Thursday, September 24, 2015

Adopt Don't Shop and Remember Me Thursday

Whiskey
Boris
ADOPT It will change the beat of your heart like these two rock stars did mine.

September 22, is
Remember me Thursday. Annually it  is the fourth Thursday of September. The campaign was created  to honor the millions of pets who lost their lives in shelters while waiting for a loving home. It also serves to shine a light on the  healthy pets who are still awaiting adoption.

Learn more about the movement at https://remembermethursday.org/. Remember their world is our responsibility.

Cat Noir Central Coast (CC) encourages people to adopt black cats because they are euthanized up to 50 percent more often than their colorful brothers and sisters in the cat world.

These cats are no different from cats with different colored fur. As proven by Whiskey and Boris, they are beautiful, playful, loving animals.

If you are already incredibly cool and have a few frisky felines roaming around your house,
bed, bookshelves, or simply sitting contently on your lap, donate your time to a shelter, donate whatever monetary funds you can to a non-profit pet project and spread the word to your friends and colleagues.

We at Cat Noir CC hope that humor helps people see how much laughter and joy a cat will bring into their lives. If you are one of those selfish what's in it for me people then listen up, caring for an animal can add years to your life, lower your blood pressure and decrease depression. It's a furry little drug that you shouldn't swallow and doesn't make pharmaceutical companies richer.

So stick it to the man, adopt a pet, save a life and experience unconditional love. Trust me, they don't care if you don't flush the toilet every time you use it, they don't care if your beard looks like creatures have been gnawing at it during the night, and they really don't care if your boobs are sagging and you haven't shaved your legs since the Reagan years. Not that I personally have any of those conditions, but I know people who are dangerously close.

Rock on adopters, be a real hero and not that plastic guitar, button pushing type bouncing around to Foghat in your mother's basement. But, even if that is who you are, your pet will still curl up with you and adore every song.


Every Color Deserves a Forever Home
Follow Cat Noir CC on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. 





Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Viral Pope

The Pope is here, let's get him to visit Boris who has been preparing for this moment.



Remember all those pleas from teachers and students to repost or reply on Facebook
to teach a lesson about the Internet, well this is a Catholic version. Help Boris go viral and share, tweet, shout or send smoke signals. Maybe Pope Francis can clarify his beliefs about whether animals really do go to heaven.
In a general meeting at the Vatican last year, Pope Francis said, “Holy Scripture teaches us that the fulfillment of this wonderful design also affects everything around us,” leading some to believe that he was suggesting all animals do in fact go to heaven.
Conservative Roman Catholic belief is that animals do not go to heaven because they do not have souls.

Sunday, September 20, 2015

Snail Sex and Marsmallow Worms

It was midnight, after an amazing writers conference, I was exhausted from the heat, the long days, the nervousness of personal critiques, the overwhelming inspiration from a faculty of writers that have given us so many great books and movies, and then I see this thing.

Gigantic green thing outside my door waiting to lunge.
I fed the cats a really late dinner and was tossing the can in the trash and noticed it just outside my door. At first, I thought it was the top of one of those green marshmallow candy canes people that hate you buy at the Dollar Tree and give to you for Christmas. And then it moved, slowly of course because invertebrates are sneaky little sonsofbitches. In turn, I moved faster than I thought possible, because I just know that they can lunge if need be. I don't even have a plant big enough to support the weight of that thing.

Is this a tomato worm? I grew tomatoes the size of a pencil eraser, how did it get so big. Why was it trying to break into my house? Where the hell is it now? 
Doing it snail style on my doormat.


WTF is with my doorstep and the animal kingdom. There was the snail sex on the doormat that made me feel dirty. Remember snails can mate for several hours, but then go their separate ways, which is hilarious when you think about the painfully slow getaway.
Is one of them left looking longingly over their shell in hopes of a lingering glance and five hours later still staring at the backside of their stranger in the night now only two feet away?

Does this have anything to do with cats? Yes it actually does. One time when I opened my door I saw something that wasn't slimy, didn't have beady eyes nor didn't leave a trail wherever it went, but it was dead, and rather than my toes curling at the site of it, I laughed. 

A cat was in the process of trying to adopt me. She kept coming around the house, sitting under my chair when I was reading in the sun, throwing herself at the window screen at night when she wanted in and lying on my pillow next to me when I slept (okay, at that point she clearly owned me.) 

