Number Crunching

Memo

To: All Staff

From: the Chief Feline Officer

RE: 4th Quarter Earnings

The CFO has studied the books and found that 4th quarter numbers, while verreh crunchy, were not good.  While “Olympian gains” were posted in mole sightings, houseplant chewing and nap times, the cost of Distressed Humans in need of Furry Love continues to cut into my bottom line. Therefore, in order to ensure the future solvency of Sparky Cat Enterprises, Ltd, drastic cuts must be made in teh Human Affairs Division.  

Effective immediately, the Human Food Budget will be limited to fishy treats and kibble.  Petting and Pick-Up-teh-Kitteh Bonuses are to be discontinued. Retirement, in any form, is hereby canceled. 

With these cuts, we should see an overall amortization of our liquidikitty.  All employees are encouraged work togetfur towards this goal. Fank you and get back to work.

got some ‘splaining to do…

for teh love of Cod, let me back inI’ll say you do.  Yes, you.  Don’t act so surprised, Mrs. W.  I actually wasn’t going to harp on it, but since you brought it up, Madam, I have a few questions to ask  YOU.  

Like, why on earfs, did you let it get so COLD out there? are you ever planning to do something with all this snow?

And who’s bright idea was it to seal the upstairs dormer windows with plastic sheeting?  Do you know it’s like IMPOSSIBLE now for me to get back in? do you even realize how much hard work goes into climbing a tree to get away from the horrible Orange Introoder?  He was back wif a vengeance last night, did you know that? do you even care? Hmm? Do you?

Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have my daring escape plan foiled by a sheet of plastics?

No. No, now stop.  I’ve heard enuff.  Don’t interrupt me wif nonsense about “insulations” and “heat proofing,” and “polar vortexes” and “you aren’t allowed on the roof in the first place…”  A little less lip from you would be appreciated.  

Okay, I’m going to curl up in teh laundries now and I want you to fink — fink really long and hard about what you have done.  In fact, why don’t you write it down?  Then maybe we can talk.

good lucks with that.

 

 

The Interrogation

Kittehs! Whew – I am bushed.  Interrogations are hard work.  So is Spilling Your Guts.  But it was well worth it.  

I was interviewed by MouseBreath Magazine.

Thanks, Funny Farmers!

 The Funny Farm Felines pinned me down, administered some kind of Truff Serum and before I knew it, I was all “blah-blah-blahtity-blah.”  If I revealed State Secrets or Mrs. W’s pin number…well, my bad, guess.  

You can read the whole story here.  And please go visit the crack team of cats (and dogs! can you believe it?!?) at Jans Funny Farm

A more clever bunch of sleuths and intrepid reporters I have neva seen.

But because of my loose lip bizness, it is possible that  my cover is blown.  My paws are crossed that the Readership of Mousebreath or Jan’s FFF team is not Spies, Moles, Yappy Dogs or the International Cabal of Evil Squirrels, but I need to be prepared.  

I may be out for a while, establishing a new identity in Des Moines, where the Feline Bureau of Investigation said they’ll set me up as Spot, a Poor but Honest Farm Cat.  

Maybe I can visit my new pal, William the Barn Cat, CatCareTaker of Arcadia Farms.

According to his Twitter Feed, he has a lot of important missions as well, many involving Squash Eating Squirrels. He has been kidnapped from his beloved barn and forced to stay indoors for the winter.  His captors are justifying this by claiming to teach him proper House Cat Behavior, but I know he needs to be sprung.  

Hang tight, William! I’m coming!

Or possibly I’ll head out to meet up again with my buddies, The Navy Seals.  I’m sure there’s a cave or two still in need of investigating.

Or! Or, maybe I’ll catch a bus and go lie low wif my BoyFriend, Spitty. 

fanks! mousebreath magazine for the image

He tells me he lives in the SF Bay area, but damned if I can find it.  Is it St. Flouis, Spitty? Is that where it is? It sure wasn’t San Fantonio, where I won’t be going back to anytime soon. I’ve been kicked outta better litter boxes than that place.  

