Tag Archives: cats

Christmas Wrapping with the Cat

Are we running out of ribbon?!

That says WRAPPING, not rapping. So, if you came here to see me sing a down and funky Christmas tune with Andre, you will be sadly disappointed. Andre can’t rap, and he also can’t wrap, but he at least tries to do the second. By tries to wrap, I mean that he likes to “kill” just about everything that is needed to wrap a present. Of course, I could just go into a room and close the door and wrap presents without a cat jumping on everything that moves, but WHERE would the challenge be? I’m pretty sure I burn about ten extra calories a minute just from moving the cat and redoing things. So, I have become an expert on this, and I would like to help you learn to wrap your presents and still be a loving kitty mama or papa.It’s simple, really. Here’s how you wrap presents with a kitty, in 70 short steps:

  1. Take out wrapping paper
  2. Unroll paper
  3. Grab first gift
  4. Put gift down next to paper
  5. Remove cat from on top of wrapping paper
  6. Put gift on paper
  7. Take cat off of gift
  8. Cut out chunk of wrapping paper with cat teeth marks in it.
  9. Wrap gift, taping paper as you go.
  10. Notice cat fur on tape.
  11. Try to peel tape off of paper.
  12. Push cat off of package.
  13. Try to pick cat fur out of tape
  14. End up getting nail polish on the tape, too.
  15. Remove tape, ripping paper
  16. Throw used, furry tape aside
  17. Wad up paper and throw in trash.
  18. Notice cat has tape stuck on paw.
  19. Chase the cat to remove tape from paw.
  20. Tell the dog to stop chasing the cat with you.
  21. Grab cat and remove tape from cat’s paw.
  22. Go back to wrapping room.
  23. Unroll paper.
  24. Put present on paper.
  25. Cut paper.
  26. Almost stab cat with scissors after he jumps on paper.
  27. Move cat off of paper.
  28. Wrap and tape gift.
  29. Take out ribbon
  30. Remove ribbon from cat’s mouth

    I like the skinny ribbon better! I know it’s in here!
  31. Cut bitten part of ribbon off.
  32. Get a Lysol wipe to clean cat spit off of scissors that touched ribbon.
  33. Push cat away with left foot while leaning right to tie ribbon.
  34. Wipe cat spit from ribbon.
  35. Shriek in pain after cat bites left foot.
  36. Apply alcohol and Band-aid to left foot.
  37. Hope the gift receiver is not allergic to cats
  38. Notice your foot is still bleeding.
  39. Call your husband from your cell phone even though he is downstairs.
  40. Go to the hospital to get stitches in your foot.
  41. Return from hospital with an antibiotic prescription
  42. Hobble upstairs to the wrapping room.
  43. Close the door so the cat cannot HELP.
  44. Listen to the cat beat on the door and yowl.
  45. Open the door and let the damn cat in.
  46. Call your husband on the phone again and ask for a stiff drink.
  47. Gulp down drink and grab the next present.
  48. Notice you have Christmas gift bags.
  49. Open a bag.
  50. Reach for tissue to put in bag.
  51. Notice cat is in bag.
  52. Lure cat out of bag with tissue paper.
  53. Grab wrapping paper.
  54. Grab present.
  55. Realize you never put a nametag on the first present.
  56. Unwrap first present because you forgot whom it was for.
  57. Throw first present in gift bag after removing cat again.
  58. Put tissue paper in gift bag.
  59. Remove that one wet piece of tissue.
  60. Throw wet tissue in trash.
  61. Wash hands, hoping it was only cat spit again.
  62. Get more tissue.
  63. Put tissue in bag.
  64. Call for another drink.
  65. Grab second present.
  66. Notice it is for your son.
  67. Grab roll of Santa paper.
  68. Unroll paper.
  69. Accidentally bonk cat on head with present while racing him to the paper.
  70. Move unconscious cat over and finish wrapping.
Where’s that bag?

See! It’s really not tough to get your present wrapping done and be a loving pet parent. Kitties like being involved in everything. Whoever said they just ignore you probably never had a cat. Happy Holidays from Andre and me!

