North American Tree Weasels Lose Our Tree

[My favorite jungle gym.]

Ruru the Cat here.  My people have taken to calling us the "North American Tree Weasels" because we're always running up and down that so-called Christmas tree thing.  The problem, of course, was that everyone else was always taking over my favorite jungle gym.  I scarcely got to hang out in that thing.  I only got to kill one or two ornaments.  I wanted to take out the whole tree.  Whenever I'd try to slink over there, casually so no one knew it was me, I'd find Cass or, worse yet, Sylvie.  It's supposed to be MY jungle gym. 

[The one toy worth killing.]

Anyway, one day this week, our people gathered around it and took out all those lovely packages wrapped in the oh-so-shreddable paper they stuck in plastic, so I couldn't shred.  They passed those things around.  They even gave me this fuzzy sock-shaped thing filled with boring toys I've scarcely touched.  What I really wanted was that tree, but they didn't stick it in my fuzzy sock.  Clearly, humans aren't as sharp as they think. 

[Little monster steals my toy.]

I do have to say one of those  boring toys was not made of cheap plastic.  It's this big, frilly, fuzzy thing with lots of baubles and shiny, dangly bits.  I like that thing.  I can kill it like they won't let me do the ornaments.  But then, I see them sharing it with the puppies, those useless little rodents, also on the unfortunate list of forbidden play objects.  Sad, too.  I could make quick work of those 4-inch fluffy things.  And now, my toy has puppy cooties.  Thanks again, people.  Grrr. 

[Empty spot where the tree was.]

Anyway, so one day, the mom around here hauled off the tree.  Sylvie was lost all day.  She kept coming back to see if it would return.  It was her favorite hidey hole.  Sucks to be her.  But now, I'll have to wait until next year to slaughter the ornaments.  Ah, well.  I guess I can steal my fun toy back and kill it.  I can also pretend that I'm hunting those annoying and chirpy puppies that are just going to grow and become MORE annoying dogs to eat my dog food.   I think I'll go to sleep mauling that toy, while dreams of annoying, little barky rodents dance in my head.  That'll be fun. 

Unmerry Christmas

[This is me, Marty, in a picture from a few months ago.]

This is Marty, one of Ruru's "yetis."  I figured since she left her blog open, I'd sneak in.  It's been a really rough week for we dogs who sometimes stay in Ruru's backyard.  Ruru won't even tell you about how big and cute her family's puppies are getting or how worried her family has been that our suffering would spread to them.  

[My beloved family before all of this began]

Last Sunday, Ruru was excited to see us gone.  Well, what she wouldn't tell you is the day after my children found what they thought would be their forever families, one after another got sick with a terrible disease the humans call "parvo."  It broke my heart when I heard how two of them threw up blood and then had to be put down.  I'm not sure what put down means, but it sounds bad.  I've seen one of my sons get better and my daughter avoid the disease entirely.  I heard another son got better.  I'm happy about all that, but I've decided it's time for all of them to move on.  I just want it to be me and my mate.  It's time.  I don't even want my son in my yard anymore.  I'm not sure why he came back from his new home.  

[My beautiful mate and me.]

Except midweek, a day after the terrible news about my boys came to us, my darling Willow ran away.  I heard that she got "hit" by a "car," but I'm not sure what all that means.  I just know she never came back.  It was so much fun to go running with her before the puppies came.  That was a blast.  I figured when she went running away, she'd always come back.  She's always come back.  She raised me then had my puppies.  She's been the light of my life.  Why wouldn't she come back?  Did I do something wrong?  I howled all day to call for her, but she didn't come.  And now, I don't feel well either.  I threw up last night.  I'm not sure why.  I just hope I don't throw up blood because that sounds bad.  I just wish we could be one happy family again.  At least, me and my mate.  Why can't we do that?  

[Remind me how all this is my problem.]   

Ruru the Cat:  Dangit.  The dumb yeti got to my computer before I could.  I was just stealing my person's goldfish crackers, then I was gonna get right on and tell you about the nightmare of the toddlers showing up and taking over my house again.  I guess I'm gonna have to do that next week.  Oh, and can I say once again I'm happy to NOT be a dog?   'Cuz it sounds like it sucks to be a yeti. 

So Glad this Wasn't Me

[Gah!  The yetis are back!]

Ruru the Cat here.  I was gonna whine all about how the yetis were back all week.  In fact, there are two still there, but I know the others are coming back, all kazillion of them.  They did before.  Why wouldn't they come again, barking and barking and barking and barking?  They're terrifying.  At least they're outside while I'm in here. 

