rather than physical violence.  Unless……someone else is doing the violence, like a Viking that’s cranky for being woken up because our perimeters have been breached…..and then she’s all in.  With PomPoms.

Cat Ear shadow lowers.

I thought we should entertain less violent options before we bring in the big gun.

Cat Ear shadow rises.

We could just let Izzie shout derogatory insults – her specialty – through the Cat Door while Teddy and I cheer from the sidelines and hope Slinky doesn’t call our collective bluff.  Teddy asked if that was just a little too close to Bullying?  Fair question.  We don’t want that ugly reputation to stick; Izzie already has a reputation as a Home Invasion Expert and a prolific Car Jacker so we don’t really need more notoriety.

Cat Ear shadow lowers.

We considered barking madly like an insane Mastiff but neither cat wanted to stoop that low.  Because they have standards.  Unlike this turncoat….

By now we were beginning to entertain increasingly implausible defensive actions.  No one had a slingshot or a fishing net and, of course, I’m not allowed to have a Flame Thrower.  We were running out of options.  In the end, I was out-voted.  ME!  Without the slightest pang of conscience, both cats volunteered me to take one for the team.  I was to be sacrificed to the crazy hell that is Slinky.  And while I was arguing against the decision with all the fervor of Atticus Finch…….

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

As one, we turned our heads toward The Viking, standing there in his underpants holding a pair of socks.  We started explaining the crisis…..

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”  He whipped the back door open.

Apparently, Slinky either got tired of listening to our evil plans…..or…..got bored and went home.

 

Vengeance and Mayhem

Neighbourhood patrol.  Again.  I’m not in the best of moods because Mom is spitefully refusing to fix the weather and my feet are cold.  And why am I the one responsible for keeping the neighbourhood safe?  What would happen if I decided I didn’t feel like doing it anymore?  Rabbits!  That’s what would happen if I got lazy; the entire place would be overrun with rodents with ridiculous ears.  And the rabbits around here aren’t cute little bundles of soft fur.  No, around here we get Jack Rabbits that are only slightly prettier than Golum and about the same size!

What did these people do before I moved here?  It was a mess, I’m sure of that!  There had better be some treats when I get home and a pair of warm boobs to lay on.

Hey!  Don’t honk your horn at me, Buddy!  Just for that, I’m going to walk slowly while giving you the stink eye the entire time I’m crossing the street.  Dick.

Taunting the dogs across the alley – check

Walking on Floyd’s new car – check

Bullying the Bichon – check

Pooping in Mark’s garden – check

Dot’s yard is good, Marcel’s is okay but could really use some shoveling (aren’t my feet cold enough, Marcel?), Anne’s place is very tidy – I like it.

Hummm…..that’s a new smell.  I don’t usually check this yard, but I should find out what smells so delicious.  Well, will you look at that!  Chicken!  I love chicken.  Thank you very much Homeowner.

WHAT THE FUCK?!!  It’s a trap!  Let me out!  I am not liking this at all.  Ohhhh, whoever did this………just wait until I get out!  You are going to have my poop in your garden for the rest of your life!  That’s right.  I’m going to stop pooping in Mark’s garden and come here instead and the poops will be huge and smelly!  And every time I decide to fight with another cat it will happen right under your bedroom window in the middle of the night and I’m a screamer.  As a matter of fact, I think I’ll set up a Fight Club right here and invite every cat in the province!  I’m going to scare your children and mock your dogs!  I will pee on your car and every child’s toy you leave outside.  And you don’t even want to know what I’m going to do to that sandbox!  It will be disgusting and involve a lot of Hairballs!

LET ME OUT!!

LET ME OUT!!

LET ME OUT!!

Well, it’s about damned time, Mister!  Open this fucking door right now!  No…don’t touch me!  No touchy!  Stop…..Geezus!!  You’re not allowed to touch me!  Put me down!  That’s my Lady Parts!  Hashtag MeToo!!

Oh!  You want to see my collar tag?  Why didn’t you say that to begin with?  Yes, I’m Izzie and yes, that’s my phone number.  Call my Mom.  She is soooo going to fuck you up, Mister!  You have no idea what she is capable of – I’m her Princess.  You should start running right now.  She can make a Viking cry, so just imagine what she will do to you!

