31 March 2007.  Impy Again!  Once again, Mom brought Impy in here and made much of him.  I have to say, I'm not as jealous today as I was yesterday.  Mom spent a lot of time with me last night and then again this morning.  We went for TWO walks yesterday too.  Maybe she's trying to mollify me.  If so, I think it's working.  Still, Impy's looking downright happy all of a sudden. 

Oh, and those little plant things are starting to grow.  I think there must be a hundred little green thingies popping up out of those dirt thingies.  Maybe I should eat them now.  I'll ponder that.  I'd probably get in trouble, but it might be worth it.  Last year, the outside cats were inside when Mom had them growing in here, and Chip ran right through the trays a few times.  He clobbered a whole bunch of those green thingie plants and Mom didn't even yell at him.  Something tells me, if I did it, I'd get in trouble and I'd be asking in here, once again, "WHERE'S THE JUSTICE?"  I think I'll keep my paws off those things for now.

30 March 2007.  Today, Mom brought that darned Impy out here for a while.  She held him and cuddled him and made a big fuss over him, and he ate it up.  And then he looked at me.  I know that look.  It's the kitty equivalent of "nah nah nah nah nah."  I'm starting to dislike that cat.

29 March 2007.  Today is the first day I haven't been able to chase Impy around.  I'm bummed.  I was getting used to having him to knock around.  Mom says he's hiding in the shower in there.  What a dummy.

28 March 2007.  Wimpy Impy Has Moved!  Today, Mom put Wimpy Impy in the apartment.  I'd been trying to tell her that he'd been doing something bad in that closet of his, but she wouldn't listen.  Well, her nose finally told her what I'd been trying to tell her all week.  And she moved him.  He lives in the apartment now.  I can't believe it.  He's bad and he gets his own place?  Where's the justice?

26 March 2007.  Yeah, It's Pretty Bad.  I jumped Impy again today, right in his closet.  I told him he'd better straighten up.  But he just blinked at me.  I don't even know what that means.

25 March 2007.  Wimpy Impy is Being BAD!  I smell something bad in Impy's closet.  Mom won't listen to me.  I think her sniffer must not be working.   

24 March 2007.  Walks!  Today I finally got out for a walk again.  It was a dandy!  We went all around the house and I got to poke in the stone pile.  Flop tells me that's a good place to find snakes.  Flop says they wriggle and feel funny at first, but he likes playing with them.  He also told me Chip hunts birds and Gulliver catches moles.  I realized, then, there's a gap in the hunting division of labor.  No one's going after mice!  And that's my specialty.  So I have to work on Mom about letting me out to take care of that situation.  Unbelievable.

22 March 2007.  Today Mom got out all that stuff for making plants.  She has these two shelving units and she puts trays and trays of dirt thingies in there with lights on them.  Green plants grow and then she moves them outside later.  All I know is, once they go out in front, she spends a lot of time out there, messing with them.  I see big things growing on them late in the summer.  She calls them vegetables.  I tried a couple of them last year, but as far as I can tell, the only ones worth anything are the taters.  After all, we have the Kitty Tater Cup to consider.  I'll keep you posted on this thing in front she calls a garden.  It's interesting, at least.  And when I get out, I can run around in there and hide when those plants are tall.

20 March 2007.  We Had  Visitor.  Today some guy came over.  He messed with me some and he and Mom talked.  I didn't get a single hug from the guy and I'm trying to figure out why.  Could it be my breath?  Gosh, I hope not.  Maybe he just has lousy taste.  After all, what reasonable human could resist such a great guy like me?  Still, I think I'm going to work on my people skills a bit.

19 March 2007 Mongo Came For a Visit. Mongo came for a visit today. It turns out, he came to visit Lucky. Lucky's still living in the bathroom. I guess you could say that bathroom is the hospital here. Mongo has spent time in there when he's been hurt. So has Chip, Flop and even I had to do a few days in there. Wimpy Impy has done some time in there too, come to think of it. Well, anyway, today was visitor's day, I guess. Mongo came in and Mom took him into the hospital room to visit Lucky for a while. When he came out, he said Lucky looks pretty good. But he says that yellow cat will have to spend another couple of weeks in there. Man, I'd go nuts if I were stuck in there for that long. Lucky's one tough cat!

18 March 2007 Yep, White Stuff, I'm Stuck! Yesterday, that white stuff fell all day long. It just went on and on and on, and now I can't go out. I'm bummed. I'd even be willing to put up with that horrible harness if I could get a few minutes outside, but it looks pretty cold out there. I think I'll stay in front of the toasty box for now.

17 March 2007 First Rain, Then White Stuff. I can't say I understand it, but it rained a few hours, then white stuff started to fall in great big gobs. It was all clumpy. And it's piling up out th ere. It's pretty, but I have a feeling I'm stuck inside for a while again.

16 March 2007 Bugs! Those chunks Mom puts in the toasty boxes come with funky bugs inside. The bugs are skinny little brats and when they escape the chunks, they fly all over the place. I've tried to catch them but they're too fast and they flop around in the air. Bartholomew tried to catch a few of them, but so far, no luck. Those guys bug me. BUG ME!! Get it? HAAAAHAAAAHAAAAAAAA. Sometimes I crack myself up.

14 March 2007 I Took a Break! The white stuff disappeared and it got warmer out. So I've been out and about, playing, sniffing, rolling on the rocks and in the dirt, and just generally making a nuisance of myself. I'm especially good at the nuisance stuff. Hey, I have skills, you know. Anyway, I have been having fun! Mom's messing around with her stone again while it's warm outside. Essentially, she takes these tools and whacks the rock and chunks fall off. Then she hits the rock more gently until cool shapes come out. She calls it "sculpting." I think I see some mice coming out in that rock! I just can't imagine them tasting very good. They look way too crunchy.

10 March 2007 Remembering Uncle Stuart. Today, Mom lit a candle. She says it's for Uncle Stuart. I never met him, but apparently, he was her brother. Today he would have been 57 years old. I didn't know humans lived that long. Anyway, Uncle Stuart died in a bad accident. Mom says he was a good guy and he taught high school kids. A teacher? I guess he was special. Wish I'd known him. RIP, Uncle Stuart.

9 March 2007 Lucky's Feeling a Bit Better. Last night, I had a chance to chat with Lucky some more. He says he's feeling a bit better. I got Mom to leave the light on for him and he says staying in the bathroom's not nearly as bad when he can see the mess he's causing in there. It gives him something to laugh about. I love that. Every time Mom goes in there, she comes out shaking her head. On another note, though, this morning, Mom was saying Lucky's drinking a lot of water. She started talking about whether he might have diabetes. Oh man, that would be a bummer for Lucky. I hope he's just really thirsty, or dumping the water like he's dumping everything else. I can't believe I'm rooting for a cat who isn't even part of the family. Last I heard, he was only here until he heals, and then he's going back next door. But I'm going to hedge my bets. He could be my friend!

8 March 2007 I've Lost Control! So, I have Smelly Cat -- er -- Lucky living in the bathroom here. All night long, he meowed. I tried to administer therapy in the middle of the night. It went sort of like this: Me: "What is your PROBLEM?" Lucky: "It's dark in here." Me: "You mean Mom turned out the light in there?" Lucky: "Yeah, and I hate it." Me: "Bummer." Lucky: "Can you help me out?" Me: "I have no idea how to open the door!" That's when it hit me. I'm really quite helpless in so many ways. I'm a prisoner in this living space, with hardly any control. How did this happen? Adding insult to injury, Wimpy Impy got brave and came out during the night. He tucked himself right behind the toasty box in the room where we all sleep most of the time. I couldn't believe it. That was bad. But then Mom got up in the morning and saw him. She got all gushy. "Oh, Wimpy Impy, it's sooooooo good to see you, lil pud.. You're so brave, lil Impy. I'm so glad you came out to be with the rest of the family." Man, I think I'm gonna barf.

7 March 2007 Addendum Whitman the Fuzzball! As I suspected, Mom was plotting to take me out in the box on wheels again. It was awful, as usual. But at least I went to see Dr. Clark, who really likes me. He says I'm doing great. I like that. Well, while I was there, I made a new friend. He's a 'golden retriever' pup named Whitman. He's really cute and he's all fuzzy and roly poly. He seemed polite enough, though he wasn't thrilled to be stuck in a harness. Buddy, I feel your pain. I hate my harness. Anyway, Whitman's all right. I like him a lot. And though I outweigh him by two pounds right now, something tells me that won't last long. He looks like he'll get really big. Hey Whitman, just don't eat any cats when you grow up, okay? Good to meet you, buddy.

