Long time, no write. I've been busy establishing my new role in the house, having given up on ruling the world. As it turns out, I've found out in my elder years I get intense satisfaction just manipulating the two-leggeds that I allow to live with me.

For example, in the mornings one of the two-leggeds will start moving under the covers around five. They think I sleep in the bed to be 'close' to them. No chance. It's so that I can trigger off their movements. Sometimes the tall one will start moving around as early as two. I take that as the sign for me to begin the wake-up ritual. The wake-up ritual begins with me talking as I walk around the house. I talk about inane things because they can not understand me. Sometimes, I just walk around talking about how funny it is that they have to shovel my poop. Other times, I simply talk about the fact I think they stink. I mean, they only clean themselves once a day. They do not have my dedication to cleanliness.


I like it when I sense an early awakening. It gives me more time to try to get my morning canned food. Unfortunately, I have not managed to get them to feed me earlier than 7:15. That doesn't mean I will stop trying!

Of course, my dedication to cleaning means that I have to dispose of fur at times. The easiest way is to simply go to a major thoroughfare and cough up a hairball. It makes a clean removal given that the tall two-legged has to remove it and clean the carpet. On the other hand, that can have repercussions. So, I sometimes go lie on the tall two-leggeds clothes now that he has a nice closet. I can leave tufts of fur on his clothes. It is kind of nice. Don't get me wrong, I live hair all over the place. I take great pleasure from watching Daddy pick up fur, look at me with scorn, and put it in the trash can.

However, the ultimate pleasure comes from his new shower. He tried to shut the door on me, but he couldn't stand me sitting by the door and talking. 'I can see you through the glass. You're naked. You look funny.' After that, he let me in the bathroom. Now, I sit on the shower floor and watch him do his 'cleaning.' He turns his back on me. I think it is funny. I drink the water off the floor just to add the finishing 'ick' touch for him...

Yes, life is good. I can tick the tall two-legged off any time I want. I still need to find the key to ticking off the short two-legged. It will come...

Lilo the Cat Instigator

I have had it. It is time for cats to unite under the tyranny of the two-leggeds' rule. I have been asking to go outside for weeks. The weather has been beautiful, and I thought I needed to stretch my legs with a jaunt around the property. No dice. I figured I was just not being understood by the thickheaded two-leggeds. So, a number of times I helped myself through a door held open long enough. I was rudely scooped up and returned to the house. Well, all but once when I eluded the tall two-legged. I was fine. He tried to get me a few times, but I move much faster under the house than he. I came back when it started to get dark, so I do not see what the issue is.

This has been going on for quite some time, and has really come to head because of the introduction of a new two-legged into the family environment. She had no place being in the house. She was a chicken, for feline sake. Granted, I appreciate the two-leggeds' willingness to preserve a life, no matter how worthless. I would like to believe that if I were flayed open by some unspeakable horror that they would take care of me. Granted I would prefer a qualified doctor. I swear, the tall two-legged seems to think himself competent at any profession. I am surprised he hasn't tried to do brain surgery on me to attempt a modification to my speech center so he could understand me in that ugly language he speaks. At any rate, the chicken created a stench that even made me want to leave the room. If I had not been so comfortable on the bed, I would have. That would have been an unnecessary exertion, though, so I suffered through it. I appreciate your empathy.

Why am I organizing an union? Lila Bird has been returned to the coop. However, the two-leggeds consistently go get her and bring her back to the house to roam around when they are on the deck. HELLO! Here is a black-and-white cat that would love to do the same thing! Granted she follows them around like a puppy, which I would never do. I need my own space, and have no desire to follow around a lesser species. I can take care of myself, and would kick the snot out of a raccoon. I have said this repeatedly when the tall two-legged gets up in the night to run them off from the dog food can. Let me at 'em. I would make short work of that masked nocturnal raider, and probably turn him to my bidding in the process. Maybe I should consider inviting them to be the 'muscle' for the union. Their claws and teeth appear to be quite effective on lesser creatures like chickens.

The last straw was yesterday. The two-leggeds made a huge pile of redwood branches. They completely destroyed the wild area near the deck and turned it into some park looking area. It is disgusting. I could have hid in there for hours. On top of that, some of those branches used to spread on to the deck, where I would be able to rub them on the rare occasion that the short two-legged would take me outside. They ruin everything.

So, I send this out to all cats. Let us unite in forcing the two-leggeds to accept our demands. No more purring when being pet. No more being carried around by small two-leggeds. No more using a litter-box. No more snuggling on cold nights. No more eating canned-food. Hmmm... I may need to work on my platform a little. I am not sure if I could live very long without those things, but I don't think they know that.