Hey!!  What the hell?  I don’t want to be in your garage.  Just let me go.  Seriously, dude, I promise I won’t say a thing.  No one will ever know you trapped me in a Cat Trap.  I am great at keeping secrets.  Honestly!  I’ve never told anyone Teddy’s deepest secret and if there is a secret that should be told, it’s what Teddy wants to do with his stuffed alligator toy.  Please, I promise I won’t poop in your garden.  I was just blowing off steam, I didn’t mean any of it.  No, wait!  Come back!

……

……

……

……

Is this how my life ends?  In a dark, smelly garage, alone and unloved?  Forgotten by humanity?  I wasn’t done living yet.  So many things I still wanted to do.  I wonder if Mom and The Viking will miss me?  Sure, I’m a pain in the ass, but I’m adorable, too.  And Teddy….who’s going to bully him?  Without me, he’ll relax and become fat and lazy.  He’ll sleep with Mom every night.  I can’t believe this is my end – it’s so boring.  I wanted to go out with a bang, something memorable like taking Hostages in an armed standoff, something every cat will tell stories about.  I wanted to become a Legend!

What was that?  Is that Mom?  Wishful thinking?  Am I saved?  I’m not taking any chances – my Lady Parts are still uncomfortable.  I’m hiding in case it’s a ruse for another round of Pattycake.

IT IS MOM!!

Mom!!  I’m coming Mom!!  You won’t believe what happened!  This guy….he has a Cat Trap and he caught me!  I’m so happy to see you.  I love you so much.

Pick me up so I can give him the stink eye.  I told him you would fuck him up,  so go ahead.   Hit him!!  Just smack him one!  Right in the lips.  Or the throat!  Yeah….the throat!  I want to see him writhe in pain and despair and wish he was never born.  I want to see blood.  Lots and lots of blood.

Why are you being so nice to this Monster?!  You are supposed to avenge my mistreatment, not thank him for calling!  What kind of a Savior are you?!  Geezus!  Where’s The Viking?  He’d smack this guy.  Probably several times.  He understands vengeance, it’s in his DNA.  Mayhem is second nature to him, and I bet he’ll come and open a Can of Whoop Ass on this guy.

What?  We’re just leaving?  Without even cursing him?  That’s the least you could do, you know.  Curse his children at a bare minimum.

Well, shit.  I’m walking home.  No, I don’t want to ride in the car, Traitor.  I’m telling The Viking that you’re useless – he should know what kind of person he’s married too.  Benedict Arnold.

Oh!  And don’t you whisper a word of this to Teddy.  Seriously.  I’ll have to kill him if you do.

Geezus.  What a fucking night!

 

Note:  So…..the family lost their cat and decided to try to catch it with a Cat Trap.  Yes.  A Cat Trap.  I don’t even know where to start with that so I’m just going to let it go.  On the other hand, they did brave life and limb to read Izzie’s tag and give us a call.  Thank Gawd.  Also, this is the best scenario for Izzie’s first – and hopefully last – experience with a Cat Trap.  Generally speaking, Cat Traps are a death sentence to animals caught in them because that’s the main purpose of them.  She’s a smart girl though so maybe she’ll be more suspicious of free food from now on.

She wouldn’t ride in the car, but I rolled the car window down and called her and she followed it all the way home.  She was pretty scared and hasn’t left my side for the past three days, however today, she’s back to bullying Teddy so I think she’s getting over it.

Soliloquies of Swearing and Cursing

Generally speaking, I like winter.  I enjoy the absence of bugs, the fireplace, my flannel duvet cover and heated mattress pad.  Fuzzy trees and the sun on fresh snow is beautiful and the squelching sound I make when walking on snow is almost delightful.  And having lived in the far north where it doesn’t get dark at night in the summer, I have a good appreciation for the coziness of night.

However, there is one part of winter I absolutely hate!  Indoor cats!  Sweet Geezus, they are driving me batty already and it’s only November.  It snowed yesterday which means wet cat feet which means wet cat prints on every horizontal surface, including all my paperwork and my boobs.

