Skeezix's Scratching Post: February 2006

Mr Tasty-Face

Here I am aggressively licking Mr Tasty Face. He is just so yummy, and I love him so much!

Pikchur Time!

Okay, here are a cupple of pikchurs. One is a beee-yooo-teee-ful pikchur of me in my cat bed, which is called a cat cup. It has a warmer in it that keeps me toasty, which is important becuz I'm a hairless runt. The stuff on my nose is beefy bits (or maybe poop). The second one shows what me and my big bruther Mao do evry nite. Mr. Tasty-Face (that's what I call the Food Dude now becuz I love to lick his tasty face) plays a little piano concert for me and my big bruther Mao. Mao and me sit there and listen to the wunderful songs he plays. Sumtimes, when I'm inspired, I jump up and help him make songs on the piano. I espeshully like the sound effects button.

I made a break for it!

Last night, when the Food Lady opened the door to the outside to get my big bruther Mao to come in, I seized the day and bolted thru the tiniest little opening to go outside. It was very late and very cold, and I didn't have my Cal (go bears!) sweater on, but I wasn't really that cold even though I'm a hairless runt, because I was so excited about being free. The Food Lady yelled my name and I think she might have said some bad words, too, but she couldn't catch me. I was too wily and crafty, just like a wild leopard.

The Food Dude wasn't home becuz he went to the ER because he sliced his finger open cutting up cardboard for recycling (the Food Lady said it was just like Monty Python and the Holy Grail with blood spurting everywhere, but I don't know what Monty Python is) and needed stitches, but the Food Lady couldn't go with him becuz she had something called the floo, which made her not do anything but pile on thirty blankets and sit in front of the television all day watching curling which does not seem to have anything to do with her hair (which was flat becuz she had the floo.)

Anyway, back to the chase.

The Food Lady had a hard time seeing me even though I kind of glow in the dark, becuz it was completely dark outside like a black hole. I let her git real close, and then I bolted and every time she'd yell SKEEZIX! but I was long gone. Finally, she started calling my big bruther Mao, and so when he came and trotted toward the front door, I ran up and jumped on top of him like I always do, and that's when she caught me and took me inside. By that time, it was okay, because I just about froze to death it was so cold. The Food Dude didn't git home from the ER until a few hours later, long after the Food Lady was asleep. He wasn't feeling so good because he got five stitches and good drugs, so he didn't even lock me out, and I got to sleep under the covers with the Food Lady all night, where I dreamed that I was a big cat on the Serengeti (which I know about becuz the Food Lady and the Food Dude read Nashunul Geografik before they go to sleep at nite).

I fought the squirts and the squirts won

Well, I haven't wrote so much about my problem with the squirts lately, becuz sometimes they're better, sometimes they're worse. Overall, I think they're better, a little. I only had one time in the last month where the catbox looked like someone had started to make a fudge milkshake without the lid on the blender. (Phew! The Food Lady was exasperated and called me the Jackson Pollack of poop, whatever that means.)

Evidentally, getting rid of the squirts requires torturing me. It might even require an exorcism. I had four different kinds of torture. The first two involved ramming pills down my skinny little throat. The third was powdered poison or something that they put all over my food, and you bet I'll never touch that: I didn't just fall off the turnip truck, you know. The fourth was something the Food Lady called "raw food" which is supposed to help my digestive tract and make my stinky farts go away. It's very expensive, but I didn't even have to get close enuf to it to take a whiff before I knew I wouldn't touch it even if I was starving to death like I am when I've gone more than six hours without food.

But since I didn't git rid of the squirts, it means I'll have to go back to visit the old man in the blue coat that has that cold metal table with dogs barking in the background. The minute I learn how to use a telephone to do something other than erasing all the voicemail messages, I'm gonna call PETA.

Cupid is Stoopid

Well, the Food Lady dressed me up agin. I think Cupid is Stoopid, and so are girls, but what are you gonna do? The good newz is, I got to go owtside today with the harniss, and it was very nice. I got to roll all over the driveway, and visit the big skware lake in the backyard, and I even got to clime a tree with my big bruther Mao, who always seems to poke his nose in and supervise when I go owtside. I got to eat beefy bits, and I blew chunks all the way down the hall in four big puddles, and then I went back and ate 2 more cans. I'm offa chikken right now. I decided that Beefy Bits are the best dinner in the whole world, and now that is exactly the only thing I will eet.