...Er, um, Hello!

My name is Augustus. I have parents. Sometimes life can be difficult. I possess the great skill of being able to charm the socks off of anyone who chances to spot me, a rare occurrence indeed. [The spotting, that is; not the charming!]
However, for you, Dear Reader, I am prepared to divulge my deepest thoughts and perspective of the world, mostly because if I don't tell somebody what is going on around here, I am going to pop!
But be warned, proceed with caution: Living with Mummy and Dad can be rather harrowing at times...

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Decimation of a Houseplant

There was a plant. No one was around. I was in fine fettle, feeling a bit roguish and kittenly (is that a word?). The plant stood a few feet tall in a wicker basket, straight stalks and leaves reaching ever upward to the ceiling (it had a long way to go, too, ‘cause that ceiling is 22 feet up there!). As previously mentioned, I was full of vim and stuff so could not resist scuttering about the plant, nipping at a leaf here, scratching at the basket there. Then - I am certain - the plant let fall a derogatory comment about my appearance.
I stopped and stared. I gave it a narrow-eyed look. This was the moment I had been waiting for - squatting on my haunches, I made the great leap and landed *SPLAT* in the middle of The Plant, looking neither to the left nor to the right but ever onward in my quest to avenge evil. I sat, I dug, I pawed, bit and scratched. Turning this way and that, I gave every leaf in view a cuff ‘round the ears and made it wilt! Finally, seeing that the plant had backed down and would no longer be in the mood to call names, I hopped down and biffed off to another room for a rest. I had no need to look back - what’s done is done; let the past bury the dead, say I. Besides, Mummy was out so would have no evidence I was even there. All was right with the world… 

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Lessons in Sharing

Tonight Mummy made broiled flounder and scrumptious crab cakes for dinner. When it was time, we all gathered ‘round the table in our usual seats, me right beneath Dad (he tends to offer more generous portions than Mummy), the others scattered at intervals between the colonnade of table-, chair- and people legs. All seven of us sitting patiently, waiting… AND waiting…
It seems Mummy and Dad were so absorbed in their silly conversation and pure indulgence in the aromatic foodstuffs that they completely forgot that the rest of us were even in the room! Do you think we got even a morsel of flounder, a snippet of flaky, tender crab cake? NO. That is, not until I took steps to correct the situation. Sometimes parents just need to be reminded, I guess.
When it became apparent that the usual ‘ahem’ing and leg-pawing weren’t working, I thought something more drastic was called for. After all, my tummy was in no mood to be trifled with. Leaving my preferred place and slithering through the crowd of fluffy tails and tickly whiskers, I found myself beneath the chair just opposite Mummy, beneath the EMPTY chair…As it was unoccupied I took up residence, transitioning easily into my famous ‘stealth mode’. No response (not to my presence, anyway. Mummy laughed a good bit at some goofy thing Dad said). Good! 

 I poked my nose above the level of the table to scope things out, rather like a periscope. Well, not really – my nose doesn’t bend. It does wrinkle up sometimes, though, which Mummy says is cute…where was I? Oh, yes – “poking my nose above the level of the table”...got it! I could hear the delicious sounds of forks scritching across plates, of broccolis being champed – this was too much! My head popped up, and I found myself at eye level with that big platter overflowing with juicy fish and steamed rice - oh what aroma, what nuances of butter and stuff! Still no reproach, Dad butchering yet another joke, Mummy saying how delicious the flounder was with just the right hint of seasonings…ummm…I sniffed and sniffed until next thing I know I follow my nose and am seated right beside the platter, looking down at that lovely, steaming pile….
I have no explanation for what I did next. It was there, I was there…well, the long and short of it is, I grabbed a filet and made off with it! I have never committed a crime so blatant as that, and it felt marvelous! I was free as the wind, racing toward the table’s edge, thinking gloating thoughts of how impressed Aspen and Nutmeg, et al, would be when Whoof! My advance was checked by a pair of hands grasping my vast waistline (I knew it wasn’t Mummy - she can’t get her hands around me).  Dad ordered me to “Drop it!”, and Mummy was laughing so hard she started crying. Boohoo – I’m the one that got busted! What in the world did she have to cry about? Then she said those awful words, making me cringe to my soles of my fuzzy footpads: “You knew you were going to get some. Why didn’t you wait like a good boy?” How humiliating, and right in front of everyone, too. I hung my head in shame.
The good news is that I wasn’t put in chokey (Mummy and Dad are really pretty easy), and Mummy made us each a nice plate of that incredible cuisine so I didn’t miss out on a thing. You should have heard all the smacking going on – what a meal! 
Oh, and the lesson I learned? Be patient, or move reeeeally fast!

Monday, February 27, 2012

Augustus In A Jamb

I am so embarrassed. This morning I was trying to get into the Forbidden Pantry when I got stuck – YES, STUCK! – between the doors. I usually have no trouble getting inside – I just pull and pull with my claws until a door swings outward (I won’t go into the lecture I recently got about the scratch marks at the base of the doors, both inside AND out); then I slip in, undetected.

Howver, I must have been a bit more sluggish than usual this time ‘cause the door slammed on me before I got my tummy through, and it knocked me sideways into the other door. Here, I was pinned at the hip so that I could not move forward or backward. I could only stare ahead at all those goodies that were now completely out of my reach. What’s worse, Mummy was outside watering her blighted trees and was of no help to me;  slowly everyone else began gathering around to watch the spectacle of Augustus pinned between two doors. And I am certain I heard someone snickering – probably Aspen!
I must have been there for hours when Mummy came in a few minutes later. And do you think she came to my rescue? Well, yes, eventually, but not before she had a hysterical laughing fit at my plight, watching me wiggle and squirm, my chubby legs scrabbling at the floor to no avail.  To add to my misery, she felt like using this as an object lesson for everyone: “See what happens to kitties that poke their noses where they don't belong?” She released me from my entanglement, and I scuttered off to sulk in some dank corner. I am going to have to speak to the management about those doors. And that Woman!

