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The Life and Times of Bo Kitty

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A pounce gone wrong

July 16th 2009 4:52 pm
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I have had the most humilating experience happen to me. It's bad enough that I had to even MAKE such a foolish mistake, but to have it witnessed by mom? I'm so embarrassed. It all began last night, as I was
perched on top of the cat cave, looking out the window. A bird suddenly landed on the outside of the
window, and I was overcome by my predatory instincts. I wasn't able to resist thousands of years
of feline instincts that told me to "get the birdie". However, my plan had serious flaws.
I sprang up into the air approximately 3 feet, slamming my body into the glass. Now why do those darn
humans put glass in windows? It makes it very hard to pounce on the birds and squirrels. Not only
did I plaster myself upon the window with a very loud sound, I fell to the floor. Thank God I managed
to land on 4 paws. I would have never been able to recover from the shame if I had also fallen with
a splat. Mom immediately began to laugh at my plight. Would you mind explaining what was so darn
amusing? There was nothing remotely humerous about the bird/cat encounter. I just hope that the
story doesn't get out into the animal community. Mom scooped me up and began to soothe me. I was
meowing in sheer rage at the stupidity of my hunting mistake. My hunting skills have been dulled by
playing with that darn stuffed bird with the chirping sensor! I was too mortified to return to the top
of the cat cave, but I kept an eye out for that dastardly bird. Just wait...he'll come back...
and I'll be waiting!!!!


Flying Kitty

March 13th 2009 8:53 pm
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Cats are not meant to fly. I arrived at this conclusion after mom assaulted me as I slept. Perhaps catapulted would be more accurate. I had innocently decided to sleep on top of mom's feet. In her sleepy stupor, she didn't understand why her feet were so heavy. A comforter? I think not. As she gave a huge flip with her feet, she sent me flying through the air. Mom and Dad both sat up asking what that noise was, having heard a very solid thud. What was it? It was the sound of me hitting the floor. The lights came on and she found me sprawled out. I had the good sense to give a pitiful sounding "meow???" and pretended to be quite dazed. Dad said that she was going to wind up killing me. It ended well: lots of affection and the rest of the night spent sleeping on her pillow. I learned 3 things.

1. What goes up must come down.
2. A confused/dazed expression induces lots of guilt
3. Most important of all...hogtie mom before sleeping on her feet!!!


The invasion

October 12th 2008 10:23 am
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It has fallen upon me to share the latest excitement of the home abode. Toby is still recovering from the trauma that occurred. Mom has been very busy lately, distracted and rushed. She zipped into the utility room to do a scoop and run of the litterbox. She yanked off thecover and that's when it happened. Toby was, err, indisposed at the moment. Mom frightened him in the middle of taking a poo. MOL What indignity! The embarrassment factor! The shame!!! The lad flew out of the litterbox, not even taking time to cover his, um...deposit. Mom chased him through the house to see if he needed her to wipe his rear. (Apparently he left too quickly to bother with matters of personal hygeine. MOL) Toby is such a coward anyway. After the trauma of the litterbox invasion, the boy may never poo again! I wish I'd gotten a picture of the aftermath of the event- Mom felt responsible and buried the poo herself. Its official...the humans are slaves to the felines!!!!


The Night Before Cat_Mas (A visit from Santa Claws)

December 19th 2007 5:18 pm
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(A visit from Santa Claws)

...with all due respect to Clement C. Moore...

'Twas the night before Cat-mas and all through MY house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ... (I ate it).

My kitty stocking was hung by the cat door with care, in hopes that Santa Claws soon would be there.

The humans were nestled all snug in their beds, while we cats in the darkness danced on their heads.

Big Owner in his "sleepy's", and me his loyal cat, had just settled down for a long winter's nap.

When out in the 'hood there arose such a clatter, I sprang to four paws to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash, shredding curtains and shades, I ate up the sash.

The street lamp outside shined eerily below, maybe two cats fighting? Paw to paw, blow-by- blow?

No, wait! What my sharp kitty eyes should detect, but a miniature cat box, and that Devonshire Rex.

A little old driver, all hairy with paws, I knew in an instant it must be Santa Claws.

More rapid than hair balls his coursers they came, and he howled, he meowed, he called them by name:


To the top of the fence! To the top of the tree! “My felines are awaiting, all purring for me!”

As dry heaves that before the wild fur balls fly, when he meets with an obstacle, they jump to the sky!

So over my shingles the kitties they flew, with the carriage full of cat morsels, and Santa Claws too.

With a turn of my ear I heard on the roof pole, the scratching and clawing of each kitty's sole.

I drew in my head and was spinning around, when through the cat door Santa Claws did bound.

A long hair in fur, of course, from head to foot, and those hairs were all shiny, well coiffured, nicely put.

A bundle of cat toys he had flung on his back; you'd swear he was pedigree, just him with his pack.

His eyes – how they twinkled! His whiskers – how bold! His cheek hairs so soft, his nose ... oh, how cold!

He shed not a hair, each strand in its place, the most famous of all of the proud feline race.

The stump of some cat nip he held tight in his teeth, its aroma encircling his head like a wreath.

An imposing cat with the biggest belly in history; that shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of Friskies.

A grimalkin of breed, a right jolly old cat.