One night a neighbor had a bar-be-cue and apparently Splash, as another neighbor had named her, was on the invite list.
Splash who has since gone Over the Rainbow Bridge
When I opened the front door, I looked down to find that she had left me bar-be-cued chicken bones. Most cats leave a rodent, a bird, a lizard or whatever creature they kill as a gift, a sign of love, only one of my cats would bring leftovers from a picnic.  


Miss you and love you Splash.Whiskey sends his love to you Over the Rainbow Bridge. He has never cuddled with another cat since you passed. You were his hero.


Saturday, September 12, 2015

Dragnet Drug Sting Nabs One Nip Head

Boris and Whiskey on the day that started it all
The story you are about to read is true, the names have not been changed to protect the innocent because these two are known deviants.

Catnip-the gateway drug. Dun-Dun-Duuuuun.
 
This is the city, Los Angeles, California 1969. It was September 12 in the midst of a heat wave like the city had never seen. Nepatia Cataria, street name Catnip, was rampant and feline hippies were losing control. The junk was going out all over the city and there was no way to stop it.
Dealer Whiskey Boy Jones with a dime bag of catnip.
Whiskey Boy Jones, AKA pickle, the biggest dealer of nipie, grass, far out feline, catja, bad catcat, or the ghost, was last seen in the neighborhood of Wilson Manor where a large cat nip party was broken up by the narcotics division. 

At 4:20 p.m., one dosed juvenile, Boris, aka Little Clown, was found rolling on the ground, drooling and pawing at what were obvious hallucinations. Other nip heads fled the area—or as the kittens say were on a trip. 
Boris, AKA Little Clown, is now a hardened user.


Once used, catnip can have an immediate effect on your once respectable cat. The psychological effects can be devastating to the user ultimately making them psychotic.

Heed the warning signs of your loved ones dropping catnip and take immediate action. Early indicators that your pet is hanging out with the underground culture is when words like the "yes sir and ma'am" are gone and in their place are "hey man" and "groovy."

Look for other alarming signs such as excessive purring, furtive glances at nothing at all, weird meows about time and space, and rubbing up against furniture, people, walls, and plants with a sexual openness the addicted call " the frisky revolution."

Boris was booked under the Health and Safety code 11350 for possession of a controlled substance. He made bail and is rumored to be back on the streets, but police assure us that more black and whites are on the streets patrolling for both cats.

"The subjects, Whiskey and Boris, are a danger to themselves and the rest of society," said Sergeant Joe Friday of the LAPD Intelligence Division. "There is a law against being in a highly intoxicated state or being under the influence of any drug or narcotic. If we see those two nip heads, we will drop the hammer on them this time."





Sunday, September 6, 2015

National Read a Book Day--Cats Hate It


September 6 is National Read a Book Day. Why this particular day, no one knows. I read books 365 days a year, but I decided to crank my bibliophile status up a notch and do something I rarely do, reach blindly into a pile of books I purchased at the library book sale and read whatever my hand yanked out of my $1 a bag find.

A mystery it is, one by John Sanford. I tossed it on the bed and prepared to decompress in a quiet and relaxing spot where I could drift off to a world created, most likely painstakingly, by someone else and delve into a plot that probably left the author with countless sleepless nights dissecting possibility after plausibility. 

Some tea and a light snack are in order for the "holiday" celebration. How is this even a holiday? You see, calendars are like a walk on the moon but made for the average Joe and any fool can raise a flag denoting conquered territory or rather designated days without all that training, risk taking or containment in a rocket. Where would our country be without distinguishing anticlimactic celebratory days, such has October 26, National Mincemeat Day (barf), or May 3, which is Lumpy Rug Day (is there a card for that)?

Back to the subject at hand, reading.
Whiskey uses a classic reading prevention technique
Did I mention that I have cats and that one of the top 5 reasons for their existence is to keep the minions (humans) from reading? Other reasons include knocking things off of shelves, attacking toilet paper, providing alarm service at 4 a.m. and plotting elaborate death scenarios involving the furless.

Once again, it is a feline's sworn duty to prevent cognitive stimulation via the written word bound between two covers typically made of flexible paper or of stiffer boards, however anthropodermic bibliopegy involves binding books in human skin, which cats approve of. 

In the time it took me to prepare my cup of tea, Whiskey had strolled in from outside, obviously sensing my plan, and had set up camp on the book. Yes, I could move him, but that would be a very short-lived solution because once I opened the book, he would be back, his 22-pound body splayed across the pages preventing me from seeing but a few words that weren't covered by fur. 