Sunday, February 26, 2012


Mummy and Dad are blowing my inheritance on these crazy-looking sticky roller things, all because they are apparently obsessed with cat fur. 

They go around the place collecting samples from everything – the sofa, the pillows, their clothes (I know - pretty bad, huh?), peeling off layer after and placing them in the Collection Bin. 

Eventually they run out of layers and have to bring in extra rollers – Mummy now has one in every room! 

I am beginning to wonder if they are planning something big with their stockpile ‘cause I overheard a remark from Mummy – who shall remain nameless – to the effect that they should own stock in Lint Rollers, wherever that is. 

Such intrigue….

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Red Dawt

The night was dark, the air heavy with humidity and cat fur; quiet had crept upon the land.…
Out of nowhere it came, gliding as if on wheels, racing, spinning, darting across open spaces and shooting up the walls. This was no natural enemy, this was a foreign invader - the kind that would catch you unprepared then zap you where you stood: silent but deadly.  It whizzed past my head - *Zoop*- that was close! I crouched low, ready for it to try any funny business. Watching, waiting, lashing my fluffy tail this way and that, I caught sight of it as it jumped onto the coverlet and bounced over Nutmeg. She whirled her head in an arc to catch a glimpse of this fell creature but it was gone.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw it move again, this time on the mantel. It teetered on the edge before diving to the floor and scooting under the bed. Or did it? Suddenly to my right it appeared, spinning like a top then dashed off through the doorway. Ha! I had it now; if there is one thing I have learned about this enemy, it is that the blighted thing must come back to its mother ship. I slipped unnoticed to the door and crouched again, peering around the corner, this time positive it could not escape me. Sure enough, it came racing back so fast I almost couldn’t keep up but I pounced and slapped both paws on it, confident in my victory then **WHOA** wait, it shot up through my paws and was sitting on top! I grabbed again, it popped back up on top. I grabbed, it popped - what’s going on? I looked around...Um, I could use some help here… anyone?
Scooting along the floor now, I raced to keep hold of this slippery devil but it was too fast for me. Nobbie joined in, hot on my heels, now overtaking me in the quest to obliterate the little red creature. Nutmeg was sitting up on the bed now, eager to get involved. I shouted to her that it was heading to the other side. She ran to the edge and peered over just as I came ‘round by the foot but saw nothing – strange indeed! By now, everyone was running amok seeking this disturber of peaceful evenings. I saw Aspen situating herself in a convenient corner near the chest of drawers and naturally supposed she would be offering back up for when the foul thing passed her way but it turns out she thought the gig was to swat at passing cats instead. Fat lot of help she was! [Note to Self: Self, remember to put coal in Aspen’s Christmas stocking!]
After seeing this mysterious creature vanish and reappear and pouncing upon it with equal vigor only to see it disappear again, we became exhausted and finally had to call it quits. Strangely enough, the little beast did not show itself again that night. It must be a true warrior, understanding the value of giving its opponents a break. Until next time, Fair Enemy!

Friday, February 24, 2012

Daytime Horrors

Walking casually along without a care, I came to an abrupt halt as I spied the tiny creature across the room. 

He was peeking out from under the console, menacing to behold - all fangs and claws and wispy tail. 

Though very still, I knew that he was lurking, waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting soul. Uncertain if he was aware of my presence, I decided to double back to avoid the unpleasantness that must assuredly ensue should he spot me, too.

 Returning from whence I came, I began to hear footsteps behind me: pat, pat, pat…I was being followed! Picking up the pace, I focused on getting to the sofa where I was confident this little beast could not go. 
Louder came the steps…pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat… faster I ran, my legs trembling with the weakness of fear. I looked toward the goal but it seemed to grow more distant rather than close. I wasn’t going to make it! 
 Trembling uncontrollably, my ears twitching as every nerve was strained, I glanced over my shoulder while running still faster; he was right behind me! I could see him more clearly and could feel his breath: he was pink with white spots and reeked of catnip. 
Just as I arrived at the sofa and scrambled to make it to the top, he grabbed my leg and began shaking me…”Gussie! Gussie! Are you alright? Wake up Augustus!” 

Blinking my eyes, I looked up to see Mummy standing over me sprawled on the sofa. Breathing a sigh of relief, I looked quickly ‘round to be sure He was gone. 

Thank God Mummy was there to save me! 

Still, I wonder where that blighted mouse got to…

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Illicit Q-Tips

I got a Q-tip today, and Mummy doesn’t even know! 

Mummy brought home a wonderful nice new package of the beloved whatsits. 

Sitting on the bathroom counter, I observed carefully as she busied herself opening the box. 
I watched with admiration the manner in which she grabbed a whacking great wad of the fuzzy-ended sticks and stuffed them neatly into the jar. 
I also noticed that from the Great Wad dangled a couple of the delightful doodads, then made note that one of them fell softly to the counter top. 

I looked at Mummy. 

She was preoccupied, in her absurdly obsessive way, with trying to make the Q-tips stand on end so they would look neat (like anyone is going to check out our Q-tip jar - really). 