7 March 2007 This Revolving Door. It's been crazy here with cats coming and going. I was right. Maggie went out in the box on wheels yesterday. While Mom was gone with her, I met Smelly Cat under the door. Turns out, that cat is either a comedian or a candidate for an O'Henry story. He claims his name is "Lucky." This, from a guy with a bloody head and mangled leg. Man, if he's lucky, I'm living large in heaven. Hmm, maybe I shouldn't complain so much. Nah. Oh yeah. Maggie is okay but the doc put her on new pills. Mom just made up a big chart to cover all the medications she has to give everyone. Smelly Cat, er, Lucky, says he has to get this horrible-tasting stuff once a day for ten to twenty days. Oh man, I feel for that guy. But he says his head is already feeling better. Seems like a nice enough guy. He'll bear watching.

6 March 2007 Smelly Cat. Long-time readers of my blog know that my mom makes horrible noises when she's in the rain box. She calls it 'singing.' Well, awhile ago, I heard another human on the picture box 'singing' something called "Smelly Cat." I didn't even realize Smelly Cat was a real cat, and I certainly never dreamed he'd be moving in with us. But there it is. He's here. How could I be so wrong? Nuther cat. This one's yellow and he stinks. Mom says he has bad boo boos and that's what stinks. So she's taken him in. I swear, this place is like some crazy cat hotel. Every time I turn around, there's a new cat here. Come to think of it, I was the new cat a couple of years ago. And I've already made it to number one here! At least, I think I'm number one here. Gosh, I sure hope so. Hey, Mom, I'm number one, right? Mom, aren't I number one? MOM! She's not answering. That can't be good. Rut row.

5 March 2007 Something's Wrong With Maggie. Maggie's having a hard time keeping her butt under control. I'm not talking about doing bad things, here. I mean her back legs aren't working right. I have this funny feeling she'll be taking a ride in that box on wheels sometime really soon. Man, I hope she's okay. I overheard Mom plotting to take me out in that contraption again really soon. I'm NOT looking forward to that. I wonder when that will happen. I'll have to prepare myself mentally. Meanwhile, I'll let you know what happens with Maggie.

4 March 2007 Looks Like It's Gardening Time Again. Mom's been getting out her seed stuff again. This means fun time in the living box is just around the corner. Last year, she had two big things of shelving with itty bitty plants. She started them with seeds. They grew into plants. Eventually she took them outside and stuck them in the ground, but not before some of us had a great time with them. We ran through the trays and smushed up a lot of those plants. Chip figured out how to use the tops of those things as hammocks until they busted and he fell inside...right onto the top trays. Scared the crud out of him, so he'd beat feat outta there in a hurry, wrecking even more of those plants. It was hysterical. My personal favorite was playing with the cords attached to the lights. Hey, they're just like ribbons. . . . Anyway, it's looking like we're going to get to have more fun this year. YIPPIIIEEEE!

3 March 2007 Ruling Over Absolutely Nothing. Mom went on a trip all day today. She left me in charge. IN CHARGE. My brain kicked into kitty overdrive as I contemplated all the possibilities. Off I went, to patrol the perimeter of our living box. Nothing tried to come in. No one tried to go out. I checked on all the other cats. Wimpy Impy slept in his closet. Maggie was on her usual pillow. Bartholomew, as always, occupied Mom's spot. They just slept all day! Snooze city. I had nothing to do as boss du jour. Disappointment weighed heavily on my kitty self. Being the boss isn't all it's cracked up to be and I learned an important lesson. When aspiring to a leadership role, make sure you have something other than boring cats to lead. Man, how could I have never realized how much those guys sleep? Good grief!

2 March 2007 SrA Antoinette Sherman, My New Friend It's not every day one gets to make a new friend. But recently, I've made the acquaintance of Antoinette Sherman. She's with the EMEDS, currently stationed in Kuwait. Now, some might think, 'ah, she's outside the battle zone so it's no biggie.' WRONG! This is truly a biggie. SrA Sherman is serving her country. The conditions aren't great yet she doesn't complain. She works her feet off over there and helps save lives. She's away from her family and friends, something a lot of us can't appreciate until we get lost in the woods and have to live on mice . . . . Right now, her unit is her family, but I'm proud to be her friend too. And as her friend, I snooped. I've discovered SrA Sherman loves chocolate and Crunch n Munch. Apparently, crackers and cheese-in-a-can make her pretty happy too. SrA Sherman, this is a shout-out to you! I hope you're doing well. There's a box of goodies enroute to you right now, and Mom and I just finished packing up another one--and this new one has your own box of crackers and some of that cheese-in-a-can stuff (along with LOTS of other goodies) in it. Of course, the requisite Crunch n Munch and chocolate are well represented in there too. It'll go out early next week. So watch for it. (By the way, I convinced Mom to put a summer sausage in this box too. I told her meat is an essential staple for me, so it's probably important to you. If not, trade for something good!) All the best! Your new buddy, Really Rude Rudy. (Oh, if you ever want to chat with me, just email me at ruderudy@shentel.net. I love chatting with our troops!)

1March 2007 Our Troops, Our Heroes. As many of you know, my life is a series of boxes. I came here in the dreaded box on wheels. I live in the big living box. Mom gets wet in the rain box. All the cats try to sleep closest to the toasty box. And then there's the noise box. It has a picture too--it changes all the time. Mostly, it's ugly furless people in the box, though occasionally I catch a glimpse of a cat or two. But I've been hearing a lot of those people in there talking about our troops lately. Now, I have some pretty strong opinions about a lot of things, but probably one of the strongest opinions I have is about our troops. They're our heroes. They make huge sacrifices and, frankly, I think a lot of people don't appreciate them very much. A shame, really, because if it weren't for our troops, all our lives would be a lot worse. I've heard some people dismiss our troops, saying they're all volunteers so they aren't heroes. Uh, helllllooooooooo. It's the volunteer--the one who understands the risks but assumes those risks anyway---who is the real hero. And so it is with our troops. They continue to serve with honor and dignity, not only in the face of the enemy but in the face of a lot of ungrateful people in this country who need to have their slurpy food taken away from them for a while so they can learn humility. I'm dedicating this month to our troops. Semper thankful, Really Rude Rudy.

28 February 2007 Oh, The Carnage! I'm stuck inside on a beautiful day. Mom says we'll be able to go out for a walk soon, but it will only last a little while. Chip and the other outside cats get to stay out all day, every day. And they have fun. Now, humans might take offense at some of what they do -- let's just say the mole population has been decimated over the past three years and sparrows and squirrels are finally wising up and staying in the trees where they belong. The fact is, we cats like to hunt. If you let your cat out, that cat will hunt. In ordinary parlance, that means they'll kill little furry critters and birds. I'm out of the hunting business since Mom took my claws out. Besides, the only thing worth hunting around here is Wimpy Impy and, as you know from the other day, he's armed. My nose still hurts. So I'm not killing off the furry people. The bottom line is this, people: IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE LITTLE FURRY PEOPLE KILLED, KEEP YOUR CATS INSIDE. There, it doesn't get any simpler than that, does it?

27 February 2007 I'm Wounded! So, yesterday, I was just sort of motoring around the house and I found Wimpy Impy under the bed. The lil pud was just sitting there and I saw my chance. I guess I just couldn't resist. I jumped the little grey fuzzball. And he got me good. I have a stripe on my nose and it hurts. I knew I was in trouble when I found out Mom had left his claws intact. I told her it wasn't fair but she wouldn't listen. She says I can be a real thug, whatever that means. Where's the justice? Meanwhile, today is my Uncle Law's birthday. Mom says he's a California guy, whatever that means. She also says he plays tennis. If that's anything like playing with a ribbon, Uncle Law must be pretty smart. Oh! And then I got news of a stock crash. I ran into the pantry but all the slurpy food looks okay. I don't know what that was all about. As long as the cat food stocks are fine, I'm fine...even with a striped nose. Hmmph. That fuzzball is gonna pay.

26 February 2007 Sgt Victor Howard! You're the Man! Some days, you get the bear. And some days, the bear gets you. A lot of folks in Afghanistan depend on Sgt Victor Howard to keep those big bad bears at bay! Sgt Howard is deployed there with the 4th bde, 82nd Airborne Division. AIRBORNE!!!! How cool is that? I hope you're taking care of business over there. I know I complain about silly things, but your sacrifices make my life a lot easier. Without you, I'm nothing, man. You know, I think that means you're a lot like my ribbon. That's awesome. I hold my ribbon in the highest regard. Shout-out to ya, Sgt. You're the man!

25 February 2007 More White Stuff! I got up this morning and found half a foot of that white stuff outside. That's a lot. Joey Bubba, my pen pal from Georgia, recently moved to Colorado. He says they get a lot of this stuff out there and he's having a hard time adjusting to it. But then, he never gets to go out for walkies like I do. Of course, that also means he's not subjected to humiliating harnesses and the like. But harness or not, I'm staying inside today in front of the toasty box. No walkies in this stuff. I've learned my lesson. By the way, Joey Bubba's dad apparently warned my Mom that this white stuff was on the way. I'm always the last to know. I feel another injustice rant coming on. I'm going back to bed.

