Trick or Treat Me

Happy Halloween to all!

Since Halloween is just around the corner, the humans started making trips up to the attic to get some orangey things similar to the image posted, except with electric cords trailing behind. It is a well-known fact that I am absolutely fascinated by the attic, so of course I was doing my best to get up there. I've only checked it out a few times, each shorter than the last, but I hadn't given up my dream of touring the joint one more time.

I pretended not to care about their comings and goings, hoping to throw them off, lounging in the hallway, and looking at them with distain as I licked myself nonchalantly. But my curiosity got the best of me, so I tried several times to get into the room leading to the attic. Each time I was caught until I managed to hide under the bed, biding my time until the time was right. Here is where I made a major blunder, because under the bed was a cat toy with a bell in it, and I just couldn't resist giving it a little swipe with my paw. A jingle echoed under the bed. Very satisfying, but ... oops! Note to self: go back under the bed after blogging today and get that toy; it's pretty cool.

"What's that?" my mom said. "I didn't hear anything," said my dad, "it's nothing." My mom wouldn't give it up (she's like that) and started checking until she discovered me. I pretended to cower in an attempt to gain her sympathy, but she wasn't fooled. "We can't have you getting into the attic," she told me, as she hauled me out from under the bed. It's personally insulting to be forced out of a place in such an undignified way. What does she think? That she's a bouncer, for meowing out loud?????????

Before I knew it, I was LOCKED OUT OF THE ROOM! Or so they thought. You see, I have many talents, among them being the ability to open almost any door on God's green earth. Unless it has a deadbolt. With a little push here and there, I managed to get my front paws under the door and before you could say cat-astrophe, I was in! I flattened myself behind a wicker hamper in the room. One-two-three, the coast was clear!

I didn't take any chances this time, bolting directly for the attic stairs and quietly sneaking up step by step until I beheld the most beautiful thing any cat could wish for: the attic! It brings tears to my eyes to think about that place, which is my personal image of what heaven must be like. Talk about nooks and crannies! This place is loaded with them, as well as boxes, shelves, clothes hanging in two areas, and a spot where there's an exhaust fan that actually shows the space under the flooring. I was overcome by the thrill of it all, but before I could check it out, of course I got busted.

You probably know what happened next. Yeah, I was dragged downstairs and the attic door was slammed in my face. Unfortunately, although I was just bragging about my super powers in the opening any door department, this door is unbreachable. For now...

I guess I'll just have to live on my memories of those few glorious moments when I was in my heavenly place. As you know, that isn't the last of it. The humans will have to bring those orange things back up to the attic someday, and when they do, I'll be there!

Terror, torture and payback

It was that time of year again: the time when my human mom entices me to approach THE THING and then shoves me into it. I have learned that THE THING is called a cat carrier. It's a small cage, lined with a blanket. It has a latched door and when I have to go to the veterinarian, this is how I am forced to travel.

Words do not exist to express the indignity of it all. Imagine yourself in a small space, rocking back and forth, like you're on some kind of insane amusement park ride. Once you arrive at your destination, you are plunked down on the floor, surrounded by all kinds of weirdos... drooling dogs, baring their teeth; hysterical barking fiends, unseen, screeching cats, totally abandoning their dignity. I chose to remain dignified and burrowed deep under the blanket. Disgusting odors assaulted my nostrils, especially bad doggy breath. Some of these monsters dared to approach my carrier, trying to catch a glimpse or whiff of me. When my name was called, the Nicomobile was picked up and the nauseating rocking began once again, ending when the carrier was placed on an examination table. Someone opened the door, expecting me to come walking right out. "Are you insane, or merely stupid?" I wanted to say, but fear prevented me from doing anything other than curling into a ball.

I'll give these people credit for using their brains for evil: instead of begging me to come out, someone tips the carrier on its side and out I slide, only to be grabbed and forced down on the table. What comes next is unspeakable... needles, pain, invasion of my most private place by some kind of object. I have news for these people: patting my fur and murmuring comforting words is no consolation for having an object inserted into my rear end!