I sidled forward, checking once more for a flicker of movement from the eyes in the side of her head. 

Nothing my direction! 

I snagged that stick and ran! 

My move was so fast Mummy didn’t even know anything happened. And now I have this Q-tip to tool around with between my teeth. 

I think I will go into the living room and see if Dad notices anything different about me….

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

I’ve Done It Now!

Mummy has fuzzy behind prints on her freshly painted windowsill, courtesy of me! Somehow, after all the scraping, sanding, spackling, sanding, priming, and painting, I was under the impression she was DONE dominating the window scene. Apparently not, ‘cause when she saw me settling in for a relaxing afternoon of bird watching she freaked and flailed her arms about, sending me into a tizzy of where-do-I-go’s and what-do-I-do’s.
If no one hears from me for a while, messages can be sent to Augustus, Esq., Beneath The Tub, Bathroom Common.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Augustus, The Litterbug

Today I was keeping myself occupied with a bit of housekeeping.

With 7 cats, and only 3 litter boxes, things can get out of place in a hurry. Mummy and Dad see to it that the boxes are properly cleaned and freshened twice daily so that really isn’t the problem. What happens is that Poppet gets in the freshly cleaned boxes and cannot seem to decide which one he wishes to use so he goes in all three, apparently solving his moral dilemma by avoiding choice altogether. When that happens, it doesn’t leave a lot of fresh litter for the rest of us. 

So I took it upon myself to set things a’right after his visit this morning.

I jumped in Box #1 and started scratching around, trying to decide which direction would be best to move the litter. I scratched and swept, turning this way and that, arranging and rearranging until I was fairly satisfied with the results.

I hopped over into Box #2 and repeated the process; by the time I got to Box #3, I was in rare form, digging deeply into the fresh litter (except for where Poppet had already been – that wasn’t so fresh) and flipping the grains behind me, between my back legs, over my shoulders…

What I have failed to mention up to this point is that earlier in the day, Mummy had removed the boxes then steam-cleaned the floor and polished it. Everything was sparkling clean which was quite appealing.

Once I reached a reasonable stopping point in my duties, I jumped out of Box #3 and landed in**Hello** a fresh pile of litter! I wonder where that came from? I stretched a bit, shaking the litter from my toes, determined that I should ponder this mystery later.

Having decided that a nice nap would be in order, I then wandered ‘round the corner. 

When I heard my name shouted in that oh-so-familiar nasty tone, and the words “Get your fuzzy buns in here!”, I suspected something was up. 

A visit to the underside of the bathtub seemed to be in order. 

All I heard for the next half hour was sweeping, the roar of The Monster as he devoured the remains of that mysterious pile of litter, the high pitched whine of the steamer, and perhaps a few [not so nice] grumbles from Mummy. 

You know, the view beneath the bathtub really is quite nice…

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Mummy’s Gone Mad!!

I just spied Mummy brushing some red stuff on her toes, and it is the color of blood! It smells really foul, too. I caught a whiff, wrinkled my nose up and ran! 

I think Mummy may have been bitten by a vampire or something. 

Or maybe she IS one!? 


Saturday, February 18, 2012

Excellent Timing

Mummy has no sense of timing. 

Every morning I wait for her to open the blinds in the dining room so I can look out before breakfast; I hover just beneath the window in anticipation, wiggling my rear in preparation for the jump. And every time – it never fails – just as I jump, she twists the post, and the top slats open but the bottom ones stay flat as they get smushed beneath me. 

Then she makes me get back down so she can fix it! 

So I have to go to all the trouble of getting back up there again. If she would just learn to do it right the first time, we would not have to go through this every morning. 

Oh well, I will keep working on it; hopefully one of these days it will click with her what the problem is so she can amend it. 

Much patience is required, though.

Friday, February 17, 2012

I Caught A Burglar!

That is to say, I didn’t actually catch one…I saw him, though! Burglars are always out there, lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike, and I am ever vigilant to keep watch from my favorite chair by the window in case one rears its ugly head. So I should not have been surprised when one finally showed up but I have to admit I was a bit shocked to actually see one last night, and from a different window, too! Right about bedtime,  I thought it would be nice to get a change of scenery and, perhaps, see if there were any crumbs from dinner that Mummy may have missed (not likely – she cleans everything up immediately so we are hard pressed to find any tidbits ‘round here).  Since I was already on the kitchen counter (I know, I know…), I stepped up to peer out of the window above the sink to see what was cooking on the deck. And there he was, black mask and all! Moving craftily, he was snatching up every morsel of crunchy fish the outdoor cats had left behind. Man was he hungry, too – he ate everything then lifted up the dishes to look underneath for more! I almost felt sorry for him – ‘cept he was stealing fish, and that is way beyond the frozen limit. I yowled for Mummy or Dad to come see. For once they listened (go figure); they saw what I saw, and - you’ll hardly believe it - it turns out they must know this burglar ‘cause they called him Mr. Raccoon!  Well, Whoever he is, friend or no friend he ought not to be stealing fish! But Mummy and Dad did nothing, just stood there for a bit then went to bed, leaving me on the midnight watch….all alone…with the burglar. It had been several minutes since my last nap, so there was no way I would be able to stay awake much longer, and what if this bounder decided to pick the lock or something? He seemed pretty adept with his hands! I watched them trudge off to bed, then turned back to look at Mr. Raccoon. Bed, burglar..burglar, bed…Maybe everything would be alright, if Mummy and Dad weren’t worried! I stepped down and padded off after them, perhaps a bit faster than normal. At least if this burglar tried any funny business I could get behind Dad. Yessir, I’d back him up all the way! Go Dad!