24 February 2007 Why'd She Have to Change My Food? After I went in the box on wheels to see Dr. Clark, Mom started feeding me a new food. I looked on the bag and it says it's for urinary tract health. Go figure. They make stuff for everything these days. At first, the novelty of a new food enticed me. It's not bad. Of course, it's not great, either. Frankly, I prefer the old crunchies, and she has some of those in a bag, right in the kitchen. The outside cats still get to eat those. Lately, I find I can't help myself trying to get into that bag of old crunchies. Every time I try to chew a hole in there, though, Mom yells at me. Oh misery. There's something terribly unfair about all this. Injustice weighs heavily on my little kitty self. I have so few rights as it is. Now I have crunchies I don't want and I have to wear that stupid harness when I go out. [Oh, go ahead. Insert another kitty sigh here.] I do have some good news to report, however. Today, while on my walk outside, I saw Gulliver go skidding down a hill on his belly. He was tearing around, showing off and laughing at me because I was wearing the stupid harness and wham! He hit that ice and just slid right down the hill. I laughed my fool whiskers off! Oh yeah, that felt good.

23 February 2007 A Shout-Out to Sgt Marcus Cox Hi Marcus! I miss you and wish you all the best over there in Iraq. For those who don't know Marcus, he's the guy I originally met at that campout where I met Mom. I hopped into his lap while he was telling everyone stories about his prior tour in Iraq. Well, he's back over there. He's also done a tour in Afghanistan. Marcus helps save lives and we're all very proud of him. He really cares about what he's doing. Marcus is a hero! Hang in there, my friend!

22 February 2007 Finally, That Ice is Melting! I had a bad case of cabin fever. Mom wouldn't let me go outside on all that ice after my humiliating slide the other day. So I was stuck inside with the grey crowd. At least the outside cats have been coming inside for dinner, so I had a chance to mix it up from time to time. Well, today Mom took me out for a walk...with the harness. Frankly, I didn't care about the degrading nature of that thing. I wanted out and out we went. With that stupid thing on me, I couldn't get too far from Mom, but it was very nice to poke at grass and dirt and sniff something other than another cat's butt. I guess everything's a tradeoff, and a harness is better than being stuck inside all the time.

21 February 2007 My New Toy! I’ve discovered a new toy. It’s very light but has a hard outside, and it bends at one end. If I bite down, it goes flat. It’s a very smart toy and I’m having a blast with it. I can flip it in the air, and run with it in my mouth. I can chew it, knock it around, tuck it under things and poke it out again. The only thing I can’t do with it is get my Mom to throw it for me. She say straws are too light. So that’s what it is. A straw. Cool.

20 February 2007 The Harness. Mom brought that harness thing home. Some gift. Hmmph.

19 February 2007 I Fell Today -- Twice! Today Bartholomew got me good. It was most unexpected and the incident has me revising my tactics. Every morning, Mom puts a plate of baby food on the bed for Bartholomew and Maggie. I love that stuff, so I sort of hover (well, okay, I sidle up to them and intimidate them) until they leave. Then I claim the abandoned food. Well, Bartholomew jumped up on the stack of tubs where we all like to sleep. But he didn’t go to sleep. Instead, he watched . . . and waited. And when I was happily slurping Gerber chicken baby food, wham! He jumped me and rolled me right off the bed. And I truly mean ‘rolled.’ I did a 360. The only reasonably graceful part was that I’d managed to complete the roll as l I fell off the bed and landed on the floor, more or less on my feet. But I was utterly mortified. I keep underestimating that old cat. Memo to RRRFile: Bartholomew still has a lot of gas in that skinny old tank of his, along with almost sixteen years of tactical experience at his paw pads. I turn my back on him at my own peril. As if I hadn't suffered enough embarrassment, Mom took me for a walk around the house. I tried to jump up onto the platform where the screened porch is, but there was some of that ice stuff on the ledge and I slipped right off. And then, to make matters worse, my back feet slid out from under me as I came back down and I slid right down this hill on my tummy with my feet sticking out. Mom even laughed. It made my earlier humiliation look like a walk in the park. I may never be able to show my whiskers again!

18 February 2007 A Harness? Mom is thinking of getting me a harness. Now, I have no idea what a harness is, but if it’s a gift, I’m all for it! She says it would be good for when we have our walkies. I like my walkies, so this is sounding most promising. I wonder why she’s thinking of getting me a present. Time will tell. Hope I’ll be listening when it does! I’ll keep you posted.

17 February 2007 Strange People Were Here A Few Days Ago. The other day, some strange people came here. They went into my litter box room and moved everything around. One guy had to lie down on the floor so I figured he wanted to play. I grabbed my ribbon and ran in there. Uh, he didn’t want to play. Okay. I can live with that, but did he have to insult me? Called me pork chop, he did. At first, I thought he was offering me one, and I got all excited, because I love pork chops. It turned out, he thought I was the pork chop. He was there to fix that pipe that busted, so it’s probably a good thing I didn’t do something bad to him. Still, I was tempted . . . .

16 February 2007 A Change in Format. A reader, Annabelle, writes: "The Really Rude Rudy website is VERY CUTE! I don't know a lot about blogs, but one suggestion I might make is that the most current entries show up first. You could still keep the intro under the picture." Well, Annabelle, your suggestion is a real winner. I've worked hard the past two days to accomplish just what you've suggested. Thanks for your great idea. It's people like you who make this even more worthwhile. I just LOVE my readers!

15 February 2007 Wimpy Impy. A reader wrote yesterday, asking how Wimpy Impy was doing. Funny she should ask me that right now. It just so happens that that lil pud is doing better. He’s still living in the pantry, but he’s letting Mom pick him up more, and yesterday, he spent all day in the bed. I have to admit I was jealous when I saw Mom cuddling him, but I know he doesn’t get nearly as much hugging time as I do, so I need to be magnanimous about such things. Big word for a cat, huh? I jumped Wimpy Impy the other day, and he actually fought back. That’s when I found out he still has his claws. What’s up with that? So I asked Mom how come I got my claws taken out and he gets to keep his. She says I outweigh him by so much, and I’m so aggressive, that she’s leaving his claws alone for now. You know, I think that’s another way of saying she left his claws so he could clobber me. I don’t think I like the implications. I shall ponder this.

14 February 2007 Happy Valentine's Day! It’s Valentines Day. You should have something nice. So I’m going to give you some helpful advice. Good mice are real juicy. Make sure that they’re fat. They’ll slide down real easy and won’t choke your cat. Long ribbons are perfect for workouts and fun. Just flip them around and then watch your cat run. We love yummy crunchies but canned food's good too. So get some of each and your cat will thank you. Sometimes we make mischief. Try not to get mad. We’re just a bit clumsy. We’re not really bad. A warm place to sleep is a must for a cat. Add kitty massage and you just can’t top that. So treat your cat kindly. Engage him in play. Make sure he stays healthy and hug him each day. He’ll love you completely. He’ll make your heart soar. Who cares if he happens to barf on your floor? Forgive him. Remember, we’re rude, but sincere. And your life would be bleak if we cats weren’t here. Your cat is a best friend, a plaything, a bud. So cherish your friendship with your lil pud. All my love. Really Rude Rudy.

13 February 2007 My Visit With Dr. Clark. As many of you know, I have this thing about boxes on wheels. I hate them. I'm not sure why, actually. Mom says I was probably either dumped from one by my original family or I had a close call with one or something. I just know I hate them and I panic when I'm in one. But my doctors are very nice to me. They pet me on the head, and look in my eyes, and tell me I’m furry and all that stuff. Once they commented on my stumpy tail. I’m a bit self conscious about that, but they said it has a striking pattern on it. I believe that’s called “mollifying the cat.” Mom says she knew a horse vet down in Florida, Dr. Lyle, who used to say “always find some aspect of the animal to compliment, even if it’s just to say what a lovely tail he has.” Frankly, Dr. Clark doesn't patronize me. He's sincere. At my last visit, he said I was “wide." And that was completely truthful. I weighed in at 20.5 pounds that day. But yesterday, he said I looked "good," and I weighed in at 17.98 pounds. I’ve lost ten percent of my former self! Those walkies are having a good impact on me. Mom’s been telling me I look good, but now I know I do! I hate boxes on wheels. But I guess I had to go. Dr. Clark says I have a urinary tract infection. It's a bit awkward to discuss such things, but people need to be aware that we male cats are particularly susceptible to such things. Watch us closely, because if those crystals start forming inside, to quote Astro Jetson, "Rut Row." As it is, I got a shot and have to get pills for awhile. That's okay. Hopefully it'll make me better. Oh, it's been snowing and sleeting here all day. I'm so lucky to have toasty boxes! Bye for now.

