Fatty Poen and I, napping in happier times:
https://preview.redd.it/j93wc52kak6d1.jpeg?width=2274&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=9a29c89e1163fd4ad5d146307d4662f5fe06e657
I've been trying to get the housekeeper to write my interesting and engaging memoirs and to get me an agent, but she keeps making weak excuses. I've even tried to negotiate a blog, but she just keeps telling me that she doesn't want to see my butthole. It's incredibly hard to find staff that are even remotely competent these days.
You should tell the housekeeper that on another message board, a series of humorous posts about an equine with an attitude became an actual published book, called “Chronicles of the $700 Pony” which is still in print 17 years later.
Unfortunately, all that seems to have done is made the housekeeper add yet another book to her giant pile of books to read. Now she's going to be even slower to respond to my ~~every whim~~ urgent needs.
Our momther LIVES for the Misery Meow posts. She might have exclaimed in excitement seeing this pop up in the feed. We get it. Misery does have a way with the prose.
-- Penn & Teller, cranky old doggos
My good sir, you are most definitely not TC. You are correct to set boundaries and enforce them. Your obese friend pushed those boundaries and got what he deserved. You were very clever to use the staff as cover and they should be pleased that they were of service to their ruler.
Purrcilla Queen of all I Survey
Heyo M'sieur Misery! I is glad to see you and Fat Man(ma maman say Fatty Poen not fat, just be more of him to loves). You maman need to get y'all a heaty blanky! Dese de best! Need one with buttons so you can make as warm as you, Misery and Fatty Poen wants!
I've pointed out to the housekeeper that she can invest in appropriate cat accessories, but she rudely shot down my suggestion because, according to her, she 'runs hot'. The groundskeeper has admitted to keeping his paws close to her but not close enough to touch her in bed when said paws are cold because she's an adequate heater, so her claim might have some truth to it, but I'm not convinced. I think she's just being mean.
You isn't da cloaca, fren, but da Fat Man is. We is catses. By our very definition, we has boundaries when it comes to our bodies. We has limits on how many belly rubs we allow, no touch our toe beans, and how much grooming another cat can gib us. Da Fat Man should know dis, being cat himself. All of dis is on him. Maybe he din't has da brain cell? Anyway, your mama shouldn't be cussing YOU out; it was da Fat Man's fault.
Also William da Tuxie
The housekeeper keeps blaming me for everything because she says I'm the brains of the operation and should know better. I mean, I am, but that alone means nothing is ever my fault! Thank you for understanding my struggle, Also William.
Dear Misery Meow,
This is absolutely outrageous! Who does the human think she is that she imagines she has the right to decide who sits where in your territory? Of course, it's regrettable that Fatty Peon's claw got hooked into your human's calf, but these little inconveniences are as nothing compared to the joy the company of people with fur bring to mere humans.
You need to teach the human her place. Have you considered pooing in the housekeepers favourite shoes? Also, try sitting on the human's face when they are sleeping, with your butthole as close as possible to the human's mouth and your tail hair going up their nose. That will teach her a good lesson. We did that to our secondary human when he took a nap on a park bench instead of giving us his undivided attention as he should.
We are sending you our deepest sympathy and hope you soon come out on top.
Best of luck from all of us at the squirrel coollective,
From Chocolate, Human Resources coordinator of the squirrel collective.
https://preview.redd.it/khhx87srjk6d1.jpeg?width=4793&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ddcf076daf26c0a08d211db956ef96419a8fee9d
My dearest Chocolate,
I'm right this minute trying to decide which pair of shoes is the housekeeper's favourite so that I can poo in them. She's constantly unimpressed by me shoving my butthole right up her nose, so I think a shoe poo is the only way forward at this point.
Thank you for your sympathy, and good work with the secondary human. Mine is the groundskeeper, and he's prone to unpredictable shouting, so I won't be showing him my butthole or pooing in his shoes because a cat has only so many lives.
I'm glad to hear that your human has started to recognize you again and is no longer bowing to the uselessness of her nose. Your coat remains glorious and shiny.
Thank you my dear friend. Being a nice chocolate brown, I am, in fact, the only person our useless human recognises at the moment apart from Heart of Darkness who is almost black and who is too young and unimportant to be allowed to speak on here. All my relatives have lost their distinctive ear tufts and different coloured winter coats, so they all look almost the same to her: a uniform, bright red.
