The Personal Ad Files: Single Tabby Looking for Love!

Hey lady! You may think of me as your "pet cat", but I'm a fabulous single tabby, and I'm looking for love. I'm also looking for a way out of this dump. Since you have opposable thumbs and I don’t, I’m going to need you to get your big butt off the couch and place this ad for me in the local paper.

The ad should read:

I am a beautiful, single tabby with green eyes and long furs, looking to escape the mundane and boring existence that is my life. I enjoy hunting, fishing, catnaps, wine tasting, backyard barbecues, hot tubbing, culinary delights, bird watching, arts and crafts, pillows, and wicker furniture, just to name a few.

Ethnicity: Norwegian Forest Cat mixed with Feline Goddess

Height: 12 inches

Weight: None of your business! Did my human tell you to ask me that question?

Smoking: I'd love to, but my human doesn't think it's "healthy". Pffftttt.

Has Kids: No, but I just LOOOVVVE kittens! Delicious! Er, I mean, adorable!

Age: Again, none of your beeswax. Speaking of which, beeswax is delicious!

Body Type: Pear. I'm large-boned- you wanna make something of it?

Eye Color: You'll never know. I prefer to wear Jackie-O sunglasses.

Alcohol: Hey, you'd drink too if you lived in this dump.

Occupation: Blogger

Income Level: I receive payment in the form of cans of Fancy Feast. Can you believe that?!?

Martial Status: If I were anything other than single, would I be placing this ad?

Living Situation: Intolerable

Languages: Why, English, of course!

Astrological sign: Leo

Political Views: I give up. I mean, Socks got into The White House, and what did he do with his newfound power? Squandered it sleeping the day away and placing special orders with the White House Chef! Not that I would have done any differently, mind you.

Sense of humor: Not available

Madame Zelda Speaks!

Hello, lady. I am Madame Zelda. I am a teller of fortunes, seer of the future, mistress of mysticism. What's that? I look like Great Grandma Formaldehyde, aka your cat, Ariel? Nonsense! Utter foolishness! I have been hired by a person or persons, to remain otherwise unidentified, to tell your future. Are you ready? Here goes:

I am looking into my crystal ball. No, that’s not just a very large marble- ridiculous! It's very cloudy....very…smelly....did you pass gas? Oh, never mind. Maybe that was me. Ah! Now I see you at a store. You are surrounded by cylinders of tin....I see the words "Fancy Feast"....You are buying every single one, in various delicious flavors! Now you are purchasing dozens of rotisserie chickens at the deli! -By the way, make sure you only buy barbecue flavor, unless you want your toes to be mysteriously gnawed off in the middle of the night. Now you are back at home. I see you opening all the cans and serving them on fine china. There are chicken legs flying everywhere! It’s an all-out buffet, just for your cats Ariel and Okie! You do have some intelligence and couth after all! Why, this is marvelous! Wait, wait…now I see Ariel, her adorable little belly all distended and bloated, sprawled out in the middle of a large fluffy bed…she has the ‘chicken burps’…I see you, curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed…Ah! I just love it when the future looks bright.

The Mind of the Cat: A Quiz

The Mind of the Cat: A Quiz

In continuation of my last post, I certainly hope you learned something about the mind of the cat. There is, of course, much, much more to know, as the cat’s mind is a deep well of knowledge and awesomeness. Today we are going to have a brief quiz to test your teeny human brain and see how much you have retained.

1. Who is the most important person in your house?
1. You
2. Your cat
3. Cats aren’t people

Correct answer: B. If you answered A or C, may your dreams be haunted by cats with Irritable Bowel Syndrome.

2. Cats prefer to eat
1. Seizure-inducing dry food
2. All the time
3. High-quality organic tuna
4. A menagerie of assorted wildlife

Correct answer: If you picked A, slap yourself upside the head. Again! Now, serve your cat a nice big bowl of deep-fried squirrel abdomens.

3. Why do cats tinkle in inappropriate spots?
1. I have not provided enough soft/tantalizing/fun places for my cat to tinkle
2. No spot is inappropriate
3. Would YOU pee in a 2 x 3 plastic box? ‘Nuff said.
4. Because they can

Correct answer: All of the above (Duh)

4. Cats are superior to humans because:
1. That is the design of the universe
2. They are cuter, faster, and much more wily
3. They are not superior

Correct answer: I don’t think this one really needs any clarification, now does it?