Disclaimer: While this was based on a true story, Andre was never unconscious, and I never had to go to the hospital. The rest is true. Liz, there is cat spit on your present, girl.

Update: Andre passed away on January 4, 2017.  I miss him so much. 

Cats Seeking Dog’s Death

Hello Humans and Felines Out There,

Andre here. I need your help in making my New Year’s Resolution a reality. As you know from reading the pet resolutions, I would like to see Sophie’s demise in 2015. I have never liked the dog because in addition to having the intelligence of snail dung, she is loud, smelly, and stupid.

By loud, I mean she interrupts naps with her incessant barking at absolutely nothing. I think the poor dear hallucinates. We have a church and a graveyard behind our home, and sometimes humans walk, either alone or with other stupid dogs, through the graveyard. I find this rather morbid, but whatever. As long as they don’t bring the canines in my home I have no quarrels with them.

Great Dane Lab
The stupid creature eats snow! Snow is not food.

Sophie, the creature’s given name is smelly because she eats her own excrement. Mother is even annoyed by it. What kind of cretin does this? Mother supplies us with two meals and two snacks daily. How much more does she need? It gives her horrible breath and she refuses to lick the mouthwash bottle like I do.

She also eats other non-food items, like the baseboards, chair legs, and cat toys. I’m not a toy playing kind of cat, but my sister Boo is, which is helpful

My sister Boo's "medicine." ©DankDepot
My sister Boo’s “medicine.”

I have enlisted my sister’s help with the demise of this dog. Boo loves a good catnip mouse. She truly is a stoner, as you humans say. So, I have her toss cat pot mice downstairs for big and stupid. The big, ignorant dog falls right into my trap. She EATS them. Does the creature have no sense? The first time she ate an entire mouse, which had enough pot in it to last Boo for at least 6 months, I thought she would perish. I watched. I hoped. I followed her around with a gleam in my eye to witness her suffering.

And sadly, nothing happened. Sophie galloped around the living room like a horse with a lobotomy, and tossed the mouse around. She tried to engage Lola, small and yippy, in this asinine game. Lola declined, as for a dog she is not that stupid. She IS rather yippy, but I will put up with that as she is the only one who has seniority over me in this home.

Thus far, the horse dog has survived.  But don’t you fret, dear reader; I will keep trying to end this creature. You have my word as a feline and a gentleman.


Note from Picabo (Boo Boo): My name is not Boo; It’s Picabo. And, I use mice medicinally. I’m not a stoner. That is so insulting. Also, Let’s get this straight right now; I did not throw the mouse down to Sophie to kill her. I was merely taking a break from my catnip and I wanted her to hold it for me for a while. I am not homicidal like my brother, though I would not miss the huge creature if she left us.

Note from Sophie: Hey you guys, Mean Kitty wrote this but I can’t quite read all of it because he uses fancy words. He likes to pretend he is from that other place with the kings and queens and the guys who wear food cans as clothes and ride horses. Can you tell me what he said in the comment section?

The heinous creature disturbs my naps.  She shall perish for this!
The huge,  heinous creature disturbs my naps. She shall perish for this!

Cathouse Breakdown

Sure – I live in a large house with my parents, the boy, and my canine and feline brother and sisters, but sometimes, I just want to move into my own place. I have found several small dwellings in my house. They seem to be delivered in a loud brown truck that pulls up on the car area outside. Even if I don’t see it the dog sisters alert me with their bark alarms. So, I jump and run to the small window near the door. A man with a brown suit carries a cat home or two to the door, and it sits outside the little window until Mother or Father or the Boy bring it in. You would think the big stupid dog would retrieve it, but she just stares at the truck and barks.  This is quite useless. If I had big jaws like that, I would carry the homes in myself.

Once a human carries the cathouse in, Mother opens it with a small sword of sorts. It pops in and out like claws. She then takes out a bunch of useless and stinky things, and leaves the home on the floor for me. I enter it immediately to claim it for myself. Usually, when I leave to use the facilities, or grab a bite to eat, one of my siblings tries to steal it.

