Et Tu, Felis? Oh, yeah. Us too. You best believe it.  

Kittehs! It is the Day to Beware! Today IS teh KittIDES of March!

That sneaky, double-crossing day when a certain Mr. Caesar scoffed at advice to stay home, preferable Under Teh Bed.  And look where it got him. One minute; calmly going about his Dictatorial Duties, ruling with his blissfully ignorant iron fist.  The next; WHAMMO! 60 of his best homies taking him out.  23 times.

I gotta say, I am a sucker for this kind of dastardly planning.  So in honor of teh day, will share wif you my upcoming plots and schemes to deal with my many Enemies of the State and the Repressive Regimes that try to keep Sparky Spitfire down.  But not for long my friends.  Not for long…

First up – I deal wif teh Goggie Next Door.Mr. Yappy in his natural habitat I will start teh day by sauntering along the top of the fence line, close enuff to work Mr. Yaptastic into a lather of dog spit and bark-osity.  then, i will leap onto his trash cans and pretend to break my leg, or somefing.  when he lunges (as much as stubby little legs can lunge) for my throat, I shall bounce, effortlessly, off his fluffy head, knocking over all the trash cans.  Then, while he’s distracted by the opportunity to trash pick,  I will prance around his yard and  look for my missing cat nip mousie. I’m pretty sure I buried it in the sand box a while ago.  

Score: Sparky – 1 catnip mousie.  Mr. Yappy – 1 “bad dog! don’t eat the trash!” scolding

Next up – the Doors.  Why, on earf, would anyone build a house wif doors that shut on the wrong side of me?  Honestly.  It’s like a conspiracy. Today, I will scratch a Sparky sized hole in each and every door.  Kitchen cabinets too.  I’m pretty sure I figured out the portable circular saw.  pffffftttt. If Mr. Whatsisname can get it to works, so can I. 

Score: Sparky – Ultimate Unlimited Unrestricted Roaming Privileges.  Mr. Whatsisname – clean up.

Next – The Evil Squirrel Cabal.  Why, you little…I swear to COD I’m going to get you one of these days.  Look at them – screeching at me, the little fur pigeons.  I especially hate that one that moons me from the branch directly across from the bedroom window.  Hey! I can climb trees too, you know! Oh! No you didn’t! You didn’t just throw that nut at me, did you? you flea-bag gangsta, just you wait…dang. They move fast. 

Score: tie.

finally – the biggest Opressor of them all – Mrs.  Whatsername, Dictator Perpetuo.  Were you aware that I am no longer allowed outside at night? At all?  And that she sleeps soundly through all my polite and subtle hints that the party is just getting started at 3:00 am?  did you know? well.  there is only so much a kitteh can take.

That is why, tonight, I will sharpen my clawsies as I watch her closely…waiting for just the right moment – that interval of teh sleep cycle when she drifts off on a puffy cloud to dream land wif someone called Johnnie thanks to Temple of Cats for the picture! (not, let me repeat, NOT Mr. Whatsisname) and then CRASH! Oh. I’m sorry.  Did you need that mirror?  well, mebbe not.  mebbe i did you a favor.  frankly, you are not aging quite as nicely as Mr. Deep, you knows. 21 Jump street is sooooooo last century, woman, and so are you. Oh! how’s that? you are tired of all my lip? fine. let me out.   

score: Sparky – 1 mighty blow for truth and justice.  Mrs. Whatsername: 1 cold sobering splash of reality

Okay, Kittehs! as you can see, I have another bizy day.  WHAT will you be doing today, my Co-Conspirators?  What eva it is, make sure it’s a good and fiendish.  Vive La Revolution!

Also – Come see what my friends at the Tabby Cat Club are planning to day! It’s sure to be dastardly…


A V.D. P.S.A.


Taffy Boy, Floral InspectorMy brother Taffy actually has something say!  And believe it or not, it may actually be interesting and relevant. AND about LOVE. Crazy, right? Let me just say I’m just as shocked as you. So here he is with a Public Service Announcement: a mancat’s point of view of the inner workings of a flower shop, just before some sort of major Romance-related holiday. Or so he says. Wif out further ado, I give you Taffy Boy, Floral Kitteh-in-Chief!