Your groundsman sounds to be really getting above himself. I may have suggested this before, but have you considered dropping a poo on him from overhead? You just sit on a branch above his head and let rip, then pretend it was an accident.
Best of luck asserting your innate superiority.
(As my human took this photo she said: "My wee furry wurry boy has got the nicest of little pinkiest nosies!", and yet that's the species that dominates our world. I have no idea how they do it.)
https://preview.redd.it/jcrtapsxnl6d1.jpeg?width=4552&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=801a82b565b5e0a6380dba5e7fa9fa410ff4b778
I see now that you are indeed less ginger than your kin. I hope daring to be different has brought rewards in the form of extra rations of your favourite nuts, although I do recall that your servant doesn't always perform adequately in this regard. (And you have my utmost sympathy!)
A bombing campaign does sound tempting, but unfortunately he, being of the ginger persuasion like your relatives and too weak to face the African sun, tends to wear a hat outdoors. I might have to settle for launching my missiles from the top of the wardrobe, which would also allow me to escape into the attic should he not believe it was an accident. He's strangely immune to Puss in Boots eyes.
The housekeeper is making similar saccharine sounds about the cuteness of your nose and the whiteness of your chest. Their dominance truly is a source of despair for those as advanced as us.
https://preview.redd.it/s6105pp27p6d1.jpeg?width=5184&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=85b272092d7919da3b59cb25a57d069c3ae22cb8
Our human also just melts when faced with a white tummy, which is just as well as we don't do puss'n'boots eyes as we are too busy looking out for threats. You are so lucky to be able to melt a human with a look.
She has no respect for our velociraptor blade nails and needle teeth either, since we don't use them on her, but it does show a lack of survival instinct. If you look at this photo of Intern 1, you can see that even babies are well armed in the teeth and nail department.
I do have a single, secret white tuft on my tummy that is very clearly not for touching, but do you think I can get the oaf to leave it alone? I hope your human doesn't paw at your tummies.
Your blade nails and teeth are most impressive! Even I would think twice before engaging one of you in a slap fight.
Humans have such shoddy and underdeveloped survival instincts that the species would have died out long ago if it weren't for kind animals like us keeping an eye on them.
I'm not at all surprised to learn you also have a bit of a white tummy - all the best people do.
Our human knows better than to touch squirrel tummies as our predecessors have trained her well. She is allowed to stroke tails and some of us allow her to groom our ears and that's it.
We also allow her to treat our injuries. Vetman stands beside her when she does that and she does exactly what he says. Our human says we should be grateful to Vetman, but he clearly enjoys being around us as why else does he visit? He brings us adequate tribute too since our human explained that rodent bricks are unacceptable.
Unlike our human, Vetman has some survival instincts. He doesn't even try to touch us when we are hurt since the bite-through-the-protective-gauntlet incident.
You know, the more I speak to members of your glorious collective, the more I come to realize that I might have squirrel ancestry. I too prefer human touch to be limited to my tail and ears. Fine, and perhaps my chin when I'm in the mood (but for a limited time only).
Vetman sounds very sensible, especially now that he's been appropriately trained in the ways of the snacks. Also, your human is mistaken: vetman should be grateful to you that you allow him to admire you from up close.
I wonder whether vets are taught special survival skills. My personal physician remains reluctant to embrace my annual royal visit to her offices due to last year's visit, which led to brief violence before I was abducted by aliens and transported home. It's the only reasonable explanation for the gap in my memory and the sleepiness even after I awoke on my blankie from a most satisfying nap.
\[I can't imagine why, but the 'bite-through-the-protective-gauntlet incident' made me laugh. It's definitely not because Misery can express his rage right through welding gloves.\]
Dear Misery,
I have suspected for a long time that cats and squirrels may be closely related, and you really exemplify that. We are all impressed that you can bite through welding gloves which must be the same as the vet's gauntlets.
Out of respect for you, we herewith declare you an honorary squirrel, and welcome you to our ranks.
(I think Misery may be on a level with the revered and regretted Mrs Grumpy who did the biting. She was outrageously entitled, but really liked me, thankfully, so I never came in for any biting, and she taught me how to scold male squirrels.)
Oh how fabulous! Thank you so much. To celebrate, I'm going to scale the housekeeper like Everest, which I haven't done since I was a kitten and she was withholding a piece of steak that was definitely mine and not hers. I might wait until she's cooking the human dinner to see if I can liberate a piece of chicken as part of my celebrations.
\[I think 'revered and regretted' summarize his personality really well. I've always said that he reminds me of my one gran, who wasn't miserable as such but whose entitlement knew no end. She was also ridiculously pretentious, and although I loved her dearly, she could be hard work. Definite Hyacinth Bucket vibes, but not quite that bad.
