Dear Peoples of the Innernets Readers:
I tried and tried to tell The Momma and The Daddy. I tried and tried to make them see that Old Scruffy Spot was getting too skinny. But Old Scruffy Skinny Spot likes to hide from peoples, and he maybe doesn’t hide so much from the Momma and Daddy peoples, but he also doesn’t go out of his way to hang with them, probably because they are human and thus below him. So even though I myself would get up on The Momma’s desk and put my butt in her face, and then run off when she yells “OH MY GOD BUDDY DID YOU JUST FART ON ME?!” and then get back up on her desk and waggle my stump at her and then run away when she yells “WHY MUST YOU PUT YOUR STUMP RIGHT THERE SO I CAN’T SEE WHAT I’M READING?!” and then get BACK up on her desk, she is so dumb that she didn’t get the very clear message that Hey! Old Scruffy Skinny Stinky Spot is getting too skinny and he spends all his Scruffy Skinny Stinky time hovering over the water bowl!
You can’t blame The Momma and The Daddy. Humans are just so stupid, that’s the way they is made. If this doesn’t say screamingly dim and crazy, I don’t know what will:
I almost took her stupid head off right then and there, I tells you. Anyway.
Old Scruffy Skinny Stinky Stupid Spot was spending all his old scruffy skinny stinky stupid time hovering over the water bowl in the upstairs bathroom or hovering in the kitchen if The Momma put so much as one toe in there, because Spot is scruffy and skinny and stinky and stupid, but he is still a CAT, and he is wily and he knows with his instincts that if The Momma is in the kitchen, sooner or later she will fondle and grope some food, and sometimes she puts food on the floor, and Spot gulps that food down before a less wily and stinky cat could even get his face near that food.
Also, Stinky Old Spot was not cleaning himself, and that to me is a big red flag and sometimes I would lick him on his head, but I have only so much licking in me, I can’t spend all my licking on Stinky Old Spot, I have to lick the others too, or they get jealous. The Momma and The Daddy are, let’s face it, very bad staff and very stupid humans, and so they would shrug and say “He does look ratty, but he’s getting elderly!”
ELDERLY!
He is not ELDERLY, he is in the prime of his life! He is SPRY! He can jump up on the guest bedroom bed and he can settle down in the cat bed in the sun and he can power nap like nobody’s business! He is OLD, but he is not ELDERLY.
The nerve.
And then a few days ago, The Daddy got a great big cluebox upside his big round stupid human head, because Old Spry Stinky Scruffy Spot was sitting on The Daddy’s desk and Old Spry Stinky Scruffy Spot would not move, even though The Daddy would say “Okay, Buddy, move!” and then he’d poke at Old Spot and Old Spot would give him The Eye and turn away like The Daddy did not exist and The Daddy would say “Buddy, come on. Daddy needs to sit there!” and Old Spot would just ignore and ignore.
By the way, I am WISE to your stupid human game of calling all the boy cats “Buddy” so you don’t have to strain your two brain cells and remember what our true names is, DADDY. Also, MOMMA.
So then The Daddy finally decided that No Cat would come between him and the ear-hurting Boogie-scaring game on the computer, and The Daddy reached down and picked up Stinky Spry Spot and The Daddy said “Holy cow. When was the last time you picked up Spot?” and The Momma said “Uh. Never?” and The Daddy said “He’s lost way too much weight. He’s way too skinny! Pick him up!” And The Momma picked him up and she made a face that made Spot’s self-esteem plummet into the basement.
HAHAHAHAHA! HA! HA! HEE! Oh, I am so funny. Like a HUMAN could ever do anything to a cat’s self-esteem even if the idiot human took a three-year course in destroying a cat’s self-esteem it could not happen because who cares what humans think? I are the funniest! Stupid humans.
Anyways, The Momma was all “Ew! And he feels all greasy. I think he maybe has stopped grooming completely, he’s not even trying!” So I jumped up on her desk and put my stump in her face and did a little victory waggle because HELLO! Did I not try to tell her that one hundred thousand times before? Whycome does she never LISTEN to me?
Last night, The Daddy got home from work and he picked up Old Stinky Smelly Spry Spot and put him in my nap box, and then he closed the top of my nap place, and Spry Stinky Scruffy Spot yelled “Hey! Not funny! Let me out!” and then The Daddy took him out the door to the outside, not the outside where I get to go when I have my zappin’ collar on, but the other outside, where I never get to go because THEY HATE ME and there are more birds and squirrels there than in the best Cat Paradise, and they want me to starve to death.
Some time went by, I know it was at least two naps and maybe a snack, but it wasn’t dark out, which meant it wasn’t time for me to race around the house as loud as I could, yelling war cries at Miz Poo and Sugarbutt and Tommy and Miss Stank and those other two who don’t belong here, so I have to show them who the boss is (answer: ME), so what was I saying? Oh, time passed and then The Daddy brought Spot home, and I waited and waited for The Daddy to let Spot out of my nap box so I could sniff him over and decide he smelled like The Scary Place Where They Always Put Something Up Your Butt and pretend I didn’t know him and smack him and chase him around and yell my war cry at him, but The Daddy and The Mommy had a conversation first.