Um.  Taffy? Taffs? Heeeeelloo…? making sure Shinki does it right, dammit.

Well, he says they are verrah, VERRAH busy right now and he has a lot of supervising to do and that I should just tell you.  

Kittehs!  Somefing is up!  Boxes are stacking up in the shop. boxesThe place is crazy full of flowers and sticks and leaves taffy in the seeded euc.– and none – NONE! of it is nip or silver vine or anything remotely delightful like that.  In fact, the whole shop smells distinctly of sticky sweet narcissus and indigestible chocolates.  According to Taffs, the boxes do come loaded with things like strings and shredded papers, but the shop peeps rip right through the box, get these things outta the way...totally ignore the play-potential all around them and then “ooooh” and “ahhhhhh” about a bunch of angiospermstaffy enjoys his box He says it’s baffling.   

What’s more, Humans are racing in and out of the store, bouncing into each other like ping-pong balls. Only not in the fun way.  More in teh “oh, Dear Cod, help me!” kind of way. In a “roses cost HOW much?” kind of way.  In a panic, more or less, Taffy says.  And he would know of which he speaks. He has been chased thru the house and cornered under the kitchen sink by me, so he knows what it’s like to upset a Grrrrrl Kitteh.  

Luckily, Taff sez the guys usually leave the shop more relaxed than when they came in.  Something about armloads of leafy greens and red boxes wif ribbons really makes these mans feel better.  Taff is not sure how, altho he suspects that someone is going to feel really playful with all that ribbon. I know I would. 

The shop humans, however, continue to jump through hoops. And, again, not the fun kind.  They clean, cut and arrange barrels full of flowers, wrap packages and spend hours on teh phones making promises:

“yes, I’m sure the orchids will match her dress. promise!”

“yes, I can fit all of Shakespeare’s sonnet #18 on the little card. promise!”

“yes, we can deliver it to your houseboat on the Potomac river at low tide. promise!”

“yes. she’s going to love it. promise.”


Taffy noticed, before he fell asleep in the display case, the amazing number of promises being made, on both sides of the cash register.  Humans wanting a gift that promises that this fleeting moment of beauty will last in their hearts forever.  And other humans running around like crazy to make it all happen.  

Taff also thinks it may be a good idea for us kittehs to get on the act and make our specials friends happy.  Like with a bouquet of string or a sophisticated single feather, or, for the discerning and cosmopolitan love of your life:  a simple blue velvet box with a dead mousie inside.  Thoughtful gifts with special meanings.  And yumminess.  

Just be grateful you are not shopping for Mrs. Whatsername.  I have tried. Lord knows how I have tried to make that woman happy, but her heart is made of stone. Moles, mouses, cicadas – you name it.  I have tried them all.  So, if it’s plants and leaves she wants, it’s plants and leaves she’ll get.  sparky in the gardenNext week, I plan to eat a bunch of grass and then “re-gift” it into her house slipper.  So that when she bends down to cleans it up, I can give her a head bonk and we can enjoy our fleeting moment of beauty together.

Anyfing for love.

Some Mole-lateral Damage…

…can not be avoided…

Kittehs! Your Backyard needs you!

This is no time to be distracted by zombie squirrels. We must focus kittehs! FOCUS.

Luckily, we just received intel from my good friend, Garfunkel, a brave ginger mouser who dragged this evidence to his human’s back porch.  Clearly,a fiendish mole invasion is underway, complete wif an elaborate and fortified system of underground tunnels, shored up with sticks, see? see? Tunnels criss-crossing the back yard until they works their way into the pipes so they can invade the house through the basement laundry sink.  Like I’ve been saying for years.  

I knew it was only a matter of times. But this is just the break we needed. Bravo, Comrade Garfunkel.

now GO Kittehs! Attack! now is not to reason why, now is but to do and…hey. what? wait. why are you curling up on teh sofa? what…a nap? NO! no napping! getupgetupgetupgetup…ah jeeze.  for teh love of Cod…guess i’ll haf to save teh world again by myselfs.