Tag: Teddy

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.

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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.

 

Share me.

Izzie – Hell In A Hand Basket

Well, shit just went right off the rails and I’m not happy about it!  A cat’s house is supposed to be her castle.  Everyone knows you don’t just let any Tom, Dick or Harry into the castle.  Just ask Rapunzel.  That’s a universal law, isn’t it?  As a matter of fact, I think the 10 Commandments covered this situation – ‘Thou shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Cat’.

And what did I find when I came home after my morning tour of the Neighborhood?  A cat!  Even worse – The Viking petting the cat!!  Not cool, man!

And then Teddy showed up and he was like “Hey!  A cat!  What does his ass smell like?”

Am I in Bizzaro World?  Has everyone lost their damned minds?  We don’t need anymore cats!  I am more than enough for any one household.  Don’t I give you enough loves?  Don’t I sleep in bed with you?  Don’t I eat enough?

Of course I’m enough for you.  I accepted Teddy – reluctantly, yes – but I draw the line at any more cats.  This is my claw-mark in the sand!

If you prick us, do we not bleed?  If you tickle us, do we not laugh?  If you poison us, do we not die?  And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

I cursed Teddy for the Traitor he is.  Instead of standing in solidarity with me, he watched the One Cat Show.  It was pathetic, really.  It rolled around and around on the cement like a man-hussy!  No one needs to see such a ridiculous display to get more attention.  I levelled a couple of insults in his direction but he’s as receptive as Teddy to sarcasm, which is to say I’m wasting my talents on them.

It turns out that this interloper is called Charlie; The Viking checked the tag on his collar.

At one point he even tried to walk into the damned house!  Luckily Mom blocked the way.  The Viking is dead to me now, but at least Mom kept her integrity.  She didn’t fall for this disgusting display of blatant slut-iness.

Apparently his owners moved into the house next door despite my wishes to the contrary.  So he’ll be hanging around like a bad smell.  And I suppose Teddy will befriend it because that’s what Teddy does.  He’ll fall for anything if there’s a chin scratch involved.

Later, The Viking came in the house and tried to give me loves.  “Not today, Traitor!”  You’re unclean now.  This whole place has gone to hell in a hand basket!

What’s next?  Sleepovers?  Birthday parties?  Split holidays – one year at the neighbour’s one year with us?  Sweet Geezus!! What if they dress us up in matching costumes and parade us around the block?  Hallowe’en is coming, after all.  Gawd!

Well, there’s one cat here that won’t be taking part in any of that tomcatfoolery!  I have dignity.  I’m a lady!  

And why am I the one who has to monitor these things?  Isn’t there like a Feline Occupancy Law regarding how many cats are allowed in any one neighborhood?  The next time I see a By-Law Enforcement Officer, I’m going to lodge a firm and articulate complaint.

In the meantime, I will be watching The Viking very carefully to make sure he doesn’t get too attached to Charlie.

 

PS:  Sharing is caring.

 

 

Conversations with Teddy & Izzie

Izzie:  Fascinating, isn’t it?

Teddy:  I suppose so.

Izzie:  What do you mean, ‘I suppose so’?  Don’t you have any curiosity in your soul?  Don’t you ever want to know why?

Teddy:  Not particularly.  As long as there is food in my bowl I’m pretty content.

Izzie:  Gawd!  You and your kind are the reason we aren’t the dominant species on this planet.

Teddy:  That’s a little stereotypical, isn’t it?  Just because I’m not curious about water swirling down a hole doesn’t mean I’m not curious.

Izzie:  It’s not just water swirling down a hole!  They keep the lid down so we can’t see what’s going on in there.

Teddy:  Maybe nothing is going on in there.  Maybe they just don’t want you playing in the water.  Mom was pretty pissed the last time you played in there.  You mixed our pooper stuff in the water and flicked it all over the walls and floor.

Izzie:  It was an experiment!  I told you that already!

Teddy:  Hey, you’re preaching to the choir here.  I don’t care if you want to play in it, I just don’t happen to share your curiosity.

Izzie:  So why does The Viking pull his thing out and put more water in there only to swirl it down the hole?  It just doesn’t make sense!  What’s the matter with peeing in sand?  Why sand for us but water for them?