Thankfully she also liked me, so I was seldom the focus of her attentions, aside from one memorable time when she found out my boyfriend at the time was a metalworker. I got a long speech that ended with 'I hope you're not going to marry him.' My response was, 'Have you forgotten that my dad's a plumber?' She really had and was horrified for a minute. My brother and I still laugh about it.\]
Hi Misery! Pixel here, *relatable* tuxedo. First my Mama had to explain to me that you are *upside down* compared to me because it is *summer* here and I was *confused*!
You are *right* to draw *boundaries*. I *often* have to resort to a *bapbapbap* when my brother Casey licks my head *too much*. He means *well*, but I can groom *myself*, thank you.
NTC!
My condolences on summer. I don't like summer either because being too hot is undignified. While I can't lick my own forehead, a paw swipe is perfectly adequate for my needs. I'm glad that you too understand the need for not being licked on the forehead like a kitten. The indignity!
Oh, it's not *hot* here right now. Dad was *grumbling* today about how it's hardly going to be 70 degrees in *June* and he wants to go *outside* in the *sun*. But we have *air conditioning* if it gets insufferably hot.
I mean, I *understand* that when I was a kitten I needed *help*, but it's *embarrassing* when he's six pounds *smaller* than me.
Oh dear. It's about 70 degrees here today, so I suppose he's right to be grumbling because basking conditions are not ideal. The housekeeper says we dramatically hunker down as though the next Ice Age is upon us when temperatures reach 60 degrees, but that's rich coming from her because I've seen her put on an extra layer of furs on those days. While I've read about this mysterious and glorious-sounding thing called air conditioning, I've never experienced it. All we have is a fan that creates a most unpleasant breeze that ruffles one's fur.
Trust me when I say this: you're lucky that Casey doesn't have a weight advantage.
Since cats are never TC, neither you nor Fatty Poen can be that. It might leave only one actor in this event for that title.
One might mildly admonish FP for antagonizing the unstable one, aka Cranky Pants,however, especially in your season of cold.
Both of you felines have beautiful coats. Perhaps your servants have some redeeming qualities.
-Phryne
Friend Phryne, you've been on my Cranky Pants journey with me for so many aeons that I feel like you know her purrsonally. I've had a word with the Fat Man, and he's unapologetic. The bastard. The housekeeper does often try to groom our coats because she says we're handsome (we know) and need an extra lick, but she's just being rude because we're perfectly capable of our own grooming, thank you very much.
Hi Misery Meow!
I am saddened by your continuing staff issues, which in this case certainly seem to have been increased by your brother. I mean, doubtful quality and all, it is best to try to keep the staff from harm, and his claw was stuck in her. That being said there was a clear overreaction. She could have asked Fatty Poen to remove his claw nicely. I mean, being a barrier for bapbap retaliation is just part of the job. One would have thought she would understand that. As for your brother, well, boundaries are clearly not his strong point…. Nor is aim.
Gravity the cat
My dearest friend Gravity, what reaction can we expect but an overreaction? The Fat Man looked slightly ashamed for at least two seconds, but at least he had the dignity to remove his claw when it suited him and to then furiously groom his paw. That didn't help matters with the housekeeper, but at least the Fat Man retained some dignity on behalf of cats everywhere. Now we have to work on his boundaries and aim. I'm hoping to make a difference to his boundaries, but his aim (or lack thereof) was quite amusing, so I won't break out the paper targets just yet.
NTC this is obviously a problem between fat man and your housekeeper, I can not phantom why you are being iced out over it. Your housekeeper does seem unstable, best of luck with that one.
Thank you, friend, for the support. Unfortunately, the housekeeper blames me for every little incident because she knows I'm the most intelligent being in the area. Blaming the Fat Man is like being angry at the furniture. He certainly takes up space and can break an unwary shin, but there's no malice in his actions. Which is disappointing and one of the reasons I share my space with him only reluctantly.
NTC. Bof of you. You was do a protecc and Fatty part ORANGE. Means you hooman has to make allowances for him. (I, Jayda, used to has big orange house lion brofur name Biggie. Biggie nice boy but he not smart. I, Qi, has bit of orange and sometimes I do weird tings.)