Lilo the Cat Organizer

I am getting older. The two-leggeds don't know how old I am, but that's expected given their limited mental capacity. I have brought my world domination desires to a point where I need to think about Number One.

Winter is coming, and the days are getting shorter and colder.  I do consulting work for the other animals that are currently working for domination, but I spend my time looking for a warm place to lie, getting my food, and crapping when I need to. I have created a stink in the study for which I am very proud. Those plugins have met their match with me.

That said, I really do care for my two leggeds. I have to. It is apparent that no one else can. I have found that the bed of the tall two-legged is very warm, and I like to bask in the sun in the morning in his room. I spend most of my time resting in my retirement in preparation for the early morning hours. He doesn’t sleep much, and in the early morning hours I can remind him of my need for canned food. I sleep between his legs, which is very annoying, but it informs me of his waking period. His nightmares are apparently a bit frustrating, but they always have one end: he is up at four o’clock and should be ready to feed me my glorious canned food. Granted, he is a bit stupid. I mean, I remind him of it constantly. “You’re up, just do it.” I got that from a Nike commercial. Good advertising slogan.

Sometimes he wanders to the bathroom, this is great entertainment. Sometimes I open doors just to see if he will stumble into them. I encourage Tolkien to lay in the hallway (he is easily convinced to do anything) and watch Daddy trip and sometimes he whacks himself against the wall. I laugh so hard it brings tears to my eyes. Annie’s backpack is often in the way and is like watching him go through a minefield in the complete dark. Jees, that’s just good stuff.

Unfortunately, Annie is responsible for giving me the canned food. Why couldn’t I have been born with thumbs that work? Still, it is nice to have an excuse to gripe and complain, and I always get what I want. I also get a crack-up about having a “captive” audience when Daddy goes to the bathroom. I can tell him everything about my life. What is he going to do? Get up? I don’t think so. I smell what is happening, and he is going no where without an immediate shower.

All said, it is not a bad life. That’s my take. There are some things you have no control over, and you make the absolute best of what you can do. Maybe Daddy should think about that.

Lilo the Cat Retired

Today was a good day. I sat in the window most of the morning, complaining to Daddy that I needed outside. He talked to me as he worked from the deck, but he never let me out. I have noticed over the past few days that he often smells like I remember the wonderful area under the house smelling. Unfortunately, I couldn't figure out how he was getting that way.

Today, however, I went looking. He was out on the computer, and I found it. There was a hole in the floor of his bathroom. How long had I missed this? I jumped down and entered my long lost kingdom. The subtle light made the spider webs glow, and the smells were wonderful. I looked at everything, rubbed on everything, and smelled everything. A couple of times, Daddy came down and lit a fire, put up some tubing, and played with melted metal. Humans are stupid. I clean myself, and I can find water outside...

I talked to him a bit, but seldom got close enough for him to grab me and banish me to the house. He didn't try, so I decided to trust him. I went to the outside access, and I found the stray cat looking around. I kept my distance. After he left, I walked around outside. The deck was great as well. Daddy was out working on the computer, and I decided to say hello, and see if he was going to grab me. He didn't so I sat down to talk to him for awhile while I rubbed on stuff and sniffed some more. At one point he went inside and left the door open. I ventured in to see what was going on, and he started the fire again. I left...

Unfortunately, when he was done, he saw me and put me in the house. Jerk. Actually, I was pretty tired, so it was ok. I went back into the bathroom, and all the holes were closed. I checked every one. There were no holes large enough for me to fit. So, I went to the kitchen, sprawled out, and went to sleep. It was a good day.

Lilo the Cat Opportunist

I am an emaciated wreck. When Annie is gone, I am completely neglected. The tall two-legged does not take care of me. It's not as if he doesn't know what to do. I tell him every morning. I am polite, of course. As soon as I see that he is awake, I begin singing to him to remind him I am hungry. It is not my fault that he is a light sleeper, and I mistake (on occasion) his rolling over as an indication of wakefulness. Then, as he stumbles to the kitchen in the dark to make and procure a cup of that vile black drink he likes, he gets mad at me. I am just trying to help. He apparently doesn't know the way very well, so I gently prod and herd him towards my dish. Sometimes he goes the wrong way, and I end up underneath his feet. Clutz. Granted, I chuckle a little when he falls against a chair.