12 February 2007 Not For the Squeamish. Okay, so there I was, in my litter box. I finish up and I realize Mom’s watching me. I don’t know about you, but I don’t appreciate an audience. Well, it went downhill from there. She started babbling about blood in my urine. Next thing I knew, she’d put plastic bags on top of my litter. Well, I had to get them dirty...my job is to christen every litter box each time it’s cleaned. Needless to say, with four boxes, I stay pretty busy. But today, she took my pee! She got one of those tubes that usually has a needle on the end of it and sucked up my pee inside. And that can mean only one thing. I’ll be going on a trip in the box on wheels really soon. I hate the box on wheels. I just hate it! I don't mind visiting my doctors. Dr. Clark and Dr. Kline are very cool and they're really good to me. Mom says they're very conscientious, whatever that means. I just wish I didn't need to ride in the box on wheels to get there. It's just awful. Uh oh, she has the box with holes. Looks like I'm about to get grabbed. I'll let you know how things go.

11 February 2007 It's Aunt Melanie’s Birthday. Today is my aunt’s birthday. I’d take her out to dinner or something, but she lives far away. She teaches kids. I’ve told Mom to tell her to teach cats instead, but she sticks with the kids. So Aunt Melanie, here are ten reasons cats are better than kids. 1. We rarely listen. Minimalism works best. 2. We sleep most of the day. 3. We eat out of a can and say thanks. 4. We cuddle better. 5. We don’t take up a lot of room. 6. We don’t need toilet paper. 7. We don’t need books. 8. We’re cute. Kids are furless ugly things. 9. We’re not picky about where we sleep. 10. We don’t need clothes. So Happy Birthday! Bet you’re thinking of switching to a cat school now, huh? Yeah, we’re great.

10 February 2007 Water, Water, Oops. Yesterday, we had a water mishap. I was almost overcome by water. A pipe burst here and it flooded all around two of my litter boxes. I was grateful Mom had strategically placed two other litter boxes elsewhere, so we were saved. It was especially bad because Mom was away until late in the afternoon. Man, was she surprised when she walked in! The good news is, there's a drain in that room, so the water never got higher than the tops of my feet. But that was high enough. I hated it. But Mom got things turned off and I guess we're okay now. Still, it was more than a little awful.

9 February 2007 A Shout-Out to My Friend, Lawan! I want to take this opportunity to say hi to my buddy Lawan. She's serving in the middle east, and I know she misses her friends and family. Well, for what it's worth, SSgt Lawan Williams, I think you're terrific! I know a lot of people are thinking of you all the time and we hope you and your buddies are doing well. Stay safe and come home to us soon!

8 February 2007 Obscene Amenities? Normally, I'm pretty apolitical. But I heard my Mom talking about a guy named Arkin who recently wrote that our troops have 'obscene amenities" over in the middle east. Uh, hate to burst your bubble, Arkboy, but some of our troops don't even have toilets. And some who have toilets don't have toilet seats. Now, I'm no expert, but I get clean litter and I have four (count em, FOUR) litter boxes. I figure I'm actually getting better amenities than our troops are getting over there. How do I know this? Because I helped my Mom pack up eight toilet seats a few weeks ago. Her writing group shipped them to some of our wonderful troops. Here's what I recommend, William Arkin of the Washington Post. YOU go use your toilet for a few weeks without the benefit of a toilet seat. At least you'd be a bit closer to what you write! You know, I hate getting wet. But you're already all wet, so you should be right at home. Hmmph.

\7 February 2007 Eight! It finally happened. Mom crammed all eight of us in here. Even Mongo. Mom's actually fairly smart about how she does this, but we still have some pressure points. Mongo gets the bathroom to himself when he comes inside. Mom said two nights in zero weather and snow about to fall was too much for him so in he came. Got his own litter box and everything. Meanwhile, Gulliver and I have been getting to know each other. We even have beds next to each other in front of the toasty box and we haven't spit or anything. Flop tried to use his old bed but discovered Wimpy Impy lives there now. And Chip just wants a revolving door. In and out, in and out. That kid's driving all of us nuts. Bartholomew and Maggie have the bed, but even Wimpy Impy is over there right now. I swear, it's the grey society there. Still, there's an air of sociability here that I find calming. All the outdoor cats went back out earlier, so it's just the grey cats and me inside and all is quiet. That white stuff outside is beautiful, especially on the mountains and the river. Life is good.

6 February 2007 What's a Darwin? Sometimes I have a hard time understanding my Mom. Today, for example, I was just being sociable. She was starting a fire in the toasty box in the living room and I hopped up on top while she was getting things going. I like to watch and listen when Mom starts lighting the fire because that toasty box can get mighty temperamental, and sometimes, when the fire won’t start, she says very colorful things. Well, today, when she saw me sitting on the toasty box, she started talking about Darwin. Now, I have no idea what a Darwin is, but whatever it is, it can’t be very flattering, because she was looking at me like I had bricks for brains. My brain may be no bigger than a walnut, but at least it’s not a brick. I do wish I understood humans better. [Insert kitty sigh here.]

5 February 2007 Some Humans Know How to Honor Cats. The Isle of Man has coins depicting cats. They’ve produced a new coin each year since something like 1988. So how come it’s not called the Isle of Cat? I swear, I’ll never understand humans. I want to applaud the Isle of Man. Their Gold Cat coin series is outstanding and truly deserving of praise, especially from cats. (Though, this year, they’re late with the coin! What’s going on? Time to get a move-on!) Last year’s Gold Cat coin was a real hit. It depicts three Exotic Shorthair kitties. They’re really cute. So what other kitties have graced their coins? 2005 Himalayan (A mom and two kitties.) 2004 Tonkinese (This is nice -- kitties playing.) 2003 Balinese (Nice, but they look a little stiff.) 2002 Bengal (I think she's guarding her kitty.) 2001 Somali (Cute kitties but I smell trouble.) 2000 Scottish Fold (Hey, a kitty with yarn ball.) 1999 British Blue (Cheeky Brit, taking a bath!) 1998 Birman (That cat scares me.) 1997 Long Hair Smoke (That one too.) 1996 Burmese (Make that three scary cats.) 1995 Turkish (Add another!) 1994 Japanese (That guy's interesting.) 1993 Maine Coon (He's bigger than I am!) 1992 Siamese (Too skinny for me.) 1991 Norwegian (Good bulk. I like him.) 1990 Alley Cat (I think they’re universal.) 1989 Persian (Here, Fluffy, Fluffy, Fluffy.) 1988 Manx (No tail, six toes. Weird. Really Weird) Next Year, I'm pushing for a Really Rude Rudy coin. I think I'd look good in gold.

4 February 2007 Dopey Me. I Thought We Had It Worked Out. Well, here we are, SEVEN cats in the house tonight. SEVEN. And I know it would be eight if Mongo had bothered to show up for dinner tonight. It's cold out there, and really windy. So everybody came running inside at dinnertime. Even Gulliver. Heck, Gulliver led the pack in the door. I thought we'd worked it out. I was in charge of the inside, and Gulliver would be in charge of the outside. But here he is, with his sorry self plunked right down in front of the toasty box, happy as a clam under water, with his brothers, Chip and Flop. Mom's even rearranging the furniture. She put another water bowl and litter box out here near the chunks of stuff that go in the toasty box. That's mostly for Maggie, who's afraid of her own shadow. She's all scared someone might bop her on the way to the litter box room, so she's been bad again. Okay, so I've sort of poked at her once or twice . . . a day. Anyway, I'm tempted to remind Gulliver about what's mine by strategically, but judiciously, applying my lovely essence throughout this living box. I'd do it, but Mom would be mighty upset, and might not let me talk to Joey-Bubba anymore. So I'll probably just go with plan B. Time to cough up a fur ball.

3 February 2007 My New Pen Pal. I have a new pen-pal from Georgia. His name is Joey-Bubba and he’s a good bit older and wiser than I am. He’s offered advice on how to deal with Mom. He says I have to learn to control her, rather than the other way around. It’s so hard though. She gets the toasty box warm, she brings in the slurpy food and crunchies, she cleans out my water bowl and filters my water, and she cleans out my litter boxes. My Mom says you should always negotiate from a position of power, but how can I do that when, as my adversary, she supplies everything I need? I mean, what if I push too hard and she cuts off my food or water? I figure she'll keep the toasty box going -- she likes it too much to quit. But the food and water could disappear. And what about my clean litter? I love digging in there. Joey-Bubba says at least the litter one is easy. He says I should just use the bed or the sofa and she’ll come around in a Georgia minute. Pssst. Question here. I’m ashamed to admit this to Joey-Bubba but I have to ask: Is a Georgia minute any different from any other minute, or is that DixieCat yanking my tail?

