RIP, my beautiful girl

A few days ago, Nellie stopped eating and doing all of the other lovely kitty things she does. In over four years as her human mom, she had never been sick and I never needed to take her to the vet after she was adopted except for one brief checkup before we took her home.
The vet told me since it was so sudden, it was probably not too serious and I could wait to bring her in until I got paid in just two days - knowing I probably couldn't pay the exorbinant rates for whatever they were going to do to her. The vet recommended I feed her baby food through a syringe - which normally Nellie would never stand for. But she let me feed her that way and give her medicine. That's when I knew it was bad. But she got some food inside her tummy and was resting. She was sleeping when she suddenly woke up, wobbled (she had never done that before either) to the water bowl, and fell facefirst into it. Instantly I grabbed her and my purse and headed to the only veterinary ER that was open at 1 a.m. Before we arrived, she died in my arms.
Nellie was a good cat. She comforted me, protected me and loved me unconditionally. I miss her more than I can say. This apartment is empty and alone, and there is no sweet kitty to welcome me home at the end of a long day. I love her so much. I only hope she knows I did all that I could.
Rest in Peace, sweetheart.
Love, Hillary

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

Achtung Kitty!

My house is nice.
I live in San Diego, on the beach, so really, even what the humans call "winter" is pretty warm ... that really just means that they have to wear sweatshirts with their flip-flops. Me, I have a fur coat, so I don't even notice.
But this house is always cozy ... in the summer, the humans open the windows so I can sit on the window sill and meow softly -- yet menacingly -- as the birdies fly by and pretend I can't see them.
And in the winter, the humans turn on a fiery machine that makes crackeling noises and has a fire buring at the bottom of it to keep us all warm. This has become an issue recently. It turns out, fire burns. And if one, say, is made of flammable material, it can be cat-astrophic (in a deeeeelicious pun ... hehe).
No worries, fellow felines, I didn't spark up. But I almost did. Mommy woke up in the middle of the night to turn off the fire machine, and kind of screeched a little when she saw my kittyness about an inch and a half away from the fiery swath. She scooted my fat behind away, but I think I'll go back, just like I always do. I know it bewilders the humans, to see my in my fur coat AND so close to the fire when it's already warm, but I like it. But mom was a little purr-turbed, so my fellow kittehs, I'd recommend staying away from the fires.
Meow, Nellie

The Snooze button

Does anyone else have a problem with lazy humans? My mom and dad get so lazy, you'd think they were cats!
They say that they should be able to sleep in later than 6:30 a.m. when they don't have to go to school and work. Pah! And just hoooooow am I supposed to survive that long? And with kitteh food that's been sitting in mah bowl overnight, no less? Jeez, these guys are lazy.
I know what I'll do.
I'll meow.
When I'm hungry ... meow.
When I'm bored and I want them to wake up ... meow.
When there's a noise outside (newspaper being delivered? neighbors coming home from the club at 4 a.m.?) ... that's right. I'll meow.
Loud. And repeatedly.
We'll see how those lazy humans like them apples. But they better not do it back; Herms needs beauty sleep. Purr.
Meow, Nellie

Fat Kitteh Food

So there I was, just hanging out on the floor.
Sure, maybe I've gained a pound or twelve since my new Mom and Dad took me home ... maybe I was stressed getting used to a new house.
Maybe I just like tuna and don't get very much exercise.
But the package came, with a nice postman at the door. He looked at me kinda funny when I pressed my face on the security screen door, but then Daddy pushed me out of the way so he could get the package. It smelled like ... yep, it was kitteh food! Whoever those geniouses at Iams are, I mean wow! They take these fishies, and they grind em up, and then, the next thing you know, it's a lovely goo that Mom mixes in with some crunchy things for mah dinner.
So I start to sniff the cans when Dad takes them out of the box, until he makes a surprised little "ooom!" sound of -- well, of getting something that he didn't order or pay for. In our house, we like the "hook-up."
But what was the mystery bag? It was food, specially formulated for overweight cats!! HOW did they know I was a fat kitteh? Are the PetFoodDirect.com people watching me, day and night, like some kind of fat kitteh spies? That brand of cat food has some for indoor cats, for older cats, for kittens, but did I get one of those? Noooo, they think I'm too fat!
Well, I guess you can tell, I was upset. But I was even more upset when my Mom and Dad actually expected me to eat it. If they think I'm giving up Meow Mix fishy flavors for some fat-kitteh-gettin-skinny food, they got another think coming.
Then they mixed it in with the other stuff. Can you believe it? They thought I was too greedy to notice -- and I almost was.
In the end, fellow kittehs, you will all be happy to know that I daintily -- as only a lady such as myself can do -- ate every morsel of kitteh food EXCEPT the special dietary nonsense. Mom said that she wouldn't throw away perfectly good kitteh food, but I showed her. It just sat there for a couple of days -- getting soggy, then mushy, then very crusty -- until she finally gave up. Hah!
Meow, Nellie