Sunday, August 30, 2015

Breaking News: Escaped Prisoner Captured

Escaped prisoner Boris Tiberius Wilson

A notorious cat burglar was apprehended after escaping a prison cell in a rural seaside town in California.
Last night at approximately 6 p.m. Boris Tiberius Wilson, 1.5-years-old, used his shiv like claws to tear through the screen of his cell window shortly after consuming his evening meal of turkey in gravy with cheese bits and accented with real bacon.  Upon his escape he was reportedly seen loitering with suspected gang members in a driveway of a nearby home.
Cell window screen cut by the prisoner
“It was an elaborate escape; I had no idea he was gone,” said Warden Theresa-Marie Wilson. “In hindsight, I guess I should have sensed it. It was peaceful and quiet. It was like being on vacation.”

Special agent Whiskey Pickle Jones alerted authorities to the prison break from his post on the window perch in the north tower, commonly known as the reading nook. Whiskey steadfastly held his ground monitoring the movements of the escapee, a sworn enemy, through the small gaps between fence boards.
Boris was believed to be on the lam for a half an hour before the warden was able to understand Whiskey’s somewhat limited communication skills and initiate a search of the facility followed by sounding alert sirens and setting up an intense cathunt.
Investigators believe the escape had been planned for sometime because two other cats disguised as Boris, black fur, green eyes and sneaky demeanor, were spotted in the same driveway as the prisoner—an obvious decoy to confuse law enforcement. 
Boris was taken into custody without incident and was said to be clinging to the warden during the trek back to his cell. The two unknown associates still lurking in the vicinity were said to chant, “Dead cat walking.”
Whiskey received several treat accommodations for his heroic efforts in providing information that lead to the capture of the escapee.

Whiskey during his treat accommodation ceremony

Boris will be dragged before the court yet again to hear his additional charges. He is already serving time for grand theft, felony destruction of property, stalking a human, and general annoyance. The warden will serve as both judge and jury in the case.

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Tuesday, August 25, 2015

Whiskey and Boris Go to School

This morning was bitter sweet. On the one hand, I will have more freedom on a daily basis, there will be less mess in every room of the house and a quiet, I don’t recall ever hearing, will seep into the pores of my skin, but it’s lonely without the ruckus, the fighting and the constant me-me-me-MEOWs. Today, Boris and Whiskey had their first day of private school at Garfield Elementary for Refined Felines.

Being the elder of the two, Whiskey wore the traditional red with white-stripped robes signifying the blood and claws of Simba the mascot of this great learning establishment that was once attended by old Mr. Finicky himself, Morris, who started life as a shelter cat and went on to fame and fortune as the CEO (Cat Earth Overlord) of 9 Lives.  This year Whiskey is enrolled in Conversational Spanish for Los Gatos, Math--Preparing for Nine Lives, How to Meet and Treat People with Disdain, What Color is Your Parachute and Why You Should Shred It, and Geometry--How to take up the Entire Bed.

 Boris is in his first year at school and wears the playful checkerboard robes that have recently been worn by Grumpy Cat who was expelled for overall anti-social behavior. Boris tested very high and was placed into Listening to Humans is for Chumps level 4 where he will perfect his taunting directional ear move indicating he hears, but does not care. He will be with the rest of his age group during the History of Torturing Your Prey, Coloring with Muddy Paws in the Tub, and How to Ensure Your Human isn’t Dead When They are Sleeping.

Boris was a little teary-eyed when it was time to say goodbye this morning, but Whiskey took it in stride with dreams of the after-school snack embedded in his brain.

 Both boys will be involved in extracurricular activities as well. Whiskey is a member of the Promise Club where he will vow to abstain from jumping on counters, dragging his butt across carpets, assaulting treat bags or any other natural urges.

Boris is the first member of the family to join band. He is first chair of the Push That off the Shelf section and is excelling at Percussion for Window Blinds.

As Whiskey and Boris head off for another day in the trenches, they wish a very happy school year to all the humans out there.

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Remembering Jello


Sure cats are, well, the cat’s meow, and there’s the cool cat every beatnik wanted to be as in man that cat is cool (snap, snap, snap), and there is the band, Hepcat. Cats are fun, wild, crazy, hilarious and cuddly, yet there are times when you might want something a little more Zen, that travels in the same endless circles in a meditative state simply breathing unconcerned that a trail of poop is dangling from its back end. All I’m saying is fish are pets too, and cats love them. Yummmm. 

