Ode to My Boys

The following are from a couple of years ago. Herman and Phanny were the rockinest cats on Earth. They are dearly missed. This is for you, boys!


Cats... Such fickle 'people'.
Kitty feeding times in my house are - when I get up (which ranges from 5-7 on weekdays and whomever dares to call me on weekends). And its the usual, - half a can each of WalMarts Special Kitty. Mmmm mmmm Turkey and Giblets. They each have pretty bowls, and certain places they have to dine. And now starts the Neurotic Follies (the cats , not me):

Phanny is also known in some circles as Cat Who Licks Gravy. That's his Ho Chunk name. No matter what kind of food you lovingly put into his pretty aqua colored bowl, he only wants to lick the gravy. No food, just a few lick lick licks. Then you get The Look. If you are owned by a cat, you know The Look. The "Look at me me ME! I'm Starving! If I was in a 3rd World country, Brangelina would adopt me!" look. You usually counter with something like 'Aww my Phanny Wanny Phoofinetters baby pumpkin kitty. Come on sweetnums, eat your food." Remembering that you are the only one awake at the time, you kind of glance about to make sure no one was conscious enough to hear you. So with one last sad look, Phanny heads for the dreaded dry food bowl. Your heart is expected to break at the sound of crunching. Kitty induced guilt.

Then we have Herman- Herman is a great cat, a survivor and wears an Afro quite well. Herman is aka Chubby Bunny. He loves to eat. But Herman is also a Man-Diva. The food bowls are set down, and again - to a quiet house, I am announcing "Mama's got nummies". Well, aforementioned cat Phanny was been hanging out and swinging on the cabinet the whole prep time. But Oh No, not Herman. He has been laying in his box, 1 eye open. Mustn't look TOO enthused. Coolness rules. So - as Phanny is lick lick licking, I am sweet talking... Come on Hermies, lets go eat". He sits. I look around in an empty house and do the Limo Ride. Pick up the cat, hold him to my shoulder and take him to the food. In the short walk that it is, I am pierced with at least 7 razor sharp talons into my soft collarbone area. So putting Herman down requires me to get into a nearly squatting position so I don't lose vital organs. OK, now this scenario can go 2 ways. We can have the happy grateful hungry cat that eats all his food. Or we can go back to Man-Diva. The Man-Diva side of Herman sniffs the food, and walks back into the other room, and parks near the television. The pitiful 'Ohhhhh Puh-LEEZE! You expect me to eat over THERE?" look is truly pathetic. By now, Phanny is eye-balling Herman's gravy and I have to pick up the bowl. While said bowl is in hand, I glance about and make sure no one is awake. And YES! I take the bowl TO the CAT. Oooh look at the happy kitty! He eats ALL his food! What a good baby. He even looks at Phanny and the dry food bowl with a look on his face that says "Just wait til you take your first nap buddy! Your wet food is mine".

OK, the best part of this story? It happens every morning BEFORE I even turn on the coffee maker!





Excerpts from a Cat's Daily Diary:
Day 683 of my captivity:

My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to keep up my strength.
The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of escape. In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the floor.
Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made condescending comments about what a "good little hunter" I am. The audacity!
There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However, I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my confinement was due to the power of "allergies." I must learn what this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.
I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and snitches. The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released - and seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded! The bird has got to be an informant. I observe him communicate with the guards regularly. I am certain that he reports my every move. My captors have arranged protective custody for him in an elevated cell, so he is safe....... for now...