Teddy:  Maybe it’s because they don’t like digging in sand.  Have you ever seen them dig in sand for any reason?  Maybe it gets under their claws and they hate it?  My other sister never dug either because she didn’t like sand in her claws.  I was the one who had to bury her poo.

Izzie:  Of course you were.  So why does Mom sit to pee but The Viking stands?  Wait!  I just had a thought!  What if he’s just so proud of his thingy he wants to show it to me all the time.  Like when I kill mice and show them to him.

Teddy:  Maybe.  I’m impressed with it.  He’s got me beat by a mile.  I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a nod or a purr of delight when he shows it to you.

Izzie:  I don’t really care about that.  I’m more concerned with what Mom is doing.  She sits all the time and I have a suspicion that it’s not just because she’s humble.  I think she hiding something.

Teddy:  What would she be hiding in the water?

Izzie:  That’s exactly what I don’t understand.  She does something, puts paper on top of it and then swirls it all down the hole before I can find out what it was.

Teddy:  Maybe it was just some poo.

Izzie:  So why won’t she let me see it?  Why hide it if it’s just a poo?

Teddy:  Then what do you think it is?  If it’s not poo then what is it?

Izzie:  I’m not sure but I think it might be Treats.  She’s obviously trying to keep it away from us and what is the one thing that we like more than anything else?

Teddy:  Treats?!  She wouldn’t be that cruel, would she?

Izzie:  Who squirts you with water when you claw things you’re not supposed to claw?  It’s not The Viking – he just yells.  It’s Mom who’s trigger happy.  Who knows what else she’s capable of?

Teddy:  Noooo!  But I liked Mom!  She scratches my chin and gives me massages!

Izzie:  That’s how she lulls you to sleep so you don’t catch on to her nefarious treat drowning scheme.

Teddy:  Wait.  She gives us treats though.  When we come home when she calls, when we bug her and stare at the treat cupboard, when we do something cute……she gives us treats!  There has to be another explanation.

Izzie:  Well, I can’t think of anything else that we really like.

Teddy:  What if it is just poo but she just doesn’t want us to see it?

Izzie:  Well that’s just crazy talk.  Why wouldn’t she want us to see that?  The Viking doesn’t mind.  I know that for a fact.

Teddy:  Whatever, Iz.  I’m going to see if there’s more food in my bowl.

Izzie:  There isn’t.  You know the schedule and it’s not time for more food.

Teddy:  I’d rather be looking for food than staring in the swirling water bowl.

Izzie:  Go ahead.  But some day I’m going to figure this out and then you’ll be worshipping the ground I walk on.

 

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Celebrity Meow

Hi, I’m Puma Thurman reporting for The Celebrity Meow and I’m here with the glamorous Izzie and her handsome brother Teddy. 

  

These two felines were CAT-apulted into stardom from appearances on the Mrs. Completely Blog.  My readers have been clamouring for news about the duo so we’ve managed to pin them down for an interview.

Thanks for joining us, Izzie & Teddy.

Izzie:  I almost didn’t come but Teddy insisted.

Teddy:  Well, I’m happy to be here.  The buffet in my dressing room was very good.  Especially the Caviar.  I love Caviar.

Haha!  I’m glad you liked it.  So, it’s been 5 months since Teddy was rescued and moved into the Completely Viking home.  Tell us…..was there tension at first?

Izzie:  Yes.  Lots and lots of tension.

Teddy:  For sure.  There was tension but I believe in making friends and treating each other with love.

That’s just wonderful.  It sounds like you won her over fairly quickly.

Izzie:  He didn’t.  I barely tolerate him at the best of times.

Teddy:  Haha!  Izzie likes to tease.  We’re best friends!

Oooookay.  So what is your biggest Pet Peeve?

Teddy:  An empty food bowl.  I went hungry a lot when I was on the streets and now I can’t stand a bowl that isn’t heaping full.

And how about you, Izzie?

Izzie:  Teddy.  Teddy is my biggest Pet Peeve.

I can see Teddy is right about your sense of humor, Izzie.  So tell me, what pet would you like to have?

 Teddy:  Good question!  Hmmm….well, I would like something that would play with me so maybe a Bearded Dragon.  I love the way they run!