This the tale of a friend with a tail who died after so many apartment moves with me, so many other tank mates who didn’t make it and a number of cat paws pressed up against the class of his aquarium trying to catch a mid morning snack.

RIP Jello. When I found him dead, I couldn't find my fish net to get him out of the tank. He was too big for me to just scoop him up with my hand because I am one of those girls :) I tried reaching in the tank with a paper towel and grabbing him which resulted in a number of wildly slow cinematic silent film moments as he fell from my Brawny grip. The best by far was when he gently swirled downward, his tail landing on the arc of the bridge and his head on the bottom of the tank like an artistic suicide in orange. 
Boris doing downward cat yoga position with Jell-o

With a need to give the poor fish who had been with me for maybe 12 years some dignity, I grabbed the empty Cool Whip container on the table and quickly submerged it into the water to scoop him in. Yeah, the whip cream container wasn't entirely empty, so the tank immediately became this oily, cloudy white disaster. I tried some at home ocean oil spill clean-up techniques like dragging paper towels across the top of the water to absorb some of the residue. I donated a lot of money to the area I destroyed, and then made countless commercials showing how wonderful and giving to the community and environment I am, and finally I blamed someone else. Good news is, I searched for little Tex in the water to make sure I hadn't killed him in the process. He is okay, but seemed to be mouthing the word strawberry.

Oddly, I really do miss seeing Jello wiggle every morning.

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Sunday, August 23, 2015

Flipping the Bird

Whiskey told Boris that tomorrow is Monday, and Boris had the same reaction I did. I can't imagine where he learned to flip someone off, but clearly he has it down. That middle claw is saluting.

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Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Welcome to My Nightmare

You know that moment when you wake up from a nightmare, and it lingers like a blurry vision of horror? A deep grumble can be heard coming from somewhere nearby. You heart is beating fast, the blood pounding in your ears as your body automatically prepares mentally and physically for a fight or flight response. Just before your back slams up against the wall and your body is dragged towards the ceiling by a supernatural force, it MEOWS.

Deep in your your psyche, you know there was a sinister laugh from the 10 pound furry thing on your bed looking at you as if his sleep was disturbed. Pretty sure the 22 pound one, who is obviously faking sleep or trying to disguise himself as drunk wedding guest waiting to do the bunny hop, is the one who created the grumbling with his snoring.

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Monday, August 17, 2015

Black Cat Appreciation Day

Black Cat Appreciation Day is a pretty big event in our house. It is full of presents, heated comforts and of course a munchie fest. Boris and Whiskey feel very appreciated and loved as every cat should every day of the year.

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Sunday, August 16, 2015

Bass, blades and Boris

Earlier in the week I figured that I deserved a lazy Sunday and had been plotting and planning to make it a reality. It’s good for the heart, good for the soul and good for the environment, at least the environment of those who will be around me for the rest of the week.  Reading was top on my list after a quick spin around the house with a dust rag and tour of the sink to wash a few dishes. Little did I know this combination of household chores along with an encounter with Boris would lead to pain and heart palpitations. I should mention that I was very tired because the people I share a wall, a fence, a mailbox and utility bills with had decided to blare what could only be described as the most repetitive, mind-burrowing bass-beat for hours on end until way into the night. These are the people who, among all the other energy suckers, use an air conditioner, sleep apnea machine and washer and dryer, that I am paying for in part monthly while I use a computer and two lights. I do not know these people. I met the man one night at midnight when the power we share went out and he came over in the dark to play with the fuse box. As for the woman, who it seems never leaves the house/yard, I receive emails informing me of my bill balance. About two days ago she was handing some zucchini over the fence to me in the daylight, this was my first sighting of her in almost two years, and, I have to say, I have never seen so much black, silver and white eye shadow on someone who sits indoors all day. It was like staring into the eyes of the bastard child of Pennywise the clown from It and an extreme chola, street name: lil’ scary clown.
So, as I said I am exhausted, barely using gray matter and rushing to get to my lazy day that waits just around the corner from dusting and dishes. While scrubbing a plate, I notice the blender sitting on the counter is dusty from lack of use. I rapidly wipe the base clean with my dust rag and decide the jar itself needs a once over too and shove my dishrag inside it with gusto. Just a few seconds too late and a hell of an ouch later, I told myself to remove the blades. So, I sliced my index finger, one of those deep through the skin, sharp blade, paper-thin cuts that hurts way more than anyone would sympathize with once the blood dried. After cleaning and bandaging the wound, I opted to watch an episode of Supernatural on Netflix. Halfway through I decided to light a candle or two and gel into the mood of the show. I passed by the window and saw a shadow out of the corner of my eye and nearly jumped out of my skin. Boris was looming in the window screen at eye level, which he has never done before. He is on the outside of the window on a shelf looking over the windowsill that is adorned with tombstones, crows, skeletons and a coffin.   