At last the torture is over and I'm back home. The moment the door of the carrier is opened, I run to find a hiding place. I chose the master bedroom for my safe place and hid under the bed. My human mother came looking for me after a while. Usually I come when she calls me, but no way was I going to reward her! I let her come close enough to almost reach me when she found me, then backed up until I was smack dab in the middle of the space, unreachable. Then I turned my face away from her to let her know how much trouble she was in. To her credit, she left me alone.

It took three days for me to be able to face her again, but I didn't actually stay under the bed for the whole time. I would slink downstairs to eat and use the facilities while she and human dad were sleeping, then sneak back upstairs. I stayed awake most of the time, plotting and planning ways to get even. There are so many ways-- making a mess, biting, scratching tables with my back claws, shredding carpet, and the most effective of all, vomiting on a cherished item. In the morning, I would let my dad see me and feed me fresh delicacies. Not my mom, though ... not after what she let them do to me! I swore that she would pay for this. When I eventually left my hiding place, she was only too glad to have me sit on her and shed all over her.

I do love my mom, but a cat does have his limits and principles, and I felt that it was important for her to know just how angry I was. Trust me when I say she got the point. I am not quite ready to reveal exactly what I did for payback. That will have to wait for another time.

In the meantime, think about this: What if it was cats who invented technology... would they have TV shows starring rubber squeak toys?

Nico speaks out about Marmalade and other things

Hello, it's been a long time but I'm back now and planning on writing about the joys, trials, and tribulations of my life over the past year.

You will notice that I've chosen a nice orange color for my text. That's because I've just learned that I'm a "marmalade cat" which sounds very ritzy and glitzy to me. Whassup with that? I'm not quite sure what marmalade actually is but if this name makes me sound as important as I feel, it's all good.

I don't know if this is yet another reason to boast about being me or if I ought to worry, but I have noticed my fur becoming more orange in color, hence the marmalade diagnosis. I used to be kind of beige or buff colored, and think my current condition may be due to my diet, but I have caught sight of myself in the mirror and do think I am quite hot looking with my deep color. I guess I'd compare it to the way a human would feel after a session at Beach Bum Tanning Salon.

It's been a pretty good year, all things considered. Let me mention that although I am even more handsome than ever, there is a slight possiblility I might have gained a bit of weight. I have noticed that when I engage in one of my absolute favorite activities, sprawling on the computer desk between the monitor and the keyboard, the space is a bit tighter than it used to be. Now, I could be wrong about this. People get new keyboards all the time, new monitors, too
Does wood shrink, by the way? I'd appreciate it if one of my many fans would let me know.

My humans wonder why I like to hang out at the computer. What they don't realize is there is a low level of heat coming from the monitor that is just the right temperature for me. I would compare it to the feeling you'd get if you lived in Costa Rica... nice, constant warm temperature. Just right, kind of like Goldilocks and her porridge.

After my frequent naps, I find myself waking up and wondering about my life. Some of the things on my mind are as follows:

• why the dog gets fed before I do -- this is patently unfair


• why my human mother keeps making up ridiculous names for me, such as "Mango"


• why, despite myself, I actually respond to the name Mango


• what happens when the humans leave the house


• whether the humans realize that I bite the dog's ears when they leave the house for more than an hour


• what they would do if they knew

It's time for me to snooze a bit. I had a bit of excitement this weekend when my second human mom came for a visit. As you may recall, I have had THREE of them. I cannot tell you how nice it was to see her again or how much I enjoyed letting my thick, stick-to-you fur get all over the dark dress she was wearing. I didn't exactly LMAO over it, but it's kind of fun seeing people get all frantic and wipe their hands all over their clothes after handling me. One of life's little joys.

In my next post, I'll tell all about how I was terrorized and had to hide for 3 days.