- E-Mail flames from some guy named “Fluffy.”
- Traces of kitty litter in your keyboard.
- You find you’ve been subscribed to strange newsgroups like alt.recreational.catnip.
- Your mouse has teeth marks in it … and a strange aroma of tuna.
- Hate-mail messages to Apple Computer Corp. about their release of “CyberDog.”
- Your new ergonomic keyboard has a strange territorial scent to it.
- You keep finding new software around your house like CatinTax and WarCat II.
- On IRC you’re known as the IronMouser.
- Little kitty carpal-tunnel braces near the scratching post.
- Put the cat on a pillow.
- Set up your camera.
- Put the cat back on the pillow.
- Get a bowl of food and put it next to the pillow.
- Put the cat back on the pillow.
- Grab the food bowl and follow the cat. As you run, hold the bowl in our cat’s face, tempting her to eat.
- See if the neighbors will come over and pick up the sofa while you snap a picture of the cat underneath.
- Cross the names of your neighbors off the list for your next party.
- Put the cat back on the pillow.
- Place a catnip-stuffed mouse in front of your cat and wait for your cat to go crazy.
- Go back to the pet store and demand a refund.
- Decide on a family portrait with the cat instead.
- To stop the argument over which child gets to pose with the cat, agree to take pictures of each child holding the cat on her lap.
- Tell each child that it doesn’t matter who holds the cat first because you’ll shuffle the pictures after they’re developed and look at them in a different order than the order they were taken.
- Get more cats, one for each child, and go back to step one.
Calling in sick to work makes me uncomfortable because no matter how legitimate my illness, because I always sense my boss thinks I am lying.
On one occasion, I had a valid reason but lied anyway because the truth was to humiliating to reveal. I simply mentioned that I had sustained a head injury and I hoped I would feel up to coming in the next day. By then, I could think up a doozy to explain the bandage on my crown.
In this case, the truth hurt. I mean it really hurt in the place men feel the most pain. The accident occurred mainly because I conceded to my wife’s wishes to adopt a cute little kitty
As the daily routine prescribes, I was taking my shower after breakfast when I heard my wife, Deb, call out to me from the kitchen. “Ed!” she harkened. “The garbage disposal is dead. Come reset it.”
“You know where the button is.” I protested through the shower (pitter-patter). “Reset it yourself!”
“I am scared!” She pleaded. “What if it starts going and sucks me in?” Pause. “C’mon, it’ll only take a second.” No logical assurance about how a disposal can’t start itself will calm the fears of a person who suffers from “Big-ol-scary-machine-phobia,” a condition brought on
by watching too many Stephen King movies.
It is futile to argue or explain, kind of like telling Lloyd Bentsen Americans are over-taxed. And if a poltergeist did, in fact, possess the disposal, and she was ground into round, I’d have to live with that the rest of my life.
So out I came, dripping wet and buck naked, hoping to make a statement about how her cowardly behavior was, not without consequence, but it was I who would suffer. I crouched down and stuck my head under the sink to find the button.
It is the last action I remember performing. It struck without warning, without respect to my circumstances. Nay, it wasn’t a hexed disposal, drawing me into its gnashing metal teeth. It was our new kitty, clawing playfully at the dangling objects she spied between my legs. She (“Buttons” aka “the Grater”) had been poised around the corner and stalked me as I took the bait under the sink. At precisely the second I was most vulnerable, she leapt at the toys I unwittingly offered and snagged them with her needle-like claws.
Now when men feel pain or even sense danger anywhere close to their masculine region, they lose all rational thought to control orderly bodily movements. Instinctively, their nerves compel the body to contort inwardly, while rising upwardly at a violent rate of speed. Not even a well trained monk could calmly stand with his groin supporting the full weight of a kitten and rectify the situation in a step-by-step procedure. Wild animals are sometimes faced with a “fight or flight” syndrome; men, in this predicament, choose only the “flight” option.
