Butt Noodles

[Everything you see here is MINE!]

Ruru the Cat here.  I just don't think you get it.  Humans often don't.  Everything attached to me is MINE.  That means I get to decide what happens to it.  Humans are so presumptuous.  You call us your pets.  You just don't understand humans are our staff, here to serve us.  You need to ask permission if you're going to have the honor of touching a single tuft of our luscious fur.  Sure, if we get in your face, that's an obvious invitation.  If we rub against your hand or arm or something, that's a probable invitation, which can be rescinded at any time.  If we rub against against you then attack your hand, obviously, we were just kidding.  We can be just kidding as often as we like because we own this place and let you live here because we're nice.

[My butt noodle.  Not yours.] 

Okay, now you understand that everything I see, especially everything attached to me, is mine.  So why is it so hard to get that my tail is off-limits?  People keep sitting on it, playing with it, messing with it, petting it.  Come on.  It's my butt noodle, not yours.  If I wanted you to play with it, I'd rub it against you.  But let's be honest.  If I did that, and you tried to pet it, I'd probably kill you, anyway.  'Cuz I was kidding. 

Toddlersaurus Rexes! NOOOO!!!!

[Me, facing off with one of those fiends.  See those ears of terror?]  

Ruru the Cat here.  You just don't get how much we, as the four-legged owners of your homes, suffer because of human insanity.  Like, for instance, when you have a quiet space where everything is just right, why in the world would you want to invite toddler monsters into your house?  They haven't been here for any length of time in months.  It's been grand.  Then, all of a sudden, you allow the Terror Trio into your house.  Seriously?

                [We all checked out the foreign creatures then came to a unified conclusion.]

But you don't have to take my word for it.  All the other animals suffered when my people let the two adult humans and their wild, untamed monsters into our quiet abode.  All we cats had to hide upstairs or, better yet, downstairs, the whole time, but the biggest of those beasts has figured out how to open doors.  He could FOLLOW us into what was supposed to be our paradise of catliness.  It's not bad enough they let that monster dog in our space downstairs.  Now, they're letting monster human spawn down there as well.  It's just not FAIR.  Okay, here, you can listen to what everyone else has to say about these creatures from the great abyss.

[The bigger humans trying to bias the vote by buttering up some of the voters.] 

Okay, beasties in the human male's room.  We'll start with you since I don't trust you much.  I'll give you this last time to show me you're not total idiots.  I'm doing my scientific and unbiased research to prove that human children are monsters. Okay, reptiles and lesser mammal, speak to me.

Hedgehog:  They were all terrifying!  I got my wonderful, fun, and awesome bath then the hoard of humans, large and small, showed up.  They all smelled so scary!  I'm trembling just thinking about it.  Now, go away and don't look at me.

Me:  Well, that was a promising start.  I'll pretend you didn't say anything positive about that nasty B-A-T-H word.  See?  Small humans are deadly.

Leopard Gecko:  Screaming and noise.  Lots of noise.  Not sure what it was.

Bearded Dragon:  Yes, that was the juvenile humans.  They are loud and smell funny, but I was able to ignore them because their big humans know how to hold me and pet me right under the chin where it feels so nice.  Can we bring them back?

Me:  No, we WILL NOT bring the big ones back because they come with their little ones.  YOU DON'T LET MONSTERS IN YOUR HOUSE.

Python:  The large humanssss knew jussst how to hold me.  I approve.  The sssmall humansss found ME terrifying.  It wassss mossst gratifying.  I fear no younglingsss that fear me.

Me:  What good are you?  Gah.  I knew I didn't like reptiles for a reason.  Cats, tell me how it really is with those terrifying little ones.

[See Maya's face?  I'm not alone.]

Maya:  They scare me.  Except the itty bitty one.  She smelled like milk.

Toothless:  Yes.  I liked her.  I saw no need to hide that much because the big people petted me, and the little ones couldn't catch me.  It was nice to snuggle her on either side.

