Stinking outside the box

Grandma says I stink outside the box, not just think outside of it. Silly Grandma -- I stink whether I'm in or out of the box!

I am very proud of my lil sister Kadi (the Short Bus of the cat world ... I never thought I'd say that about her!). She hasn't quite learned to poop outside the box like I do, but with lots of training and harassment, I have finally convinced her to poop in the box and not cover it up. Mommy is just so confounded 'cause she's used to yelling at me but is realizing that the house smells like shit even when I am sitting happily nuzzling her ankles.

Kadi won't shit outside the box 'cause she gets yelled at for enough stuff. If Mommy so much as leaves her underwear or sock drawers the slightest bit open, Kadi will -- through the tiny slit -- pull out every sock or pair of guchies she can get her grimy little claws on. Practically every morning, Mommy steps in a pile of her own underwear, and she gets mad because it's all scandalous and such and Kadi's claws are sharp. Anyway, I will always be her good, loving cat who poops everywhere and wipes her ass on the rug and walls, and Kadi will always be the troublemaking cat who is at least continent. We even each other out, I guess!

Pound for pound

Unca John told Mommy about a kitty who was on television who was only a couple of pounds in weight. It apparently has some genetic disorder whereby it won't grow any bigger. Mommy said that the cat probably craps its body weight every day. Then, she had the audacity to say that I try very hard every day to crap my own body weight, but I will never achieve it because I am such a fatass.

Um, if the bitch might FEED me enough, I could achieve that lifelong dream of spreading pounds instead of mounds of shit all over the apartment!

And Mommy is one to talk -- neither of us eats that much but we don't lose any weight. Besides, she's just jealous 'cause she doesn't poop as often as I do. Tragic. Perhaps she should try pooping on the floor -- I think that would make her want to void her bowels more. Don't you agree?

Chitty chitty bum bum

"Fe fi fo fum
I smell a big, fat furry bum."

My asshole Mommy was dead asleep last night, and I was curled up next to her because it is very cold in our bedroom and she is not nice enough to let me under the covers. As it is, there is a blanket of my fur on top of the dark-blue comforter, and that pisses her off, too.

Anyway, I scooched my ass a little closer to her head and flipped my tail up in the air. At which time, she smelled my stinky ass and it awakened her. Very sleepily, she sang the above song -- thinking she was funny, of course. I hate how quickly she thinks this shit up, even in her sleep!

In related news, my birthday is coming up in April. I am hoping Mommy does not see this website, because a kitty does NOT need a costume!!!

I'm gonna go hide lest she try to dig the shit out of my ass. *poof*

You say panini

... Mommy says pooh-nani!

Mommy gave us a fresh new litterbox yesterday. Oh, the joy and rapture of it all! The scent of air fresheners perfumed the house instead of cat ass! My ass was happy!

Well, almost happy.

Seems the bitch forgot and put the lid on the cat box. Now, she KNOWS I cannot squeeze my 18-pound ass into the litterbox when the lid is atop it. Of course, I can collapse my girth when I WANT to squeeze into a tiny space, but doing that would be the human equivalent of sucking in one's stomach when your rectum is full of the remains of the Mexican food you ate for lunch.

So, I did the only thing I could do: I pooped on the mat outside Pooh Corner.

And wiped my ass on the wall.

Heh.

So of course the house stunk when Mommy woke up this morning, and she has been calling me "pooh-nani" every time she has seen me. Asshole! Her shit don't exactly smell like a bed of roses, either!

Hook, line & stinker

I walked by Mommy yesterday, trying to nuzzle her ankles as she typed on the computer, and what thanks did I get? She told me I smelled like a sewer!

In fact, my ass was so offensive that she took a wet towel and scrubbed my butt with it. Turns out that some residual poop was still in my anus; she said it was like brown jelly, just clinging to the sides of my ass and refusing to be released. And, if you know her (non) gift for song, she started singing, "I don't think you're ready for this jelly!" (from "Bootylicious," if you've been blessed enough to forget that wretched song!). Leave my brown ass-jelly outta the conversation, mmmkay?