2 February 2007 Groundhog Day. Today is Guido’s day. Guido is this fat furry thing who lives out in the backyard. I see him when I go on walks. He waddles around eating dandelions most of the time, but once I saw him sitting up with his hand out and looking at me, like I owed him money or something. Mom says he’s a groundhog and that today’s his day. How come he gets his own day? Isn’t there a Cat Day? I’m betting we cats are far more loved here, yet we don’t have our own holiday. Where’s the justice? And spare me the letters telling me to write my congressmen. First of all, they’re bigger wimps than Chip. Second, they only listen to voters. Cats, ever discriminated against, can’t vote. So if you think a congressman would give a rat’s butt what I think, you have less sense than God gave a beaver in the desert and shouldn’t be voting in the first place. Third, I can’t type. Every time I get near the computer, Mom bribes me away from the thing with Blistex, so my typing is dismal. I'm too easily distracted. I must toughen up and learn to – uh oh, gotta go. Bartholomew is going Nutsy Cuckoo.

1 February 2007 What’s With The Fruit? My Mom has this thing about fruit. Sometimes she says I’m the apple of her eye. On occasion, she’s told me I’m a real peach. Other times, she’s called me banana brain. I looked it up. Bananas don’t have brains. Clearly she was insulting me, and I didn’t even know it. Hmm, now that I think about it, maybe she was right. Hmmph. I’m still insulted. And today may have been the worst. Today, she says to me, “Really Rude Rudy, I do believe you’re losing weight. You look less like a pear than usual.” Huh? She thought I looked like a pear? More insults. She’s right about one thing. I’m losing weight. I think it’s from chasing my new ribbon and mouse, plus my outdoor walks (or dashes, depending on whether they’re sanctioned or not). Mom takes me for daily walks, but I’m from that old school: some is good, more is better. So I try to escape whenever I can from this living box. It’s pretty funny with Mom trying to catch me. I’m fat and slow, but she’s downright pathetic. (Talk about pear-shaped!) Still, she laughed at me this morning when I did it again, mostly because she saw me actually running. I ran, then I rolled in the driveway. Mom called it “Rudy on the Rocks.” My escape only lasted a few minutes, but it was worth it. I got myself all dusty and dirty which, given how big I am, gives me something to do for the rest of the day. Uh, excuse me. Time for a bath.

31 January 2007 Chip’s Wussed Out. Last night, even Chip spent the night inside. What a wuss. All winter, he’s turned his kitty nose up at the idea of coming inside. But then it got cold. Last night, that lil pud climbed the screen door and hung there, six feet up, his feet sticking out like Garfield on a box-on-wheels window. I just about coughed up a fur ball when he started meowing for Mom to let him in. It was pathetic – a sorry display on behalf of all catkind. I found the entire scene exceedingly distasteful. And then, as if that wasn’t disgusting enough, when he got inside, he and Flop hogged the end of the bed in front of the woodstove. Man, he just moved in like he owned the place. I don’t mind Flop. I like the guy. But Chip? He never gives me the time of day. Actually, now that I think of it, I don’t have an overarching need to know the time of day, do I? Maybe I should rethink this. Could Chip’s presence at night truly be a nonevent? Or even more interestingly, is there any way to turn this to my advantage? Hmm. Pondering here. If you have ideas, send them ASAP. ruderudy@shentel.net. And be sure to put RUDY BLOG in the subject line so it gets here faster. I definitely need help on this one.

31 January 2007 An Addendum: I'm Upset. Chip came back inside tonight. I swear, I'm so mad I feel a fur ball coming up. My Mom always says three times is a habit, and this makes twice. One more night then, and what? He's in here EVERY night? I can't believe this. And wouldn't you know it. He's right in front of the toasty box, bold as brass. And he ate my slurpy food and even some of my crunchies first. The nerve of that guy. Mom says I'm supposed to keep an open mind, but just the other night, she thought I had a brick in my head, so I'm looking for consistency. I've started getting some of your emails. A reader writes: “Dear Really Rude Rudy. Chip is probably a really good guy. Try not to be so rude and give the poor guy a chance.” Another reader writes: “Dear Really Rude Rudy. Chip’s a loser. So lose him.” Uh, is this your idea of help? Substance, people! I need real suggestions, or is that too much to ask of humans? Good grief. I’m going back to bed.

30 January 2007 Flop is a Pretty Cool Guy. It can get rather frustrating when those outdoor cats tease me mercilessly. They parade their furry selves just outside the big clear walls, laughing at me because I’m stuck inside. They know I’m chafing. But at least one of them also knows I’m nice and toasty inside during the winter and he’s decided he wants some of that. Flop’s been coming inside at night. He comes in the door, pops me in the chops before I can get a good run at him, hits the food bowl, then gets on the bed in front of the toasty box. I tell you, that cat has his priorities straight. He plays outside all day, then comes inside and knows just what to do. Talk about having the best of both worlds! And he gets off his licks before I can even lift a paw. That’s one quick cat. I’ve actually gotten to know him better this winter and I like the guy. My Mom says we should be friends. I think she’s right. I just wish he wouldn’t assume I’ll attack him and hit me preemptively. Of course, I've been known to be a little . . . er . . . aggressive, in the past. So I understand why he does it and actually respect him for it. At least he just socks me, keeping his claws retracted. I can handle that. Man, that kid is quick.

29 January 2007 The FA Cup and the Tater Cup. One of our readers sent this to me. > From Wikipedia: "The Football Association Challenge Cup, commonly known as the FA Cup, is the main knockout cup competition in English football, run by and named after The Football Association. The FA Cup is the oldest football competition in the world, commencing in 1871-72. Because it involves clubs of all standards playing against each other there is great scope for "giant-killers" from the lower divisions to eliminate top clubs from the tournament. A record 687 teams were accepted into the FA Cup in 2006-2007. In comparison, the League Cup, a lower prestige English football knockout tournament, can involve only the 92 members of the Football League (which organises the competition) and the FA Premier League." Now, I don't know what the guy was thinking, so it's hard to know exactly why he sent it to me. I mean, do I strike you as an information dump type? But more to the point, sure, the FA Cup has a rich tradition. Sure, it has a substantial following, too. And I'll admit, the Tater Cup doesn't have as rich a tradition or as great a following . . . yet. But it does share some amazing similarities with the FA Cup. For one thing, our players are just as sincere as the FA Cup players. We also had a record number of players this year. Of course, it WAS our first year, but that's a minor detail. Our Cup is open to all comers. Is it my fault only three elected to play this year? Oh, and most importantly, the underdog can win -- the Tater Cup is a true 'giant-killer' opportunity. And so it was, Bartholomew won this year. Who'd have guessed, at the outset, that a skinny 15 1/2 - year - old cancer survivor would win the Cup over a 21-pound five-year-old thug (uh, that would be me) and a 2 1/2 - year - old lightning-fast greyhound type (Flop)? Well, there you have it. The Tater Cup, in its very first year, has established its own rich history, one that will live in kitty and people memories long after we're gone. I was proud to participate in it, even though I didn't win. And I was very proud of the participants. Next year, we're going to set some penalties for eating the taters (besides the tummy aches Flop and I got from that). If you have suggestions for the appropriate penalty to assess for tater-scarfing, please email me at ruderudy@shentel.net. Tomorrow, I think I'm going to talk about Flop a little more. He's a pretty cool guy, and I think you should get to know him better. Until then, all the best!

27 January 2007 News Flash: Tater Cup Comes To Abrupt End. It was probably inevitable. Last night, Flop and Bartie were in the middle of a really good match. The score was tied, when Flop got a little excited and sort of consumed the tater. He ate it. It was gone. And just like that, the ump declared the tournament at an end. Such an ignominious end, too! Well, We decided, based on the quality of his play, that Bartholomew won the Cup this year. He's so proud. And we're proud of him. It's a truly significant achievement. I have to say, I have some very cool brothers. That Flop, it turns out, is quite the class act. Twice, he had Bartholomew on the ropes, so to speak, but he elected to be a decent fellow and let Bartholomew retrieve the tater. That boy continues to impress me, as does Bartholomew. Or maybe I'm just easily impressed. Gee, that would be rather troubling, now that I think of it. This requires further pondering.