Fleeing straight up, I knew at that moment how a cat feels when it is alarmed. It was a dismal irony. But, whereas cats seek great heights to escape, I never made it that far. The sink and cabinet bluntly impeded my ascent; the impact knocked me out cold.
When I awoke, my wife and the paramedics stood over me. Having been fully briefed by my wife, the paramedics snorted as they tried to conduct their work while suppressing their hysterical laughter. My wife told me I should be flattered.
At the office, colleagues tried to coax an explanation out of me. I kept silent, claiming it was too painful to talk. “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”
If they had only known.
- A Gentleman Cat always has an immaculate shirtfront and paws at all times.
- A Gentleman Cat allows no constraint of his person, even loving restraint.
- A Gentleman Cat does not mew except in extremity. He makes his wishes known and waits.
- When addressed, a Gentleman Cat does not move a muscle. He looks as if he hadn’t heard.
- When frightened, a Gentleman Cat looks bored.
- A Gentleman Cat takes no interest in other people’s affairs, unless he is directly concerned.
- A Gentleman Cat approaches food slowly, however hungry he may be, and decides at least three feet away whether it is Good, Fair, Passable, or Unworthy. If Unworthy, he pretends to scratch earth over it.
- A Gentleman Cat gives thanks for a Worthy meal by licking the plate so clean that a person might think it had been washed.
- A Gentleman Cat is never hasty when choosing a housekeeper.
- There is no tenth Commandment.
- After dark, all cats are jaguars…
- Never *ever* try to baptize a cat.
- Cats are smarter than dogs. You cannot get a cat to pull a sled.
- A cat knows your every thought. It doesn’t care. But it knows.
- If I want to hear the pitter patter of little feet, I will put shoes on my cat …
- Most people with cats, know they are being controlled. That’s the horror of it …
- Never try to out stubborn a cat.
- Thousands of years ago, humans worshiped the cat. They have not forgotten this…
- Whenever I bathe my cat, it takes an hour to get the fur off of my tongue.
- I prefer to live with Feline Sapiens, thank you very much.
- (picture of a fat tabby on a couch, looking at his owner) “My species domesticated your species…”
- Cat door retro-fitted with garage door opener.
- Confused guests constantly mistaking her for beanbag chair.
- Always lands on her spleen.
- Fewer calls to the fire department, but a sudden upsurge in broken branches.
- Fifteen month gestation period, and still no kittens.
- No longer cleans itself unless coated in Cheese Whiz.
- Catfood dish replaced with Rush Limbaugh trough.
- Luxurious, shiny black fur replaced with mint green polyester pants suit.
- It’s no longer safe to lift him without a spotter.
- “Steals breath” from all five quintuplets, simultaneously.
- Waits for the third bowl of food to get finicky.
- He only catches mice that get trapped in his gravitational pull.
- Enormous gut keeps your hardwood floors freshly buffed.
- Has more chins than lives.
- Do you select your friends based on how well your cats like them?
- Does your desire to collect cats intensify during times of stress?
- Do you buy more than 50 pounds of cat litter a month?
- Do you think it’s cute when your cat swings on your drapes or licks your butter?
- Do you admit to non-cat owners how many cats you really have?
- Do you sleep in the same position all night because it annoys your cats when you move?
- Do you kiss your cat on the whiskers?
- Do you feed your cat tidbits from the table with your fork?
- Does your cat sleep on your head?
Do you like it?
- Do you have more than four opened but rejected cans of cat food in the refrigerator?
- Do you watch bad TV because the cat is sleeping on the remote?
- Will you stand at the open door indefinitely in the freezing rain while your cat sniffs the door, deciding whether to go out or come in?
- Would you rather spend a night at home with your cat than go out on a bad date?
- Do you put off making the bed until the cat gets up?
- Do you buy more than 50 pounds of cat litter a month?
- Do you scoop out the litter box after each use? Do you wait at the box with the scoop in your hand?
- Does your cat sit at the table (or ON the table) when you eat?
- Did you buy a video tape of fish swimming in an aquarium to entertain your cat?
- Do you give your cat presents and a stocking at Christmas? Do you spend more for your cat than you do for your spouse?