After my initial scare, all I could do was laugh at him with his big eyes looking almost like he was frightened to see me too.  I talked to him through the screen and he gave his cute little meow of recognition before curling up and going to sleep. As for my lazy day, I did get to read a book until Whiskey plopped down on the pages, listened to music and played a computer game. Tonight I can only hope is free of a throbbing bass that is the audio version of waterboarding. 

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Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Mr. Twist

I'm going to assume that Boris is not a big fan of the band Let's Go Bowling. I walked into the room last night, and he was doing this. To his credit, he does dance better than I do. Send new music.

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Monday, August 10, 2015

Saints and Candy

Due to Boris’ rampage of destruction against all things Holy in my house, my mother sent me something to replace some of the nun, saint, Jesus and Holy Mother statues that the diabolical feline has thrown crashing to the floor.
This statue is from Our Lady of Fatima Shrine in New York. What did not come from there is the half eaten bag of Brach’s’ Maple Nut Goodies sealed with a rubber band that was also stuffed in the packing envelope. When I thanked my mother for the gift, I said, “Ma, what’s with the candy?”
She said, “I was eating the candy while I was filling the envelope, and thought that I had to send you some food, so I put them in there.”

This is a news account following the brutal murder of the fifth nun Boris is suspected of being involved in. Note he is on the shelf.

Another NUN gone, another NUN gone, another NUN bites the dust. It is believed a nun was pushed to her death from the fourth story of Bookcase Manor—a home for religious icons. Investigators say Sister Mary, a close friend of Mother Theresa, was found facedown on the ground last night at 1 a.m.

Detective Wilson said she is awaiting the results of an autopsy that is to be performed on Friday, in hopes that it will reveal more about how the nun died.  There have been numerous reports of members of the religious community living in peril due to a dark force neighbors refer to as Boris. Boris has been seen lurking around Bookcase Manor on several occasions. Reportedly there is an underground cat treat ring operating illegally on the fifth story of the building.
Police ask that citizens be on the lookout for Boris who is described as black, with short hair, yellow eyes and bad breath. Authorities caution that he is likely clawed and dangerous.

This just in Boris seems to have had a change of heart and was last seen cavorting with the Holy Mother. The fate of the nuns remains unknown.

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World Lion Day

This is from our friend Vivian. "This is how you shoot a lion....with a camera! Today is World Lion Day. Seems a bit more important to many now after the senseless killing of Cecil. I was blessed growing up, my Dad was a documentary film maker, and my Mom and Dad let me spend a lot of time with large cats of all kinds. This is my Dad with a young lion cub. If you would like to help in Lion protection and conservation visit Celebrate and Protect these majestic animals today and every day! Please share the message."   ‪#‎lion‬ ‪#‎lions‬ ‪#‎africanlion‬ ‪#‎worldlionday.

Whiskey and Boris support their big cat family, in this case Cheetahs because that is what grandma sent them. Felines in solidarity.

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Sunday, August 9, 2015

Writing Coach

A little Sunday morning writing with the world's toughest critic looking over my shoulder. He keeps wanting my to add tuna after every word. I gave in too titling the chapter Feline World Domination, but this is going to far.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

International Cat Day

I’m sure you had all planned ahead and were prepared for International Cat Day today. I was up most of the night making catnip salad and bribing mice to dress in period costumes to go with the Cats of the Roundtable theme I came up with at the last minute because Whiskey & Boris were pissed about the Frozen party supplies I picked up and weren’t about to Let It Go. 

After they popped the bounce house, we played a rousing game of stick, or as Whiskey calls it Death. Whereas Boris tries to be friends with everything from his treats to lettuce leaves, Whiskey sees the world as one giant dentist with a bow and arrow waiting to be hung on the wall. 
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Thursday, August 6, 2015

Boris' first Christmas, 2014.

Remember there is only a little more than four months to get your cat the perfect Christmas gift.

December, 2014

The miniature panther is an invasive species that is most prevalent in the month of December. It is typically found in homes with Christmas trees where it hunts the illusive ornament that displays the most vibrant colors. The pesky feline often uses the tree branches as a form of camouflage as it lies in wait for the slightest movement from its prey.