Oh, and if I overhear Mommy on the phone one more time telling this story, I'm gonna hurl. At Grandma's house recently, she had a plate with a pork chop and halushki sitting on the coffee table. (We don't ever have a "proper" dinner -- we watch TV while we eat, even though Grandma's cooking is sumptuous and truly deserves its own national holiday.) She had gone off in search of a beverage, and I was kind of parked by the plate, examining it. She wasn't worried because I've historically shown no interest in human food. But I'd never had pork, and it was smelling mighty tasty. So I gnawed on it a bit and really, really liked it! Mommy heard me crunching through the yummy breading, and she gave me all the pork chop from where my mouth had touched it. Apparently she figures I lick my ass with that tongue and she wanted no part of whatever I had touched. I'd say I was hurt, but fuck it -- I got more food!

When everyone was done with dinner, I cruised by the table, looking for leftovers on the plates. Seeing none, I took my big fat furry tail and bopped her plate onto the floor. Bitch.

On the doorstep

Because Kadi blew out the screen door and it's a fabulous 67 degrees here in the nation's capital today, I am lying inside the open balcony door and Kadi is beside me in her cage, enjoying the warm air. I am a good puss and will not leave the house, but Kadi's not so smart and would probably run out and jump off the balcony if we let her. Well, I'd let her, but Mommy wouldn't.

I've been away for a couple of weeks because Mommy had the bright idea to leave town to clear her head. Unfortunately, that includes stuffing us kitties in the backseat and dragging us on what turned out to be a thousand-mile odyssey. My poor little bladder is getting too old for this crap! Especially when it took 90 minutes to get to the Maryland state line on the day we started out. Reminder: I live in D.C. Maryland is, like, 15 minutes away from my abode, if that. Oh, but no. We sat on the beltway and basically rotted in the rain. Oh, that was another thing. As Mommy went to merge onto the beltway, a huge storm hit and totally blinded everyone on the road. She had to throw on the flashers (no, silly readers, she didn't flash anybody, personally! Although that might have blinded the onlookers just as much as the damn rainstorm!) and kind of park us at the exit until she could see again. Oh, the joy and rapture of it all. ...

But in better news, I did get to see my Grandma! Mommy has been feeding us smaller portions of our Crap Cat Chow, and Grandma was fabulous and fed us ham and turkey and even pork! I never knew I would like pork, but it rocked. It kind of sucks to be home where we're back to the dry shit again. And Mommy's real stingy with the treats too. Grandma isn't, though. She loves her grandkitties and shovels food and treats into our bodies very liberally. I had no complaints!

Well, I complain about Mommy's driving, but you know that. She was still a bitch and made up songs about my fat, stinky ass (like her all-time favorite, "Doo wah doo wah, pooh pooh kitty. Got a furry cat and her ass is shitty"). This time, she was singing "I Dare You to Pooh," after the "I Dare You to Move" song that's been absolutely overplayed on the radio but for some reason she loves it anyway. She gets mad 'cause I always have poop clinging to my long ass fur, even though I really do try to wipe my butt on walls and doors and carpets and newspapers to make it clean. She and Grandma got really mad at me because I totally missed the tiny, disposable litterbox and peed on the stack of newspaper Grandma had left under the box just in case we kicked litter everywhere (which, let's face it, we always do). Luckily, the pee didn't even reach the carpet through the paper, but still, my ass got into trouble. But then Grandma gave me treats. Mommy hates that -- she said Grandma always rewards our bad behavior. But she did realize that I am an old cat (I will be 9 years old on April 2!) and that maybe I shouldn't be making these trips. Fine -- see if I care. Maybe Grandma can come down here and cook for me instead! Oh, I would love it so! *happy dance*