Sometimes, I find Morris, the fat, orange useless male, or Boo Boo, my sister who poops on the floor in my home. I let them know in no uncertain terms that it is MY HOUSE. By let them know, I mean I kick their asses. I’m not afraid to let them know who is boss. I’m the alpha here. Even big and stupid knows it.

I wish I could say that my cathouses last forever, but they don’t. Mysteriously, something always happens to them. Sometimes, I find them flattened, and other times they just disappear entirely. I used to suspect that some sort of sorcery or weather issue was to blame for this. Then, I caught Mother cutting up my house with her claw sword. So, when I do have a house of my own, I enjoy it and have everyone take pictures of me in it. I want to share a few with you here.

One time, I had a convertible home.
One time, I had a convertible home.


The power company never turns the electricity on soon enough when you move.
The power company never turns the electricity on soon enough when you move.




I hate it when my brother just invites himself over.  I will need to disinfect the place.
I hate it when my brother just invites himself over. I will need to disinfect the place.


UGH! It still smells like Morris. I'd better let it air out.
UGH! It still smells like Morris. I’d better let it air out.


Here I am inspecting my roof and the adjoining terrace.
Here I am inspecting my roof and the adjoining terrace.


Once again, Mother has destroyed my home.  She just can't stand to have me living away from her.
Once again, Mother has destroyed my home. She just can’t stand to have me living away from her.


I will be comfy here on the couch until I have a home of my own again.
I will be comfy here on the couch until I have a home of my own again.

Crouching Kitty, Starving Tiger

This is my panic room.  There are shoes but no food.
This is my panic room. There are shoes but no food. I didn’t plan for a real attack.

I asked Trample (Sophie) to carry the light square up to my undisclosed location in the house so I could alert you to my scary situation. She is both the largest and stupidest pet, so she is the only one who could venture down to the common area to do this errand for me. You see, we have been invaded, and I fear for my life. I may even starve to death, as I have not eaten in 72 minutes.

I won’t be able to eat third lunch or first dinner because the food bowl is down the stairs in the small room where the litter boxes and the loud fur washing machines are. I don’t dare leave my hiding place as I suspect I would be killed. There are strangers in my house, and they smell and sound like monsters.

Strange visitors worry me.
Strange visitors worry me.

It all started shortly after my third afternoon nap, right after second lunch. The bell noise rang and my canine sisters sounded the bark alarm. I immediately ran upstairs to Mother’s book room, where my favorite daytime couch is. From there, I could look out the window and what I saw horrified me. There were at least four of those wheeled things that humans use to take poor, unsuspecting creatures to the vet. So, my first thought was that we were all going to the doctor. I hid behind the couch as any sane individual would. Little did I know it was worse than I imagined.

Several strange humans entered my home. I heard noise, a lot of noise, and strange smells. None of the smells were tuna fish or decent cat food. There were stinky drinks and bad human food smells, oh and feet. The humans removed their paw protectors and left their scent everywhere. This is when I made a run for the closet, or as I like to call it the panic room.

Mother and this stranger have turned Mean Ninja and Yippie Dog into flash lights.  This is scary.
Mother and this stranger have turned Mean Ninja and Yippie Dog into flash lights. This is scary.

I have been here ever since. As I have mentioned, my access to nourishment has been blocked. You know a manly cat of my frame needs a constant intake of calories. I may starve, or at least drop a few ounces. Please send help when you read this. The vet may be able to revive me with proper nourishment and fluids. Until then, I will stay here amongst Mother’s shoes.


Maltese Agent and the Missing Jewels

I was not scheduled to write until next week, but this is an emergency. I need your help right this minute. If you have read my work before, you know that I am a secret agent or Designed Operational Guard. My work here in this house is very important. I am not a mere yippie white dog, as Andre would have you believe. I am a high-ranking member of the espionage community. Just like James Bond and Inspector Gadget, I have my tools of the trade. One of those tools was stolen from me.

You have all probably noticed my beautiful necklace in my photos. While I am very much into fashion, this necklace is not just your average bling. It contains my secret agent identification and credentials. Take a good look at this picture, and make sure you have not seen this essential apparatus in any of your local pawnshops or pet stores.