25 January 2007 Whoa, Flop is Fast. Flop kicked my FLB tonight, 8 to 4. I can't believe how fast that guy is. And he's so darned cheerful and nice about it. He says he was in it for the love of the tater. I almost believe him. You should have seen him, darting and leaping and running. He personally knocked over six piles of stuff and wiped a huge pile of stuff off the big chair. I was impressed. Tomorrow Flop plays Bartie. We tried to get Chip and Gulliver to play but they didn't want to come inside. I thought that especially short-sighted as it's mighty cold outside right now. Flop was in here for quite a while. He just went out, but he spent an hour in front of the toasty box first. Wimpy Impy won't even come out of his hiding place, and Mongo is unhappy because he got two needles today. It was his annual checkup and shots. He was UNHAPPY. Maggie had to have some tests run. Turns out, her kidneys are starting to go a little wonky (that's a technical term, I'm told) so she's going to be getting special food now. Anyway, stay tuned for the results tomorrow. This is a double-elimination round-robin, unless Chip eats the robin before the tournament is over, in which case, according to the rules, the one with the most wins plus scored points wins the whole shebang. The robins are hiding. So even if Chip eats a blue jay, it won't count. Shhh. I'm gonna win this thing. Just watch!

25 January 2007 First-Round Tater Cup Soccer Playoff Results. Bartholomew cheats. I was beating his skinny FLB (that's furry little butt to the uninitiated) 4 to 1, when suddenly he scored a goal. But I had the tater. How'd he do that? And before I could lodge an objection, he scored two more. Tied score, and I held the tater? What was going on? I finally got my furry self over the ump. "Hey Ump!" I yelled. "How can Bartie score three goals in a minute, while I'm holding the tater?" The ump says to me, "Easy, he has his own tater, and you were standing there, mouth open, saying 'duh' for so long, he got in three scores. Any other questions?" You know, I hate a smart mouth. And that ump is definitely one of those. Of course, she's also Mom, so it's not like I can do anything about it . . . or can I? Heh heh heh. I fixed Bartie good. I ate his tater, then scored two more goals with mine. When Bartie objected, I just looked at Mom -- er, the ump -- and pointed to my tater. Clearly, the spud was still in play. Was it my fault if Bartie misplaced his tater in my mouth? NOT my fault. Just convenient. I almost demanded they prove I'd eaten it, but visions of surgical instruments shut me up most effectively. I just played on to a final score of 7 to 5. I beat Bartie good. Of course, I weigh twice as much and I'm a third his age. So the ump called it a tie game, weighted for handicapping. I was a little surprised, with handicapping, that Bartie hadn't won. Then the ump explained that my being such a porker reduced the spread significantly on the theory that I can't get out of my own way. Man, I was truly insulted. But it's all in good fun. Tonight it's Flop. Tater drop at 8 p.m.!

24 January 2007 The Tater Cup Soccer Playoffs. It's about that time again. The FA Cup has generated a lot of interest in England. It just so happens, it coincides with Mom using the last of the potatoes from the GARDEN this past week. And so it was, that a lone tiny tater escaped the soup pot and ended up on the floor. And just in time, I might add! It's time for the Kitty Tater Cup Soccer Playoffs! That's right, folks. We're playing soccer here, keeping Mom awake at all hours of day and night. Remember how I told you this place is a mess? Batting that tater around means it gets under things . . . lots of things. The idea behind kitty soccer is to poke the tater out from whatever it's hiding under, then bat it around until it gets under something else. Then we poke it out of there and, well, you get the idea. It's ever so much fun, especially when piles of stuff come crashing down. And so it was, last night, the first night of the Playoffs. Mom didn't even yell. I think she likes watching us play. But we'll see how long she lasts. Tonight's the second round!

21 January 2007 What is This White Stuff? Today, all day, white stuff fell outside. It piled up, and pretty soon, the whole ground outside was covered in it. My Mom came up to me, all cheerful, saying “Walkies!” Oh boy. Time to go out. What the heck? That stuff was so cold. And wet. It matted my lovely fur and it must have taken a good five minutes to get myself cleaned up once we got back inside. My toes tingled from the cold too. But I have to admit, it was fun! I couldn’t find any wild onion patches, but I love new things . . . like my ribbon, sigh. At least Bartholomew and Maggie have backed off, leaving my ribbon to me.

14 January 2007 I Got a New Ribbon For Christmas! Oh man, this one’s really special. It’s long, and it has a fringy tail. I love my new ribbon. But yesterday, I caught Maggie and Barthlomew playing with it. I had to pull out my Cat’s Creed and show them the fine print. THIS ONE IS MINE! I don’t think they appreciate the finer points of fine print. I caught them playing with it again today. Hmmph. I may have to start asserting my ribbon dominance again. I’m going to play things cool at first, giving them a chance to recognize, acknowledge and concede my dominance first. Then I’ll clobber them if they don’t lay off MY ribbon. It’s good to have a plan.

2 January 2007 Happy New Year! Hey, another year has gone by. I’ve been here more than two years now, and I’m still having fun. Wimpy Impy is a torture magnet. I just can’t help myself. One of these days, he’s going to let me have it, though. Mom says she’s left his claws intact (though he got neutered too) and he could really clobber me if he wanted to. But he’s a wuss. He hides in the laundry room or in the pantry most of the time. And he has a bed in the fireplace in the living room, behind the toasty box. At least he’s smart enough to like the toasty box a lot. But it doesn’t do him much good if he’s hiding in other rooms most of the time. Do I feel guilty? Nah. I’m having too much fun.

25 December 2006 Really Rude Rudy’s Really Rude Christmas. Hey, Mom wrote a poem about me! It’s all about how I got up in the Christmas tree . . . again . . . and how I knocked it over . . . again. It’s a pretty good one, and she says she’s going to work on turning it into a kids’ book. Hey, I could be famous! Or is that infamous? Actually, maybe I’m famous now, because I have a blog. Dunno, for sure, but hey. With a book, it can only get better, right? Hmm. Who would play me in the movie?

20 December 2006 Renaming Gimpy Impy. Well, it’s official. Gimpy Impy isn’t gimpy anymore. But he’s a real wuss. As of this moment, I’ve changed his name to Wimpy Impy. I have to admit, he’s kind of cute. But he’s so easy to torture and I just find I can’t resist the temptation. Hey, here he comes. Excuse me.

9 December 2006 The Torture Continues. Today I jumped Gimpy Impy. Got him good. And you’ll never guess what happened. That cat is so pitfully dumb, I swear. It turns out, his foot had healed. But he’d gotten so used to hobbling around on three legs that he just hadn’t tried using it. DUH! What a dummy. Well, I chased him under the bed and suddenly he realized he could use that foot. The only bad part about it is, now there’s no way I’ll be able to catch him. He’s running around on all four legs again.

30 November 2006 Gimpy Impy Doesn’t Like it Indoors. I can’t say I blame him. Gimpy Impy doesn’t like living indoors. Actually, I think I’m probably the worst part of his pitiful existence. That lil pud is a fraidy cat. Pure and simple. So how could I resist? I love torturing him. He hobbles around on three legs yet he can still outrun me. I do need to get on a diet. This is ridiculous when a three-legged cat can outrun me.

13 November 2006 Snout is Gone. Today, Snout went away, just like BennieFLB did last year. It was kind of sad. The last ten days, she sat in a chair and hardly moved. Mom kept checking her and crying. Then today, she took Snout away in the box on wheels. Even though Snout didn’t like me, I respected that cat. She always did what she felt she had to do, however unpopular she was. And she didn’t let others’ opinions of her sway her in the least. That was one tough cat who had a mind of her own. May she rest in peace and maybe even find a cat who likes her up in kitty heaven. RIP, Snout. You were all right.

10 November 2006 Remembering the Marines. Today is the Marines’ birthday. Happy Birthday Marines! You’re my heroes!

1 November 2006 Yes, Snout the Rotten is Sick. Yeah, she’s sick. She’s starting to lose a lot of weight and I heard Mom talking about cancer. I guess she doesn’t have the kind Bartholomew had. Bartholomew says he was lucky to get a kinder type of cancer. I can’t imagine any cancer being kind, but whatever Snout has, it’s not good.

31 October 2006 Trick a Tree? Mom’s wearing this really funny thing on her head. It has a tall point, and she has lots of things in a basket by the door. They smell like candy. I like candy. Some kids came to the door and yelled something like TRICKATREE. I don’t know how to trick a tree. All the trees I know just stand there. But somehow, when a funny looking kid shows up and yells TRICKATREE, my mom puts candy in their bags. I may never figure out humans.

25 October 2006 Snout Has Moved In With Us! Just like that, Snout’s living with us now. She sleeps on the bed and whenever I get near her, she springs an air leak. She just hisses me then turns away and goes back to sleep. I hate to say it, but I think she may be sick like BennieFLB was. She doesn’t look too good.

20 October 2006 I Hate Needles! Today I had to ride in the box on wheels. And why? So I could get a couple of needles stuck in me. Doesn’t seem fair somehow. The guy who stuck me seems nice enough. He’s the same guy who stuck me with more needles and neutered me last year. I survived that. I’m tough. I can take it. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. I wish I knew why I had to go through that, but Mom says it’s essential. I guess this is one of those times when I have to trust her. But man, I hate needles!

