I've been humiliated, mocked, and violated!

 

 

I was minding my own business today, lying on the computer desk with my svelte derrière just lightly touching the keyboard while my Human Mom #3 checked her email, when suddenly, I heard her gasp. I stretched my 20-lb frame, stood up, and looked at the screen , and what did I see?  A picture of myself wearing a banana suit! Worse, it even had the word "BANANA" emblazoned on it!

 

This picture dates from several years ago when I was younger and more trusting of the people with whom I lived in Brooklyn,  and had no idea that anyone would  take such a compromising shot of me.  When my caretaker slipped that outfit on me, I did what any cat with any dignity whatsoever would do, as you can see in the picture  ... I turned my head away and said to myself, "This can't be happening to me! If I look away, maybe no one will notice that I'm decked out in a banana suit."

 

Over the years, I outgrew the suit, and eventually forgot about the most humiliating moment of my life.  Maybe some of my readers have taken pictures of themselves in a compromising situation and might understand how I feel about this betrayal... my photo posted on the facebook page  of a person who has thousands of friends!

 

What's next, banana jokes? Don't even think about it!

 

Why do bananas wear suntan lotion?
A: Because they peel!

Q: What is Beethoven's favorite fruit?
A: (sing to the tune of 5th symphony): Banana..na....! Banana..na....!

Q: What do you call two banana skins?
A: A pair of slippers

  I am going to try to salvage my dignity and move forward, but I have a warning for the little lady who posted such a cruel, mocking photo of me... It may take some time, but you will regret the pain and humilation you have caused me today. I happen to know that there is a red M &M costume up in the attic of your childhood home, and  you might just find yourself bound with duct tape &  wearing that suit one of these days. Rest assured that when that happens, YOUR picture will be posted on my facebook page!

 

 

 



Of my lady love and nature's creatures...

A few thoughts from yours truly as I contemplate the departure of my beloved Mom #2, who came, conquered my heart once again, and left me for the big city.   She is the love of my life, the cream in my coffee, and the closest to Mother Teresa that there is in this world since it was she who saved my life 5 years ago when I was dispossessed. I had a wonderful weekend with her and loved every minute of cuddling and being petted. I love the way she takes off her gazillion bracelets and rings and spreads them out on the floor for me to admire. It's the rush that a bargain shopper feels when he goes to Paris and sees the Moroccans spreading their wares on a cheap sheet near the Eiffel Tower.  It's like being in heaven to be with her. Or at a flea market, especially when she spreads  her stuff out on the kitchen table. I just melt when she does that!  My dream is to take on of those tempting shiny objects and hide it somewhere that only I can access. I've been hoping for a bracelet.

 

 

I apologize for not wearing an ascot and looking more formal as I prepare this post, but it's late and I've had a hard couple of days. My paws were trembling too much to bother with accessories. Yesterday, as I was sunning myself in the breezeway, keeping an eye on the front of the house, totally minding my own business, 8 huge turkeys came wandering into my view. I was frozen by fear, unable to move away, so I played "Statues" with my not-so-bright  bro Leo, who was quaking next to me.  He was convinced that they had come to kill us, an idea that seemed to have some credibility as we watched the tribe peck at the plants near the door and head toward us.  Closer and closer they came, truly ugly creatures with razor-sharp beaks and beady eyes. Killer eyes... The eyes of a band of rogue killers...

Could they try to squeeze through the mail slot and pull off a Santa-style invasion?  As it turned out, all they were interested in was passing under the fence to feed at the bird feeder, which was a great source of entertainment. Bunch of wimps!  Still, they left me shaky.

I turned to face the deck, always a safe bet for  birdwatching, and catching up with the myriad of other critters out there... easy to spot squirrels, butterflies, chimpmunks and hummingbirds... a truly sylvan setting.  As I gazed at the birds doing their kamikaze diving routines over the deck, I suddenly realized that they weren't just showing off for my benefit-- they were fleeing the scene, and fast.  I stood on my hind paws to see what there was to see, and almost croaked to see a hawk flying over the deck. I was convinced that the turkeys had done some recon and had sent him for me.  After all, a feline such as I would make a very taste appetizer for a huge hawk, especially my flank meat.

I admit to screeching in fear and running for the kitchen, only to run into my human mom, who scooped me up and noted that my fur was on end and my tail was about 5 times its normal thickness.  Fear will do that to you.  Kind of the opposite of  how cold water affects the human male. "What's the matter, Nico, are you scared?" she crooned as she brought me into the living room.  I snuggled under her armpit and tried to hide. Human Dad went out to the breezeway to see what was going on and closed the slider.  