In other holiday news, strike up the band, Christmas time is officially here. Before I begin, let me say that I am a big fan of cheese, and New York cheese is the best. Every year for my birthday or Christmas, my parents usually send me a big ass chunk of some cheese from a farmers’ market or an Italian deli or regular old store. Packages are sent to Shari’s house because my address does not exist in many ways when it concerns the city. 
The Little Drummer Boy will now lead us into the Connie's Christmas package tradition. 
Ma (Connie) called last night: “A package should be arriving at Shari’s tomorrow or Monday. Have her open it and take the two things that are wrapped in aluminum foil out at put them in the refrigerator.”

At this point we both know what dairy delight is hiding behind the tinfoil mask, but the word cheese is never uttered to keep the illusion of surprise. One year she forgot to tell me that a package had a tinfoil treat in it. That cheese sat in the box with other gifts on Shari’s porch, in my car and on my kitchen table for more than a week. Nothing like pressed curd scented pajamas on Christmas morning. Back to the phone call.

Me: “Here’s the deal, Ma, the package arrived today and is sitting under my tree. Shari is at her house, where she lives.”

Ma: “Put the box in the refrigerator then.”

Me: “It’s kind of big. I would have to throw out a lot of food for it to fit.”

Ma: “Then open it without looking and feel around in the box until you find two things wrapped in foil. Put those in the fridge and reseal the box.”

Me: “Seriously?”

Ma: “Yes. I didn’t wrap the presents in the box because it takes up too much room.”

Hahaha she kills me. I did open the package without looking, which is harder than one would think because she also tapped the inside box flaps together in three places. There are now two huge tinfoil wrapped things (whatever they may be) in my fridge, and I’m still not looking.

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Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Here's to the Working Cat--If Beer Commercials Were for Felines

How often times we hear the praises sung of wealthy men cats, but you very seldom hear them sing of the honest working man mouser. His tongue may be both rough and hard, his claws and teeth cause pain, but you find his stealthy heart without a spot or stain. Let us give three cheers with right goodwill for the honest working cat.

Busch Beer Tomcat Beer Celebrating Those Who Are Earning It

Whiskey begins his day around 5 a.m. Before the sun rises, he packs a lunch box of party treats, Tumblers, Temptations, Kittles and Greenies and heads back to bed and lies in wait for the first sun spot to creep into view. With undaunted courage he subjects his body to the rigors of a living, sleeping solar panel, absorbing all that the unflinching fire ball in the sky hurls at him.

At the end of the day, exhausted and drained he puts his life on the line again darting in front of rapidly moving human feet in an effort to teach them the value of stopping, well tripping, to smell that spot on the carpet, the one that can't be explained by any creature in the house, living or dead, really smell it --with your mouth open.
When evening begins to cast its shadow across the home, Whiskey is still hard at work voicing his struggles as a species in a world where food rests on counters where paws are not allowed, computer keyboards are warm, but can't be sat on, fresh fish swim in tanks with no lids and the word "no" echos between the walls.

So, raise a glass to the honest working cat.

Every Color Deserves a Forever Home
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Sunday, August 2, 2015

Green Cats Saving the Environment

The often overlooked environmentally conscious cat poo-poos single-use disposable products instead opting to re-purpose landfill bound items such as these air-filled packing products used by Amazon. They make a lovely pillow to rest his weary head after a day of activism, searching for sunspots to sleep in and glaring at people with utter contempt. At 22 pounds, Whiskey use several pillows at once to prop himself up.

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Saturday, August 1, 2015

Pot Smoking Cat Ruins Cell Phone

As of last night, I don't have a cell phone. It has been sitting in a bowl of rice ever since the black monster (Boris) knocked over my vase (plastic cup) with the jasmine clippings I brought home to make the kitchen smell good. When I put the little shit (Boris) in the bathroom so I could clean up the mess (throw a fit), I returned to find that he had taken my clothes off of the towel rack and put a bit of each article of clothing in his water bowl. I didn't have a big enough bowl of rice to put my clothes in, and I don't own a dryer, so they are hanging over the shower bar. The real pisser is, I have 3 weeks left on my top up card and no freakin' phone. I think I might have enough rice left to put dead meat (Boris) in a bowl. I'm pretty sure he is doing drugs. I caught the numbskull outside acting all shifty with a miniature blunt hanging out of his mouth. (BORIS) WILL WORK FOR CELL PHONE.

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