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Oh, No - Not Again!!!

It finally came – the dreaded DOCTOR VISIT DAY. Last week Mummy says, “Gussie! You got a nice postcard from Vet, reminding you of your appointment. Wasn't that thoughtful of him?” or something silly like that.  It didn’t really click with me what she was talking about until this morning.
Picture it:
An innocent little kitten (me!) enjoying a nice snack at the Breakfast Buffet, oblivious to the world around him, reveling in the rich flavors and subtle nuances of ‘Country Chicken and Tuna Dinner…er, Breakfast… in Gravy’. Nary a care in the world, I tell you, when in comes that box lugging Mummy behind (you know, the one with prison bars at one end??).  I looked up, glanced at the box briefly with a passing thought that some poor soul is for it today, then returned to my grazing, hardly knowing that poor soul was Li’l Ol’ ME!
The box is placed on the floor, the prison bars swung open. Out wafts that ugly, musty smell from the garage – uggh. Dad places a fluffy towel in the box and looks at Mummy who in turn looks…at…yours truly.  So that was it – the postcard, that box, the ogling leers and ominous hands reaching toward me, the pitiful attempts at whispers of affection…all earmarked for me! My eyes widened; I protested that this was all a huge mistake, the postcard was sent to the wrong address, I’m allergic to Vet...!
Staring out from my cell at the bleak and odiferous surroundings, I contemplate my fate.  I don't like Vet. He pokes me with needles and takes my temperature in, well, strange places.  And he gapes at my teeth then turns to the subject of weight with Mummy, which leads to her rants about my "muffin-top theft", among other petty violations (note the use of the word “petty” – my adjective, not hers).  She has no sense of discretion, the poor woman. It’s sad, really.
Mummy hands me over like a bag of chocolate chip cookies. Vet pokes and pinches then tosses me onto the scales…what was that? I gained a pound? There must be some mistake; I demand a recount! I know – it was the can of country chicken and tuna whatsit I ate just before being abducted! Did I say can? I meant ‘meager portion’...oooh, not the needle! Did I mention Mummy poisoned me recently???...
Back at home, moping in my chair by the window and feeling wounded (that shot left a tender lump under my skin – ouch!), I ponder the horrific events of the day and cannot help but wonder how Mummy lives with herself, how she sleeps at night.  And then I am thinking, she WON’T sleep this night, ‘cause I am going to make sure of it! I will stay up the whole time, make as much noise as possible, eat as many muffin tops as I can find, tear into the chips and crackers; why, I might even have a go at the cookie jar! An extra pound, forsooth! I’ll show her. But I am so sleepy now. Maybe I will just take a little nap then plan some more in the morning.
What a day… Zzzzzzzzzz.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Augustus, Midnight Marauder

Boy oh boy, am I clever! Everyone has gone to bed so I slip stealthily into the kitchen to see what there may be to get into – just for the fun of it! I jump up *TADA!* and land right in the middle of the island. I turn round and round trying to decide what to investigate first. 
I poke amongst the large glass canisters, jostling the lids not a little. Clink, clink-OOPS. Sssshhh!  I look ‘round, coast is clear. Breathing a sigh of relief, I head for the opposite end of the counter and nudge the basket holding *sniff, sniff* ONIONS. P-U! I don’t want any of those, thank you very much. But I spy a lonesome object that appears to have slipped between the cracks of Mummy’s cleaning. What is it? Jackpot – a sesame breadstick!! 
This is going to be fun. 
I must dig a bit because my prey has gotten wedged between the ONION basket and the paper towel whatchamacallit..unggh…urrggghh….got it! Out the stick flies…well, part of it but that’s enough for me. I bat and swat at my prize, and it spins across the counter, spewing sesame seeds with every bump on the marble tiles. I race toward it, barely catching it as it bounds toward the dining room side of things.

I snatch it up with a swoop of my fuzzy paw and hurl it into the air, bounding beneath it to catch it again. I’ve got it…nope, it fell onto the floor. Peering over the edge, I view the remains with a touch of remorse, fearing my efforts are in vain. Then I recall that part of that delightful object still remains….Back at the ONION basket (holding my breath), I dig and nudge and pull and scratch until – VICTORY! The remainder of the breadstick is free. 
Giddy with excitement, I swipe it across the counter then turn to catch it midair and come
I am in bed now, being a good little boy. Sighing, I turn over on my side, slipping into a fitful rest. I start, remembering that there is a bit of stick remaining on the floor - Mummy won’t discover it for hours! I might not get caught since it is in the shadows, and I wouldn’t be on the counter… My head pops up, but there is Mummy, watching me. Her eyes are closed but I am sure she can still see. She knows! She is watching my every move. 
**sigh** I guess it can wait ‘til morning….Zzzz.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Armoire of Despair

