The Cat Takes Control

Hi. This is Perry again, mom's cat. I had to smother her into a coma last night because she was so whacked out. The truth is, she gets all wonky sometimes over stuff that only humans care about. Cat don't give a fat rat's ass.







I've had a bit of a cold lately, hacking and coughing so much I sound like the COPD ward at the VA. Mom keeps talking about taking me to the vet. I don't want to go. Everytime I go there they take something out of me: blood, poop, they even took my goodies! I say, if you want to keep yourself together, stay away from the vets.






Smokey is doing well. Mom's gotten some soft food again so we're all dining on Turkey and Stuffing. (well, I'm not so sure about the stuffing, but it's good) Pumpkin has gone completely feral. We have the only domesticated wild cat-chicken in the world, I think. Well, if you know of any, hollar at us. They should really get together.






I think Brigid is having a puppy. Everywhere in the house are clumps of black fur. Mom told her (before the coma) that she should just go ahead and have a puppy as dad and she have picked up enough to make a new dog. Mom even took her out for 20 minutes in a high wind and brushed her over and over. There was so much fur in the lawn it looked like a wombat exploded. Still she's shedding. It's a spring thing. And a dog thing, I guess. So mom told her, "Brigid, why don't you go ahead and have a puppy? At least we could clean it all up at once!" If anyone likes to knit or crochet, we can send you the fur to make your own puppy. Man's best friend...






Dad loves his new washing machine. It's very tall, but it opens in the front. But so far, I haven't been able to get Pumpkin in there. She could use a good washer ride, too. Mom and Dad are getting too old to catch her. I just watch and laugh.


Anyways, all he does is wash, wash, wash. He's a gadget freak from way back. He had one of the first Ataris in town, I heard, and played pong until mom almost wigged out. She still can't stand to see white bricks.






The Emily has been nicer since Uncle Jim moved in. He's ok, mostly ignores me. That's good. He's freaking six foot six! I'd like to climb him, really. I could touch the ceiling lamps! But he get kinda grumpy about the claws thing. He fixed up a new potty (that's a human litter box, sort of) so that it sits on a two inch pedestal. Dad says he feels like a king on his throne. Mom says (before the coma) that she's going to have to get a stool like Kemper Kitty used. He's litter box trained now and goes to school every morning. That gives us all a chance to snooze without fear. At least for a little while.






Well, dad's heading off to visit mom in the coma ward. They said she quit breathing (gee, how did that happen? Surely not a cat on her face!) for so long she might be brain damaged. Dad said, "no change there." He wants to unplug her, but then I won't have internet access, so he's going to wait.






Oh, it's a miracle! She's coming down the hall! (don't let her see this)






Swiftly,


Perry