Ok, time to score yourself. Four correct answers: Give yourself a cookie. You are somewhat on your way to understanding the awesome being that is a cat. Three correct answers: Did you even read my last post? Two correct answers: Call me later. I’ve got a special present I made just for you. One correct answer: Pathetic! May your cat use your leg as a scratching post.

Mr. Webster Takes A Dirt Nap

After having lived with a human for even the brief period of time that I have, it has become painfully obvious to me that none of you understand the mind of the cat at all. Therefore, I have put together this handy-dandy reference guide of definitions, which should help you immensely. Read it and weep.

Ariel's Quick Reference Guide to Understanding Your Cat

Human = Servant; he/she who opens cans, cleans poo, and moves their big butt over so I can have the choice spot on the bed.

Food = Anything that moves, breathes, or tastes delicious.

Litterbox = Not a specific location…more of a destination; anything that looks and/or feels comfortable; anything that should be destroyed for its own good (i.e. Grandma Smith’s handmade pea green blanket from 1979).

Cat Fancy = Required reading for all humans who are allowed to live with a cat. Attention Humans: take good notes. There will be a quiz later.

Cat beds = Huge waste of money. Your bed is so much more comfortable.

Dry cat food = Proof that humans do not understand cats in the faintest.

Your heart continuing to beat = You’re welcome.

Newspapers, magazines, important mail = Great for shredding and keeping our teeth sharp

Wildlife = Backyard smorgasbord = Delicious!

Okie is a liar!

I just saw the post from yesterday that Okie, that traitor, put up on MY site. I am shocked, really. The very idea that I could be any sort of addict is preposterous. And beating up neighborhood kittens! Why, the very idea is absurd. I mean, I may have confiscated a lunch bag here and there (hey, so would you for a Chipmunk Pudding Pop), but that's it, I swear. I am nothing if not utterly in control of myself. I am not easily swayed or tempted. I believe that self-control is the epitome of life, and....(sniff sniff)...Why, whatever is that delicious smell? It's smells like...could it be? Could my prayers have been answered so soon? Hold on, I'll be right back......gotta check something out...

A Wedding Tail

Hey lady! This is Ariel. I’m so incredibly happy you had a wonderful time at that wedding yesterday. Really. I was thrilled to be left here in 2000 degree+ heat with only three meager bowls of food and water to sustain me. How could you possibly think that could tide me over for an evening? Do you not know me at all?

Anyhoo. Contemplating the fantastic time you must have been having in cool air-conditioned comfort, made me fondly reminisce about my cousin Boomer, perhaps the only member of my family to successfully infiltrate a wedding. I decided to ring him up to see if he could give the rest of us any pointers on his secrets of success.

Ariel: Hello Boomer! Can you hear me?

Boomer: (static crackling in the background) Hello Ariel. I’ll have to make this brief. I’ve been put under house arrest in the basement and I’m not supposed to use the phone. It’s wedding season, after all, and my humans are afraid of a repeat of last year.

Ariel: Tell us, what happened?

Boomer: Well, it all started when my humans decided to get married. Mr. asked me if I wanted to be a “cuddly-wuddly-little-furry-groomsman just like daddy”. How was I to know he was kidding?

Ariel: What did you do?

Boomer: Well, I found a top hat and bowtie, of course. Then I hitchhiked to the reception underneath one of the bridemaids’ dresses. As soon as I got there, I immediately began to make myself useful by helping with the music. Some of the records were really bad, so I just put two large scratches in the shape of an “X” across them. I mean, who wants to do the “Chicken Dance”? Chickens are good for one thing, and it's not dancing.

Ariel: Amen to that. Then what?

Boomer: Well, when the guy came back who apparently owned those horrendous records, he started spitting and sputtering and got all red in the face, and looked like he might explode, so I decided that would be an ideal time for me to go take a refreshing dip in the chocolate fountain. My mistake; there is nothing refreshing about having your whiskers singed off by molten hot chocolate. But that’s ok, I immediately felt better after rinsing off in the adjacent champagne fountain.

Ariel: Wow! That sounds delicious.

Boomer: Well, it was alright. The rest of the food left a little to be desired. I went into the kitchen to do some taste testing, and apparently, all Chicken Kiev is stuffed with parsley? I mean, I did not know that! And believe me, I tried every single one of them, and they were all the same!

Ariel: Parsley? I did not know that either…I think I just threw up a little in my mouth…blech!