Well, where ever I end up, mums the word, right Kittehs?  As we Navy Seals say, Semper Feline!


fanks! to i.chzbgr.com

12 Days of Sparky

Kittehs! It is a gift-giving season, of some sort, or so I am told, but you know your Sparky – I just give all year long.  Can’t help myself, really.  Which is why I turn over today’s bloggie to Mrs. Whatsername, who has written a song about the Joys of Living with Nonstop Feline Philanthropy.  She was really impressed, or what’s the word…um…horrified, that’s it, by the gift I left her last week in the baff room.  So in what she informs me is the special “Holiday Tradition of Pay Back,” I let her sing me a little song.  Take it away, Mrs. W:

On the First Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me -

A Mouse Head on the Bath mat. 

On the Second Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me - 

2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat.

On the Third Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me -

3 Blind Moles,

2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

On the Fourth Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me -

4 Baby Birds,  3 Blind Moles, 2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

On the Fifth Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me

 5! More! Mice!

4 Baby Birds, 3 Blind Moles, 2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

On the Sixth Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me - 

6 couches ruined,

5! More! Mice! 

4 Baby Birds, 3 Blind Moles, 2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

On the Seventh Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me -

7 trees a stuck in, 6 couches ruined,

5! More! Mice!

4 Baby Birds, 3 Blind Moles, 2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

On the Eighth Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me -

8 butters eaten,  7 trees a stuck in, 6 couches ruined,

5! More! Mice!

4 Baby Birds, 3 Blind Moles, 2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

On the Ninth Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me -

9 pukes a puking, 8 butters eaten, 7 trees a stuck in, 6 couches ruined, 

5! More! Mice!

4 Baby Birds, 3 Blind Moles, 2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

On the Tenth Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me -

10 scampers scamping, 9 pukes a puking, 8 butters eaten, 7 trees a stuck in, 6 couches ruined, 

5! More! Mice!

4 Baby Birds, 3 Blind Moles, 2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

On the Eleventh Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me -

11 leopards leaping, 10 scampers scamping, 9 pukes a puking, 8 butters eaten, 7 trees a stuck in, 6 couches ruined, 

5! More! Mice!

4 Baby Birds, 3 Blind Moles, 2 Crunchy Bugs and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, my Sparky gave to me

12 Purrs a Purring…

11 leopards leaping, 10 scampers scamping, 9 pukes a puking, 8 butters eaten, 7 trees a stuck in, 6 couches ruined, 

5! More! Mice!

4 Baby Birds, 3 Blind Moles, 2 Crunchy Bugs

- and a Mouse Head on the Bath Mat!

Merry Christmas Evabuddy!

Spelunking and Other Cat Adventure Stories

Kittehs are in the News! My fellow Intrepid Feline Explorers are being honored in John Kelly’s column of the Washington Post.  

I heard all about it last week while Mr. and Mrs. W. guffawed into their coffee mugs over the daring-do of Tank, a Wall-Walking Adventurer of Silver Spring MD.  Click on his name or on his picture to read the story of his thorough exploration of the uncharted territory of the ceiling.  Imagine teh wonders he must have seen…it boggles my furry little mind.

Then this Mr. Kelly simply couldn’t get enuff of Kitteh Pioneers, so he wrote ANOTHER story, about the Perilous Perils of Zoe, the Kitchen Cabinet Killer.  No cheap particle board Ikea cabinetry can stand in the way of her Quest for Knowledge, that’s for sure.  There are other brave kittehs like her, so click on Zoe’s cute yet confused little face to read her story and others.  

And head’s up, Mr. Kelly…a new bit of territory is about to be claimed in teh name of the Spitfire Empire.  There were Mans in the house today.  Mans wif tools and tape measures and shop lights.  There was a lot of noise and saw dust and while some Kittehs (looking at you, Suzie) flee from These Obvious Signs of Dangers to vomit in the linen closet, others march boldly into the Dark Heart of Insulations.  

One Small Prance for Cat…one Giant Pounce Cat-kind…

wish me lucks…

  

CTI – Counter Top Investigations (part 3)

Ma’am.  Ma’am? I must ask you to not interfere with Police Activities.  Please.  Step outside teh yellow line.  This is for your own safety, Ma’am.  Ma’am? MA’AM! Please. I can not Secure teh Perimeter and keep an eye out for Butter Monsters and Kitchen Land Killers if you don’t STAND BACK.  