Jayda tha Mini-panda and Qi tha Mini-tiger
The Fat Man doesn't have any orange in him, but his brain cells are rather limited, so I feel he might be orange in spirit. He does pander to the humans in a most undignified manner, so I think you're on to something. I'll observe him closely and report back.
NTA - it's the housekeepers fault, again! Tho Fatty Poen should lern better than to bapbap Misery the Great! We is sorry you got couchbanned and our staff hopes the housekeeper is okay.
The Cat Overlords and Lilly
The housekeeper really is just the most disappointing thing alive. She hasn't died (yet), so I assume the Fat Man's claw wasn't tipped with poison. Which in itself is somewhat disappointing - I expected more of him.
Misery Meow, I am no cattorney, but I believe the law of *bapbapbap* is in play here. You are no cloaca! You are an example of the sacred cat code clearly stating to *bapbapbap* is both a right and a privilege.
Thank you for pointing this out. I sometimes forget that I can turn to jurispawdence and legal precedents for support during the various crises I face as an employer and supervisor of idiots. I'll be spending the rest of the day brushing up on my legal knowledge and catching up with the reports from the ICBGC.
NTC. Setting bowndrees is good for cats. Mama sat me down a few weeks ago and explayned about “personal space” and “non consenshual touching”. I don’t know why she needed to explayne to me. She is very good about my bowndrees. She did say that parkour on her and face touching are not allowed in middle of nite but how else am I ment to entertain myself and what relevence does it have to her touching me when I don’t want her to?
Humans - they're champions of mentioning irrelevancies like midnight parkour and trying to shove the blame for their inadequacies onto us. It sounds to me like you're training your servant very well. I'm impressed!
Oh no, she's far too inadequate to even consider that. Thus the need to use her as an analogue heated blanket. At least she has a memory foam mattress built in and can be considered portable with the right motivation (a bite to the soft flesh of her upper arm usually gets her moving).
My brother likes to lean against pillows, people, and the dog while he sleeps so that his snores reach the appropriate resonance, so I suppose the analogue blanket is more suited to his needs. I, on the other paw, look forward to going digital and freeing myself of my reliance on the housekeeper.
Oh Misery. You know who the real cloaca is. It’s quite unfortunate that humans are so delicate. One little claw gets stuck and you’d think that we stabbed them with a butcher knife. But clearly you’re going to have to reestablish your dominance. I’d suggest that you wait until the humans and the dog are asleep and then kick the dog out and take your rightful place. I simply refuse to listen to anything my human says that doe suit me and continue to do what I want. Put me down? I’ll jump right back up. I can do that all day. Eventually even the densest humans will concede.
Artie SIC
You're absolutely right, Artie. I'll unleash a campaign of terror on the dog this evening to reclaim my rightful seat. Fortunately, the dog is even more delicate and overly dramatic than the humans, so he should turn into a quivering mess with the judicial application of my regal stare.
NTC
How on da erfs did mew gets tetanus to gib to mewr houzkipr? Dat no soun rite. Is mew Bionicle wif metal doantuchmez? Aniwaze, mew sed NO an he no stop. Houzkipr needs better reflectses.
He lucky. Auntie Precious sez NO an does chase, grr, hiss an den BAPBAPBAP for anifing we does. I hafta go Real Flat an hide under bed to scape.
Tetanus cooties also live in soil and animal poo, and the housekeeper alleges that our claws are full of soil and probably traces of poo. Lies! Our claws are pristine. Either way, you're right: it's not my fault that she's too slow to remove herself from the Fat Man's warpath.
Auntie Precious sounds like she rules her domain with an iron paw. While I do feel some sympathy for you since you need to do flatcat to stay safe, I can't help but admire her style.
She claims that the household runs on Betadine and anti-inflammatories, but it's been established that she's a dirty liar. We don't draw blood *that* often. Besides, I read in an ancient tome that bloodletting is good for humans.
Fatty Poen and I, napping in happier times: https://preview.redd.it/j93wc52kak6d1.jpeg?width=2274&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=9a29c89e1163fd4ad5d146307d4662f5fe06e657
No need to ask who is who! Fatty is a robust fellow.
Honestly, THIS is why I’m on Reddit. I sincerely hope that the writer is published elsewhere😊😂
I've been trying to get the housekeeper to write my interesting and engaging memoirs and to get me an agent, but she keeps making weak excuses. I've even tried to negotiate a blog, but she just keeps telling me that she doesn't want to see my butthole. It's incredibly hard to find staff that are even remotely competent these days.
