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? 

MY Spot!!!!

[Me in my spot.  Not yours.  Mine.]

Ruru the Cat here.  So I figured out my person does this wonderful thing sometimes, which I like.  I wish I could get her to do it all the time.  She lays her jacket across her bed, so I can lay on it.  When it's like that, it's MY spot.  I want it, so it's mine.  Twixie tried to sneak in there and steal it from me, but I tell you it's MINE.  I had to stare him down and steal it back. 

[MY SPOT!!!]

My person's mom is usually awesome.  I'll sit there in her spot and wait for her to pet me and rub my tummy just right.  But when my spot is there, I want no attention.  Just the spot that smells like me and my person.  I'll let her pet me but only if she'll do it on my spot. 

[Okay, fine, pet me, but don't take me out of my spot.  This means you, too, stinking fluff butt Twixie in the background.  I see you eyeing my spot.]

Even my person was unacceptable that day.  I fought her to get back to MY spot, so Twixie couldn't sneak in there and steal it.  It's MINE, mine, and only mine.  When my person thought it was funny to bunch up that jacket, I stood wondering what to do without my spot.  Then, they put it back, so I could take it again.  I tell you it's MY SPOT. 

Traitor!

[Proof!]

Ruru the Cat here.  I've been telling you about this obnoxious dog that's come in to take over my whole house.  Here we were, living just fine with four cats and two throw rugs that bark and let us eat their food.  Well, all that changed when the beast above showed up and steals their food instead.  She drinks their water and steals our loves and barks at us.  Barks!  At us!  Given half a chance, she'll even chase us around and steal our treats.  I stay the heck out of the living room when she's around. 

[They look wayyyy too cozy here.]

Well, the other day, I saw it.  My brother, my VERY OWN BROTHER, turned traitor.  He walked right up to that beast that steals my dog food (and my cat food, given a chance) and sat RIGHT NEXT TO HER.  Seriously.  I get that Toothless is sweet to pretty much everyone in fur.  He can't stand any humans but his and will fight with claws out to get out of any human's grasp if it's not the right human.  But he has low standards as far as four-legged friends are concerned.  Clearly none at all because he actually snuggled that smelly, farty, snorty DOG.  I just can't believe this.  My own brother.  He snuggled her for several minutes of his own choice.  No one made him sit there.  I just don't get it.  Come on, Toothless.  How could you?  Soon, you'll start dating her.  "Dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria."  I heard that on a show once, but I never thought it would happen here.  Now it has!  The world is coming to an end!

The Joys of Misery

[Me, feeling like crap.]

Ruru the Cat here.  I've been feeling crappy all week.  I can't breathe very well.  I keep coughing and wheezing.  My people say something about "hairball."  All I know is I feel like something the cat might drag in, but I'd have to kill her because she'd be making me move.  Besides, I don't like any cats but Toothless.  The rest are jerks.  Just look at last week's blog.  I can't stand cats I don't know, and I don't like most of the ones I do know. 

[Extra love.  I can handle that.]

But here's the nice part of it all.  My person has been wrapping me up in a blankie and holding me and petting me.  Her mom has, too.  And she's really good at rearranging my ears and rubbing my belly and everything.  I've been coddled and fed extra treats all week.  I imagine it has something to do with this "hairball" stuff, whatever that is.  I don't like that they keep hunting me down to shove sludge in my face.  Sometimes, I'm in the mood for it, but I'm often not.  Either way, they make me take it.  They call it "meds," whatever that means. 

The important thing, really, is that they give me extra treats and a lot of love.  Maybe this feeling crappy business isn't so bad, after all. 

It Sucks!

[The very face of evil.  Look away!]

Ruru the Cat here, finally in charge of my stinking blog again.  Can't believe that nutty dog, taking over my blog like that last week.  Well, I can tell you one thing: this blog is MINE.  And this week, we're going to talk about the horror called (cue scary music) VACUUMS.   I no sooner hear that loud roar then my whole body shudders, and I have to hide.  I'm sure it's going to get me, even through the closed door.  I will claw my way through anyone holding me back from flight.  The thing is a MONSTER!!!  So, I thought I'd survey all the rest of the pets in the house to prove with unbiased scientific evidence that all vacuums should be destroyed and thrown away then destroyed some more. 

[Dogs, help me here.]

Me: Okay, Twixie.  How evil do you think the vacuum is?  
Twixie:  I don't like it.  It scares me.  But not as much as that person over there!  Barkbarkbarkbark!  

Okay.  That was kind of helpful but not really.  Maybe the next interview will prove my point: EVERY animal in the house thinks the vacuum should go, so the people should listen up. 

Me: Hey, Dodger.  
Dodger:  Cat?  Barkbarkbarkbark!  
Me:  Shut up, idiot.  It's just me.  I'm here every day.  Should they throw the vacuum away or destroy it?  
Dodger: What's a vacuum?  Cat!  Barkbarkbarkbarkbark!

Gah.  Dogs are not being very helpful.  Okay, dog kind, you have one more shot to prove you're not totally useless.  Come on, don't fail me. 

Me: Calli, should they shoot the vacuum or take an axe to it?  
Calli: I love vacuums!  They're so much fun!  I can kill them and chew on them and kill them some more.  Then, I can chew on the hose and on the face, and I love vacuums!  

[Evidence dogs have a weird relationship with vacuums and shouldn't be trusted.]

Wow, that dog has issues.  A vacuum is not a toy.  It's a fiend from the eternal abyss.  Dogs just don't get it.  Okay, let's try the denizens of the boy's bedroom.  Here's your chance to prove you're a higher life form than a dog.   

[One of the inhabitant's of the boy's room.  No accounting for taste.]

Me: Okay, there are three reptiles and a mammal in here. How quickly should the vacuum die?  
Bearded dragon:  Pardon me, but that is a biased question and fairly unscientific in nature.  
Leopard gecko:  Vacuum?  Never heard of it.  
Ball python: Doesssn't matter to me.  I don't have earsss.  Got any ratsss? 
Hedgehog:  Scary predator!  Teeth!  Claws!!!  Gonna eat me!!!  Scary scary scary scary scary!!!  Is it gone?  

Wow, these guys are even more useless than the first set.  Teach me to trust reptiles and whatever that cactus rat thing is supposed to be.  At least I know the cats agree. 

[No matter where we sit, it's always there.  Lurking.]

Me:  Okay, guys.  Tell me how you feel about the vacuum.  
Maya:  Hate it.  Almost as much as I hate you.  
Me:  Thanks.  Feeling the love.  Remind me to steal your treats. Cass? 
Cass:  You're scaring me.  What was the question? 
Me:  Focus.  Vacuum.  
Cass.  Bad.  Now, go away.  And don't scratch me.  
Toothless:  It definitely has to go.  No question.  Are you gonna eat that? 

See?  All the animals in the house whose opinion matters agree that the vacuum needs to be launched into outer space and blasted with a ray gun or whatever it is aliens on tv shows do to monsters.  It's unanimous.  The vacuum has to go.