This morning I was investigating the bottom drawer of Dad’s armoire, which he kindly left open for me.  Okay, he went into another room for a minute…. Anyways, this armoire is one of those beefy jobs, built for real storage capacity which translates into room enough for a big guy like me, even when it is stuffed with clothes. And who can resist those neat stacks of polos and cozy-looking white t-shirts that Mummy works so hard to create? Not me! I jumped in straight away and began rummaging around, not sure what I might find but diligent none-the-less. After upsetting a couple of stacks and finding nothing of real interest, I decided I would crawl further back to see what else I might be missing – I’m thinking maybe Dad has a couple of muffins hidden in here or something. 
Well, I did not find the muffins so decided it might be a good time to settle down for a rest – digging in clothes is hard work! I can really appreciate Mummy’s laundry efforts now. Speaking of Mummy, she suddenly loomed into view above the pile of cotton wreckage I had created and instantly demanded who had done this. I felt it not the best moment to speak up (‘cause, er, I’m not exactly supposed to be in there…). I wanted to gather my thoughts first (such as they are), so I held reeeeally still and said nothing while she hurriedly flipped and folded, fluffed and re-stacked, all on top of me. The stacks grew higher, and the lights went out. Mummy had shut the drawer. She didn’t even have the common decency to make sure no one was in there first! But I couldn’t exactly say anything or I would have been caught for drawer-breaking so I was stuck.  I did the only logical thing: I fell asleep. I woke up in a fog, hearing my name being called, first loud then receding.  I figured out that Mummy was looking for me – it had to be lunch time so I must have slept in there for hours…I was starved but I would be in such trouble if I let her know where I was…But it was terribly dark and stuffy in the drawer…aagh - a guy can only stand so much! I began crying, softly at first – just to test the waters - then I really belted it out.
I heard footsteps, my name, then the drawer began sliding forward, sunlight flooded in as my head popped out, and I looked up pathetically at Mummy. Expecting to be yelled at, I was pleasantly surprised instead to find her cooing and fretting over my “ordeal”. This was more like it! She obviously felt so bad about me being in the drawer all this time that she forgot to be mad about the shirts. Bad as the circumstance was, I guess you could say it all worked in my favor. Still, I’m none too pleased with her negligence and feel it should be addressed, though perhaps another time. For now, I am going to revel in the extra attention I am getting, remembering to look really sad every now and then to keep this good thing going a bit longer, heh, heh...~

Monday, February 13, 2012

Whisker Update

My whiskers are now back to their proper length, and Mummy is so happy! Now maybe she will quit chirping about how bad I looked with only half my whiskers (she says I look much handsomer with whiskers. I s'pose there is something in that). I still get the urge to use Dad's razor now and then but Mummy is always lurking somewhere nearby, coming out of the woodwork if I even think about shaving. [She must be psychotic..er, psychic!]
Why does she leave it out, dangling from its neat little stand, if the razor is not to be used? Waste of space if you ask me.
I could be sitting in that spot, for instance.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Rules, Rules, Rules!

There is something not quite right with the legislative branch at our house. It seems every time I turn around, I bump into a new rule I did not know existed, making it dashed difficult to know what you CAN do (in fact, that would be a shorter list). Like the time I removed the [offensive, I thought] lining from Dad’s shoe, which I expected would please him, not having to worry about it lurking in there anymore. Need I recount the lecture I got? Or the time I stripped all the pesky leaves off of that dratted ivy plant: it looks much better sleek but Mummy apparently prefers the bushy look, if her [over]reaction is any indication.
And today, when I was enjoying a simple cookie and tea that was kindly left out for me, replete with napkin, next to where Mummy sits [at her desk]. Her seat was vacant so naturally I presumed it must be for me, she knowing that I like to sit on the desk as well (the comestibles in question were closer to my spot than hers).  Well, I KNOW it is against the law to eat muffin tops (whoever thought that one up is insane – what harm does eating a few muffin tops ever bring to anyone, I ask?), and I further know that snagging a cookie from the rack before they are cool is a criminal offense (If I want to burn my tongue, let me, say I! Cookies are better warm, simple as that). But how was I supposed to know that enjoying an abandoned…er, strategically placed… tray laden with peanut butter cookies and a steaming cup of Earl Gray tea is enough to put you away for life? I mean to say, when a fellow can’t enjoy what is plainly left out for him, the world is in a sad state of affairs.
The Judge and Jury (aka Mummy) walked in on me licking my chops, noted my whiskers dusted with crumbs, and decided I had overstepped my bounds. She ruthlessly took away my treat and tossed me out of the sitting room on my ear. Well, not exactly ON my ear but it amounted to that. Anyway, now she is probably in there eating my cookie and sipping my tea while I am left in the cold. Where is the justice in that? I say she stole MY cookie and tea and took over MY spot on the desk – both things which should land her in the hoosegow and no questions asked. If only I had a camera, I would practice my detecting skills and catch her red-pawed. Then I would send the pictures to the local magistrate (aka Dad) and plead for help. Of course, he has to be here in order to see the pictures but since he is always gallivanting across the country, leaving me to fend for myself in this lawlessly awfully lawful land, he is no help. What are the innocent to do? Somehow, some way, Justice must be served. I think I am going to go to school so I can study to become a policeman and arrest that woman.
 Stealing my peanut butter cookies…Hrmmph!

Saturday, February 11, 2012

Sound the Alarm?!