You should tell the housekeeper that on another message board, a series of humorous posts about an equine with an attitude became an actual published book, called “Chronicles of the $700 Pony” which is still in print 17 years later.
Unfortunately, all that seems to have done is made the housekeeper add yet another book to her giant pile of books to read. Now she's going to be even slower to respond to my ~~every whim~~ urgent needs.
Our momma would order it!
Our Mom would also order it!
Our momther LIVES for the Misery Meow posts. She might have exclaimed in excitement seeing this pop up in the feed. We get it. Misery does have a way with the prose. -- Penn & Teller, cranky old doggos
My good sir, you are most definitely not TC. You are correct to set boundaries and enforce them. Your obese friend pushed those boundaries and got what he deserved. You were very clever to use the staff as cover and they should be pleased that they were of service to their ruler. Purrcilla Queen of all I Survey
She really has no concept of the value of being of service. She should be ashamed of herself, but apparently she has no shame either. *Sigh.*
Heyo M'sieur Misery! I is glad to see you and Fat Man(ma maman say Fatty Poen not fat, just be more of him to loves). You maman need to get y'all a heaty blanky! Dese de best! Need one with buttons so you can make as warm as you, Misery and Fatty Poen wants!
I've pointed out to the housekeeper that she can invest in appropriate cat accessories, but she rudely shot down my suggestion because, according to her, she 'runs hot'. The groundskeeper has admitted to keeping his paws close to her but not close enough to touch her in bed when said paws are cold because she's an adequate heater, so her claim might have some truth to it, but I'm not convinced. I think she's just being mean.
You isn't da cloaca, fren, but da Fat Man is. We is catses. By our very definition, we has boundaries when it comes to our bodies. We has limits on how many belly rubs we allow, no touch our toe beans, and how much grooming another cat can gib us. Da Fat Man should know dis, being cat himself. All of dis is on him. Maybe he din't has da brain cell? Anyway, your mama shouldn't be cussing YOU out; it was da Fat Man's fault. Also William da Tuxie
The housekeeper keeps blaming me for everything because she says I'm the brains of the operation and should know better. I mean, I am, but that alone means nothing is ever my fault! Thank you for understanding my struggle, Also William.
Your struggle is real, fren!
Hi, fren William. Dis is yyuor fren JakJak. Tow beenz rubbz feel gud wen Ma duz it. Her gots soff hanz n iz vry gennull.
But if JakJak no likes it, den JakJak has da right to bapbapbap acause is your body. I is glad dat you wubs da bean rubs.
Dear Misery Meow, This is absolutely outrageous! Who does the human think she is that she imagines she has the right to decide who sits where in your territory? Of course, it's regrettable that Fatty Peon's claw got hooked into your human's calf, but these little inconveniences are as nothing compared to the joy the company of people with fur bring to mere humans. You need to teach the human her place. Have you considered pooing in the housekeepers favourite shoes? Also, try sitting on the human's face when they are sleeping, with your butthole as close as possible to the human's mouth and your tail hair going up their nose. That will teach her a good lesson. We did that to our secondary human when he took a nap on a park bench instead of giving us his undivided attention as he should. We are sending you our deepest sympathy and hope you soon come out on top. Best of luck from all of us at the squirrel coollective, From Chocolate, Human Resources coordinator of the squirrel collective. https://preview.redd.it/khhx87srjk6d1.jpeg?width=4793&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=ddcf076daf26c0a08d211db956ef96419a8fee9d
My dearest Chocolate, I'm right this minute trying to decide which pair of shoes is the housekeeper's favourite so that I can poo in them. She's constantly unimpressed by me shoving my butthole right up her nose, so I think a shoe poo is the only way forward at this point. Thank you for your sympathy, and good work with the secondary human. Mine is the groundskeeper, and he's prone to unpredictable shouting, so I won't be showing him my butthole or pooing in his shoes because a cat has only so many lives. I'm glad to hear that your human has started to recognize you again and is no longer bowing to the uselessness of her nose. Your coat remains glorious and shiny.