Alright, fine.  If you insist.  If this really is your so-called “Kitchen,” maybe you can be of help wif our investigation.  We have detained a suspicious bowl of an unknown but intriguingly yummy substance.  Our Sources suspect it is teh remains of the noted Dairy Delinquent, Heavy Creams. Upon further investigation, we discovered suspicious amounts of bumpy red things.  I know what your finking – mouse guts, right?   But, no.  It appears to be somecrime scene.  content may not be appropriate for sensitive viewers and childrens. find of fruit. Tsk. Such a random act of cooking.  Another senseless recipe.  You see it all in this job.  But… who had it in for Creams? Who would ruin his wunnerful, whipped potential?  RIP, Heavy Creams

Well, well, well.  What have we here?  Some kind of note? A Cook Book confessional, maybe?  Let’s see: “Chawclit  Cake wif  Whipped Cream and Fresh Fruit Filling…1 cup heavy cream (!), 2 tablespoons of kirsch? pureed RASPBERRIES?!” Oh Dear Cod, that’s disgusting.    Ma’am – is this your Cookbook?  Ma’am? MA’AM! Answer teh question. 

Okay, fine.  You has teh right to remain Silent.  Anyfing you cook can and will be used against you in a Court of Flaws.  Hey! Where are you going? Ok, fine. Just remember – our investigation is still on going.  You will be notified by Teh Authorities if we have any further questions.  You may want to retain counsel.  Don’t try to leave teh country.

Butter Monster Contingency Plans (continued)

hum hum de hum de…whu??? sniff sniffity-sniff…     mhmm!

lick, lickity-lick -* 

D’oh!

Hey! what’s the big idea! where do you get off sneaking up on my like that?! WTW is up wif you? I mean, really.  No. I was not licking teh butters. No! I wasn’t even ON teh counter! I was just…well, yes. Maybe I was on the counter…BUT only to inspect your new, so called “Monster Traps.” Is that what you fink will save us from teh ferocious Butter Monster? Really?  You fink coating tin cake pans wif delicious, wunnerful, buttery butter will entice this Fearsome Huntress…uh, I mean, Butter Monster out of her…um, ITS lair and IT will eat teh butters and knock over pans and make noise and and and, then what? Did you even this thru? Then teh Butter Monster will run and hide because of teh noise? The noise will alert the Police and the SWAT Teams who will come wif stun guns and haul teh Proud and Noble Butter Monster into a cage and then off to teh zoo and then Teh Day Will be Saved? Sirriously?! Is that your plan? 

Cuz, frankly, I don’t fink you know what you’re dealing wif here, Lady.  

Yeah. Good luck with that.

butter? wut butter?


Oh, hellos.

Um.  Yes. Well, I am on the counter, that’s tru.  But I was NOT eating teh butters. NO! How could you say such a fing?!

I was just investigating the, um, teef marks.  Yes, that’s it.  Just look at that!  Scary, isn’t it?   Like some kinda MONSTER or sumfing was chewing on it.  Wow.  I’d be worried if I was you.  In fact, I’m just going to hop down now…

*thurlp.  gulp.  thlurplickity-lick…slurp…* 

Why are you looking at me like that?  I’m only trying to help.  You may want to call teh Extreeminators.  Maybe you need a bear trap in here. Just sayin’.  Jeeze.  

Suzie’s No Good Horrible Very Bad Day

so let me just say that it’s not bad enuff to be a kitteh with a flea allergy and a bit-up, scabby back side.  It’s not enuff to be hard at work on a multi-day vomitathon.  No.  When you live wif the Horrible Mrs. W. there is no sympathy.  There are no pats on the head or fresh piles of warm laundries to puke into or private moments with your Best Dust Bunny Buddies Under The Bed.  No.  Here, all you get is a trip to The Little White Room of Doom.

I can barely even look at these pictures.

I would have fought and bit and spit and showed no mercy wif my razor sharp claws and feral ferocitynesses, but Suzie is too classy for all of that.  She waited through all that poking and prodding and quackery with a silent dignity that shamed them all.  Then, after the THIRD!!! horrible shot did not Kills her, they gave up and stuffed her back in the box.  But before they could, she peed on the Vet.

She is my Hero.