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?
Yeah. Good luck with that.
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…
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.
Kitties! Kitties! Do you even remember me?!?! It’s ME! Sparkly Love Pants! Yes! really!!! I’m back from my horrible, horrible exile.
Here is how my long week started:
Mr. and Mrs. Whatsernames left AGAIN, but this time they decided to go on teh cheap and not pay the highly qualified Cat Warden to come feed us all wrong, like she do, and instead leave matters in the hands of The Childrens. I can’t help but notice how big they have become lately. Also how much times they spend slouching, eating, texting and eye rolling, so a vacation without them is completely understandable.
So you would fink this would be a wunnerful week for moi, as I could trust that The Childrens would not even read or even care about such dictatorial edicts, and getting out would be easy-peasy whenever the pizza delivery guy or teh police stopped by. But that was not to be.
For while I easily got out, I could not get back in and spent the week doing this:
It’s like they didn’t EVEN see me! or hear me, even when I climbed the tree and hopped on teh roof to meow into teh sky lights to let them know it was NOON, for Heaven’s Sake, and they could get outta bed – and they never even looked up once when I stuck my face in the basement window and begged – YES- begged them to put down the X Box controller and OPEN TEH DOOR. But no. Let me tell you, my Furriends, you can meow your little head off but your pitiful and adorable pleas for help are useless when you are being “taken care of” by the Ear Bud Zombie Brigade.
If i had had wifi access, I would have done a little research. This is verrah educashunal and I shall make a note of it next time teh Teens are In Charge.
But, no, I had no wifi or clean water dish, after a few days of drinking out the drain spout and eating cold cheese off pizza boxes left in teh trash, Mrs. W. comes strolling home, la dee dah, like she do,
and while I would normally shun her and should have bitten her ankles, hard, for dropping teh ball like this, instead I rolled at her feet and even climbed into bed and sniffed her head to let her know I was glad she was there. And also that it was time to feed me. Which she did, and even got out the brushie and my favorite fishy bacon and gave me a surprise sprig of Cat Nip and suddenly, all was right wif teh world.
So you know what that means, don’t you?
It’s time to go back out.
I have been verrah bizy, as you know, what with spring gardening and all.
Every time the Humans here dig a hole in the yard, they find worms and grubs, which catch the eye of birdies, who, in turn, trigger ancient prey instincts in certain Stunningly Stealthy Huntresses, which, for some reason, makes Ms. Whatsername squeal Blue Bloody Murder (a thoughtless distraction, you can imagine, especially when one is in mid-pounce), so after an exciting, feather-filled fraction of a second, only the damn worm is happy and going back to his biziness and the rest of us need a strong drink.
As I have alluded to in teh past, Mrs. W. has a bad habit of blundering into the wrong place at the wrong time, igniting Cascades of Unintended Consequences, like she do, and so I post teh following educational video in teh hopes she’ll learn a thing or two. Hope springs eternal. Much like grubs.
Anyway, wish me lucks.
Oh, hello. I didn’t see you there. Are you one of the roadies? or a guest? Cuz roadies need to go in the back entrance. Guests, I’m afraid, will just has to be patient and wait out front behind teh red velvet ropes. Sorry. We still has a lot of set up to do for my birfday.
But, since you’re here (and since you got past the Bouncer, who I’m gonna have to talk to ’bout that), why don’t you come wif me to the tree fort to see all the fun we have planned. Watch out for the Caterers. They still have a lot of ice statues to set up. Oh! Be careful. You don’t want to trip over teh cat niptini fountain. Ah, here we go. The DJ’s have arrived.
(Sounds good, but mebbe a little more bass? fanks guys)
Okay, let’s see…we also has lots of good noms on hand. My human sistah, Whozshe, just got back from NYC, where she picked up teh finest in treats at a fancy SoHo taxidermy shop (which, I fink, is French, for “Cat Deli”).
would you like a bat wing? or a freeze-dried mousie? Not cheap, that’s for sure, but we are a family of foodies, so we hate to skimp on teh finer fings in life. Besides. It’s not evaday you turn 2.
Also, we have a great entertainment lineup. I hate to spoil the surprise, but we were able to book a huge International A-lister. Let’s just say I was able to help him out of a jam wif teh INS.
oh, look! there’s his limo now. omc, look at the size of his entourage! i better go. Boy, a birfday is a lot work if you want it done right, but i also really want this party to be special – a way to say FANKS to all my bloggie friends. Looks like it will be another year o’ fun, thanks to you.
Shout outs and Purrs to all my Furry Friends,
Kittehs! it’s Friday and all, so i went on Youtubey to get a jump on Caturday. Mrs. W, I’ll have you know, was no help. She kept saying “no. no. nope. not appropriate.” went on and on about how I was not being “family friendly” or “Grated.”
Jeeze. What IS that woman’s problem? I mean, for all I know these Kittehs ARE my family. And, of course, I am always friendly. 36 FB friends can’t be wrong. But, I will state, for teh record, that I am NOT and I have NEVA been Grated. I am not a cheese, for heaven sakes.
anyway, teh lady in the song asks to see some lovely kittehs. she gets her wish. i bet you wanna see some kittehs too, right? Well, okay then. Wif out further ado:
fanks! to Mikkii Sanderson for posting the video and also to teh Lords of Acid for the, um, song.
A little tea-party in a lovely sunny spot on a summer day….a little nibble of cheese…perhaps a little stroller ride…
What could possibly go wrong?
Well, I’ll tell you what – the little Party won’t seem so “Happy” once Little Girlie decides one of her party guests (guess who?) is under-dressed for teh occassion. Then, before you can dash into the bushes – it’s into Dolly’s dress you go. Then well, gee, that’s so KEE-YUTE, maybe Kitteh would like a ride on teh swings – maybe a little stroller action – maybe Kitteh will do a little dance! Wheee! Then, just as you are at your wit’s end and about to resort to sinking your teefs into her chubby forearm, all teh big humans circle round, oohing and aahing and juggling cameras in your face.
You, my friend, are trapped. If you are in this predicament, my only council is to growl and bear it. You can NOT scratch Little Girlie. You can NOT bite Little Girlie. Not in the presence of Big Humans. Not if you want a can of tuna opened for you ever again.
Our only defense is avoidance. Little Girlie is a Ruthless Predator and as such, should be approached with extreme caution. Little Boy, for some reason, is less of a menance, prol’ly because you can see him coming a mile away, waving sticks and action heros and bellowing something about finding “the Bad Guy.” Since that is so obviously you, there is plenty of time to climb a tree or bookshelf. But Little Girlie is patient and cunning, armed wif comfy strollers and warm doll blankets and a sweet and tiny voice that she uses to convince you that this will be “fun.”
For this reason, I begin a new series: Cautionary Tails of Dangerous Little Darlings. Yet another of my many helpful and cat-saving Public Service Announcements. In my first installment, we take an indepth look at the mind of Little Girlie. Don’t worry – no Kittens were Harmed in the making of this video. But, oh! the squealing. The horrible, horrible squealling. I’m just warning you.
Stay Strong, my Kitteh Friends. And Stay. Away.