Did I say grimalkin, how could I think that?

A twitch of the whisker and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He mewed not a sound, but went straight to his work; filled my stockings with kitty treats, then turned with a jerk.

And laying a talon aside of his nose, after giving a nod, out the cat door he goes.

He sprang to his cat box, to his team gave "MEOW!" And away they all flew, like the wind they did howl.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of the way, "MEOWY CAT-MAS TO ALL, AND TO ALL, IT WAS A GOOD-DAY!”


Invasion of the sofa snatchers

December 7th 2007 7:03 pm
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As a highly intelligent feline, I try to make allowances for the less intelligent creatures I share the world with. Sometimes it's hard though. What goes through the mind of a human? They seem to make choices without any rhyme or reason. Take mom's latest acquisition. A sofa. Harmless purchase, right? WRONG! Upon delivery, it was HUGE! It practically devoured the entire room. I won't even elaborate on the strange odor wafting off of it. (I heard mom say something about scotchguard.) Poor Toby stalked this monster from every side, checked out all the angles. I don't even want to think about the amount of fur it's going to take to "make it ours." I know that mom didn't think things through. Perhaps a measuring tape was needed? Her glasses? A shopping chaperone??? One thing is very apparent from this experience...
Never send a human to do a cat's job!!!


How to torment a little brother

November 9th 2007 11:14 am
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1. Sleep in his pillow. It infuriates the lad.
2. Go to bed with mom.
3. Walk on leash like a well trained makes him look very bad.
4. Go on an outing without including him.
5. Laugh vigorously when he gets a bath.
6. Groom his face.


To hiss or not to hiss

June 30th 2007 11:55 am
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To hiss or not to hiss,
That is the question.

What's in a hiss?
What makes a quality hiss?
Are some cats just born hissers, while others can only dream?

I myself, have quite an intimidating hiss.
Just the right amount of fang and attitude...
body language to back it up.
When I hiss, people pay attention.

On the other hand, Toby has issues.
For all practical purposes, the lad is hissless.
It can't be good for his self esteem to be laughed at each time he TRIES to hiss.

Only one conclusion can be gathered from all of my hours of hissing observation...great hissers are born not made!


The end of the raven

February 22nd 2007 9:08 pm
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Today I did a bit of light reading. I thought I'd share some of it with you. Hope you enjoy it.

The End of the Raven -- by Edgar Allen Poe's Cat

On a night quite unenchanting,
when the rain was downward slanting,
I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.
Tipsy and a bit unshaven,
in a tone I found quite craven,
Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.

"Raven's very tasty," thought I, as I tiptoed o'er the floor,
"There is nothing I like more"
Soft upon the rug I treaded,
calm and careful as I headed
Towards his roost atop that dreaded bust of Pallas I deplore.

While the bard and birdie chattered,
I made sure that nothing clattered,
Creaked, or snapped, or fell, or shattered, as I crossed the corridor;
For his house is crammed with trinkets, curios and wierd decor -
Bric-a-brac and junk galore.

Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he uttered,
In a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents' worth -

While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up,
Then I crouched and quickly lept up, pouncing on the feathered bore.
Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore -
Only this and not much more.

"Oooo!" my pickled poet cried out,
"Pussycat, it's time I dried out!
Never sat I in my hideout talking to a bird before;
How I've wallowed in self-pity,
while my gallant, valiant kitty
Put and end to that damned ditty" - then I heard him start to snore.
Back atop the door I clambered, eyed that statue I abhor,
Jumped - and smashed it on the floor.


My time away from home

February 12th 2007 8:56 am
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I write to you once again from next door. Mom and dad had to go away for a couple of nights, so we have been relocated to stay with our aunt. So far its been going purrfectly. Lots of quality human/feline quality playtime. Treats.
Massages. I really must discuss the massage factor with mom. It was divine! The more I purred, the more I was rubbed. We've watched animal programs on tv. I guess I should work on my guilt approach for their return. Can't let them off the hook, no matter how much I've enjoyed my vacation. The rubs, the foods, the programming,etc. Do I HAVE to go back home? Being doted on is simply purrrfect!!!!!!!


Politically Correct Terms For Cat Owners

November 19th 2006 3:01 pm
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My cat does not barf hairballs, he is a floor/rug redecorator.

My cat does not break things, he helps gravity do its job.

My cat does not fear dogs, they are merely spit and scratch practice tools.

My cat does not gobble, he is trying to taste the bowl.

My cat does not scratch, he is a furniture/rug/skin ventilator.

My cat does not yowl, he is singing off-key.

My cat is not a "shedding machine", he is a paper recycling unit.

My cat is not a bed hog, he is a duvet tester.

My cat is not a chatterbox, he is advising me on what to do next.

My cat is not a dope addict, he is catnip appreciative.

My cat is not a lap fungus, he is a new kind of hot water bottle.

My cat is not a pest, he is attention deprived.

My cat is not a ruthless hunter, he is a wildlife control expert.

My cat is not evil, he is badness enhanced.

My cat is not fat, he is vertically challenged for his size.

My cat is not hydrophobic, he has an inability to appreciate moisture.

My cat is not lazy, he is motivationally challenged.

My cat is not underfoot, he is shepherding me to my next destination (the food dish!).

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