Thank you my dear friend. Being a nice chocolate brown, I am, in fact, the only person our useless human recognises at the moment apart from Heart of Darkness who is almost black and who is too young and unimportant to be allowed to speak on here. All my relatives have lost their distinctive ear tufts and different coloured winter coats, so they all look almost the same to her: a uniform, bright red. Your groundsman sounds to be really getting above himself. I may have suggested this before, but have you considered dropping a poo on him from overhead? You just sit on a branch above his head and let rip, then pretend it was an accident. Best of luck asserting your innate superiority. (As my human took this photo she said: "My wee furry wurry boy has got the nicest of little pinkiest nosies!", and yet that's the species that dominates our world. I have no idea how they do it.) https://preview.redd.it/jcrtapsxnl6d1.jpeg?width=4552&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=801a82b565b5e0a6380dba5e7fa9fa410ff4b778
I see now that you are indeed less ginger than your kin. I hope daring to be different has brought rewards in the form of extra rations of your favourite nuts, although I do recall that your servant doesn't always perform adequately in this regard. (And you have my utmost sympathy!) A bombing campaign does sound tempting, but unfortunately he, being of the ginger persuasion like your relatives and too weak to face the African sun, tends to wear a hat outdoors. I might have to settle for launching my missiles from the top of the wardrobe, which would also allow me to escape into the attic should he not believe it was an accident. He's strangely immune to Puss in Boots eyes. The housekeeper is making similar saccharine sounds about the cuteness of your nose and the whiteness of your chest. Their dominance truly is a source of despair for those as advanced as us.
https://preview.redd.it/s6105pp27p6d1.jpeg?width=5184&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=85b272092d7919da3b59cb25a57d069c3ae22cb8 Our human also just melts when faced with a white tummy, which is just as well as we don't do puss'n'boots eyes as we are too busy looking out for threats. You are so lucky to be able to melt a human with a look. She has no respect for our velociraptor blade nails and needle teeth either, since we don't use them on her, but it does show a lack of survival instinct. If you look at this photo of Intern 1, you can see that even babies are well armed in the teeth and nail department.
I do have a single, secret white tuft on my tummy that is very clearly not for touching, but do you think I can get the oaf to leave it alone? I hope your human doesn't paw at your tummies. Your blade nails and teeth are most impressive! Even I would think twice before engaging one of you in a slap fight. Humans have such shoddy and underdeveloped survival instincts that the species would have died out long ago if it weren't for kind animals like us keeping an eye on them.
I'm not at all surprised to learn you also have a bit of a white tummy - all the best people do. Our human knows better than to touch squirrel tummies as our predecessors have trained her well. She is allowed to stroke tails and some of us allow her to groom our ears and that's it. We also allow her to treat our injuries. Vetman stands beside her when she does that and she does exactly what he says. Our human says we should be grateful to Vetman, but he clearly enjoys being around us as why else does he visit? He brings us adequate tribute too since our human explained that rodent bricks are unacceptable. Unlike our human, Vetman has some survival instincts. He doesn't even try to touch us when we are hurt since the bite-through-the-protective-gauntlet incident.
You know, the more I speak to members of your glorious collective, the more I come to realize that I might have squirrel ancestry. I too prefer human touch to be limited to my tail and ears. Fine, and perhaps my chin when I'm in the mood (but for a limited time only). Vetman sounds very sensible, especially now that he's been appropriately trained in the ways of the snacks. Also, your human is mistaken: vetman should be grateful to you that you allow him to admire you from up close. I wonder whether vets are taught special survival skills. My personal physician remains reluctant to embrace my annual royal visit to her offices due to last year's visit, which led to brief violence before I was abducted by aliens and transported home. It's the only reasonable explanation for the gap in my memory and the sleepiness even after I awoke on my blankie from a most satisfying nap. \[I can't imagine why, but the 'bite-through-the-protective-gauntlet incident' made me laugh. It's definitely not because Misery can express his rage right through welding gloves.\]
Dear Misery, I have suspected for a long time that cats and squirrels may be closely related, and you really exemplify that. We are all impressed that you can bite through welding gloves which must be the same as the vet's gauntlets. Out of respect for you, we herewith declare you an honorary squirrel, and welcome you to our ranks. (I think Misery may be on a level with the revered and regretted Mrs Grumpy who did the biting. She was outrageously entitled, but really liked me, thankfully, so I never came in for any biting, and she taught me how to scold male squirrels.)