Izzie:  A sheep’s skin.  It’s soft to lie on and I don’t have to play with it, share my food with it, or tolerate its smell in my litter box.

Haha!  That’s funny!  So what’s your most prized possession?

Teddy:  I’ve gotta be honest, Puma.  It’s my food bowl.  I don’t need much in this life but I need a good food bowl.

Izzie:  My intelligence, my freedom and my ability to contemplate the meaning of existence.  Albert Camus said: The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.  Every action I take is toward that end.

Um…..well that’s very….um.…very……deep.  Okay.   Here’s an easy one:  what is your favorite movie?

Teddy:  I like a good love story that involves food because I’m all about food and love.  I would have to say my favorite movie would be Chocolat with Johnny Depp and Juliette Binoche. Me-ee-Oww.

Izzie:  Kill Bill.  Both volumes.  That lady takes shit from No One.

Teddy:  Geez, Izzie.  Couldn’t you pick something nice like 50 First Dates or something?

You are such a sweet guy, Teddy!  What theme song would you say fits your life?

Teddy:  Peter Gunn Theme.  Hands down.

Izzie:  These Boots are Made for Walking.  It’s self-explanatory.

Okay.  Last question.  What Super Power would you like to possess?

Teddy:  It might not be a Super Power but I’ve always wanted Opposable Thumbs, Puma.  I could get those treats Mom hides in the cupboard.  I could get into the bedroom at night so I could sleep on the bed.  Yeah.  Opposable Thumbs.

Izzie:  I would want the power to increase or decrease my size at will.  No one would fuck with me if I was the size of a small elephant.  There would be no more of this picking me up and kissing me crap, I’ll tell you that!   I’d have claws like Wolverine.

Well, thank you so much for your time.  It’s been a real thrill to interview you both and I’m sure my Readers will love it.

Okay boys!  Let’s blow this popsicle stand!  There’s a warm bowl of cream with my name on it somewhere.

Teddy:  You know….it wouldn’t hurt you to be a little nicer.  Kill Bill?  Really?

Izzie:  Pfft!  I just have no tolerance for bullshit and Puma Thurman is full of it.

Teddy:  And I’m your biggest pet peeve?  I thought people who touch your tail was your biggest pet peeve.

Izzie:  That was before you ate the food I was saving for a bedtime snack.

Teddy:  OH, COME ON!!  That was 3 weeks ago!

Izzie:  Revenge is best served cold.  Haven’t you heard that before?

Teddy:  When we get home you are going to get the biggest licking ever!

Izzie:  Don’t threaten me!  I hate the lickings.

Teddy:  I know.  That’s why I put you in a headlock first.

Izzie:  Whatever.  Where’s Mom?  She owes me treats for doing this.

Who Flung Poo?!

 

Oh!  Hello!  Is it the weekend already?  Let me put some coffee on.  I honestly don’t know where the time goes.  Do you remember how slowly time passed when you were a kid?  It took 29 years for Christmas to arrive.  Now, it comes every 3 months.  The only place time ceases to move is in the Doctor’s Office, in a Traffic Jam or at the Passport Office.

Anyway, I’ve got bigger fish to fry today.  It’s called Litter and it’s the bane of my existence.  Who invented this crap?  Oh sure, it clumps around cat pee and poo so it’s easy to scoop, but it spreads through the house like a disease.  We’ve put men in space but can’t invent a decent litter?  My vacuum never sees the inside of the closet anymore.

I made matters infinitely worse when I went to buy more litter and there on the shelf was something called Litter Lite and it practically floated into my cart.  I’m accustomed to wrestling a 50 pound bag in which cursing, sweating and grunting are inevitably involved.  And usually a small crowd gathers at each end of the aisle to watch the show.  Litter Lite was a dream to get in the cart by comparison.  I waved at the bystanders and said “No show today, folks!”

However, here are the problems with Litter Lite:  it’s easier to dig in and it clings to the fur on the bottom of their feet in spite of having 3 large Litter Pads that are supposed to stop Litter spread.  I have carpeted the entire laundry room with those pads (which cost a fortune!) and there is still litter all over the house!