- Do the Christmas cards you send out feature your cat sitting on Santa’s lap? Does your cat sign the card?
- Does your cat eat out of cut crystal stemware because you both watched the same commercial on television?
- Do you microwave your cat’s food? Prepare it from scratch?
- Do you climb out of bed over the headboard or footboard, so you won’t disturb the sleeping cat?
- When you are preparing to leave for the day, do you seek out each cat and inform them of your anticipated return time?
- Do you sleep with no pillow under your head, because the cat wants to sleep on it?
- Do you stand at the computer because the cat is sleeping on the chair?
- Do you you make sure there’s plenty of kitty litter in the house, even though you may run out of toilet paper?
- At the store, do you pick out the catfood before you pick out anything for yourself?
- Do you go to sleep sitting up in bed because you were reading and the cat is curled up on your lap asleep?
- Does it always take you longer than expected to read a magazine, because the cat keeps curling up on it while you’re reading?
- Do you frequently leave your dresser drawer open when you leave for the day, because the cat jumped into one of them and is asleep in one of the drawers?
- Is the only comb you can find in the bathroom a flea comb?
- Do you cook a special turkey for your cat on holidays?
- Does your cat “insist” on a fancy Sunday breakfast consisting of an omelette made from eggs, milk, and salmon, halibut, or trout?
- Do you have pictures of your cat in your wallet? Do you bring them out when your friends share pictures of their children? (Pollsters claim that 40 percent of cat owners carry their pet’s pictures in their wallets, by the way.)
- When people call to talk to you on the phone, do you insist that they say a few words to your cat as well?
- Do you accept dates only with those who have a cat? If so, do you eventually double-date with the cats to see how they get along?
- When someone new comes to your house, do you introduce your cat, by name, to them?
- Do you keep old, empty pizza boxes on the counter instead of throwing them away, because the cat likes to sleep in it?
The humans’ U.S. Treasury Department is contemplating changing the look of U.S. currency again. Despite all the recent changes, the bills are too easy to forge. As long as they are going to change things, why not put pictures of CATS on the new currency instead of presidents. Everyone knows WE’VE been running things since Day One anyway! The nominations for Cats on Currency are:
- Cat in the Hat
We don’t need a reason why,
Be it girl or just a guy,
Just a cat within a hat,
No better reason than just that!
Still finicky after all these years.
Cat proverb: “Always keep a smile on your face. Makes ’em wonder what you’ve been up to.”
- Mr. Snookums
Perhaps the most famous cartoon cat at the turn of Y2Kitty.
- Mr. Bigglesworth
Big Owner to Cat: “Oh, Behave!”
Cat to Big Owner: Zip it!
- Puss’N Boots
“One of these days these boots are going to walk all over you …”
Best comedic timing of any cat – or human – on Television.
A pioneer. If it weren’t for that funky first name…
… No otha, my brotha …
Just barely made my lisp, I mean list. But also the first to: Exit stage left …
Now I must decide between Julie Newmar, Eartha Kitt, Lee Merriwether, or Michelle Pfeiffer! Oh No!
And my winner of Feline Dollar fame is:
This is part of a great collection of great cat stories, told from the cat’s perspective. For more information please visit the website!
I was lying on the couch, grooming my left rear leg. Bars of light slanted across the room through the venetian blinds. I woulda had a bottle of hooch and a glass handy, but the Humans put the vodka in the freezer. Too high for me to reach, damn the luck.
Business had been thin lately. I was just thinking about jumping up on the windowsill to check out the action on the bird feeder next door when the phone rang. I ran to the bedroom RUN RUN RUN SKID POUNCE! and knocked the phone off the cradle. “Mrrroww?” I said. My tail curled into a question mark. Silence. Then I heard something – distant purring? I mewed plaintively, just in case. Click, then the dial tone.
Damn. The second time today. Someone was playing cat and mouse. I gradually coaxed the handset back in place. Man, that thing is heavy. I ran crazily around the apartment several times, just for luck, and… oops, time for food. The case would have to wait.