[The faces of the victims of a horrible place called "The Vet."]

Anyway, so I WAS gonna write all about that, but Sylvie, both dogs, and the snake insisted they waited long enough.  They had to speak out against horrible and offensive place they were all taken recently, first the dogs, then the snake, and then that horrible beast of a cat, Sylvie.  In the case of the dogs, it sounds like they were poked and prodded, and Snow the dog had teeth yanked out of her head.  *Shudder.*  Almost worse, Sylvie was knocked out in such a place, and when she woke up, her belly had been shaven, and her guts taken out.  She was all sewn up again.  The snake was just hauled in, poked and prodded, and then came back whiny.  What kind of a terrible place does this kind of thing? 

[My face whenever I think they'll ever take me there.] 

Well, on the bright side, at least it wasn't me.  I think I went to a place like that when I was really little, but I haven't been back since.  I'd deal with a dozen yetis before I got ripped open and had organs removed or been stabbed or whatever.  Seriously.  Whose bright idea is a torture chamber for pets?  Humans are twisted. 

Game of Trees

[Behold, my beloved Jungle Gym]

Ruru the Cat here.  Every year, I look forward to the opportunity to run in and out and up and down my favorite jungle gym, the big, green, tree-shaped thing that smells nothing like a tree but is covered in happy, shiny baubles I can kill.  They call it a Christmas tree, but that's a meaningless phrase.  It's not a tree, and what the flip is something called Christmas to a cat?  Well, this year, I've scarcely gotten to climb in my beloved jungle gym at all.  Everyone else seems to beat me to it.  

[Even Toothless, my beloved or at least tolerated, brother gets into the game]

Every time I go to kill me some ornaments, some other cat is already doing it.  It's just not fair.  Worst of all, that monster in the basement, Sylvie, gets into the game.  In fact, she's laid claim to not just downstairs but also upstairs.  She sits triumphantly on "Queen Maya's" throne, the table, lording over that tree, climbing in the tree, doing whatever she wants to MY JUNGLE GYM.  If anyone tries to step on that table or touch that tree when she's  out of her room, she challenges them with her loud yowl, threatening us all.  She'll brawl with whoever it is if they don't bow.  Even Maya backs off, and she never backs off to me.  What kind of beast did my people bring in here?  It's my house!  I was here first!  Okay, first if you disregard Maya, which I'd much prefer to do.  All I can do is hide in a corner and stare with longing at my beautiful jungle gym.  It's just not fair.  I'm supposed to rule the house, not Maya, and certainly not Sylvie.  Anytime I ask Cass what she thinks, she hisses and cowers.  Maybe it's because any time I look at her, I'm usually trying to kill her.  She's scared of her own shadow.  Seriously, cats, why can't you be more like Cass?  Don't you see how I'm the victim here?  My house.  My jungle gym.  Mine.  

Yeti Infestation!

Yetis are back in my backyard again!

Ruru the Cat here.  I don't know if you can see them through that window, but I can see them.  And hear them.  And hear them.  And hear them some more.  They're LOUD.  And TERRIFYING!  The person holding me up to look at them was practically shredded so I could run away from those monsters.  There are hundreds of those monsters, each at least six feet tall?  Oh, hush, Toothless.  There are, too.  Okay, so Toothless wants me to say there are only seven of them about 2-3 feet each, but I'd swear I'm right. The little ones may not be so big, but the full grown ones are HUGE. 

[The yetis coming right at my back door.]

This is what they'd look like if that door weren't protecting me from their giant teeth. You see how big they are, right?  They're GIANTS!  And they're EVERYWHERE!!  They came out of nowhere, just appearing in my backyard.  It almost seemed like they brought the snow with them or that the snow produced them because they appeared the very day all that snow showed up.  And a few days later, they're still HERE!  Are they gonna be here forever?  

[Yetis!  All over!]

They're everywhere!  I keep having nightmares that they're gonna break into my house and eat me.  And they're always running and romping and acting like crazy monsters all raring to eat a poor, innocent cat like me.  They come right out of the snow, like they're made of snow.  They're definitely abominable snow monstrosities.  

[The only way I find them sort of tolerablish.]

The only way I like them is like this, all caged up.  But they're only like that at night.  The rest of the time, they're running free.  Please protect me from them.  There has to be a way to get rid of our yeti infestation.  Know any professional yeti exterminators?  No?  Dangit.  I guess I'm stuck with them.