Me:  NO!  The little bitty immobile ones become BIGGER!!!  In no time, they'll be the Terror Trio, three monsters rampaging together!  It's bad enough when there are just two!  They'll all want to haul us around and pull our tails.

Cass:  I hid downstairs.   I think I'll go back now.

Me:  Yes.  What Cassandra said.  Ignore the other two. They're fired.  We'll consider them honorary dogs. Okay, dogs.  Prove you're wiser than CERTAIN cats.  I can't believe I said that.

[Look at the face of terror!  Well, one of them, anyway.  And look at Dodger's blank gaze.  He just doesn't get much of anything.]

Dodger:  Cat!  Barkbarkbarkbarkbark!

Me:  Translation: small humans are terrible.

Calli:  They all petted me.  It was nice.

Me:  Do you not have ears?  Or a NOSE?  Small humans sound like sirens and smell like terrible humany smells.

Calli:  I like human smells.

Me:  Gah!  What is wrong with you?

Twixie:  The little ones weren't my favorite, but the big ones that came in rearranged my ears and fed me yummy stuff.  I'd let them come again.

Me:  And, there you have it.  It's unanimous:  small humans are little monsters that should not be allowed to come anywhere near the ears or tail or fuzzy bits of animals ANYWHERE.  Now, you know.

[Wanted: Three horrible beasties.  Or, rather, not wanted.  Ever.]  

Stinking *enter swear word here* Collar

[Look at that ghastly *#@$! pink think around my neck!]

Ruru the Cat here.  Seriously.  Just when I didn't think my person could stoop lower (I mean, as if letting dogs in the house, letting those dogs eat the dog food I clearly claimed for myself, and threatening me with a bath isn't bad enough), she buys me a stinking collar and makes me wear it.  Everyone everywhere in this house can hear the tinkle tinkle tinkle of the stupid bell on that stupid collar, so I can't sneak up on anyone to beat up on them.  What's that about?

People, would you want something crazy like this ringing collar around your neck?  Scratch that.  Humans do all sorts of crazy things cats wouldn't dream of.  Work, for one.  What's that about?  Almost as bad as school.  Come on, live like a cat.  Cats know how to LIVE. 

Anyway, what was I saying?  Right.  I've spent the last couple of weeks since she foisted it upon my unsuspecting neck trying to pry it off, and it's not working.  Sometimes, they'll take if off, just to show thumbs do have their uses.  It's just not fair!  I need to figure out how to get me one of those thumb thingies.  The first thing I'd do with it is ring the neck of any idiot who thinks putting any clothes, especially a stupid collar, on a cat is a good idea. 

My Cat House

[My new cat house.  Stop snickering, weirdo.]  

Ruru the Cat here.  So my people have been talking about making me a house.  I thought my little upturned basket on a pillow served to give me plenty of privacy when I didn't want to deal with people, but they seemed to think I needed more.  I watched with fascination as my person helped her mom put together this foam stuff.  I thought it was just for Toothless to shred, but I guess it was for me.  Every time they say "cat house," they start snickering.  I can't imagine what's so funny about a house for a cat, but humans are weird creatures.  Cats everywhere should understand they're better off just not trying to comprehend human instincts and all that.  We'll just drive ourselves nuts.

[Me in my cat house.]

Anyway, so after they used this loud thing (a sewing machine, I think they called it) to put together Toothless's shreddable foam (sorry, Toothless.  Mine now), they showed it to me and stuck me in it.  It was okay for about a minute.  But the idea behind privacy is for it to be PRIVATE.   When they kept staring in at me and taking pictures, I decided I'd had enough and slipped away.  Like I said, weird humans.  Now, they have that foam thing in the place of my lovely upturned basket and pillow.  Hoping they figure out that nothing is as nice as the hidey holes we find for ourselves.