“Blah blah blah blah!” said The Momma.
“Blah blah pretty sick,” said The Daddy.
“Blah?”
“Blah blah pancreatitis, blah blah kidneys, blah blah thyroid.”
“Blah?”
“Blah blah blah three weeks blah blah. Blah blah this medicine blah blah that medicine blah blah thyroid medicine FOREVER.”
“Blah?”
“Oh,” said The Daddy, “Blah blah see him again in three weeks.”
So The Momma ran upstairs and dumped fresh litter into a clean litter box – for Stupid Stinky Smelly Spry Old Spot! Fresh litter! He wouldn’t notice if she put six-week-used never-cleaned litter in a box for his Stupid Spry self! – and put food and water bowls in the guest bedroom and The Daddy came upstairs with Stupid Skinny Spot in my nap box, and then he picked me up and put me OUT of the guest bedroom and said “Get out, dummy”, which is his special love name for me, and then they shut the door with Stupid Stinky Spry Old Spot inside the room and the rest of us outside the room, and is that fair? (Answer: NO)
And then, before Snackin’ Time, The Daddy went upstairs and spent some time with Stinky Scruffy Spot and then he came downstairs and then went BACK upstairs and spent MORE time with Smelly Old Spot, and then I got a little nervous, because everyone knows that I am King of This House, and why should The Daddy spend so much time with Stupid Old Scared Spot, who only wants to be alone, unless Stupid Stanky Spot is planning on making a bid for the ruling position?
The Momma FINALLY did the Snackin’ Time call, and The Daddy said “Do it quietly, we don’t want Spot to hear!”, and then I waggled my stump, because it became clear to me that Stupid Stanky Spot was actually going to move DOWN the Ladder of Importance to the very bottom where he BELONGS (because all cats who are not me belong on the bottom rung of the Ladder of Importance), and The Daddy just felt bad for him.
We were all eating our Snackin’ Time, and Miss Stank was moving from her plate to mine BECAUSE SHE IS A PIG when The Daddy said “What if we let Spot out of the room and we just fed them all the special food?” and The Momma said “Okay.” and The Daddy went up and let Stupid Stinky Spot out of the room and Stupid Old Spot came sauntering down the stairs like he was the KING OF EVERYTHING
(HE IS NOT. I AM.)
and he sniffed around our Snackin’ Time and The Daddy said “Make sure he doesn’t eat any of that!” and The Mommy stood over Smelly Old Spry Spot and wouldn’t let him eat any of it, and I waggled my stump with glee. And then they emptied our food out of our food bowls and filled it with new stuff, and I had to bite Sugarbutt on the back of his neck because he was between me and the New! Food! and he forgets that I am his Lord and Ruler sometimes, because he’s just a stupid orange happy dumb purring kitty.
So then The Momma and The Daddy were sitting in front of the loud box that scares me sometimes (Booger don’t like loud bass) and The Momma said words that sent chills down my stump.
“We could just suspend Snackin’ Time until Spot can go back to regular food,” she said.
And then The Daddy said words that sent chills down my stump AGAIN.
“Yeah, we should,” he said.
Peoples of the Innernets Readers, I throw myself upon your mercy. If there is ANY way you can come get me and bring me to your home where I can be king of the castle and I can have Snackin’ Time (preferably twice a day) and you will love and treasure and appreciate me THE WAY THESE HATEFUL PEOPLES CLEARLY DO NOT, I will be waiting on the cement pad, bitching at the chickens and giving Tommy and Sugarbutt the occasional smack because they need it to keep them in line. Who will keep them in line when I am gone? I don’t know.
I don’t know who will take over my job here as King of Everything, but in a world where there is no Snackin’ Time, I do not care. I am overworked and unappreciated, and it is time for me to move along to greener pastures where I will be properly worshiped.
Come when you can. I’ll be waiting.
Sincerely,
Mister Stanley J. Boogerton, Esquire.
__________________________
Edited to add: Spot was diagnosed with pancreatitis, his kidneys weren’t working right, and he’s got an underactive thyroid. The vet says that with the medication and special food, he should recover (though he’ll be on the thyroid medication for the rest of his life). He seems to be feeling better, though with Spot it’s kind of hard to tell – he didn’t seem like he was feeling sick to start with, and if we hadn’t realized how thin he’d gotten (7 1/2 pounds), I shudder to think what would have happened. Poor Spot.
We feel like evil cat abusers for not realizing how ill he’d gotten, but when a cat spends all his time avoiding people – and all his time when he’s around people looking very happy and purring as loudly as possible – it’s not something you notice. Hopefully the fact that he’s suddenly getting all kinds of attention from us won’t stress him out too badly!
_________________________
Previously
2007: I think it’s possible that Newt, who is Not Our Cat, might end up becoming an inside cat. (HA – ya THINK, 2007 Robyn? You really think he might? Here’s an update: he spends 99.999% of his time inside, piled up in an overstuffed cat bed like a big ol’ slug.)
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.