Back on the couch, I licked myself all over and pondered. There was something fishy about those phone calls — I could smell it. My claws extended involuntarily, and I kneaded the upholstery for a while. Hmm. Patches was doing time in San Quentin, but maybe one of her torpedoes was prowling around. Or who knows — maybe those damn tomcats from Miss Puff’s gang wanted revenge. I’d made a lot of enemies in my career.
Suddenly there was a flash of movement at the other window. My ears pricked up. GO GO GO adjust my back feet for traction POUNCE onto the end table! Crash! Aw nuts, didn’t see that beer bottle. I stared out at the ratty calico with the notched ear on the outside sill. Her ears went back, and she hissed. This kind of trouble I didn’t need. I locked my stare on to her, bristling slightly, until she looked away.
Oh yeah, lick your paw like nothing just happened, I thought. She gave me a low growl. “Stay away from the big tree at the edge of the parking lot, get me?” she gritted. “That’s my territory. I chase the squirrels down there, see, and I don’t need any two-bit gumshoe horning in on the action.” Something clicked. Yeah, I’d seen her before. Used to be a B-girl down at the Kit Kat Club. Rap sheet twice the length of my tail. I hear her Human calls her Snuggykins now, but I’d seen her yowling and dragging her butt down the gutter plenty of times when she was in heat in the old days.
I combed my whiskers with my paw. “Quit pussyfooting around,” I said. “We both know you didn’t come here to talk about squirrels. Give.”
She gave me an innocent look. “Don’t they say curiosity killed the cat?” she purred.
I felt my tail switching back and forth in irritation. “They say a lot of things,” I growled back. I woulda slugged her, if the screen hadn’t been in the way.
She looked around. “This is strictly on the Q.T.,” she whispered, “but I hear Pumpkin and Sheba are gettin’ kinda tired of you prowling around their operation. Keep your paws outta their cat dish, OK? Be a shame if some kind of *accident* knocked off a couple of your lives. I hear you’re down to five or so.”
Just then, we heard a car turning into the parking lot. She stiffened, then jumped down and crept around the corner of the building. I raked the screen with my claws in frustration. The car pulled up and stopped. Could it…? I mewed. Yes! My Humans! They were home! Meow meow meow! I heard a key in the door, and ran over. All RIGHT! Cat toy! Cat toy! Make it MOVE! Food food food KITTY TREATS KITTY TREATS!
“Hi, Henry,” my smaller Human said. “How was your day?” She picked me up. Man, I HATE that. Let me down! Mew! Cat toy, no hugs! Cat toy! CAT TOY! She stroked my head. My larger Human looked over and saw the broken glass under the table by the window. “Sheesh, Henry,” he said. “Did you do that?” Aw, hell. I arched my back slightly and relaxed. Purr purr purr. Beer bottle? Little old me? Somebody *else* did *that*. Look how cute I am. Oh yeah, scratch under my jaw. Oh baby.
Later, when they were in bed watching TV, I saw something moving under the blanket. SMALL ANIMAL! POUNCE? But wait. Every time I attack, it stops moving. Maybe it’s just the small Human’s hand, like it was the last forty-seven times. But what if it’s really a SMALL ANIMAL? No. Maybe it is. Maybe it IS! Tense tense TENSE TENSE wigglebutt POUNCE! D’oh! It was her hand again. I turned away and started licking my paw. Didn’t fool me, nuh-uh. I curled up on the blanket. I’d solve the Case of the Creeping Cat tomorrow. Big yawn. Purr purrPurrrrrrrrrr…….
On the first day of creation, God created the cat.
On the second day, God created man to serve the cat.
On the third, God created all the animals of the earth
to serve as potential food for the cat.
On the fourth day, God created honest toil so that man
could labor for the good of the cat.
On the fifth day, God created the sparkle ball so that
the cat might or might not play with it.
On the sixth day, God created veterinary science to
keep the cat healthy and the man broke.
On the seventh day, God tried to rest, but he had to scoop the litterbox.