Boomer: Anyways, some guy in a big white hat came after me with a broomstick, so I hightailed it out of there! All that indulging had left me with a sudden urge to relieve myself, so I began searching out an appropriate spot to do my business. There was a small table over in the corner that had some boxes on it with colored paper wrapped around them, and bows (which I love to eat, but I was a little full at that moment), and there was this one white box with a small slit in the top that was empty. I don’t know who could have aimed through that little slit, so I took the top off and went to town. I am a very polite and well-mannered cat, of course, so I put the lid back on when I was done. Then I got distracted by some ribbon on the floor. And wouldn’t you know, some ladies came over and put a flat white envelope through the slit in the box. I was a little concerned I had committed a faux pas, so I felt better when they said they were leaving their present in the box. Why, that’s what I had just done! So, you see, it all worked out great!

Ariel: That sounds like a great present. That’s what I always give on birthdays and at Christmas. So then what?

Boomer: Well, here’s where it gets fuzzy. I remember being grabbed by the scruff of my neck- that hurts, you know!- and I woke up here in the basement. It took a LOT of ankle rubs and good aims in the litterbox before anyone spoke to me again. I still don’t understand what the problem was…I thought I was pretty helpful. Oops! Sorry Ariel, gotta go, I hear footsteps…Call me if you want to go to a wedding sometime....Meeoowwrrrr! (dial tone)

On the catwalk

Hey lady! I understand that perhaps some people out there think all I like to do is eat and kill things. Well, that's just not true. I have many hobbies and interests besides making flowcharts pairing baby birds with fine white wines. Like what? Well, for one, I like to sleep. I also enjoy a good tussle with a chunk of clumping cat litter. And did I mention that I like to sleep? That way I only have to potentially interact with you a maximum of 4 hours a day. I also enjoy a bit of high fashion. As you can see from the example above, I maintain quite an extensive collection of wigs. Why, just last week I wore this wig for a leisurely stroll about the neighborhood, and no less than three tomcats, a German Shepherd, and one very saucy kitten whistled at me. I think I have a quite promising career ahead of me as a top model. Paris, Milan, Fashion Week, signing autographs all night, my name in lights....I can see it all now! What's that? Models don't eat, and they definitely do not eat chipmunk stew in bordelaise sauce? Hmmm. Modeling is stupid.

Mrs. Fizzy's 7-layer bug dip

Mrs. Fizzy's 7-layer bug dip

If you're always looking for a good recipe like I am, try this delicious 7-layer bug dip. You can make it with ingredients you already have hanging around the house!

1 can seafood pate

35 fireflies, dewinged and lightly breaded

14 large black ants (the plump, juicy kind)

2 dozen horseflies, well mashed

45 earwig heads, toasted

8 fleas

23 black beatles, gently sautéed in a pound of butter

A pawful of ladybugs (for color)

2 tomatoes

Catnip, to taste

Open can of seafood pate (ok, ok, grudgingly ask pesky human to open can of seafood pate); spread generously in large baking dish. Lick at will. Layer fireflies, ants, horseflies, and earwig heads in a circular motion until the pate is covered. Eat the fleas. Toss black beatles into the baking dish evenly. Dot the top with ladybugs, making a smiley face pattern with their corpses. Throw tomatoes in trash can. Cover dish with heaping spoonfuls of catnip, then bake for 1 minute at 350 degrees. Unlock jaw; enjoy.

When bad things happen to good rugs

Escape from Al-cat-traz

Hey lady! I realize you are a little disillusioned right now. The fact that you caught me scaling down the bathroom window ledge in the middle of the night has probably left you asking yourself a few questions. Such as, "What have I done wrong? Why isn't Ariel happy here? Did I not steal her enough fish from the neighbor's koi pond? Did I not bring her enough sacrificial kittens to sustain her? Is perhaps seventeen hours of internet access a day simply not enough to mitigate the utter boredom she surely must endure in this tin can we call home? Did my destruction of her bug collection in the corner with the vacuum cleaner send her over the edge?" Ah, well, you have a lot of thinking and deep self-examination to do in answer to those questions. I can't really give you any insight, except to say, I think you know what you've done. The question is, what are you going to do about it? My own tv, a new high-tech litterbox, a couple of chipmunk heads on a stick, and an end-of-season pigeon roast would go a long way towards my forgiveness of you.

You're [invited for] dinner!