I set down my steaming cup of handcrafted tea I call "From the Heart." It is made from organic roots and herbs grown on the hillsides of foreign countries picked by families, who for generations have practiced the art of medicinal apothecary, and then purchased online by me and mixed into a mason jar. Truly a cherished part of my day. 

The plan was to grab another book to use as a decoy that I could toss near the lethargic Whiskey, the cat, not the beverage, while I slowly removed my intended reading material
The stare down begins in the battle over the book
from beneath his snoring girth Boris, in an attempt to prove his loyalty to his species as well as to claim territory, wanted in on some of the book action. 


Being that cats are not pack animals with a leadership pecking order, every day offers a new opportunity for one of them to don the alpha ribbon, which is usually earned through a staring contest ending when one furball slinks away. 

In this case, I am the one who wants to slink away because my boys can't just leave it at glaring at one another, a winner must be proclaimed.
Whiskey (left) was an understudy for Freddy Kruger
Never mind that both of them will forget the whole thing in minutes and will soon be curled up next to each other in a chair in the sun, if, of course, I decided I wanted to read in that chair in the sun. Should I decide I want to read a book perched on top of an active volcano, they will be there.


As the saying goes, if you can't beat 'em join 'em. I am now reading a comic book and sipping cold tea in the middle of the bed while Whiskey and Boris wrestle next to me. It's the best holiday ever.  Happy National Read a Book Day and remember to thank a writer, and maybe send me a bandage or two, some hydrogen peroxide and a needle and thread. 
FINISH HIM

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Feline Fashion Week--Undressed

Fading super model Boris was ready to claw someone's eyes out after pictures were released internationally that showed the world his endless party days, his bad side, so to speak, in an expose about the seedy life of an aging super model.
Boris after a night of partying with bad girl Longhair Lohan
Boris was no longer the kitten with the skeletal body that designers loved to cover in material that weighed more than most of the heroin chic waifs on the runway.

At 1.5-years-old, with the flappy stomach flab to show it, Boris was struggling to keep his paws on the red carpet and his name on the in-list at clubs, restaurants and movie premiers.

After months of guzzling bloody mice and cat-mos, he was at the bottom of the litter box.

Boris, who once changed his name to ^^B to gain a new following of lollipop sucking hipster fans only to be referred to as "that cat formerly known as Boris" and then later changed his name to B Tiger when he claimed to be the reincarnation of reggae cereal giant Tony, was so washed up even the Church of Scientology wanted him out, and L. Ron Hubbard followers are known for being clingy and cultish.

One too many catastrophic events led Boris to the trendy rehab facility Promises in Malibu, California that boasts a clientele that includes gal pal Longhair Lohan, Bobtail Downey, Jr.,  Charlie Sheeba, Persian Hilton, and Britney Sphinx, to name a few who were known for having a few too many.

Hollywood doesn't always have a happy ending, isn't that why models are always pouting, but it looks like bad boy Boris has landed on his feet after this most recent fall from grace.
He is back in the life of luxury, modeling for powerhouse Calvin, of Hobbes fame, and insiders say the spotlight isn't far behind for this frisky feline. He was recently spotted in the pristine waters and magnificent beaches at St. Tropez on the French Riviera.
The in-demand again Boris keeps his troublesome tail in line
It looks like, Boris is the new face of Calvin's
Boris in St. Tropez modeling a sarong.
haute "It's Always Summer" line.   He joins the ranks of top Tom cats modeling those skimpy sarongs made famous by the once sexy rock-in-roll idol, Whiskey, roommate and mentor to the much younger Boris. While rumors fly that Boris binged and purged for days to fit into the sarong that he will wear while strutting with his tail held high on the catwalk during feline fashion week, Whiskey has seen better days.
Whiskey, once a super star is now a super slob.
The nights of wearing leather pants and doing hip-shaking dance moves appear to be a a thing of the past for the former rocker. Whiskey has battled weight gain since reaching middle age and spends most of his time at his expansive mansion, Tunaland, eating bacon/peanut butter flavored treats chased with banana shakes between naps. Whiskey is still beloved by many and is a favorite performer in Las Vegas. Rumors are that he is  in talks for the deal of a lifetime and perhaps beyond with Burger King. 
Join me, Boris and Whiskey during feline fashion week where the cat isn't the only thing out of the bag and nine lives are lived in one torrid hour. Remember, indifference and aloofness are HOT.