Bath Is a Four-letter Word

[Me, under threat of bath]

Ruru the Cat here.  I HATE baths.  Hate them.  I'm of the firm belief that anyone who thinks baths are a good idea should be used as a scratching post.  I mean, baths are bad news.  Nothing good (except warm water to drink) has EVER come from a bath.  Today, my mean old person was threatening to throw me in the bath.  She laughed the whole time and even ran a little water just to convince me she really meant it.  That's COLD.  Okay, the water was warm, but just threatening a cat with a bath is as bad as threatening a human child with vegetables and a mouse with a fun game of cat-and-mouse.  Bad things, I tell you, bad things. 


And just to prove that baths are bad and that all bath tubs should be thrown out and burned, I thought I'd bring in all the others to help me with a scientific survey like the one I did to prove vacuums were the very devil.  You remember how valid and totally convincing that was?  Well, here we go again.  But this time, we'll start with the cats because cats are smarter than dogs. 

[Toothless, up to his questionable and almost bath-like drinking in the sink.]

Okay, fellow cats, if you don't want me to eat your dinner tonight, agree with me that any water touching the fur is just wrong and likely to cause a cat to melt into a puddle of ooze. 

Maya:  What do you mean, you'll eat my dinner?  It's my dinner.  I will hiss at you if you try.  I'm older than you by a lot.  That makes me the alpha.  Don't mess with my dinner. 

Me:  Fine, whatever, old cat.  I wouldn't brag.  Tell me how nasty baths are. 

Maya:  I don't like water except to drink, but I've never taken a bath.  I don't think I'd like one.

Me:  I think you just said you agree with me.  Hey, Cass, I'll let you live if you agree, too. 

Cass:  Quit looking at me.  You scare me. S o do baths, though I've never had one.  But I don't mind letting water drip down my face when it's fresh and comes from the tap. 

Me: I'll take that as a yes, baths are pure evil.  Okay, Toothless.  Tell me how nasty water is. 

Toothless:  Cass is right.  Fresh water from the tap is awesome, even if it does get me wet.  Not much for baths, but I love that fresh water. 

Me:  No, all water on the fur is bad.  It should not  happen.  It could melt you.  My person has given me baths before.  They are bad.  They are terrifying. 

[Dodger, modeling his wet-rat-post-bath look.[

Okay, dogs.  What do you say about baths?  Think carefully, so I don't have to hurt you. 

Dodger:  Cat!  Barkbarkbarkbarkbark! 

Me:  What he means is baths are scary and bad.  He actually had one last week.  Looked like a drowned rat.  It was hilarious.  He spent the whole time whining to get out.  I about died laughing.

[Ain't he pitiful?]

Twixie:  I hate baths.  Hate 'em.  I think my person is picking me up to love me and give me treats, but then, she sticks me in the water and gets me wet and puts nasty stuff on me and sprays me off and I hate it until she picks me up and holds me and rubs me off and gives me treats.  Okay, so maybe baths aren't so bad. 

Me:  Who asked you? 

Twixie:  Uh... you did. 

Me:  Whatever.  Calli?

Calli:  I like baths.  Well, this tub scared me and made me slip. 

Me:  You almost did a backflip.  It was great!

Calli:  I like some tubs, but this one is really big and hard to escape.  But baths aren't so bad because my person loves me. 

[Seriously?  That is not a look of terror on that bathing creature's face.  What is wrong with this thing?]

Me:  Okay, enough wasting time with dogs.  Weirdos in the boy human's room? 

Hedgehog:  You're scary!  Baths are awesome, but you have teeth and claws.  Don't eat me!

Python:  Man, I could use a long soak in a nice, warm tub.  Mmmmm baths. 

Beardie:  Bath?  Where?  I would very much appreciate a lengthy period of time allowing my dry scales to absorb much-needed moisture. 

Leopard gecko:  Bath?  What's a bath? '

Me:  And there you have it.  We all agree baths should be cast into the great abyss.  Now, how do you get humans to read this, so I can prove baths should not exist?