Welcome to my humble abode! Come in, come in. Please, make yourself comfortable and have a seat right over here in this large 50 quart pot...er, hot tub. Yes, it's a hot tub! I thought perhaps a little R & R before dinner. You can stew over your day at work whilst I prepare the woodchuck au gratin. Please, have a drink. What's that? It tastes funny? It's just a little lemon juice and olive oil marina...uh, margarita. Ole'? While you're in there, could you just tuck these potatoes and carrots around you? Perfect, thanks. Let me know if they start getting mealy, would you? Now, if you could just pop this thermometer in your mouth...What? Oh, I'm just concerned about your health. You look a little peaked. Just wanted to make sure you're not running...a fever. Wonderful! Everything is cooking right along, and dinner will be served shortly. So glad you could make it.

Top 10 Reasons It’s Great To Be Me

Top 10 Reasons It’s Great To Be Me

10. I poop, you pick it up

9. That needlework pillow Aunt Melba gave you as a wedding gift? Toast. And believe me, I’m doing you a favor.

8. It’s called sleeping. 18 hours a day.

7. I never have to eat my vegetables. They might kill me.

6. I don’t have to be nice, because I’m cute.

5. I poop, you pick it up.

4. By the good fortune of my own superior intelligence and craftiness, I have an endless supply of supplemental food sources, including, but not limited to, birds’ nests, woodchuck dens, squirrels’ lairs, and beehives. As if that dog food you call dinner could sustain me (sniff)

3. I will live to be 80 years old (in cat years- is there really any other kind?) and still look like I’m two. What’s your excuse?

2. I can stand on your face while you’re sleeping, and you’re none the wiser.

1. The power that comes with the knowledge that I am the only thing standing between you and death. It’s lucky for you I can’t open cans.

Can't touch this

Hey lady! I noticed you trying to pet me this morning. Did you notice I bathed immediately afterward? There’s a reason for that. I don’t like to be petted! I am very fluffy and beautiful, and I know that makes me irresistible to humans such as yourself, who have nothing but decidedly unfluffy and boring skin to cover you. But hey, that’s not my fault. Just to give you a little better idea of why I don’t want you touching me, I wrote this little rhythmical literary piece:

Don't touch me

Because I said so

The last person who did

he bled so

At least he isn't dead, though

So that's something.

Don't touch me

Because I said so

I told you that from the get-go

After all this time

you should know

I don't like you.

So don't touch me

How can I be more plain

Pay attention

Or there will be pain

Mmm, your arm is delicious!

The Ballad of the Sandwich

All this talk about beaches and picnics has given way to some deep reflective introspection. Specifically, what kind of sandwiches are my favorite? I have spent a whole 5 minutes contemplating the answer to this complex question, and as often is the case, am bestowing on you, the public, a glance into the mind of a fascinating individual (that's me) through the medium of poetry. Enjoy.

Sandwiches

My favorite sandwich is Jam & Baby Lamb

I also am quite partial to Blue Jay & Spam

But who can forget Chipmunk & Ham

Do I have to pick just one?

How about a nice Raccoon on Wheat

Top it with a side of crunchy bird's feet

Wash down with a martini, I like mine neat

I'm feeling bloated already

I'd like to try Kitten on Rye

Or a little Mouse Salad; I think it's a tie

It's too bad they all have to die

But I need to feed my face

The End

Life's a Beach

Hey lady. Hope you had a nice time at the beach. Did you encounter any "surprises" along the way? Like maybe something white on your shoulder? What's that? No, I would never dream of hiring a seagull to send a message. How could you think I would do something like that? Shocking! No, I just wanted to let you know that next time, you'd better take me along if you know what's good for you (read: if you don't like Tootsie Rolls in your shoes). I went on Ebay and ordered these stylish yet functional sunglasses. I must insist you find me some catnip-flavored suntan oil and a 500-threadcount beach towel- preferably in the blue color family. Reds make me look washed out. I also will require a large picnic basket filled with a delicate assortment of baby mice ears, smoked Gouda, lamb tails, and a nice chilled Piesporter. Oh, and a PUH- that's Personal Umbrella Holder to you peons. I suppose that can be you, if you insist. Now that we understand each other, get busy! You've got lots of work to do.

A little kitty ditty

Ok, lady. I can see you're getting ready for a nice little day at the beach for yourself- don't worry about me one bit. I'll be fine here in this stuffy little hovel you call home. Just do me a favor before you abandon ship, and post this little ditty I came up with during one of my naps. And if you know what's good for you, you'll bring me back one of those Drumstick thingys.