As you can plainly see, it has my name on it. What you cannot see is the microchip inside of the charm. It contains data that would be useful to the enemy agents: Communist Asshole Torturers, or C.A.Ts. I have three of them in my home. While it is possible one of them took it, I think the swiping more likely occurred at the beauty shop.

I had to go tend to my grooming last week. A shampoo, cut, and style were very much needed. When you work as hard as I do to protect your humans, it is easy to forget to keep up your own appearance. As per protocol, my necklace was removed before my bath. That was the last time I saw it. This means one of two things happened:

  1. A C.A.T at the beauty shop stole my necklace and has already scanned it, shared the data, and is planning world domination RIGHT NOW.
  2. Father neglected to take it from the top of my carrier and put it back around my neck after he picked me up from the spa.

Until my identification is found, you should all consider yourselves to be at risk for a C.A.T invasion.   Please keep a squirt bottle and a large dog near you at all times. Do not open a can of tuna or purchase any catnip until I tell you it is safe to do so. As a precaution, I have already begun interrogating the cats in my home.  Please watch this short video to observe my top secret technique.

Update: Mother found my necklace clipped to the handle of my carrier in the garage. My apologies to Andre.  Please carry on, now.

Andre Cat and his Boy

The other evening after I had settled into my nighttime spot on the soft red couch blanket, mother came out of her chambers dressed in the clothes she wears to leave the house. This was weird because she had already gone to bed for the night. I know this because she let that big, black stupid thing go outside to do its personal business. I don’t know why the creature cannot use the littler box as nature intended.

Mother left the house even though the sun had gone to bed hours ago. She was gone for quite a while, and I started to be concerned. Not only was she gone, but Father had left earlier that day carrying one of those things the humans take with them when they abandon us for a while.

My first thought was, “how I am I going to open my food with no thumbs?” Then, I wondered how soiled my litter would become without mother and her scoop. Finally, I began to plan how I would kill the big dog for food when my feline siblings and I could not get the door to the food room open.

Right as I was about to jump on the counter to try to get a knife from the block, Mother came in with the Boy. This was strange because the Boy had left with the Girl earlier in the evening. Normally, when they go out together they also come back together.

The Boy did not seem like himself. He sat on the couch with Mother. Normally, he likes to be in a different room from Mother, either the one with his bed or the one with the big TV. I jumped up on the Boy’s lap because he is my brother and I was worried about him.

There were some strange smells on him. His sweater smelled like that sweet fizzy drink he likes, the brown one. I also noticed that he smelled like the inside of a car. I hate that smell because it normally means I’m going to the doctor. I hate the doctor because he blows air at me that makes me go to sleep so I can’t kill him.

I noticed that the Boy had more water in his eyes than usual. It was fresh eye water, and some was dried on his cheeks. Normally, I would help by cleaning his face, but he pushed me off of his lap. So, like a gentleman, I stayed near him and allowed the white yippie dog to do her inspection.

Big, black, and stupid kept pawing at the Boy and trying to get him to play with her nasty, spit-filled toys. Of course, the Boy had no interest. Could the stupid creature not see that he was ill or sad or something. Could she not smell the scents on him and see the eye water?

I got angry because I knew that someone had hurt my brother. I don’t know what Mother was saying to him, but she was using her love voice, the one she uses if she has to give me medicine. I hate medicine. So, I knew something was wrong. I don’t have my paw swords anymore or I would have caused damage to the person who hurt the Boy. Instead, I jumped up on the back of the couch and kept watch over him.

I’m still not sure what happened to him, but Mother has been typing feverishly on her light square. So, I am certain you will hear the whole story on Thursday. She is a fierce mama cat. I’m surprised she didn’t bring home the carcass of the culprit.

I love my human brother. I'm glad he is OK.
I love my human brother. I’m glad he is OK.

Menopause not Drugs

Hello Humans,

I just read that libelous blog written by my tiger brother, Morris. While I would rather you not waste your time on such trash, you simply must read this garbage in order to understand my embarrassment and my anger. Here it is. Give it a quick skim; it’s not worth a full read.

