Cactus Rat?!!!

[What in the...?]

Ruru the Cat here.  I thought my people had lost their minds when they allowed a dog in my house that looked like it had run fast into a wall and squished its nose, sounded like a snorting pig, and smelled like...well...a DOG.  Then, they did THIS.  They brought a cactus rat into my house. 

[My people have lost it.]

They've called this thing a bean, a prickle pickle, and a hedgehog. If you ask me, it doesn't look like a bean, a pickle, or a hog.  And hedgehogs, from the game my people play and shows my people watch, are blue.  It hisses, trembles, and sits around like some kind of prickly rock.  It SMELLS like an animal. It has a nose, eyes, and feet.  I know it poops.  It's alive.  But most of the time, it just looks like something totally inedible, though it smells like it could be prey. And they feed it MY food.  Food better than mine, in fact. Which they don't share with me.  Grrr. 

[Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this?] 

I just don't get it.  Why bring in a rat with armor?  A rat without armor is fun, is killable, is fun.  I could spend hours of joyous time playing it to a slow and delightful demise.  But this thing?  I don't want to touch it.  Not sure why they do.  They say it's cute, but I'm the very definition of cute.  I KNOW cute. And if you have cats, why would you need anything else?  I've said it before, and I'll say it again.  Humans don't make ANY sense. 

Monster in my house! Again!

[Yet another nasty beastie I DON'T want in my house!] 

Ruru the Cat here.  I seriously think my people hate me.  They must, or they wouldn't keep bringing stinking dogs in here.  I just get rid of one round of unnecessary, unwanted dogs (but then, I repeat myself), and another one shows up.  It's my house.  Mine.  A house for cats alone, and not even all cats.  Just me.  And my people.  Toothless can stay, but everyone else with fur and four legs should go.

But dogs are WAAAAAY worse than cats.  I kept hearing rumors that they were going to bring in another person to stay for a while.  They were setting up this camper, whatever that is, for this human to stay in.  Fine, whatever.  Not my problem.  But then, they brought the actual human to stay here while they set up her camper.  This STILL wouldn't have been my problem (I'm okay with an extra set of hands to pet me), except that this human came with a DOG.  The nasty dog above.  We all disappeared for the whole day, hoping against hope this was a one-day visit.  If it can't see us, we can't see it, can we?  And what you can't see is supposed to DISAPPEAR.  Then, another day came and went, and yet, the slobbery mutt remained, eating my dog food, messing with my dogs (can't believe I just said that) and drinking from my water dish.  Which part of my smells everywhere are unclear?  This is MY house.  Mine.  You can't have it.  I marked everything and everyone, ESPECIALLY the dog food. 

[The monster in my face now.  Worse than just my house.]

I've even caught my people turning traitor and petting that thing.  They thought it was funny to get the two of us together for the picture above.  There is NOTHING funny about sticking me in a dog's face, unless I'm allowed to shred the dog.  That would be hilarious.   And the thing is STILL HERE.  What's the deal?  I thought hiding would get my message across.  Now, I'm taking extreme measures by blogging.  If that doesn't work, I don't know what I'll do.  People are just dense.  Which part of MY HOUSE do you not understand.  Mine.  I think I need new people.  Ones who catch a hint.  That's it.  I'll give away mine and get a new batch.  Ones that behave by keeping dogs out. 

Person Heads

[What's this supposed to be, some funny-looking dog?  Thought we had enough of those around here.]

Ruru the Cat here.  People are strange.  This week, my people used those costume thingies they love to inflict on me on themselves.  They wore these big round things that I think were supposed to be animal heads on their own heads.  Wasn't very convincing because they didn't smell like anything other than people.  And they came home after wearing those things with piles of nasty-smelling stuff I think they call candy.  I heard someone say the word "Halloween," as if it was an important word, but it means nothing to me.

[Fake cat holding a real cat.  At least something's real around here.]

This is one of those strange things my person put on her own head.  I think it's supposed to be a cat, but I found it a bit ridiculous.  It's flattering that my person thinks I'm awesome enough to imitate.  Then again, it should be obvious cats are so cool that everyone would want to be just like us. 

[What the what?  No idea what this thing is supposed to be.]

Then again, if that's the case, why did my person's brother wear this one instead?  Not sure what it's supposed to be, but it does look a bit scary with those big teeth.  Just when I think I have these human-types figured out, they go and do something nutty that confuses me again.  Ah, well.  At least I don't have to be one, even if they wanna be me. 

Nasty Forcefields

[Mmmmmeat!  Human food is the best.]

Ruru the Cat here.  Humans make such lovely food.  Yes, yes, I get that we cats are welcome to eat our boring kibble once a day, steal the dogs' food all day, and then get yummy treats whenever they're offered.  Those are lovely, but the real stuff is what they eat, themselves.

[Slices of heaven.]

For instance, they make this lovely stuff called bread.  White, soft, yummy bread.  But do they offer it to me?  Generally not.  Which means I have to steal it.  Then they get unhappy.  Well, if they'd offer it to me to begin with, I wouldn't have to steal it.  It's kind of like an open invitation to steal.

But they always put this invisible force field around that lovely, happy bread that melts in my mouth.  They force me to chew through that nasty force field I think they call plastic to get to that lovely stuff.  Then, they put it in a thicker, nastier plastic, as if they want me to think it's not open season on lovely bread.  I repeat, if those stinking humans would just offer me the stuff I want to begin with, things wouldn't have to get so complicated.

[Me, trying to get through an obnoxious force field on my fishie crackers.]