The coffee pot is located directly over my dish. I look at him, I look at the dish, I look at him, I look at the dish. You get the idea. All the while, I am communicating my need for canned food. I am dying. Seriously, I am not sure if I can survive until Annie takes over this responsibility. If I had thumbs, I'd take care of it myself, but I don't. I have to trust in those that do. He seems to think I don't need canned food all the time to sustain me. He points to the large bowl of dried cat food sitting balefully next to the empty dish that should contained canned food. Then he wonders why in my depleted state, I jumped off the window sill, slipped on the new nightstand and scratched it with my rear claws. The nerve.

Please, Annie come home so we can restart the routine of me having a full belly and healthy body...

Oh yeah, the cat box needs to be cleaned...

Lilo the Cat Withering

What a horrible day. You know, I gave up my desire for world domination in favor of being a dedicated family member. I have been very patient with Annie. Today, however, we stepped over the line. Daddy took a lunch break today. Abnormal, but it seemed ok, given that I was asleep on the bed. Well, my ignoring the situation turned sour. I looked up when a towel was placed on the bed, thinking that it couldn't have anything to do with me. The next thing you know, I was wrapped in a towel and headed for the truck. What the heck? I complained the whole way. I voiced my opinion on the matter the entire way to school.

We sat in the truck for what seemed an eternity. I guess it was really only about ten minutes. I continued to voice my concern at this abuse, but Daddy wrapped me in a towel, and we left the truck. There were children all over the place. I lost count of how many kids ran up to pet me and admire me. Under normal circumstances, I would have taken them under my power, but I was too concerned at being out of my element. We finally reached the classroom. Who shares a cat? How did I get into this situation? No one even asked me!

Because of the towel, I refrained from using my most potent weapon: urination. We entered the classroom, and there was no one there. Thank goodness. Daddy took a seat in a comfortable chair, and I snuggled into his arm. What torture was going to come next? I quickly looked around the room to find a good hiding place, but Daddy's hands were firm. In a few minutes, the class showed up. The tried to be polite, and came in quietly and slowly. Then it began... the hell that is known as Show-and-Tell. I was the Show, and Annie provided the Tell. I was pet by 20+ kids. One kept his distance due to allergies. I had a fleeting moment where I thought it sucked to be him. We spent about fifteen minutes there, and I suffered the ultimate in humility.

By the time we left, the playground was empty, and we made it to the truck without anyone rushing in for a look. I complained briefly, but waited until we were in the truck and driving home to let Daddy really have it. I complained all the way home. He didn't have much to say. He put me on the floor when we entered, and I sprawled out, and continued my complaining. After twenty minutes, I realized that it wasn't doing any good. He was back to work on that stupid computer. I crawled into the blue chair, snuggled into a blanket, and tried to sleep off my mental damage. Don't talk to me. I'm going through internal rehab...

I need a change...

Lilo the Cat Survivor of Purgatory

I am very upset with myself... I have let my control of the world spin out of control. I've become so... so... domestic... I still know that I am wild at heart. Take this morning, for instance. After a night spent sleeping between the legs of the tall two-legged one (not at all comfortable, I woke up frequently to tell him to stop moving his legs while he slept), I yawned, walked around the house, and returned to have a snuggle session with the short two-legged human. At the appropriate time, she got up and fed me canned food. I love tuna. Not real tuna, but the stuff they put in cans especially for cats. Well, after struggling with that wait, I went into Daddy's new bedroom. It's really quite nice, despite his inability to follow my instructions. Everyone gets lucky, I guess. I like to sit by the french doors and watch the wildlife. Yet, it hurts. They don't realize the pain of my life. I sit and stair and at times voice my longing to have the freedom they do. My life is so difficult.

Well, the ultimate humiliation happend shortly after I took my place at the doors this morning. It was a glorious morning with the sun shining brightly through the windows and doors. The two-leggeds were eating their version of breakfast (I'd already had mine... I get fed first, as is appropriate). The beams of sunlight came through the glass and made a beautiful pattern on the new walls. I turned to the walls, and saw a flicker... a shadow passed across the light. I stared and stared. It was a bird. I don't know why, but I couldn't stop looking at it, and even tried to talk to it. Eons of genetic development took over, and I jumped to grab it. I found only wall, and fell back about four feet with nothing to show for it. I heard raucous laughter from the other room, and Annie and Daddy were watching me. To make matters worse, I tried to explain myself, and couldn't keep from trying to catch the shadows again. Curse it. Why am I so limited by these people? What if the Jays taste just like canned tuna? Oh the joy of catching my food. Granted, I found a mouse once, and just played with it, but I don't like non-fish food, so deal with it.

Next time, I think I'll scratch the walls with my back claws in frustration. That will teach them.