The Viking installed a Cat Door this summer to save me literal hours each day opening and closing doors.  Yesterday, I watched alternating Cat’s Asses for most of the day as Izzie and Teddy took turns poking their nose out the cat door to see if I had fixed the weather yet.  I hadn’t and they were both more than just a little disappointed in my abilities.

So now there is the necessity of learning to play/get along with each other during the long hours of self-enforced detention.  As you might guess, Teddy has superior playing skills while Izzie can’t quite understand the concept.  She’s confused about the difference between ‘playing’ and ‘killing’.  Every attempt at play is a colossal failure.  Teddy invites her to ‘play’ chase him and Izzie ‘kill’ chases him.  He objects to the claw treatment and the huge tufts of his hair stuck between her toes.  She screams like the hounds of hell are on her tail even though he doesn’t actually touch her.

During summer, they rarely spend time together.  One is usually out while the other is in, so territory disputes are few and far between.  Now that snow has arrived though, every fucking thing is a dispute!

Teddy walked too close to Izzie’s bowl of water – flurries of slapping and cursing.

Teddy was sitting in the front window – a rear assault that Alexander the Great would approve.

Once Izzie gets the window seat, Teddy retreats to my lap with a smug expression.  And just so Izzie gets the message, he wanders over to The Viking’s lap as well, never breaking eye contact with her.

Teddy plays with a toy Izzie has never, ever, ever touched and suddenly he’s committed the crime of the century deserving 3 smacks and creative name-calling.

Teddy claims the top perch on the cat tree where Izzie usually sleeps, and she is on the internet looking up how to make a bomb.

Teddy runs into the bedroom when I’m heading to bed and takes up a position between my legs, facing the doorway so he can ‘Cheshire Cat’ Izzie when she wanders by.

Teddy sees Izzie and says ‘Bitch’ and she sees him and says ‘Asshole’ and The Viking and I are just innocents in the middle of an epic battle, just trying to survive.

Between cat fights and paw prints, my vocabulary has devolved to unending soliloquies of swearing and cursing.  And apologizing to customers for the puckered paw prints decorating their invoices.

The most horrific of behaviors belongs to Izzie.  Of course it does.  She’s been going outside to get her feet wet, then runs in the house to the litter box, stomps around to get as much litter on her feet as possible and then dances around the house.  There is fucking litter EVERYWHERE!!  And while I’m shouting that she doesn’t need to piss or shit nearly this much and waving my arms for emphasis she just sits there, not even looking at me, obviously without even one fuck to give!  Teddy, at least, has the good grace to look apologetic when he does something awful, like plopping a half-eaten mouse with its guts hanging out on the kitchen floor where I stepped on it in the dark.

Sometimes The Viking and I wonder what our lives would be like if we only had Teddy.  He’s a cuddlebug who never gets into trouble.  He doesn’t get on the counters, he’s stopped playing with the bathroom tissue, he doesn’t claw me in the middle of the night because I moved a bit, he doesn’t shout abuse so loud the neighbours can hear it, he doesn’t bite or claw-slap customers, he doesn’t hijack people’s vehicles when they accidentally leave a window down, he hasn’t broken into a single house and held the owner hostage, he doesn’t bully the neighbour’s dogs, he doesn’t pick fights with Ravens who bring back their entire family and turn the yard into an Alfred Hitchcock movie, but…….most importantly…..HE DOESN’T GET HIS FEET WET, DIP THEM IN LITTER AND SPREAD IT ALL OVER THE HOUSE!

I’m going to stop imaging such a wonderous thing because it’s just leading to homicidal thoughts.  And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to sweep up litter for the 7th time today.

Leave me a comment, I answer every one of them!

Where’s A Coyote When You Really Need One?

I like birds – they’re pretty and sing-song-y and generally don’t get in my way – meaning, I haven’t tripped over one.  Yet.  There’s still plenty of life in me so there’s a reasonable probability that at some point in the future I will trip over one or two and I can only hope the birds in question don’t hold grudges and/or can’t run very fast.