I was safe! I would live another day!

But I'm still a bit scared.  I hope you'll all respect me after this confession.

Wishing and waiting

The love of my life is winging her way to see me, coming all the way from Dhaka, Bangladesh.   I am so incredibly happy and have all kinds of plans for my lady love, my beloved Fur Butt. 

I want her to know that I will do forbidden, frowned upon things while waiting for her to arrive, such as:

• flying through the air to land on the sofa  to gaze out the window while waiting to catch a first glimpse of her
• rubbing up against her freshly washed comforter to leave my essence
• lounging on the dining room table to peek out the dining room window once I hear her walking to the door

I look in her room and imagine our reunion, just knowing she'll let me  snuggle with her.  I've been deliberately NOT grooming myself too much so that my fur will have a better chance of staying on her suitcase and clothes, thus bringing a piece of ME with her when she leaves. 

 I've dragged my special "love blanket" into her room and will share it with her throughout her stay. I have developed a habit of kneading the blanket, biting it while doing so, and have managed to move it from the family room sofa, all the way up the stairs, through the main floor rooms, and up the staircase to her bedroom.  My HM finally cut a piece of the blanket that would be easier for me to transport.  She's pretty smart for a mere human.

My beloved's  mom  (Mom #3) found a nice song about coming home and has been playing it for me.  It brings tears to my luminous, almond-shaped eyes, contributing to my phenomenal appearance.  I've been dancing to it and have to say I have quite the moves.

I can't wait, just one more day!

A happy day!

Today is a happy happy day for me because I got a message from my Mom #2 telling me I'm still the king of her heart. My very far away Mom, my divine Fur Butt...

Now I can hold my handsome head up high, knowing that I'm still #1. I looked at myself in the mirror shortly after reading  those loving words and as I admired the brilliant white fur covering my muscled chest, the way my eyes shine with good health and my gorgeous profile, I thought to myself:

That made my day.  And when the man came to the house to fix something in the kitchen today, as I walked  up to him and rubbed my face against his leg to let him know that I was there, ready to be admired, he said, "Wow, she's a beautiful cat! What's her name? Come here, sweetheart!   What's her name? If she were my cat, I'd call  her Honey because she's the color of honey."  Although I could have been offended about being mistaken for a girl, I simply purred, knowing that I've still got what it takes!

I love Mom #2 and am sorry for being petty and jealous. It's so beneath me because I am a superior, pulchritudinous, divinely handsome  guy, and I'm not the only one who knows it! 

Yes, just call me

Make that purr-fect!

fb= formerly beloved

I found out recently that I have been replaced. My second mom (Fur Butt) has been posting on facebook about the new love of her life, a kitten who apparently has taken up a huge piece of her heart that formerly belonged to me alone.

This is my new replacement, the new kid in town. Hard to tell, but word has it he /she is "adorable" and "so cute."  I'd like to think that any cat who takes my place would be exceptionally splendid.

 

 

This is me: waiting at the door for "Fur Butt" to come home to me.  I'm not being cuddled by her, nor do I have the luxury of hanging out with her in her bed.  All I get to do is lie on her bed with my catbro, Leo while she bestows affection on someone else.

 

 

I'll just do what I've always done : wait, and wait, and wait for Mom #2 to come home and hopefully come to her senses and start posting zillions of shots of me in all my glory so that her many fb friends can "like" all of them.  By the way, "fb" doesn't mean "Fur Butt," but it can mean a lot of things. In my case it means "Formerly Beloved."



 



I may need help!

 It's going to happen again!   I can just feel it

and am panicking! 

For weeks I was shut up in a locked room with the bare minium of food and a bowl of water while the terrible sounds came closer and closer from outside the door.

 

  My fellow prisoner, Leo, and I could smell the presence of a man and some weird kind of chemicals, which I now understand was paint, but at the time believed to be chemical war fare.  My cellmate and I were released each evening,  allowed to move freely around the house, then forced into one of two areas of internment in the morning.

 

 One location was in the dungeon below the first floor while the other  lock-up was a floor below the attic.  It was my adored and adorable H. mom who rescued me each day, and my (I have no adjectives to describe this guy) H. dad who was the jailer each morning.  Although he made some reference to "it's to keep you guys safe" and other such absurdities as he locked us in, Leo and I weren't buying it, and made every effort to avoid capture.  How he figured out that we were hiding under one of the beds is beyond me, but in every situation there is someone you can depend on and someone who rats you out. In my case it was Leo, who could not resist coming out from under the bed when H. dad made noises by shaking a package of cat treats as he eerily chanted our names.  Of course, I had to follow since I am Leo's protector. Sometimes, Leo's a bit of an imbecile, the poor doltish oaf.