Are you back? OK. As you can clearly see that orange moron accuses me of drug use and, um, having accidents. The embarrassing truth is that I have been having accidents. It’s unfortunate, but true. I refuse to lie about it. However, I do not use drugs. Yes, I do have a little catnip from time to time, but it is a harmless herb, not a drug. It’s not like I’m drinking the little stinky drinks like Mother does.

I wish Mother would make the air colder.
I wish Mother would make the air colder.

The reason I’m having accidents is because I am getting old. I’ve been trying to ignore the truth and keep up the façade of youth. That is why I sometimes just tear off running through the house like my tail is on fire, or try to wrestle my brother Andre even though he is larger and homicidal. I have been trying to maintain some semblance of kittenhood. Sadly, it is not to be. I am an old lady cat.

Like a lot of human women, my first clue was the devilish temperature increases known as hot flashes. They are miserable, aren’t they ladies? I try to find relief by lying on the cold tile, or staying near the air vent. I also drink a lot of water when it doesn’t stink of the large dog’s mouth. She is vile.

My next clue was my mood changes. I’ve become more secretive, and clingy. I hide in mother’s office and refuse to leave. I dive behind the couch or under the bed when I sense she is trying to shoo me out. I simply won’t stand for it. I need to be away from the dogs and this is the only way to do it.

Of course, my final sign was my, um accidents. I can’t seem to hold my bowels like I used to. When I have to go, it’s a sudden urge, like I have to release a beast from my behind or something. I just can’t wait until I get to the litter. I must squat wherever I am and push the feces from my body. Plus, I have arthritis in my toes. Have you ever walked on rocks? How about with arthritis?

Humans, thank you for bearing with me while I discuss such private things. I appreciate your kindness.  While I will try my best to remain close to a litter box at all times, I can’t promise there will be no more accidents. It’s a part of aging. If only there were Depend undergarments in my size.

Leave me alone!
Leave me alone!

Floor-Poopin’ Cat Sister Probs

Hey Peoples, Morris here. I finally got the light square away from Trample (Sophie). She thinks she’s the only one of us who can write. I actually write gooder than her but don’t tell her cause then she’ll chase me and run me over with her big tramply legs.

I feel safe way up here.
I feel safe way up here.

I mean it. She is scary big and stupid hyper. I think she scares my sister Pot Head Tiger (Boo Boo), too, because lately Pot Head has been avoiding the litter box. She poops on the floor, you guys. It’s just gross.

I try to cover the poop when she does it, but there is not really any litter on the tile or carpet. I gave myself rug burn trying to cover the evidence. No good. Mama still found it and yelled, “What the fuck, Boo?” Mom knows it’s her because she caught her doing it. Pot Head must be sniffing too much cat nip cause she just poops on the floor even when Mama or Daddy can see her.

See! It's gross!
See! It’s gross!

We all have accidents sometimes. I used to pee on the floor when I first moved to Mama’s house. That was because I was mad at Mean Ninja (Andre) for trying to beat me up. I’m still mad at him, but I don’t pee on the floor anymore. I just kick his ass. I’m bigger and stronger. So, I teach him a lesson when he needs it. I hate it when Mama breaks up our fights cause I don’t need her help. I’m a big man.

I gotta go follow Pot Head around and tell her to use the litter box. She is probably so drugged out that she just forgets where all of the boxes are. I’d rather hide on Daddy’s pile of dirty clothes, but if I don’t keep Pot Head from pooping on the floor, Trample or Yippie Dog (Lola) will eat it. Why are dogs so gross?

Thanks for listening.

Purrs and Drool,


P.S. If you are looking for my mama, she is over on Scary Mommy today talking about how much she loves my human brother, the boy. I don’t know why she is there cause she is not scary at all.

I love Daddy's clothes.
I love Daddy’s clothes.

Is Mother Sick Enough to go to the Vet?


I’m a little concerned about Mother. She is usually the one who takes care of us, but she is acting strange. It seems like she might need to get in a carrier and be taken to the vet. Of course, Father would need to do this, as the woman is a bit heavy in the haunches. I don’t believe I could lift her. And heaven forbid if she urinated in the carrier like I have done. What a mess that would be. Perhaps, she can just get better at home. Let me tell you what is going on with her.