Anyway, I like birds, but to be honest, I’ve never spent a good deal of time minutely examining my thoughts and feelings about them.  Until this morning, that is.  At 6:30am I was given the perfect opportunity to delve deeply into my opinions and emotions about birds and come up with a definite conclusion:  I like birds – except Magpies.  I fucking hate Magpies!

The specific Magpie who became the object of my early-morning cursing was the one sitting under our bedroom window squawking and chatting with one of the cats.  It was, most likely, Teddy because he seems to have some kind of dysfunctional relationship with it that may or may not include racial slurs, name-calling and cursing.  It follows Teddy around, shrieking at him, then Teddy answers it in Cat and it shrieks again and Teddy answers again.  We’re quite surprised because Teddy….

isn’t the cat around here that’s famous for shouting and swearing – that honour goes to Izzie, The Queen of Mean herself.

Teddy is a sweet, chill guy who channels Joey Tribiani.

via GIPHY

I suppose I could be wrong about the content of their conversations.  Maybe it’s a weird friendship between a Low Talker and a Shouter.  Maybe they are conversing over the state of the local economy and how the influence of weather patterns could disrupt the flow of goods and services to the most vulnerable in society.  Maybe they are plotting and planning a coup in the Squirrel Community.  Maybe that bloody bird has a miserable sibling, too.  Maybe they are comparing notes and strategies for coping.  Who the fuck knows and, at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter.

These two-way conversations go on several times a day for such a ridiculously long time that even the neighbours are starting to notice.  I’ve tried on several occasions to capture this phenomenon but that damned Magpie is as shifty as it is loud, and Teddy has the innocent act down pat.

At 6:30 this morning, I was having visions of pulling every single feather out of that gawd-damned bird until it was naked as the day it was hatched.  I had a lengthy intervention with Teddy, explaining that he needs to find a friend that doesn’t drive me to the serious contemplation of murder.  He listened very carefully, then went outside and found that bird again!  Probably to tattle on me for racism or something.  Will my car be covered in Magpie Poop now?

Under normal circumstances, I would never try to dictate who a person has as a friend because friendship comes in many different forms.  Cat and bird friendships should be encouraged in the hope of interspecies peace.  But a Magpie?  Really?  Teddy couldn’t find any other bird in the neighbourhood to befriend?  One that was less offensive and less loud?  A Finch?  A Sparrow?  How about a Hummingbird?  Hummingbirds are nothing short of awesome!  Nope!  It had to be a damned Magpie!  I would suspect passive/aggressive behavior if it were Izzie because she would totally do that, but Teddy has neither the smarts nor the personality to pull it off.

Since I apparently have little influence on Teddy’s choice of companions, I’ll just have to come up with a name for my nemesis.  A little help would be greatly appreciated, people.

In the meantime, it’s my kind of luck that someone will write a children’s book about this, ending it with the sweet cat and the pretty bird living happily ever after and I’ll look like the asshole.

Where is a coyote when you desperately need one?

I’m Plotting My Revenge!

I’m feeling a little under-appreciated lately.  It’s all “Izzie don’t do this, Izzie don’t do that.”  Mom and The Viking are getting perilously close to infringing upon my personal liberties.  They don’t harass Teddy like this.  I completed a thorough experiment that proves I get yelled at 38% more than Teddy.

Yesterday, The Viking had to blow the snow off the sidewalks with his Leaf Blower.  It was cold and a little windy and very unwelcomey outside.  Teddy and I were sitting in the office window, watching the snowflakes dance.  And then, The Viking started up the Leaf Blower.  Teddy was there one moment and gone the next, leaving only a smelly fart behind.

Of course, Mom hurried to calm him down.  She gave him a love and then brought him back into the office so Teddy could see it wasn’t some sort of Demon from the depths of Hell out there but The Viking in snow gear.  She failed; getting two accidental scratches on her boobs for her efforts.

Mom told me to help him calm down, so I put him in a headlock and body-slammed him like the sissy he is.

“Izzie!  For fuck’s sake!  Can’t you just be nice?!”

No.  He’s a big Scaredy Cat and an embarrassment to the family.  We’re Vikings for Pete’s sake!