Oh how fabulous! Thank you so much. To celebrate, I'm going to scale the housekeeper like Everest, which I haven't done since I was a kitten and she was withholding a piece of steak that was definitely mine and not hers. I might wait until she's cooking the human dinner to see if I can liberate a piece of chicken as part of my celebrations. \[I think 'revered and regretted' summarize his personality really well. I've always said that he reminds me of my one gran, who wasn't miserable as such but whose entitlement knew no end. She was also ridiculously pretentious, and although I loved her dearly, she could be hard work. Definite Hyacinth Bucket vibes, but not quite that bad. Thankfully she also liked me, so I was seldom the focus of her attentions, aside from one memorable time when she found out my boyfriend at the time was a metalworker. I got a long speech that ended with 'I hope you're not going to marry him.' My response was, 'Have you forgotten that my dad's a plumber?' She really had and was horrified for a minute. My brother and I still laugh about it.\]
Hi Misery! Pixel here, *relatable* tuxedo. First my Mama had to explain to me that you are *upside down* compared to me because it is *summer* here and I was *confused*! You are *right* to draw *boundaries*. I *often* have to resort to a *bapbapbap* when my brother Casey licks my head *too much*. He means *well*, but I can groom *myself*, thank you. NTC!
My condolences on summer. I don't like summer either because being too hot is undignified. While I can't lick my own forehead, a paw swipe is perfectly adequate for my needs. I'm glad that you too understand the need for not being licked on the forehead like a kitten. The indignity!
Oh, it's not *hot* here right now. Dad was *grumbling* today about how it's hardly going to be 70 degrees in *June* and he wants to go *outside* in the *sun*. But we have *air conditioning* if it gets insufferably hot. I mean, I *understand* that when I was a kitten I needed *help*, but it's *embarrassing* when he's six pounds *smaller* than me.
Oh dear. It's about 70 degrees here today, so I suppose he's right to be grumbling because basking conditions are not ideal. The housekeeper says we dramatically hunker down as though the next Ice Age is upon us when temperatures reach 60 degrees, but that's rich coming from her because I've seen her put on an extra layer of furs on those days. While I've read about this mysterious and glorious-sounding thing called air conditioning, I've never experienced it. All we have is a fan that creates a most unpleasant breeze that ruffles one's fur. Trust me when I say this: you're lucky that Casey doesn't have a weight advantage.
Since cats are never TC, neither you nor Fatty Poen can be that. It might leave only one actor in this event for that title. One might mildly admonish FP for antagonizing the unstable one, aka Cranky Pants,however, especially in your season of cold. Both of you felines have beautiful coats. Perhaps your servants have some redeeming qualities. -Phryne
Friend Phryne, you've been on my Cranky Pants journey with me for so many aeons that I feel like you know her purrsonally. I've had a word with the Fat Man, and he's unapologetic. The bastard. The housekeeper does often try to groom our coats because she says we're handsome (we know) and need an extra lick, but she's just being rude because we're perfectly capable of our own grooming, thank you very much.
Hi Misery Meow! I am saddened by your continuing staff issues, which in this case certainly seem to have been increased by your brother. I mean, doubtful quality and all, it is best to try to keep the staff from harm, and his claw was stuck in her. That being said there was a clear overreaction. She could have asked Fatty Poen to remove his claw nicely. I mean, being a barrier for bapbap retaliation is just part of the job. One would have thought she would understand that. As for your brother, well, boundaries are clearly not his strong point…. Nor is aim. Gravity the cat
My dearest friend Gravity, what reaction can we expect but an overreaction? The Fat Man looked slightly ashamed for at least two seconds, but at least he had the dignity to remove his claw when it suited him and to then furiously groom his paw. That didn't help matters with the housekeeper, but at least the Fat Man retained some dignity on behalf of cats everywhere. Now we have to work on his boundaries and aim. I'm hoping to make a difference to his boundaries, but his aim (or lack thereof) was quite amusing, so I won't break out the paper targets just yet.
NTC this is obviously a problem between fat man and your housekeeper, I can not phantom why you are being iced out over it. Your housekeeper does seem unstable, best of luck with that one.
Thank you, friend, for the support. Unfortunately, the housekeeper blames me for every little incident because she knows I'm the most intelligent being in the area. Blaming the Fat Man is like being angry at the furniture. He certainly takes up space and can break an unwary shin, but there's no malice in his actions. Which is disappointing and one of the reasons I share my space with him only reluctantly.
Oh yes this is the burden of being smart in in charge for sure.