Then The Viking made the mistake of putting too much litter in the box so the litter was almost level with the flap door.  And it turns out that both cats are like ground hogs digging new burrows when it comes to burying their poo.  Litter shoots through that flappy door at the velocity of sandblasters.  We had discussions with both Teddy and Izzie, clustered around the litter box for demonstrations of proper digging techniques that limit the amount of collateral litter spillage, but it’s like they couldn’t care less about technique.

And then catastrophe happened.

I went into the laundry room to load the washing machine and there, laying on a Litter Pad was a turd.  It’s was sprinkled lightly with litter but it was definitely a turd.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”  I shoved the clothes into the machine.  “WHO FLUNG POO?!!”  The sound of 8 little feet and two big feet galloped down the hallway.  Teddy, Izzie and The Viking clustered around the doorway, all of them with the same wide-eyed, innocent expressions.

“Did you say something, Babe?”

“YES I DID!”  I hollered.  “Just look at that!  Right there!  It’s a TURD!”

The Viking immediately tried to deflect.  “I didn’t do it!”  But both cats were looking at him and nodding like they saw him do it.  “You can’t believe them!  They’re traitors!  Besides, I can’t even fit in the Litter Box.”

“Touché, salesman!”  I huffed and turned my attention to the short people.

Realizing the tide had turned, both cats looked at me.  “Well?!  Who flung the poo?!”

Izzie’s eyes were locked to mine, but Teddy’s eyes kept flicking to the left.  Toward Izzie.

“Did you fling poo, Izzie?”  I demanded.  “I’ve heard you in there doing the Macarena.”

She sat a little higher and indignation flooded her face.  I already knew it wasn’t her but I had to be certain before I looked at the real culprit.

“Teddy?”  He wouldn’t look at me.  “Did you fling the poo?”  He walked away without giving a full confession.

So we made changes.  I went to wrestle a 50 pound bag of heavy litter and amuse shoppers, while The Viking scooped the excrement then re-purposed the remaining litter.

But guess what.  There’s still litter all over the house!!

So, how was your week?  Aside from my Litter Dilemma mine was great.

PS:  Enjoy this clip about Flinging Poo

 

Special thanks to Part Time Monster and Nerd in the Brain for hosting Weekend Coffee Share.

No Good Lousy Day!

I slept badly last night, dreaming the whole night about asshole guys running into my car, stealing my groceries and throwing random things at me.  It looks like I’ve been hit between the eyes with a hatchet! And my head is throbbing! And my neck is stiff and sore! Gawd!!  Why am I even out of bed?

And what in the hell is up with the fucking cat?! Teddy has taken over my office chair! He was eating his breakfast and then before I could hit the power button on the coffee maker he was in my chair!

When I got up to get a cup of coffee…..

When I went to open the family room curtains….

When I went to take a pee……

When I went to get another cup of coffee…..

He says he’s just keeping it warm for me but if that were the case he would be easier to dislodge; he wouldn’t be digging his claws into the fabric which necessitates a damned wrestling match every single time! As soon as I get his front claws unlatched, his back claws catch the edge of the seat. And he’s had the worst farts ever lately so every time I squeeze him in the middle he emits a noxious cloud of poo gas. It’s so bad I have to check to make sure it isn’t actual poo, and then more poo gas seeps around my face while I’m checking.

And he leaves gobs of his hair on the seat! And he and Izzie were playing with the stupid hair remover brush thingy and broke it! And now I’m going to have a hairy ass everywhere I go today!

Izzie isn’t any help either! While Teddy is rubbing his hairy body all over my chair, she’s taken residence on my keyboard. Or on my mouse. Or standing in front of the monitor.

I’ve loved you both up already! Can’t you see I’m in a bad mood? Stop looking at me like that! Why aren’t you harassing The Viking?! He’s not in a bad mood!  As a matter of fact, he seems to think my bad mood is fucking hilarious!

via GIPHY

And now I’m out of coffee and it’s only 11:40 in the morning. Fuck!  I suppose I may as well run some damned errands with my hairy ass. I’ll go get more of the good cat food so Teddy doesn’t smell so bad. And I’ll get groceries – and I swear to Gawd if even one guy tries to steal them in the parking lot I’m going to lose my shit!

And then I think I’ll get myself a Caramel Apple Cider at Starbucks. With whipped cream. And a piece of Banana Bread.

Because I deserve it.