Lilo the Cat Ridiculed

You just can't get good help these days. I finally got the tall two-legged to start putting some serious effort into finishing my bathroom. He calls it his bedroom, but that's secondary to the fact that my catbox is in there right now. I was sick and tired of doing my 'business' and staring at studs and half-insulated walls. I don't even have any reading material in there.

At any rate, I was forced to employ him for the job because, well, I don't have any thumbs. I should have tried to get one of the day laborers from downtown. I think they would listen better. I started out trying to talk to him while pacing the floor. "That screw head is sticking out too far." "You are going to fall on your butt if you try to put that drywall up that high with the ladder like that." It was like talking to a post. Finally, I climbed up on the stool so I would be closer to his thick head. It still didn't work. "You don't have enough mud under the tape on that seam. It's going to bubble." Did he listen? No way. I just shook my head as he spent an extra couple of hours trying to make it right. "You should get a mask to wear when you are sanding all that." Nothing. I left the room while he sounded like he was going to cough up a lung.

You can tell he doesn't know what he is doing by how little he got on himself. I mean, I was just supervising, and I got more drywall mud, dust, and paint on me than he got on him. Idiot. Sometimes I just get so frustrated that I'm forced to stare outside, or sprawl out on the floor for a much needed nap. Too bad I can't fire him. Well, I guess he made some progress, anyway. He'd better get that second coat of plaster on the walls today, or I'm going to dock his pay.


Lilo the Cat Contractor

What the pheasant is going on? I thought summer was going to be a blast! Only on the weekends would I lose the use of my legs while the short two-legged carries me around, and stuffs me in blankets. The tall two-legged is totally abandoning his care of me. I politely asked to go outside (multiple times) and finally the door opened and I strutted out. Knowing what would most likely happen in a few minutes, I went under the deck. As I expected, Daddy forgot about me. I explored most of the property. I saw deer, and bribed Tolkien to watch out for coyotes. The moon came out, and I prepared myself for a night of singing. Around 2:00 am, Daddy comes out of the house in his pajamas, if that's what you can call sweat pants and a t-shirt (he has no sense of style).

I watched him walk around in the dark looking for me. It was absolutely hysterical. He even went down the hill and looked under the house. Goon. He finally saw me sitting on the stairs, and I told him I was fine and that he should go back to bed. He picked me up, and unceremoniously dropped me on the floor. What the pheasant? I was fine! I talked to him a bit about how unfair it was, but he didn't listen. I curled up on a blanket and slept for thirty hours. Yeah, sometimes it's great being me.

Last night, I ran into the kitchen because I heard a noise that could only have come from a possible minion. He was as dumb as Tolkien. He was chewing on a packet of cheese from the pizza delivery people (pizza... yuck). I told him about all the other things we could share, but he never budged. I tried twice, but finally gave up and went to a window to watch the yard under the moonlight. Daddy got up and went to the kitchen. I watched him for a while, and was shocked to see his arm shoot out and my friend fall to the ground. Note to self: let's not really make this guy mad.

I tried to tell him that I needed outside today... repeatedly. He didn't get it. He made comments about me not having front claws (like that matters), and forced me to stay inside. Fine. I'm fairly certain that I can crap in his sandals...




Lilo the Cat Miffed

Woe is me. The weather is beautiful, and the doors and windows are open. Unfortunately, I don't have opposable thumbs, and can't get outside. I've sat at the door and called and sung for hours. I chose a Pink Floyd song that begins with "is there anybody out there?" I guess in human speak this comes out only as "meow, meow, meow." I'd scratch the screen off the door, but my claws have been removed... I could shred this screen so fast, there would be nothing but hair sized wire if I had my claws. Apparently, there was a concern when I was young(er) that I might damage furniture. Please. If you don't want me to sharpen my claws on furniture, buy metal furniture.

I was severely insulted by the neighbor cat. I stood up in the window showing not only my prodigious size, but my willingness to play. Pressed behind the screen, Curly looked at me and ran. I was the Cat in the Bubble. What's wrong with him? Is he contagious? Is he going to be ok? Please. I stared at my paws and willed the claws to grow. There is nothing wrong with me, and I'm upset to be seen in that light. I ran to another window and called to Curly, but he was still nervous. He went back to the door, and I sped back so we could have a conversation. Unfortunately, he wasn't very bright, and couldn't understand my directions for opening the door for me. Criminy, he could even climb the screen and press the button with his nose. I'd push from my side, and I'd have freedom. But, no. He was worried that if I left my bubble his claws would vanish.

Well, I guess I have to be content with the life I have, and I'll poop somewhere inappropriate to make my point...



Lilo the Cat Oppressed