Mummy has this thing, this contraption, that was given to her when she was 12 (she is 42 now, if that says anything), and it simply won’t die! Dad must like it, too, ‘cause every night he reaches over and taps it with his fingers (possibly some crude form of affection; personally, I prefer having my head scratched to being tapped) but the worst of it is, the blighted thing thinks it is a rooster! Every morning VERY EARLY, it starts blasting away as if the house was on fire, making every one of us jump out of our fuzzy pajamas. I can’t see what it has to be so chipper about, and frankly I get tired of having the bajeezies scared out of me at such an unfashionable hour! Well, yesterday morning I decided I would solve that little problem. You know how you have this sort of sense of impending doom, that restless awareness that something should be happening very soon? I got that around 4:30, while it was still very quiet in the house. I got up - yes, me – and stole silently across the lumpy terrain of cats and parents, trying not to disturb anyone. Someone made an “oof” sound, might have been Dad as I stepped on his stomach - so I stopped until I was sure everyone had settled back down; then I proceeded on my way to the little table by the bed. “Oof!” What is that noise? Possibly Dad as I stepped off his stomach? Oh, well. Up on the table, I stepped in circles round the little thing, its many red eyes staring boldly into the dark – this thing is unexpectedly creepy-looking! I positioned myself to one side (out of its line of vision), and with one fell swoop of my great paw, sent it flying across the…table. It flew off the edge then hovered for a second before falling straight down on the floor beside the bed. Whoa! This thing is on a leash – just like the monster in the closet! And I think I killed it!! Now I am really creeped out, Mummy and Dad are both yelling at me, and I am running as fast as my chubby legs will carry me, anywhere but there. This is way too much to think about. The worst of it? When I jumped on the bed for my afternoon nap, there it was, back in its usual spot, staring straight ahead – and I am certain it winked at me! Bedtime approaches; Dad reaches over and taps the mini-monster. 5:00 a.m. this morning: “AGNN!, AGNN!, AGNN!, AGNN!, AGNN!...”
When will it end, I ask myself?? I haven't answered yet...

Friday, February 10, 2012

What a Night!

Last night was sooooo cozy! Mummy was relaxing on the sofa alone ‘cause Dad was locked out again; she had a nice, soft blankie on her lap, and there was this very inviting pillow next to her, sooo…I invited myself! Mummy didn’t seem to mind, and I got to snuggle up close to her.  She sipped tea and read to me (something about European History, whatever that is. I hope there’s not a pop quiz later!), while I gently kneaded her tummy (it is important for me to do this ‘cause Mummy’s tummy isn’t very soft). Then the blighter Poppet tried to move in and take over but Mummy told him he had plenty of room on the other side of her, and he biffed off, grumbling (tsk - he gets so jealous. Children~). I finally fell asleep somewhere about the Middle Ages. When I woke up, I found Mummy had carried me to bed, and I was propped up on a down pillow. I thought about getting up for a snack – THOUGHT about it – then laid my head back and slid into dreamland.  What a lovely evening!

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Confession of a Lug

I hurt Mummy today and feel really bad about it. I can’t help it, you see – I have these gargantuan feet and sometimes they get a bit carried away with themselves, and, well, I get carried away with them. (I am rather attached to them!) What happened was this: Mummy was working at her desk, tapping on the computer like usual, not paying me the slightest bit of attention. I tried trilling a light tune when I walked into the room but that didn’t work - either she can’t hear or she is deaf, not sure which. Anyway, I slid over and nudged her leg with my head – nothing. Tap, tap, tap-tap, tap…. Next, I ran up the stairs really fast which I thought must get her attention – I’m not exactly noted for my energy efficiency. Still nothing. Tap, tap-tap-tap, tap….
So I jumped up on the coffee table, the corner of which is about 2 feet away from Mummy’s chair. I leaned over and put my feet on her bare shoulder, still singing to capture her attention, and it worked this time! But unfortunately, the distance was a bit more than could bear my weight, and just as she was turning around to speak to me, I lost my balance. The only thing I could find to cling to was Mummy’s shoulder, so instinctively I unsheathed my claws and dug in. My back feet slipped, and there I was, hanging from that skinny ledge, trilling louder than ever, Mummy crying for me to let go. But how could I? I mean, I can’t lift 32 pounds! Mummy had to lean over so my feet would touch the floor and I could let go. I figured that was the end of the conversation (I had pretty much forgotten what I wanted to say anyway, what with all the excitement), so I biffed off to another room. Mummy went to the bathroom, and I followed from a safe distance, peeking 'round the corner to observe; she pulled out all manner of gauze and Q-tips (I love Q-tips! I secretly hoped she would let me have one to play with but something told me now was not a good time to ask). Then she dabbed alcohol on the wounds and cried a bit ‘cause it stung.
Next, she got out a measuring tape and confirmed that the disaster area is over 3” across with 5 gaping holes where my claws went in! She looked at me, and I lowered my head, realizing I had been careless. But guess what!? Mummy DIDN’T get mad at me!! She said I should be more careful next time but she forgave me! She came toward me to pat my head but I backed away, still a bit uncertain about my standing (I thought she might want to wallop me or something). Finally she grabbed me and kissed me on my head, which I felt compelled to tolerate under the circumstance (she can be a bit smushy sometimes).  I am so relieved to know she forgives me, and I never want to make a klutz of myself again. I do try to be careful but being a big boy, it is sometimes hard. I will work on that ‘cause I don’t like to hurt Mummy.
I am just glad she still loves me; otherwise, I might not get dinner!

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

F-R -i- E-N-D

Has anyone ever noticed that there is only one letter difference between the words “Friend” and “Fiend”? I have lots of friends, but Poppet is just a plain old FIEND! He stole my gold string that I was playing with a few minutes ago. I was being very clever, entertaining Mummy (she gets bored easily) by bringing the string to her and letting her toss it over my head so that I have to flip over and try to catch it (which I never manage to do but that is not germane to the matter). Anyways, Mummy tossed the string, I tried to catch it, missed [for some odd reason] and when I turned to chase after it, the blighter Poppet had snagged it and was running fast as his little twig legs would carry him! I was astonished (truly!), my eyes wide and mouth gaped; Mummy demanded Poppet bring it back but he wouldn’t listen [there is no reasoning with Fiends - I could have told her] so Mummy had to track him down. When she caught up with the bounder, he was in some dark recess, holding the string in his teeth and glowering. Mummy demanded the string, Poppet released it, then Mummy gave him a proper scolding about Manners (where have I heard that before??). I got my string back and let Mummy play with it again, just because I know it makes her day. J
Everything worked out but I think there ought to be a law against fiends. I am going to petition the management and see how it fares. These political activisms take time so I may not have much to report for a while but rest assured, I will lobby until the cats come home (Mummy says cows. Can’t think why it should be cows. Who wants cows in the house? Cats, then) so that one day I will have a peaceful, fiend-free living room.
Wish me luck!