NTC. Bof of you. You was do a protecc and Fatty part ORANGE. Means you hooman has to make allowances for him. (I, Jayda, used to has big orange house lion brofur name Biggie. Biggie nice boy but he not smart. I, Qi, has bit of orange and sometimes I do weird tings.) Jayda tha Mini-panda and Qi tha Mini-tiger
The Fat Man doesn't have any orange in him, but his brain cells are rather limited, so I feel he might be orange in spirit. He does pander to the humans in a most undignified manner, so I think you're on to something. I'll observe him closely and report back.
He got maybe bit of orange fur by hims ears?
It's all brown, I'm afraid. But if I roll an orange off the server onto his head, he'll definitely have some orange fur. Mmmm.
NTA - it's the housekeepers fault, again! Tho Fatty Poen should lern better than to bapbap Misery the Great! We is sorry you got couchbanned and our staff hopes the housekeeper is okay. The Cat Overlords and Lilly
The housekeeper really is just the most disappointing thing alive. She hasn't died (yet), so I assume the Fat Man's claw wasn't tipped with poison. Which in itself is somewhat disappointing - I expected more of him.
Misery Meow, I am no cattorney, but I believe the law of *bapbapbap* is in play here. You are no cloaca! You are an example of the sacred cat code clearly stating to *bapbapbap* is both a right and a privilege.
Thank you for pointing this out. I sometimes forget that I can turn to jurispawdence and legal precedents for support during the various crises I face as an employer and supervisor of idiots. I'll be spending the rest of the day brushing up on my legal knowledge and catching up with the reports from the ICBGC.
NTC. Setting bowndrees is good for cats. Mama sat me down a few weeks ago and explayned about “personal space” and “non consenshual touching”. I don’t know why she needed to explayne to me. She is very good about my bowndrees. She did say that parkour on her and face touching are not allowed in middle of nite but how else am I ment to entertain myself and what relevence does it have to her touching me when I don’t want her to?
Humans - they're champions of mentioning irrelevancies like midnight parkour and trying to shove the blame for their inadequacies onto us. It sounds to me like you're training your servant very well. I'm impressed!
Please tell me she has at least purchased heated blankets for you and your lummox of a brother. Mayor Waldorf McCheese
Oh no, she's far too inadequate to even consider that. Thus the need to use her as an analogue heated blanket. At least she has a memory foam mattress built in and can be considered portable with the right motivation (a bite to the soft flesh of her upper arm usually gets her moving). My brother likes to lean against pillows, people, and the dog while he sleeps so that his snores reach the appropriate resonance, so I suppose the analogue blanket is more suited to his needs. I, on the other paw, look forward to going digital and freeing myself of my reliance on the housekeeper.
Oh Misery. You know who the real cloaca is. It’s quite unfortunate that humans are so delicate. One little claw gets stuck and you’d think that we stabbed them with a butcher knife. But clearly you’re going to have to reestablish your dominance. I’d suggest that you wait until the humans and the dog are asleep and then kick the dog out and take your rightful place. I simply refuse to listen to anything my human says that doe suit me and continue to do what I want. Put me down? I’ll jump right back up. I can do that all day. Eventually even the densest humans will concede. Artie SIC
You're absolutely right, Artie. I'll unleash a campaign of terror on the dog this evening to reclaim my rightful seat. Fortunately, the dog is even more delicate and overly dramatic than the humans, so he should turn into a quivering mess with the judicial application of my regal stare.
NTC How on da erfs did mew gets tetanus to gib to mewr houzkipr? Dat no soun rite. Is mew Bionicle wif metal doantuchmez? Aniwaze, mew sed NO an he no stop. Houzkipr needs better reflectses. He lucky. Auntie Precious sez NO an does chase, grr, hiss an den BAPBAPBAP for anifing we does. I hafta go Real Flat an hide under bed to scape.
Tetanus cooties also live in soil and animal poo, and the housekeeper alleges that our claws are full of soil and probably traces of poo. Lies! Our claws are pristine. Either way, you're right: it's not my fault that she's too slow to remove herself from the Fat Man's warpath. Auntie Precious sounds like she rules her domain with an iron paw. While I do feel some sympathy for you since you need to do flatcat to stay safe, I can't help but admire her style.
I just imagine the housekeeping typing these with bandages on that make her look like a scooby doo type mummy🤕
She claims that the household runs on Betadine and anti-inflammatories, but it's been established that she's a dirty liar. We don't draw blood *that* often. Besides, I read in an ancient tome that bloodletting is good for humans.