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 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.
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 kind of thought it was going to be a craptastic day because it was dreary and rainy before the sun even rose. I hate rain, especially cold rain that lasts ALL GRAY DAY LONG. Rain really seems to aggravate my allergies and gives me a wicked sinus headache, not that there are good sinus headaches. So, I added an Allegra to my morning vitamin routine.
Then, the catfights started. If you have read this blog, you know that Andre has two moods: loving and homicidal. Today, he has tried to kill Morris at least five times. When the fighting started, I sprayed Feliway, which every vet we have ever seen recommends. It usually works if we “hot box” Andre in the bathroom by spraying a bunch of it in there, tossing Andre in, and closing the door for at least five minutes. No such luck today. He was in full on murder mode. (Note: Full On Murder Mode would make a great Heavy Metal band name.)
Once I got the cats in different rooms, I decided to order my mom’s Mother’s Day gift online. That’s when Fifth-Third decided to shut down my debit card even though I have ordered from this particular site a few times in the past with my Fifth-Third card. It’s PUBLIX, not a porno site; I’m pretty sure it’s safe. After my card was declined twice, I ended up calling Publix and ordering the gift card over the phone, like cavemen used to do. I had to actually TALK to someone. WTF?
A couple of hours after I placed my order, Fifth-Third called my cell phone. I didn’t answer because it was a random Ohio number and I hate talking on the phone. See this blog for my phone answering protocol. The bank left a message telling me that my debit card was frozen. After rolling my eyes about 827 times while listening to the message, I had to call them back and wait on hold for 9,000 years, listening to bad muzak (is there good muzak) and a robot telling me how important my call was every 13 seconds.
Then, while waiting on the phone, I saw that Boo Boo had left a smooshy, bloody turd on the doormat leading to the garage. Welcome to my world. So, I balanced the phone on my shoulder and started to clean that up. Of course the customer service person picked up the phone right when I was dropping Boo’s “sample” into a sandwich baggie. I figured since she has done this a couple of times now, I should probably bring it to the vet.
So, I quickly washed my hands while talking to the customer service person, who explained to me as slowly as possible that my card had been locked. No shit; that’s why I’m calling. I asked why all of the sudden my card was frozen for ordering from Publix, a site that I have ordered from before with no problem. At least that is what I was trying to ask. The Fifth-Third representative kept interrupting me mid-frigging sentence. I was starting to wish I had answered the phone when the first person called.
Once I was off the phone with a functioning debit card, I left to drop Boo’s smelly (even sealed in a bag) sample off. As soon as I got in the car with it, I hoped the drive over would be quick. This is probably why there was HALF a HOUSE blocking the street to the vet’s office. I could not get a photo, but you know what I’m talking about. Half of one of those pre-fabricated houses was falling off of its truck in the middle of the street. I had to make an almost accident causing turn to head back up the street to take THE LONG way to the vet.
I finally got there and gave the nice woman at the desk Boo’s gift. I’m sure she was thrilled. Sophie, our Black Lab/Dane, who was in day care at the vet’s office, as she is a couple of days a week so I can WORK from home, spotted me and got happy. This is after I witnessed her humping another dog. At home, Lola the Maltese is the humper. I guess it only makes sense that Sophie tries to be dominant elsewhere. No, I didn’t get a video for you. I will try again next time. So, I ended up taking Sophie home early since she saw that I was there.
And now she is here barking at the rain and wind along with Lola. I hope no one decides to walk by our house because that is usually cause for MORE barking. I understand that the children in Iraq are not exactly crying for me, but it was still a crappy (literally) Manic Monday. I totally hope the Bangles get back together and make a song called Kitty Shitty Monday.
My friend Michelle over at Rubber Shoes in Hell wrote a blog about her co-workers. Unlike me, Michelle actually puts on acceptable clothes (this probably includes a real bra, not a cami) and shoes that are not made of fluff and foam, and gets in her car to go to a building that is not her home all before the coffee fully begins to work. I’m shaking my head at the horror of this scenario. My guess is she probably doesn’t watch the Today Show while she goes through her email. The horror!!