Saturday, February 4, 2012

The Wreckage of Silence

Honestly! Here I was trying to get a nice nap in, having wandered for weary minutes after my last nap, when suddenly from nowhere (well, from the vicinity of the cat couch Mummy and Dad gave us all last Christmas and which Tippy hogs as if we don't exist), came the most unseemly ruckus! Tippy likes to snuggle in there with her little teddy bear (Mummy says it is cute, I say Tippy needs to grow up – she’s 4 already!), and once she settles in with said Bear, she begins to snore in the most ear-buzzing fashion. Well, just a few minutes ago, when as stated I was attempting to settle in and get some much needed rest (despite the buzzing), Princess must have decided that she just couldn’t stand the noise anymore.
Mummy saw her creeping toward Tippy (who was utterly oblivious) but before she could tell her to stop, Princess took a nip at Tippy’s dangling toe. Tippy came unglued, waking in a frenzy of claws and hisses, scaring me half to death and alarming the antagonist Princess so that she turned and ran. Mr. Bear went flying across the room, landing amidst the dust kittens near the stairs (never to be seen again I s’pose). Mummy shot after Princess with the intention of giving her a nice lecture (which never works, I could have told her), and Tippy stood half in, half out of the little bed, trembling and not at all certain where she was or what even happened. Eventually Mummy came back in the room sans Princess, Tippy settled back down and began snoring almost immediately, and I – well, I went to the bedroom to get some real peace and quiet. I made sure to look back at Mummy and Tippy to let them know that I had been disturbed.  Do you think anyone noticed?
Ha! One day I am going to have my own room, and I will not allow anyone to come in unless they are bearing fish, plan to scratch my ears and positively DO NOT SNORE!

Rules of Engagement

Rule #1 – Never abandon your post unless you are prepared to lose it.
Rule #2 – If you must leave for, say, a jaunt to the little boys’ box or to forage in the snack bowl (or both), be prepared to return to an occupied foxhole.
Rule #3 – On your return, should you find a fiend (or other uninvited resident), you must think quickly and decide on a course of action. Below are a few suggestions which will help you maneuver the situation with minimal casualties:
Let us say, for illustration purposes, that the foxhole is Dad’s lap. And let us suppose that you know beyond a doubt that the space, once empty [and still noticeably warm!], will be indubitably taken over by a ‘rat of the underworld’ variety. If you are the brave warrior type, stealth is the key to retaking the ground.
Here is what to do - simply creep casually ‘round the corner (fully prepared for the ‘unexpected’), assess the situation – who the blighter is, size, weight, general disposition – and make your way silently toward them. On reaching the first target point (code word ‘sofa’), leap quickly (but quietly - we are in stealth mode) onto the back, just behind Dad’s head. Next, you want to place your enormous fuzzy feet on Dad’s shoulder and deftly raise your whole body onto his chest (be warned: this is akin to a pushup and, therefore, rather exhausting). Now, force your way back down into Dad’s lap via the abdomen [NOTE: there may be some casualties along the way, namely Dad’s tummy, but this cannot be avoided - remember, this is warfare!]. Now you are in position for the final blow – release your claws from Dad’s chest and simply lower your whole body with a thud on top of the space invader.  If properly carried out, your target will be eliminated because, hey, no one likes a 32 lb. missile landing on their head, right? Target beats it for the open spaces, and you regain the ground…er, lap. Case closed.
If, on the other paw, the target, once assessed, turns out to be one of those heavyweight boxing champ girls like, say, Nobbie (just as an example), you might want to seriously rethink your strategy or you are likely to get cuffed ‘round the ears. Here is one method I have employed in the past and which typically yields results: on seeing that foxhole is occupied by such a tenant, immediately expunge all thought of stealth attack from your mind and run quickly to Dad’s side, looking up at him piteously, remembering to widen your eyes and exude patheticness. You may also want to paw at his leg to get his attention. Once he notices you, and here you are free to use your imagination as to what might work best to that end, Dad will realize he has been re-occupied and oust the rogue in question, declaring that “Augustus was here first!”.  Be prepared for nasty looks and ugly somethings whispered under her breath as she passes by but otherwise know that you have achieved a great victory this day. You will probably pay for it later but for now, the fort is yours!
Credits: Augustus the Ace Bomber, Lap Retriever Extraordinaire.
His credo: “Whatever works! All’s fair in...War”

All is Forgiven!