14 October 2006 Coming Face To Face With Snout The Rotten. Today, I snuck into that room where Mom goes to see that other cat, Snout the Rotten. Snout is still guarding all the food, and I haven’t figured out how it is that she gets to do it. She won’t talk to me. She hates me, actually. Mom says Snout doesn’t like anyone but her and I believe it. At least I saw a couple of bags of crunchies in there, so Snout isn’t eating it all. Thank goodness. I couldn’t bear to think of all those lovely crunchies disappearing in someone else’s tummy.
 
2 October 2006 Not Another One! Looks like I have a new brother. He walks on three legs and he has really thick grey fur. Nice looking kid, actually. He’s full grown, but I think I’ll be able to torture him pretty effectively. Heh heh heh. His name is Impy III. I just call him Gimpy Impy. BWAAAAHAAAAHAAAAAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

28 September 2006 Bartholomew, The Cancer Survivor. I had a little chat with Bartie about his cancer. It’s pretty amazing, really. He had osteosarcoma. He says he was really lucky that he got a slow-growing type of cancer. It was right in the middle of his back, and he had to have major surgery. He said they cut a six-inch hole in his back and even ground off parts of his backbone. I can still see a little area where the fur didn’t grow back, but mostly, he’s amazing. For an old guy who’s been through that, I can’t believe what he can still do. He still has the seven foot leap in him, and he races around here like a kid. I think Bartholomew is my hero.

6 September 2006 Baby Food. For some time, now, Mom has been feeding baby food to Maggie and Bartholomew. Every morning, when we first get up, she breaks out a jar of turkey, chicken or beef and puts it on a plate for them. I’m quite the gentleman, waiting for them to finish before eating the leftovers. While they’re eating, Mom gives me the jar to lick. I just wish I could get more of that stuff. It’s pretty tasty. Mom says it packs a lot of calories in a little bit of food, so it’s mostly for the elder cats. Bartholomew and Maggie do look a bit stringy these days. But they’re fifteen and sixteen. I guess they look pretty good for their ages, especially Bartie, who’s had major cancer surgery.

21 August 2006 More Walkies and More Gulliver. Our walks are usually quite pleasant. As we get to the backyard, the outside cats race ahead and carry on like they’re the ones my Mom is taking for a walk. I know it’s me she’s really paying attention to, but I let the outdoor cats think they’re getting special attention. Today, though, my resolve almost crumbled. Gulliver tried to challenge me. I wanted to knock his block off, but Mom says I must exercise restraint. So I was really good. Eventually, Gulliver went off and played over by the well, leaving me alone. He’s not a bad sort. He’s just used to being in charge. That’s fine. He can be in charge outside and I’ll be in charge inside.

4 August 2006 My Morning Constitutional. ]Walkies! My Mom says I can go for a walk outside. I love it. We go out front, and I run around, chewing on wild onions. Only right now, there are all these other plants out front. Mom is out there all the time, working on those plants, and there are colorful things hanging on them. She calls the place a GARDEN and the hanging things VEGETABLES. She says those words with the same reverence I use for ‘ribbon.’ Garden and Vegetable must be really special

18 July 2006 I Can See Myself. Every time I help Mom brush our teeth, I’m beside myself. Sort of. Maybe. Actually, I’m not sure what exactly is going on. I just know that I see this cat right near me, and I see my Mom twice. I think it’s like looking in a puddle. I must say, I’m really quite handsome! Mom needs work, though.

30 June 2006 Why Does She Sing? My Mom continues to make those horrible sounds when she’s in the rain box. It’s a fearful thing indeed. As much as I can’t resist trying to get into the rain box, all that caterwauling is enough to drive a cat nuts. I’m working on a solution, but so far, I’m coming up empty.

14 June 2006 AReasonable Substitute. Toothpaste has a nice minty freshness to it. Did you know that? I like toothpaste, so I hop up on the bathroom counter when Mom brushes her teeth, and I hound her til she gives me a dab. It makes my mouth go all foamy, and I drool everywhere, but it’s worth it. My feeling of self worth escalates dramatically with my nice breath. Besides, foaming up is sort of fun.

30 May 2006 Blistex Withdrawal. I can’t resist Blistex. When I first got here, I thought Maggie and BennieFLB were totally nuts when they’d lick that BenGay stuff off Mom’s knee. But then I discovered Blistex. I couldn’t resist licking it. But now that winter is over, Mom’s not using it much anymore. I need my Blistex. I NEED IT NOW!

5 May 2006 Getting Hugs From Mom. I really love hugs. And my Mom gives the best hugs. She seems to like me a lot, and I let her make a fuss over me, even though it’s terribly humiliating. Bartholomew says we have to tolerate such things in exchange for the slurpy, crunchies, mice, and my newest best friend, the RIBBON. (That last word is said with reverence and awe, by the way.)

24 April 2006 Okay, I Admit It. I’m Fat. No wonder Mom calls me Tater and Spud. I weighed in at 20 1/2 pounds. Yeah, I’ve gained a bit with all the crunchies and slurpy I get. I need to talk to Bartholomew about stepping up the activity.

5 April 2006 Gulliver. Gulliver is tough. But I’m bigger. I escaped again today and ended up face to face with Gulliver. He got all grumpy growly on me, fluffed up his fur, stuck his whiskers forward, clacked his teeth, turned his head sideways...you know, all those signs of the big and bad dude on the block. I did it right back at him. I figure I outweigh him by about eight pounds. He didn’t back down, though. I think I could have snuffed him, but Mom caught me and hauled me back inside. Rats!

21 March 2006 I Love Litter Boxes. You know, it just occurred to me that I can play in these boxes. I dig and dig for hours. The sand goes everywhere, then my Mom comes in and starts fussing. It’s hysterical. I can’t wait to drive her even more nuts tomorrow. Litter boxes can be downright fun! 9 March 2006 I Hate Litter Boxes. We have to use these sand boxes to do our business. I hate that. I’d much rather go outside this living box to use the dirt outside. But I’m stuck with these boxes. At least they have covers. I have a little privacy.

24 February 2006 The Not-So-Great Escape. I escaped but my freedom was ever so short-lived. Mom caught me. She was bringing in some of those chunks for the toasty box. I saw my chance. I escaped. I got to scrunch my toes in the grass and chew some wild onions. It was heavenly. Then she caught my sorry butt. I guess I’ve gained a little weight since coming here so I’m slow. Still, it was a lovely, albeit brief, respite from the inside box.

12 February 2006 The Garden. We have big clear walls here and I can see outside. I would very much like to go outside this big living box. I love the feel of grass under my toes and wild onions on my tongue. I’m plotting my escape as I type.

26 January 2006 Mouse. My Mom brought home some mice for Christmas and she got a couple of them out today. They’re not like the mice I had out in the woods. These are orange and blue and pink and one has this bell thing on its tail. Still, I like them. My Mom throws them and I retrieve them. It’s good exercise. I’m quietly trying to get myself in shape for my escape attempt. Stay tuned.

10 January 2006 This Place Is a Mess, Just the Way I Like It. This place is always a mess. My Mom says she’s ‘neatness challenged,’ whatever that means. I just know I like it. There are lots of piles of things to play in and around, and I chase Bartholomew round and round the piles. It’s a lot of fun. Yesterday, even Maggie played hide and seek with us. We had a good time, so I guess I’ll let Maggie live.

30 December 2005 That’s Better. Mount Slurpy Is Tall Again. I think Mom heard me. Whew. Good thing. I can barely reach the top of Mount Slurpy now. I feel so much better. She says it’s a belated Christmas present. Merry Christmas to us!

22 December 2005 We Need More Slurpy Food. Mount Slurpy is getting shorter. I can jump up on top easily, and we haven’t even had dinner yet. By the time dinner’s done, it’ll be shorter still. We need more slurpy food. I’m starting to get nervous.

16 December 2005 Climbing Mount Slurpy. Mom also has lots of canned cat food. We call it slurpy food here. Mom stacks it up and the big stack is known as Mount Slurpy. It’s very impressive. I feel good knowing we have enough slurpy food to get us through an emergency. Mom says the eight of us go through four cups of crunchies and seven cans of slurpy food a day. Is that a lot?

30 November 2005 Quality Control is Job One For Me. Mom is diligent about ensuring we don’t run out of cat food. At any given time, she might have two or three big bags of crunchy food sitting there in the kitchen. Of course, I have to sample each of them, to ensure freshness. I’ve devised a special system for my quality control testing. I chew a small hole in each bag, large enough to allow me to graze comfortably. For some odd reason, Mom doesn’t seem to appreciate my efforts. She only keeps one bag in there now. The other bags disappear into the room where that snout cat lives. I call her Snout the Rotten. She has a bad attitude and she’s guarding the food. There’s something inherently unfair about that. As soon as I figure out what it is, I’ll let you know.