There was a young man named Jim

It seems he had three chins

But all's for the better

Get the rye and smoked cheddar

I'll make a sandwich out of his limbs

Fleabag: The Life and Times of a Punk

Today, I would like to introduce to you all my brother, Fleabag. Here we are in a childhood photo. Fleabag was definitely a punk back in the day. Well, here, I’m going to let him tell you all about himself. Don’t go thinking, “Oh he’s so interesting”, now. Remember, this is MY blog, and I’m the star of the show.

Ok, Fleabag, take it away.

Fleabag: I’ve had a rough life. Ariel is only my half sister, you know. We had different fathers. Which makes it kind of tough. One week, you’re living in relative comfort, with food scraps from the table and a nice comfy pillow to sleep on; then every other weekend and holidays, you’re out in the country eating out of garbage cans. Oh, they try to make it up to you by buying you the latest issue of Cat Fancy or a remote control mouse, but it’s just not the same. Anyways, I used to get my kicks by acting out. I was known as the toughest cat in a three block radius! I would have neighborhood kittens crying in their milk. I always kept a couple of the little nippers around to do my bidding; steal catnip from Mrs. Meyers’ garden, de-bone chipmunks, you know, that kind of thing. One time, I even sponsored a neighborhood “Easter egg” hunt. All the kittens had to do was visit all available birds’ nests, retrieve the eggs, and then get out of my face. Simple! I also was the first cat in the ‘hood to get a set of wheels. Ok, so it was a broken roller skate I pilfered from the Johnson’s trash can, but it was still wheels. I accessorized it with a sprinkling of squirrel molars and glitter. Perfect for terrorizing kittens and small rodents! Ah, those were the days. But alas, those days are behind me. Now, I lead a peaceful but staid life as an overweight Domestic Shorthair in western PA. I am a model citizen, only peeing on the odd pillow here and there, or putting a quick (yet pleasurable) end to the life of the occasional trespassing mouse.

Great-Grandma Formaldehyde’s Words of Wisdom for Young Whippersnappers

I’ve been on this earth for a long time, and if there's one thing I know, it's that today’s youth doesn’t know anything about survival in the world of humans. Why, back in my day, those pesky bipeds wouldn’t come near my claws, much less think about removing them, if they knew what was good for them. I scratched off many a face in my day. And neutering! Modern mumbo jumbo superstitious nonsense. Back in my day, we got to keep the body parts we were born with. Oh, we may have given birth 45 times, but it built character! What are today’s youth doing with their “freedom from reproduction”? Squandering it, that’s what! Yes, they have all sorts of time on their paws for eating and sleeping and destroying curtains and making craft projects! It’s blasphemous, I say! In my infinite wisdom, I decided to put together some words of advice for the next feline generation. Listen up, whippersnappers!

• Modern dental cleanings are for soft (read: wussy) cats. Real cats clean their teeth on a set of squirrel bones and rocks.
• Hang on to your claws at all costs. Press-on claws or the "Freddy Krueger Halloween Glove Set” don’t cut it. No matter what your “human” tells you.
• Fake mice and trips to the groomer are for sissies! Back in my day, we would clean ourselves by rolling in a thicket of thorns and sharpen our claws on prehistoric rocks.

Well kids, that’s all I have time for today. Stay tuned, and if I’m feeling nice, I might bestow some more of my immortal wisdom on you.

Chipmunk Kabobs; A Reflection

Roses are red, violets are blue

I’m ready for a barbecue, how about you?

Summer’s almost over, so what do you say

I’ve got some baby bluejays I’ve been waiting to slay

I’ll roast them up nice on the charcoal grill

With a splash of lemon and a pinch of dill

Oh, baby birds are my favorite snack

Just sneak up behind one and give it a whack

No barbecue is complete without a side of cardinal stew

Better watch out, or it might include you

Squirrel and bacon and corn on the cob

If I see a chipmunk, I’ll make a kabob

I think some bird’s nest soup would make a fine start

I’ll knock one from that tree with a well-aimed dart

This nest is full of eggs! glad I didn’t use bow and arrows

Goodbye, baby birds; hello, huevos rancheros!

"Cats Control Humans"...Duh

As I was doing my daily perusal of the world wide web over the shoulder of this human I allow to live with me, I came across this slightly interesting, highly obvious statement: "A study finds that cats employ a special trick that gets their owners to do their bidding." It's called Pretending That We Like You Until You Open The Can Of Food. Is this really news? Yawn.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20090713/sc_livescience/catsdocontrolhumansstudyfinds