Dad’s home! I can’t believe it – I was napping, I mean, moping late yesterday afternoon when I heard that blighted black box make that crazy noise again.  I jerked my head up in response but the memory of what happened to Dad was still fresh so I couldn’t look; I had to turn back over and rest. Well, Mummy sounded very excited but I thought, she’s gloating about it and taunting Dad – how rude! Anyways, next thing I know, there was a noise at the door, and Dad came in loaded with luggage and backpacks and I don’t know what all.  I looked at Mummy still clutching that little box and realized my mistake: Mummy didn’t put Dad in The Box, he just got locked out of the house! I was so relieved; I ran to Dad and jumped into his arms. He cuddled me and told me what a big boy I was, taking care of Mummy while he was out. I gave him a huge, toothy kiss and laid my head on his face. He smelled exciting, like he had been having lots of adventures. I sniffed and sniffed but could not recognize any of it. I had a momentary flicker of annoyance at the thought that Mummy didn’t bother to check outside for him sooner but decided that the important thing is that he is home. Still, I hope she gets him a key so he won’t get stuck outdoors next time!


It didn’t work! Dad is still nowhere to be seen even after all my efforts yesterday, thinking and what not, just to try rescuing him from the Little Black Box. And Mummy is being a bit cold about it all. I thought she loved Dad and me but guess I was wrong. She seems more concerned with getting that blasted box put back together after The Incident, presumably so she can keep Dad in there forever. It must be working, too, ‘cause I would swear I heard his voice coming from it again this morning, though it may have been wishful thinking. I can hardly remember him anymore ~sigh~.  So I have spent the morning on the stairs with my head hanging over, wishing Dad had shown up. I don’t even feel like eating [much] – I only ate a bit of tuna, some crunchies and one treat, plus a cookie. It is obvious food has no meaning for me under the circumstance.
Life is such a muddle.

Friday, February 3, 2012

A Desperate Act!

I thought all night about how I could rescue poor Dad from that dratted little black box. Well, MOST of the night; eventually I got so sleepy and my head started hurting from all the thinking so I had to call it quits. But you can bet that the first thing I did this morning (well, after waking Mummy up for breakfast at 5:30, playing chase with Nutmeg and a very small nap; oh, and sidling up to Mummy for a post breakfast treat) was to put my thinking cap on and exercise the old bean a bit. I thought and thought some more, then it came to me! If Dad is in that blighted little black box, I must figure out how to open it and let him out. Maybe it’s one of those things where you are normal size then as soon as you stick your big toe in – ZAP!  you shrink and get swallowed up inside. Soooooo...I wandered nonchalantly into the sitting room where Mummy was working at her desk...Annnnnnnd...I jumped up on the desk. Probably she thought I wanted her attention but far from it – I had a plan, and she need know nothing about it until the final hour.
Besides, I’ve been brooding a bit about the fact that she put Dad in there to begin with. I don’t know what he did but it couldn’t have been as bad as all that, and I wasn’t feeling too chummy towards her.  I sat quietly for a bit, watching her work and waiting for an opportunity to put my plan into action but she wasn’t budging; it looked like I would just have to take a chance. Still wanting to be subtle, I reached out and put my paw on the box. No response – this is good! I patted it a bit, trying to find a latch or something but, blast, there was nothing! Carefully, I slid it towards me. Uh oh – Mummy looked up. I stopped and pretended to wash my face. She eyed me narrowly but didn’t say anything. At this point I was feeling pretty desperate. Wild-eyed, I went for it: I grabbed that little box and swatted it clean across the room, thinking that if it crashed it would open up and let Dad escape before Mummy could stop it (or him). I ran straight after it, Mummy hot on my heels. Coming to a halt and viewing the remains, I could see that, well - I could see that I had better wait to see because Mummy was really mad! I raced to the bathroom and slid under the tub by way of the window seat. And here I will stay until she calms down a bit. Oosh – that was a close one.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

Dad’s Gone Missing!

And I think I might have found him. It’s like this: Dad left with Mummy for church on Sunday morning but he never came home. Nope.  Mummy shows up without Dad and acts like nothing is wrong. Well, naturally I get suspicious. I mean to say, after all, she poisons me and stuff so it is not unreasonable to presume…. Anyway, for days now no one has seen Dad. Oh, Mummy says she “heard” from him and that he says to tell everyone he loves them and misses them and stuff but I mean, WHERE IS HE? She can’t answer that, just says cryptic things like, “He’s in Albany” or “He flew to Detroit” – does that make any sense? Of course not! Dad isn’t a bird! Still, what I am leading up to is that today I got my first clue as to where Dad might be. I’m not 100% certain because I can’t quite figure it out but… well…I think Mummy put Dad in that tiny black box thing that she keeps on her desk and carries with her when she leaves. I know it seems impossible but it made that funny noise again, and she pushed a few buttons and – I know this sounds crazy – I HEARD DAD’S VOICE! He even said my name!!!!!! I was so excited at first that I ran toward the sound and looked all round but could not find Dad. Then Mummy lowered that box toward me and I heard it again – “Auguuuuustus!” “Guuuuussie!” “I loooooove you!”

Well, I jumped backward and ran as fast as I could to the other side of the room. So that’s it! Mummy has crammed Dad into that tiny box, and I have no idea how I’m supposed to extricate him, and him calling to me for help like that! What am I going to do? I must have a plan of action.
 I must concentrate so I can rescue him, which requires deep thinking.
This is going to take a while.

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Comforter Alert!

Aaaaaaaah, the allure of fresh sheets on a fluffy down mattress, fragrant with lavender which Mummy kindly uses in the wash, surrounded by down pillows and topped with a [somewhat lumpy] cotton voile comforter….
Never - I repeat - NEVER attempt to lie down on an unidentified lump in the bed without first checking under the covers to be sure it isn’t actually Nutmeg! I learned this valuable life lesson just today, when I felt the sting of sharp teeth in my hindquarters – through the covers, mind you - just as I was settling down comfortably for a nap.  Changed my life, I can tell you!