First of all, she is not speaking like she normally does. She is making paw gestures to her throat and using fewer vocal noises. She didn’t even hiss or growl at the yippy white dog when she went canine crazy when the boy’s friend came over. Mother just sat there and looked at Father, and he corrected the creature. I’m glad he did because that dog gets on my nerves.

Another odd thing mother did was sleep with me for two hours on Sunday. Normally, the woman does not sleep during the sunlight hours. I don’t know how she avoids naps, but she usually does. Yesterday, she lay down with me on the couch and let me burrow under the covers with her for a long time. I was glad to do it, as I can be very soothing to Mother. Still, it was out of character. I purred until the poor woman went to her twitching phase. She must be chasing birds in her sleep.

I've been spending a lot of blanket time with Mother.
I’ve been spending a lot of blanket time with Mother.

She has been swallowing strange brown and white pellets. She winces when she does this, and says she hopes it helps. I doubt it. She also drinks a stinky drink from a really short cup. It makes her make a face like the one I make when I smell another creature’s excrement on the floor. You would think she would just bury that stuff in the litter box instead of drink it.

Mother is blowing fluids from her nose. It’s really gross. She grabs small white squares and makes horrible, monster like noises, while emptying her nose into the square. It’s really quite frightening. I run away from her when she does this.

Mother’s skin feels warmer than usual. I noticed when I was cleaning her arms that they were quite warm. Even though she is warm, the woman shivers under a blanket as though it is winter. I know that if I took her to the vet, the nurse would put that stick in her bottom to find out how warm she is. That is never pleasant. They should just lick the poor woman’s arms.

What do you think, humans? Should I get Father to attempt to put her in a carrier and cart her off to the vet? I have never seen an illness quite like this one. I’ve never seen a cat or dog have anything like this. The boy has had this and he got better. I wonder if mother will be back to normal soon. Please tell me what I should do. Until I know she is better, I will keep watch over her.

Thanks for reading.



Feline Frustrations

I've been forced to snuggle with my homicidal brother.
I’ve been forced to snuggle with my homicidal brother.


There’s no nice way to say this, but I fear that Mother no longer loves me. She’s been kicking me out of her den at night so that she “can actually sleep.” I’m not sure what she means by that because I don’t wake her. I simply knead her belly gently, to insure good digestion as she rests. I also place my face close to her ears and purr so she has background noise to block out father’s snoring. I also curl up next to her lower back to provide a heating pad of sorts for all her aches and pains. Mother is about 200 in cat years. I also gently clean her arms as she sleeps. The woman subjects herself to water torture daily, as you humans tend to do, but her arms never cease to need an extra cleaning.

As helpful as I am, she insists on escorting me out of her chambers at night like a common hoodlum. And human friends, this is not the only evidence I have of mother’s indifference towards me. I have seen her being kind and loving to other animals that do not even live in our house. I’m not proud of this, but I looked through the woman’s small light square, where she has pictures and messages.   Some of the pictures make me sad. Mother is clearly cheating on all of her fur babies. Here are some examples:

Mother feeds other animals.
Mother feeds other animals.
Mother is holding some sort of foreign creature here.
Mother is holding some sort of foreign creature here.
I hope Mother is not thinking of adopting this creature.
Mother does not need another cat.

I do hope Mother is not thinking of bringing me back to jail, meaning the shelter. I have had a few homes before this one, and I would just like to stay here. I’m not sure what to do about this situation. I enjoy my home when the dogs aren’t barking, and I really have nowhere else to go. I suppose I will keep to the guest room at night, in order to keep away from the little yippy white dog that thinks she is some kind of police officer and the large black clumsy dog. I will snuggle up to a pillow in mother’s absence, but I’m not happy about this. I may need to soil the floor, or perhaps in a shoe, to announce my displeasure.

Thank you for reading, humans.

Purrs and Arm Licks,

Picaboo (Not Boo Boo)