… or until Google goes belly up.

Humans cannot be trusted.

From morning to night, he stalks, harasses and generally terrorizes me. I stretch out for an afternoon nap and suddenly, I am brutally and viciously assaulted with no warning. I take time out from my busy schedule for a quick bite, only to find the interloper with his head in my food bowl or, even worse, the bowl completely empty.

Kittens cannot be trusted.

So I was walking through the kitchen one day, headed to the sofa for a quick siesta. Just as I passed the carton of water bottles, the little devil leapt from hiding and attacked. I felt the razor-sharp teeth sink into my ankle.

Something snapped. I had simply had enough.

I let the little bugger survive. My outburst bought me about 15 minutes of peace. I will let you know how things turn out… right now, I just need a nap.

Oh yeah, the Humans have named him “Jasper.”

Not much going on around here… the Big Guy’s biggest goldfish, Bait, died after living over nine long years.  The Big Guy, the Girl Who Feeds Me and the Girl With Catpan Duty had a little burial ceremony in the vacant lot across the street, which was a little weird.

Oh well…. time for a nap.

Yes, I sleep in a pink house. I explained that in my previous post. And while it is also true that I play with dolls (actually, doll parts), there is a manly explanation.

The Girl With Catpan Duty has a large box of “Polly Pockets” stuff. You know, that’s the little rubbery doll with the little rubbery clothing and the little rubbery accessories. TGWCD has a ton of PPP. (That’s “Polly Pocket Paraphernalia” for the uneducated.)

Heaven help me, I love that squishy stuff. I sneak into the box at night and take out little rubbery coats and little rubbery dresses and little rubbery pocketbooks and take them downstairs to play. If I bat one underneath the sofa, I just go get another. I can chase a little rubbery raincoat around the house for hours.

As you can see, I play with Pollys purely for the exercise.

Right now, I am sitting right in front of him, slowly licking various body parts (my own; he’s nasty) between paragraphs.

In recent days, I have caught a little grief for the style and color of my sleeping quarters. First of all, don’t worry about it. Second, only a cat who is confident in his masculinity could make such a bold statement. Sissies and little girls may be troubled by my colorful digs, but not I. I sleep well, my friend.

No, I am not sensitive about it. The place is roomy and quiet. But I am perplexed by pampered pusses who pontificate profusely from their padded, store-bought “Walmart Special” about my perfectly fine, pink home. 

So today is chore day. That’s when the Humans band together to help me get the place tidied up. Conveniently, the Girl Who Feeds Me and the Little Girl With Catpan Duty are no where to be found… off visiting with relatives or something.

So that leaves me with The Big Guy and The Boss. Quite honestly, those two are practically useless. While I have been keeping the laundering process going and preventing dust from landing on the computer monitor, The Big Guy has been playing on the computer. Non-stop. In his pajamas. Unshaved. Meanwhile, The Boss has played video games all day. In her pajamas. Unshaved.

Useless Humans. Completely useless. How I carry this burden is beyond understanding.

I came through my surgery this morning without a hitch. I ought to spare you the gory details, but that’s not my style…

One moment, I was sitting there wondering why the table was so cold; the next thing I know, I was asleep. When I awoke, my `hoo hahs` were gone and I was as sore as hell.

There. I said it. In the words of a Great American Human, “That’s all I have to say about that.”

The Big Guy said he was going to get me fixed but, I swear, I think that there was just more damage done. I couldn’t walk straight for several hours.

I am doing just fine now… didn’t even need any meds for the pain `cause, you know, catnip is for losers. (No, those pills are for a little intestinal malady that flared up a few days ago.) Had myself a big ol` bowl of food, too, since I hadn’t eaten a thing since last  night.

I am supposed to get plenty of bed rest and engage in no strenuous activity for a week. I got these silly Humans hauling me up and down the stairs! Life is good.

I am wandering the hallways and yowling. I want to go outside, but do not know why. I sit on the bathroom counter and stare at the walls. I attack anything that moves… usually, the Girl Who Feeds Me. An involuntary cat toy, she has become. I climb on the furniture… I crawl under the furniture. I bite the furniture! Go figure…

I really have hit bottom, and here’s how bad it is…. I sneak into the bedroom of the Girl Who Has Catpan Duty and steal her “Polly Pocket” doll accessories… you know, the squishy little rubber hats and dresses and pocketbooks? I bring them downstairs to the slick kitchen floor and bat them around until the GWHCD takes them away.

Egad! A “manly man” like me…. reduced to playing with dolls! I am so ashamed…. and yet, weirdly excited.

Oh yeah…. and sometimes, I have gas.

The Big Guy has taken away the food bowl. The countdown has begun. Say a prayer for me, okay?

Actually, the Big Guy opened the garage door while he, the Girl With Catpan Duty and the Girl Who Feeds Me (Occasionally) played with piles of cat toys. I opted to stay inside because, honestly, it looked like a hot, janky mess out there.

Is there such thing as a “cold janky mess,” ’cause it was a bit nippy out there.

I am just a couple of days away from my major surgery. I really have no idea what to expect. The Big Guy says that he is taking me to get “fixed.” I didn’t know that I was broken.

The Girl With Catpan Duty concerned me a bit with a comment that I overheard yesterday: “If they cut it off, will he still be able to pee?”

I don’t know what’s getting cut off… if anything… but I better be able to do everything afterward that I can do now. Otherwise, I will not be happy.