Machiavellian Mancat Monday

I rest and I plot, and I plot and I rest, as the unheedful planet spins on its axis.

No More Mr. Nice Guy

I have Had It with my Human and her Evil Squeezy Syringes of Doom.

I Do. Not. Like. having medicine forcibly squirted into my mouth (or any other tender bodily orifice), thank you very much.

Yes, yes, for a day or two I was too weak and addled to Fight Back. But no more.

The battles today have been Epic, my Furiends. Think Thermopylae. Hastings. Waterloo. Gettysburg. Normandy.

The score stands at 1 all. The struggle continues.

The Good Kitty

I have 12 fewer teefs (bye-bye, you bad boys!), but in their place I have some stunningly good drugs. 

Yes, I am higher than a kite on some quality meds, my friends! I am, as they say, feelin' no pain. I stare out the windows in a blissed-out trance. 

It's a good thing these little pre-filled syringes are calibrated for a kitty my size, or she'd be squirtin' those things into her own mouf.

I guess these are what the Toof Fairy left me, eh? Good job, Tinkerbell!

So What's This I Hear About a Toof Fairy?

I'm not really much interested in quarters or dollar bills.

What do you think she leaves for us Kitties?

NB from The Human:  Spitty has several no-good, very-bad teefs that must be extracted. When it comes to these horrible teefs, better out than in sayeth the 
v-e-t, and the sooner, the better. He will have them out Thursday and expects an excellent present from the Toof Fairy.

Sunday Selfie: Sleepless in San Francisco Edition

Please, she's driving me crazy, Kitties. Yes, I am a bit under the weather, but understand: She is hovering. Petting me when I am trying to sleep. Putting food under my nose before I am interested in eating. Did you even know there was such a thing as Humans who brush too much? I need my nap now.

Oh Woe Is I

Good morning, Kitties, and Happy Fourth of July! *I* am not having a Happy Fourth of July, or Happy-Anything-Else, either. Phfft.

After a most unfortunate trip to the Stabby Place on Thursday* I have been grumpy and out of sorts. This has not been made better by the dearth of applicants for the position I posted Thursday. I think the Human is rejecting them before I have even had the opportunity to conduct interviews.

I really need my own phone number. Or maybe thumbs.

Oh, and wouldn't you think that, given my delicate recuperation from the traumas of the Stabby Place, that she would at least spare me from the intrusive lens of the flashy box?

But, no; evidently my suffering is naught to her but fodder for the blog.

Insensitive old bag.






* I am scheduled to return July 21 for dental procedures, including a couple of "extractions." I do not like to ponder the meaning of that word. The last time something was "extracted" from my person, it was from the other end and it not only hurt like a %#@%^, but afterwards I wasn't a real boy anymore. ::sulking::

Help Wanted: Domestic Servant

Position immediately available: Live-in valet/chef

Qualifications: In charge of food purchasing, meal planning & service & clean-up, private servant duties, including regular brushing and fur maintenance, twice-a-day playtimes, box scooping; daily secretarial duties required: familiarity with Photoshop a plus. Must be willing to fire current Staff before assuming position.

Compensation:  Generous

Start date:  ASAP

References required

NB: Must be willing to follow precise orders regarding further visits to Park Animal Hospital™ for ::shudder:: extractions. Those orders will be: NOT.GOING.ANYWHERE.