It's worse yet when they put those force fields around stuff like fishie crackers.  My person actually gives me crackers, so I know I'm supposed to have them.  Plastic force fields are not the worst thing they do.  These fishie crackers are generally stuck in this cardboard container I can't chew through, which is far worse than the force field.  When they leave it open, I can fish for those tidbits of cheesie yumminess using my paw.  But too often, they close it up.  Then, I can only wish for the force field I can actually break.  But it gets worse still when they put meat, cheese, and the best of all things into a hard, metal box that's cold inside.  When they do that, I am reduced to sitting by every time it's open and beging, waiting on their mercy to give me the treasures for which I yearn.

Maya the Cat here.  I just thought I'd jump in and say plastic is really great to lick and lick and lick and lick.  It doesn't even need to taste like anything.  I don't know why the other cats don't find licking plastic exciting, except sometimes Toothless.  It's not even about the food inside.  Plastic doesn't keep you from the yumminess.  It IS the yumminess.  Plastic is magic.  

Maya, you're weird.  

[How fishie crackers should be served, in vast quantities, readily available.]

Seriously, people, stop making it so hard for us cat-types to actually get this human food.  You know we cats are in charge.  Stop complicating our lives unnecessarily by making us work so hard.  Thus sayeth your masters.  Cute, fluffy, big-eyed masters you love so much that you're gonna go out and give us a fishie cracker RIGHT NOW.

Ditching Me AGAIN!!!

(My person behaving properly, worshiping me.)

Ruru the Cat here.  My person walked out on me AGAIN.  Seriously?  Is it my breath?  Is it that stupid, obnoxious dog?  I can't think it's me.  She keeps disappearing for DAYS like she can't stand to be around me.  Then, she comes back talking about some other cat or smelling like a dog, like she's got better things to do than to sit around, petting me.  How is that even possible?  A human hand is built for loving a cat.  I can't imagine there's anything in this world more important than giving me love. 

[What the freak is that THING?  And why is my person feeding it?] 

[And this thing?  I just know it's not me.]

[What the what?]

[Now, I know they're joking because whatever-this-is can't exist.]

She talked about petting another cat, like I wasn't enough.  But weirder still, she came back smelling like weird things, I mean weirder than poodles, which was the primary thing I smelled on her.  I don't even know how to describe these other smells.  She said something about petting a llama, a zedonk or something that sounded like that, a sheep, some goats, an alpaca, an emu, and a camel.  I don't even think most of those are real words.  I think she made them up just to tease me and make me jealous.

[Yeah, whatever.  This isn't me.]

She also talked about hiking among red rocks, something about Arches and land canyon, Canyonlands, something like that.  It meant nothing to me because I can't imagine rocks and arches and canyons could be better than hanging out with me.  At least she's back.  I guess that's the important thing. 

I don't understand people.  They pretend that they love me then run out any chance they get to pet and stare at stuff that isn't me.  Humans just don't make any sense. 

Close Call

[I'll take a serious mauling if it means my person won't leave me.]

Ruru the Cat here.  I swear my person likes to give me a heart attack.  She and the other people around here talked all about they were going to be gone the whole weekend.  They gave us food early in the day as if they were going to be gone a LONG time.  They stuck the dogs in the bathroom, like they planned to be gone at least over night.  They did everything they could to make me think they would be gone FOREVER. 

Then, that very same night, there they were, back as if they'd never gone.  I had to pin down my person and purr at her and get all snuggly to make sure she was so happy with me that she would NEVER leave me AGAIN.  I wonder if it was a prank by the people around here, and they spent the whole time just outside the house, laughing at me.  I'm sure that's what they did.  Man, people are meanies. 

Puppy Toddlers?

[Hmm.  Thought it'd be scarier.]

Ruru the Cat here.  Who knew that dogs have a toddler version?  I really had no idea.  We've had what people around here called puppies.  They seem hyperactive and bigger than me, jumping all over and trying to lick me.  Eating my dog food.  Attacking everything that moved.  Basically, a louder, bigger, smellier version of an obnoxious kitten (but I repeat myself.)  It turns out that puppies come in smaller sizes.  And wussier sizes, too.  Some people who are over here frequently (they own the yeti that used to haunt my backyard) brought these things they called "puppies." 

[This is where I was sure I was dead.]

When I caught that my person was holding one of those dog toddlers, I started to freak out.  I mean, puppies/dogs are bad.  Toddlers are worse.  You throw them all together into one creature, and you'd expect them to jump all over you, pull your tail, and suck on your head like you were a lolly pop until you exploded.  I mean, I was picturing a Mega Monster to end all monsters. 

[Twixie in his awesome cone of shame meeting one of the puppy things.  Did I mention it's the best thing ever to watch Twix try to run upstairs in that thing?  He bumps into every stair.  HEELARIOUS.  Bummer he's out of it now.  Thought I was gonna laugh myself sick.]

But then I saw that these things are about as scary as a spaghetti noodle.  I mean, the people plunk them down, and they sort of sit wherever they're put, like a stuffed "animal."  They were about as terrifying as a teddy bear.  Almost (but not quite) cute, too.  The worst part of their visit was NOT the floppy little fuzzpuddles, themselves. 

[My twisted person smiling over my pain over being outside.]

The worst part was my person thought it was hilarious to use their visit as an excuse to carry me to this big scary place they call OUTSIDE.  She thought it was awesome to swing with me. 

[Perversity of thinking I want to slide.  Do you see that look of terror?  Seriously.]

And slide with me.  I DO NOT WANT TO SLIDE.  All that fast moving?  Only way I want to move that fast is if I'm chasing down a tasty little mouse that needs to die. 

[Nasty grass.  Terrible stuff.  Why'd they ever invent it?] 

And put me into this awful stuff they call GRASS.  I mean, if not for that, I wouldn't mind those little dog-toddlers around here.  (Never thought I'd hear myself say THAT).  As long as they don't get big.  And toddlery.  Or, worse yet, turn into big, slobbery yeti dogs.   *Shudder.*