So, since I LOVED Michelle’s co-worker blog, I decided to share my own wonderful co-workers with you. Most of the beings who share my office are not human, but it is easy to imagine how they would be as “real” co-workers. Feel free to leave a comment about your co-workers, human or otherwise.
Lola – Maltese and Security Guard — Lola is short, pasty, and weighs in at 8 pounds. In her mind, she could beat Mike Tyson. She is the first to go nuts when anyone is at the door. She barks at people who walk down the street and trees that sway in the wind. When she is not protecting this house and everyone in it, she humps Andre. Even though she has her own restroom (a potty pad), Lola frequently poops on the floor. Lola would be that person who is always yelling over her cubicle at her co-workers rather than just emailing them as nature intended.
Andre – Super Model and Wannabe Murderer — Andre is one of those guys who is more beautiful than some ladies, and he HATES that. Andre is fond of tuna water and most people. He hates the vet and Sophie with a white-hot passion. He tolerates Lola’s humping, snuggles with Boo Boo, and frequently starts fights with Morris. If Andre were a human, he would be in prison for attempting to murder an annoying co-worker
Boo Boo — Prefers Picabo and Boar’s Head – Boo is a lady, unless she wants cheese. She will only eat Boar’s Head white American cheese. Boo does not like strangers or being chased by Sophie. She has also been known to pee, poop, or puke on herself in a carrier. Boo is an easy puker and frequently pukes into the shared dry food bowl. Her brothers are horrified. If Boo were a human co-worker, she would be that sort of snotty thin girl who barfs after lunch.
Morris – Professional Drooler – Morris begs for food and attention (mostly for food). For real. He gets on his hind feet and rubs his front paws together while meowing. He also drools on people when they hold him. He gets along with everyone, but beats the crap out of Andre when he starts a fight. If he were a real office worker, he would be that guy who is at his desk all day but no one knows what he does exactly.
Sophie – Friendly Poop Eater – Sophie is 81 pounds of poop-scented love. She enjoys tearing the stuffing out of toys, digging in the yard, and barking at her own little imaginary world of demons. If Sophie were a person, she would be someone who just quit smoking, as she has to have something in her mouth 96% of the day. She tried to bring a frozen turd in from the back yard once. If she were a real office worker, she would be the person that steals your lunch from the fridge. She would also be the person with the really bad breath.
Husband – PT Office Manager – My husband leaves the home to work. So, he is only PT in this office. However, he is industrious enough to be in a management position as a PTer. He is the executive in charge of all things icky, sticky, heavy, and disgusting. He cleans up poop and other fun stuff when he is at the office. He hired Sophie.
Son – Rock Star and PT Associate – My son is 17 and he is PT during the school year. He plays with the furry employees and vacuums up their fur. When he is not engaged with the co-workers, he provides musical entertainment for the office when he writes new music or practices with his band. He does not poop on the floor.
Help me. I saw my Uncle Andre and Aunt Sophie use their toes to type to you on this light box, and I hope you will read my story, too. The human they call mother is actually my grandmother. The boy is my father; he adopted me when he was still short and playful, and I was a puppy.
I’ve been a member of this family for ten years, and I’ve always loved it until now. There’s no nice way to say it. Look at what grandmother told the beauty shop lady to do to my hair.
This is ridiculous. I do like my hair short so it doesn’t get tangled when I hump Uncle Andre AKA the Kitty, or play with Aunt Sophie, but I don’t want to look like a boy, or worse yet a Chihuahua. Not that there is anything wrong with Chihuahuas, aside from them looking like rats. There. I said it.
I don’t deserve this treatment. I do a lot for this family. I bark whenever the wind blows to alert my family to danger. I also lick everyone because they don’t clean themselves good enough. I help with litter box cleaning by eating tasty nuggets.
I helped to train Aunt Sophie when she first came to live with us.
Humans out there, if you are reading this, please come and help me. If you can do weave and have some Maltese fur, even better. My father will pay you to fix my hair. He keeps looking at me, and shaking his head, and saying, “Lola, honey, no!” I feel the same way.