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Musings of a Mao-kitty

The woes of a lost collar

Greetings, fellow felines. I have come here today to complain about the injustices and egregious fouls that come from being stealth.
I used to have this pretty collar. It was multi-colored, like moi, it had a pretty heart-shaped dangly thing with my lovely name and my mom and dad's telephone numbers, and it had a bell that rang whenever I moved. Granted, this part with the bell wasn't a favorite of the humans, especially when I got an itchy spot at 4 a.m. and started to jingle and jangle away when I scratched it. But I liked that thing.
A couple of weeks ago, I had an incident where I was licking myself too quickly ... you know, the kind of licking where you have to swing your head back and forth like you have whiplash ... and I got the so-called "safety collar" in a most unsafe position. It was stuck in my mouf, so I couldn't get it out! Ewww!
Anyways, my overbearing mom got it out, thankfully, but the collar was kaput, and now, I make no noise, everywhere I go. You would not believe the number of times I've been stepped on cause the stupid humans were walking and didn't look between their legs as I dart under and between them on my way to the food bowl.
The other day, when it was dinner time, mom kept calling my name ... even that annoying baby-talk she does ("newwwwwwy!"), and she didn't even notice I was standing there the whole time! Then the next morning, mom and dad opened the door to go to work and I snuck out. I'm asposed to be an indoor kitty, but I walked right out on the porch for about 5 whole seconds before I got freaked out at the enormity of the universe. But they still didn't even know I had left until I meowed for them to bring me back in. I don't know what I was thinking, but I better watch out. If they can't hear me, they can't help me. Or feed me. Dear Lord!

Attention: The Punch has been spiked. Repeat, the punch has- been spiked.

Ok, the punch really hasn't been spiked. But I've noticed that jokes about cocktails get the attention of humans.
I'm here talking to you today, fellow meow-kitties, about spiked kitty food. Yea, I know, most of my posts are about food, kitty food, eating, or lack of eating. What can I say? It's what I do.
Anyways, so I ran out of food the other day. Not unusual. As I said, I eat a lot. But this time, Daddy didn't feel like driving all the way to the pet store, so he walked a couple blocks away to the ghetto dollar store. Oh, why? Is it that hard to make sure my kitty-kibbles are brand-name and my catnip is dried and organic? You wouldn't think so, but there we were. And it was even brand-name kitty food.
So dad comes in with this bag, right? It looks so tasty! That kitty on the picture sure looks like he's full of food and happy. Just like I want to be. I'm meowing, meowing, hey! Hello! It's me down here, I'm a kitty and I hunger for life! Meow! Meow! Maaa-raauuooowww!
Then he opens the bag, and you won't believe this ... moths fly out. Flies fly out. The whole bag is swarming with bugs. (Not even the little bitey ones that sometimes stick to me when I sit in the doorway for too long, and take a chomp outta my skin and make me jump. Those are gone now that I got some drops on my neck.) These were creepy-crawley-squirmy-slitherey-gross-icky-BUGS! Some of them were flying, some were crawling on feet, and some were slithering around like worms! In my kitty food!
Fellow felines, I cannot express my rage and ineptitude in words or meows.
It's not like I'm some kind of kitty-kibble snob or something; sometimes, when moths come into my house, I catch them and sometimes I even eat them. But that's just because I'm an indoor cat, and I can't catch a mouse or a bird or a tiny dog or something and bring it back, decapitated and bloody, for mom and dad. But that doesn't mean I want to eat a bag full of bugs!!
Anyways, so it all turned out OK ... my mom got all mad and took the food back, and knowing her, she yelled words at the dollar-store man that he'd never heard before. (Hehe. That's my momma. She knows lotsa words and she loves her some Nellie.) She also called the Meow Mix people and got us some coupons for free kitty food for me.
But Kitties: Tell your humans! Beware of buying even good brand-name kitty kibble from a disreputable merchant. You don't want to eat a bag o' bugs.
Meow,
Nellie

I Are ObamaKitty

Hello, fellow felines.
I sniff your hair and hind quarters in greeting.
This week, my transformation has begun. I am no longer a kitty that sits idle all day long, occasionally moving from the floor to the bed ... and perhaps the sunny window ... attempting in vain to amuse myself while my humans are at work and school. I have decided -- partly because I don't want to be one of those apathetic kitties who don't vote or participate in the political process, and partly because the economy is going down, and as the economy goes, so does my kitty food -- to support Senator Barack Obama for the Presidency of the United States.
Kitties can't influence politics, you say?
Pah. If that loser Socks can do it, so can I.
So this week, I have begun my ObamaKitty campaign. I encourage all kitties to get involved and sport some campaign gear, for any candidate ... although what kitty would want to get petted by John McCain? I mean, seriously. Obama looks like he would be a cat lover. Plus he's got two girls, and you KNOW they love kitties. They just have to. McCain, I'm not so sure, and you know about the Clintons and their skinny little Socks. What did he ever do for kitty-kind?
So come on, everykitty! Scratch the Vote!
Meow, Nellie