14 November 2005 We’re Not Allowed Upstairs Anymore. I knew it. I told you Maggie would get us in trouble. She was doing bad things upstairs and now Mom won’t let us up there. Good grief. I liked it upstairs. There’s this really great window with a terrific sunspot, but now I can’t use it anymore. Maggie’s meat.

28 October 2005 Yeah, It’s Really Bad. Something smells bad upstairs. I checked it out. And when Mom finds out what Maggie’s been doing, we’re all gonna get it.

18 October 2005 Maggie Is Doing Something Bad. I Just Know It. Maggie’s been acting weird. I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s sneaking upstairs and when she comes back down, she always looks guilty. I need to get to the bottom of this.

30 September 2005 Bartholomew is Pretty Amazing For An Old Guy. Bartholomew is snapping out of it and Mom says it’s all because of me. She says it’s a good thing I was here because I’ve really helped him. Bartie and I are getting to be good friends. He’s running around again now and he chases me almost as much as I chase him. You know, for an old guy, he can jump pretty far. He says he used to be able to jump the great ten foot leap. But at fourteen, even the lesser seven foot leap is pretty good. I’m impressed.

15 September 2005 Yep. I’ve been very diligent, picking on Bartholomew, and today he actually played with me! I chased him and he turned around at one point and chased after me. I let him. He’s so skinny after his cancer that I could clobber him, but I try to be careful.

28 August 2005 Getting Bartholomew’s Attention. Bartholomew is still having a rough time without his best friend. But I’m pushing him every day now. I jump him. I chase him. And I generally make his life miserable. I think he’s starting to come around.

14 August 2005 Bartholomew Really Misses BennieFLB. Bartholomew has been pining. It’s so sad. He just sits and stares at the spot where BennieFLB used to sleep. He helped raise BennieFLB, and they’ve been together a long time. I’ve started roughing up Bartie, hoping he’ll respond to me, even if it’s because he’s mad at me. I worry if I don’t do something, Bartholomew might give up like BennieFLB did.

25 July 2005 BennieFLB, My Friend. RIP. BennieFLB lost his fight today. I already miss him. He was a great guy. He was fun and funny and he loved Bartholomew more than anything. Bartholomew is going to need me now.

25 June 2005 BennieFLB is Going Downhill Now. I think BennieFLB is giving up. He hardly moves now, and I found Mom crying with him last night. She said something about him sleeping. I don’t know what she means, because BennieFLB sleeps most of the time anyway.

30 May 2005 Yeah, It’s Worse. BennieFLB is definitely sick. He’s had a rough month and Mom spends a lot of time with him. I’d be jealous, but he’s so sick, he needs help. He’s had more trips in the box on wheels and he’s getting a needle in his neck every day now. Poor little guy. 4 May 2005 I Think It’s Worse Than I Thought. Things don’t look too good for BennieFLB. He’s been in the box on wheels twice more already and he’s still not talking much. I try to cheer him up, but he doesn’t seem to want to play or even talk to me. I think he’s really sick.

18 April 2005 My Friend Isn’t Feeling Well. I think BennieFLB is sick. He’s starting to slow down and just hangs out under the bed now. He’s a nice guy. Mom put him in the box on wheels today and when he got back, he didn’t say anything. I hope he’s okay.

30 March 2005 There’s Someone Else On the Other Side of That Door. Every time I get near this one door, I smell another cat. I could never explain it until today, when Mom went in there and didn’t shut the door well. I poked my nose at the door and got into that space. There’s another cat in there! And boy is she mean. She growled at me, and her eyes got all dark, and she spit and hissed too. Suddenly, Maggie’s looking pretty sweet again. I beat feet out of there. I value my life.

12 March 2005 Maggie Has an Amazing Right Cross. I swear, I was just minding my own business when Maggie socked me in the face. Well, actually, I tried to tackle her, but I thought she wanted to play. Anyway, she let me have it, right in the face. Owwwww. And I used to think Maggie was such a sweet thing.

22 February 2005 My Brothers and Sister. I have a bunch of brothers and a sister. My sister, Maggie, is small and sweet. My brother, Bartholomew, is skinny and he used to be sick. Mom says he had cancer, but he’s fine now. I can beat him up but I like him. BennieFLB is cool, but he’s jealous of me. Then there are the outside cats. Flop loves the toasty box and, during the cold season, he pops his furry little butt inside to warm up. He’s not even afraid of me. I may have to work on that.

6 February 2005 Aaaah. The Toasty Boxes. My new living box has two really lovely boxes. When it starts getting cold, my Mom gets the toasty boxes going. She has these big chunks of stuff that she throws in the toasty boxes and she starts big fires in them. Pretty soon, the only place I want to be is right in front of one of those toasty boxes, and Mom made it really easy for me – she put a bed in front of each one for me. I love sleeping in front of the toasty box for hours.

25 January 2005 Living with Boxes. I’m feeling better now. Thanks for worrying about me. I’ve had plenty of time to think while healing and I’ve been thinking a lot about my new digs. The day my new Mom stole me, she brought me to this big box place. It’s a big living box with lots of smaller boxes inside. I like the beds best. They’re soft and comfy. Mom also has small boxes inside the smaller boxes. The rain box is the most confusing of all. Did you know people don’t have much fur? UGLY!!! And get this. They actually LIKE to get wet. My Mom gets in this box and makes it rain in there, and she starts screaming and stuff the whole time she’s in there. She calls it singing. I hate when she does that and I try to get in there to save her, but every time I push my face inside that curtain, I get wet. Yech.

14 January 2005 Uh -- She was serious. Nuff said. I don’t feel like talking today.

8 January 2005 Declawed and Neutered? She Can’t Be Serious! This cat-human communication thing has some real limitations and can be most perplexing at times. I realize I’m fairly new at this, but yesterday my new Mom said something about getting me declawed and neutered. I’m sure we were experiencing some sort of misunderstanding here. I know she can’t possibly be serious.

5 January 2005 The Outside Cats. When my Mom brought me to the new place, she stuck me out with the other cats. Mongo hates me. My first day here, he chased me up a tree. It was really quite embarassing. Mongo’s brother, Gulliver, is very territorial too. He clacked his teeth at me. They have two kid brothers, Chip and Flop, who are okay. After Mongo chased me up the tree, my new Mom decided I needed to live inside the living box. So I moved in.

25 December 2004 Christmas for Cats. Mom says it’s Christmas. I think I like Christmas. We all got new toys and ate lots of turkey. It was yummy! I like turkey better than mice. But I love my toy mouse.

22 December 2004 I’m In Trouble. I couldn’t resist. Not only did they bring a tree inside. They filled it with all sorts of shiny things and some candy. I just crawled up there to get a couple of goodies and wham! The whole thing came over. It made a lot of noise, but not nearly as much as my Mom made. Man, she sure can yell.

19 December 2004 Some Other People Are Here. Mom has company here. They come from somewhere called Finland. There’s a nice man who calls me Moggie, and he has two kids with him. Today, they brought a tree into the living box they call a house. A whole tree inside here. Oh wow, I love trees!
 
15 December 2004 My Trip to My New Living Box. When my new Mom put me in the Box on Wheels, I was really scared. For some reason, I hate boxes on wheels and the roads they roll on. I freaked. I jumped and yelled and clawed and fussed for a whole hour. Then I fell asleep. Next thing I knew, my new Mom was introducing me to a bunch of cats. They hated me. My life most assuredly had taken a turn for the worse.

12 December 2004 Hey, There are People Out Here With Me. I was out hunting one night, when I heard people and smelled food. I had to check it out. I snuck up on them quietly, and I listened and watched. They were sitting around a campfire and two lovely hamburgers were waiting for me. My mouth watered. A man was talking so I figured he was the leader. I knew I had to be assertive if I was to successfully con these pitiful creatures out of some of that great-smelling food. Off I went, the proactive kitty. That guy was mid-sentence when I hopped right into his lap. I can’t tell you his exact words, because kids might be reading this. But he sure was surprised to see me. I spent some time in his lap. Then I hopped down to meet the others. Some were nice to me, but a couple of them didn’t like me. The last lady was really nice, but she smelled like she had a lot of other cats. After meeting and greeting, I applied myself diligently to the task of keeping everyone awake all night. It was cold, so I needed to keep moving to stay warm. The next morning, that lady put me in her box on wheels. She called it a truck. She talked to the others, and she was saying things like “It’s so cold,” and “He’ll freeze if we don’t get him inside soon.” And that’s how I got my new Mom. Just like that, she stole me. I’ll tell you more next time.