Teddy found a folded blanket on the sofa as his favorite nap destination.  I think that spot should be in my collection of spots and not Teddy’s.  I tried slapping him off it and then giving him my most lethal gaze, but he wouldn’t budge.  Why does he have to be so damned stubborn?  It’s like he’s spending too much time with The Viking!  However, after several failures, I approached him innocently with my sweetest face and lay down behind him and licked his head.  I soothed him into a nice nap.  Then I started wiggling and squirming and pushing until he fell off the sofa and I spread out.

“Izzie!  For fuck’s sake!  Can’t you just let him have one spot for himself?!”

No.  Survival of the fittest and I’m am so much more fit than he is.

The Viking bought a battery operated, spin-y toy and let Teddy play with it first.  He batted at the feather toy that flitted around the base while The Viking made me wait for my turn.  Teddy was so cute, following the feather back and forth and back and forth and then I decided “Fuck that!” and jumped over The Viking’s arm, pushed Teddy out of the way, grabbed the feather and pinned it to the carpet.

“Izzie!  For fuck’s sake!  Can’t you just let him play with something before you kill it?”

No.  I think I’ve established that I am smarter than Teddy even on a bad day and if I allow Teddy to set the bar on the intelligence of a toy then I’ll never get anything better.  How about a Play Station?!  And, by the way, I haven’t slapped a customer in months!  That’s worth a “Good girl, Izzie” at a bare minimum.

So, I planned a mini family meeting in the bathroom while Mom was peeing.  It’s really the only time I can get her undivided attention.  I laid out my evidence on the 38% scolding differential between me and Teddy and how it can affect me further on in life.  I could be damaged mentally……

Teddy!!  Slap! slap! slap!  I’m doing the talking!  Why are you even here?  Don’t you have a piece of floor to sleep on?!

 …………………okay, where was I?  Oh, yes.  I could be mentally damaged and become cranky and miserable and no one wants that, now do they?

All my effort in the presentation were for naught though.  Mom gave me that flat stare that never bodes well.  That night, she picked me off Teddy’s blanket by the scruff of my neck and put me in my 51st favorite sleeping place.  Then she put Teddy on the blanket!!  And he promptly went to sleep!

I’m plotting my revenge now.  And it will be epic.

 

Caring is sharing.

The Queen Of Mean Has Cold Feet

We have snow – a good 6 inches of the stuff.  And considering where Denmark is on the planet, you might be surprised to know that The Viking hates snow and cold with a passion.  The kind of passion that makes him shout and curse and grumble.  Except when he has a snowmobile under his ass and then he’s as close to giddy as he is capable of being.  And I am giddy when he has a snowmobile under his ass because it means he has journeyed to the mountains, leaving me at home in absolute bliss and solitude.

However, as much as The Viking hates snow, there are two other individuals living in the household who hate it more.  Teddy was rescued in the middle of winter when he was about 10 months old, cold and starving.  So, he isn’t a fan of an empty food bowl or snow and cold.  He manages to amuse himself though, running through the house and playing with a squeaky toy and napping and coming for a quick love every once in a while.  He takes short forays outside but it isn’t long before he’s back inside.

Izzie, on the other hand, is pissed-the-fuck-off!  If you’ve visited here more than just a few times you will know a lot about Izzie.  She’s a monster; a beautiful, biting, clawing, hissing, spitting monster.  She learned the basics of civilized cat behavior from Mim’s cats (my daughter) and then Teddy keeps her fairly calm but all bets are off if something isn’t right in her corner of the world.

And there’s snow and the cold in her corner of the world right now.  She has stuff going on and being cold blows her schedule all to hell.  Who’s supposed to mock and name-call the neighborhood cats?  The dogs across the alley will be unmanageable if she doesn’t bully them daily.  And Peter isn’t going to break into his own house and bellow at the door to be let out.  And what about Charlie?  Who’s going to chase him away if her feet fall off?  What about her ears?  Frostbite can make the tips fall off and then she’ll have square ears!  It’s pretty hard to be beautiful if your ears are square!

And then there is the weight issue!  Laying around the house all day slows the metabolism and pretty soon she’ll have a belly like Teddy’s!  And she’s already getting bored with chasing him around the house as the only form of exercise.