 

Now it's happening again!  I can see things being moved, eventually disappearing, and know that the worst is near.   I don't know when or why, and can only compare it to one of my H. dad's favorite shows, Under the Dome. 

 

More later... I'm being observed...

 



I was violated !

Anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that  in addition to my  unheard of intelligence and loving nature, I am an amazingly pristine cat. I clean myself all day long, and my white fur is so white that you'd need to wear sunglasses if you stared at me for too long.  I smell as beautiful and sweet as a rose, and believe me when I tell you that the lady cats who come up to the breezeway and deck  doors to gaze at me while I'm sunning myself, well... shall I say they have no complaints whatsoever.

And yet... and yet... something happened recently that has assalted my ego, wounding me to the quick, whatever that means.  I had a moment when I didn't feel like the most perfect, handsome, wonderful, amazing cat on the planet, and that stung me for a nanosecond.

Here's what happened:
I was lounging on my human parents' bed the other night, enjoying the coolness of the room and the hum of the air conditioner, when my human mom came into the room to get ready to join me for bed. I like to be the first male creature in the room at night, by the way. I got up to nuzzle her hand to reward her for joining me, when all of a sudden she let out a shriek that blasted my delicate ears, frightening me so much that my heart started pounding like a jackhammer.  Before I could run away, she grabbed me, scooped me up, and headed for the bathroom where I was --- I must state it clearly although it is shameful--- violated. Yes, violated!  She wiped my "special private behind place" with a WIPE, released me, and then  took a soapy cloth into the bedroom. 

 I had no idea what kind of perverse stuff was going to follow, so I ran to the closet and peeked from behind the door to see what she was up to.

Muttering to herself and saying quite unflattering things about me, she wiped at an area of the white comforter, then called my human dad to come and see what  "the damned cat" had done.  I had no idea what her problem was, but soon found out that she had spotted a teenie tiny area where my bum had allegedly left a mark.

From that day, I have been assaulted with a wipe everytime I go into that bedroom. You might think I would avoid their bed after that cat-astrophe, but the thing is, the bed is very comfy and I look especially handsome while lying on that white comforter, which sets off my orangy gingery fur, making me look like an angel on a cloud. So, although I was violated, I have to forgive if I want to continue living the high life. Besides, on the package of Cattonelle wipes, I saw a picture of a puppy, so it's obviously a new invention meant for both cats as well as dogs, and in that case, I'll allow it. 

What's for dinner?

One of my favorite things to do is to watch my human mom prepare dinner. Oh, the scents that tantalize me! Chicken! Cheese! and things I cannot name because I am, after all, a cat with a limited knowledge of things culinary.  The best place to observe is the kitchen counter, but for some reason I am banned from that location, so I do the best I can given the situation.  I will add that when I have taken my rightful place on the counter in the past, I have been shooed away in a most agressive manner, resulting in my having to dive bomb to the floor in a most undignified fashion to avoid being shoved off.

Using my handsome head, I nudge a chair away from the kitchen table, turning it so that it faces the counter. Next, I stretch myself up and hang over the back of the chair, which gives me a dynamite view of the goings-on.  I manage to paste a (fake) pitiful expression on my face, one that would make the average person believe that I haven't been fed in months, but strangely, my human mom doesn't fall for it right away.  A few loud meows later, I can usually depend on getting a scrap of something. Victory is mine!  If my human dad is at the counter, I don't even have to do anything, since he recognizes my divine right to sample whatever he's working on.

 

Once it's time for dinner, I jump off the chair and observe until the time is right.  I act innocent, pretending to know "my place" while my mom sets the table.  The innocent act is key and cannot be underestimated. Once the plates are set, it's time to make my move.  I jump onto the table. After all, it IS a family dinner, n'est-ce pas?

It's crucial to my success to makes sure my derrière doesn't actually touch one of the plates by accident, and equally important to make sure that no one is watching. I prefer the element of surprise, which occurs when my mom turns away from the stove to bring the food to the table. I am nothing if not an optimist, totally believing that I will be welcomed to share the meal.