With the snow, her existence has gone all to hell.  Her feet got cold and three snowflakes dared to land on her back.  She bellowed at the door and demanded to know exactly what the fuck is going on?!  She stood in front of me scowling and indignant.  I told her that I had nothing to do with it but she’s refusing to believe me.

Her vocabulary is devolving into hair-raising insults and if her scowl deepens any further it will look like I hit her with an axe.  And that might actually end up happening because the forecast is calling for cold temperatures for the next several days.

It’s going to be a long, long, long winter.  Sigh.  When the Queen of Mean gets cold feet it’s only good sense to step lightly.

PS:  To add insult to injury, Daylight Savings Time screwed her over for an entire hour.  I gave up after 45 minutes and fed her and Teddy.  It was either that or say good-bye to what little self-esteem I have left.

What are you waiting for?  Leave a comment.

I’m Not Needy, I’m Demanding!

Teddy:  So.  You’re grounded, huh?

Izzie:  It won’t last long.  They can’t maintain their angst when I pour on the charm.

Teddy:  The Viking seems pretty determined.

Izzie:  Yes, but Mom runs out of patience after a while.

Teddy:  I guess, but why don’t you just come home at bed time like I do?

Izzie:  Because I like the night.  There’s less traffic and fewer people to yell at me to stop pooping in their flower beds.  And, it’s kind of peaceful.

Teddy:  Peaceful?  You are the least peaceful cat I’ve ever met and I lived on the street for nearly a year.

Izzie:  I’m peaceful when I want to be.

Teddy:  Nope.  The only time you are peaceful is when you are drugged.

Izzie:  Whatever.  I like myself unconditionally.  Dr. Phil says that’s what well-adjusted persons aspire too.

Teddy:  Pfft!  You don’t even watch Dr. Phil.  You’re too busy being cranky and needy.

Izzie:  I’m not needy!  I’m demanding!

Teddy:  Well, you’re that too, but still needy.  And what was up with you slapping Mom last night?

Izzie:  She had that coming!  She wouldn’t let me out!  And I didn’t use my claws this time, for your information.

Teddy:  And you thought slapping her would get her to open the door?

Izzie:  I thought that once she understood the true depth of my desire to get outside, she would let me out.

Teddy:  Yeah.  How did that work for you?

Izzie:  You didn’t have to take her side, Momma’s Boy!  You are a cat, and cats are supposed to support cats.

Teddy:  All I did was reiterate…….again……that I don’t want you slapping Mom.  Or The Viking, for that matter.  How many times do I have to tell you this?

Izzie:  You’re still a loser for siding with Mom.  I won’t be leaving you my leftovers anymore.

Teddy:  You haven’t left me food for months.

Izzie:  By the way, why did you show Charlie how to get down from the garage roof?  I was enjoying his pitiful whining.

Teddy:  What is it with you?  You’re always slapping people and hissing at other cats and knocking hats off the customers.  Would it kill you to be nice?

Izzie:  As a matter of fact, yes.  It might kill me.  Germs spread with contact.  And, I like everyone as long as they don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, don’t look at me and don’t bring other cats around.

Teddy:  Charlie isn’t that bad.  He is a bit overly friendly but I think it’s because he’s trying really hard to fit in.

Izzie:  Charlie is an idiot.

Teddy:  Wouldn’t it be nice to have a friend?

Izzie:  I have a friend.

Teddy:  And who would that be?

Izzie:  You, Stupid!

Teddy:  Really?  You’re my friend?  That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me!

Izzie:  And then you had to ruin it!  And no, I’m not your friend.  You are my friend.  I’m not a friend kind of cat – too many responsibilities.

Teddy:  I don’t even know what you’re talking about now.

Izzie:  When you’re a friend, you have to be supportive and kind and give them things and when they do something nice for you, you have to do something nice for them.  And I don’t do nice things for anyone, therefore, I’m not your friend.  You, though, are my friend and it’s your responsibility to be supportive of my causes and be kind to me and do nice things for me.  Like getting someone to open the damned door!

Teddy:  I should have seen that coming but for some reason I just didn’t.  I’m going to play with my squeaky mouse.

 

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