 

I regret to inform you that as of this writing, my record for remaining on the table is only 3 seconds. I am immediately forced to vacate the area, and in what can only be described as the most insulting act I have ever observed,  the place settings are removed, put into the dishwasher, and new settings are placed on the table.  What?? Do I have leprosy?  Bubonic plague?

 

 It is made clear that I am expected to loll on the floor while my human parents dine together. I ought to walk away and sulk, but the prospect of having a tidbit tossed to me is too strong to ignore, so I stay and put on the cat act... yeah, I'll pretend I'm " just a cat" and play into this game of lying on the floor watching you guys eat, yadayadayada!  But both they and I know that once the meal is done, there will be a tidbit toss!

 

 

Yes, I WILL be the winner!

 

 







I'm a snuggler

One of my favorite things to do is to get under the corner of any blanket that my human family might use to keep warm and to share the warmth with them.  I particularly like it when I can peek at them and have just my handsome head showing.

Not only do I get warm, but it is my personal mission to keep them warm as well, and my deluxe body does the job.  I ought to do this professionally!

Go ahead, admit it...I am really cute, aren't I?

Heartbreak and revenge

She's beautiful, sophisticated, educated, and saved me when I needed saving.  No words can describe my second mom, whose role has evolved to that of big sister and mentor.

However, I recently received word that after my last posting, she had the audacity to send the following comment to my blogmaster:
"I'm going to call him Meat Butt from now on."

This is the person of whom I speak, the one who has disrespected me beyond anything a civilized person could possibly understand. And yet I love her more than anything. Any cat would want to have her in his corner. Here she is in all her glory.


 

How can I reconcile this hurtful insult and my desire to strike back with my peaceful way of life???? I believe I have a plan!

She loves to wear black and looks great in it, so I'll just wait for her next visit. She tends to leave her open suitcase on the bed or floor, just filled with beautiful clothing that I plan to COVER with my beautiful, wiry, hard to remove fur.

I believe I'll call her Fur Butt from now on.

New addition

Hello, everyone!

I am ashamed to admit that I've been very lax about posting new stuff in my blog. I could make up a dozen reasons why that happened, but all I really need to do is remind you of the name of the blog, MY CAT IS INSANE and you'll be reminded that I can't be held to any real standard of behavior.

A lot has happened since my last post. My housemate, Shelby, passed away and I missed her a lot. That was probably the main reason for being inactive.  Then to my surprise and great joy, I got a new housemate, brother, and soul mate, Leo.  He's of the same species as I am. Feline to the bone.

As you can well imagine, as lonely as I was, and as much as I needed someone to hang around with, I was incensed over having an intruder in my home!  I don't recall being asked if I wanted to share my life with another creature, yet there he was and darn it, did he win my heart as soon as I got a whiff of him!  He looks a bit like me, beige and white. Well,  I USED TO be beige and white when I was living in NY, but that was because the girls I lived with didn't always feed me cat food. I was given real tuna, God did I love those two babes!  But once I got my new home with the mom and dad of the babe who cared for me by herself-- I called her "Photo Babe" without her actually ever knowing that, well, I'm getting lost here. 

Ok, got my groove back... Once I was brought to my new and permanent home, my color started to change to a rich orange. It was all diet related.  I could hear the humans talking about me-- after all, it's always about me since I am quite cool-- and it sounded as if they wanted to change my name.  Cinnamon was mentioned, along with Marmalade (are you KIDDING me??), Ginger, and Caramel. Lucky for them I didn't bite them senseless over that misdemeanor.  I am clearly male and muy macho, so all those frumpy names just wouldn't cut it with me.

Anyway, one day, little Leo arrived at my house.  They locked him into a room all by himself to "acclimate" him - whatever that means- but we two dudes with our special cat lingo, were communicating through the door and worked out an agreement. I wouldn't crush him with my meaty butt if he would promise not to scratch me in the eye.  And so the door was opened. I fell in love with my little bro at first glance.  Did he ever smell good!  We chased each other around the house; he could hide in places where I couldn't even squeeze my head through-- and of course, he'd jump out to attack me.

I'm sorry to say neither of us kept our word. I did pin him down with my substantially large body, but it was only to lick his face and clean him up a bit,  and he did scratch me in the eye, sending me to the doctor in the torture chamber carrier.  But that's in the past and now we are cuddle mates.  I love him and having a  brother is the best, although I feel as if I'm his dad, since he looks up to me in a big way.  He's the best of everything life has to offer: brother, baby, buddy, and partner.

 

More on Leo later, along with some pics.