Saturday, September 26, 2015

Meowing Up The Wrong Tree? (& Lots of Pictures)

Cat tree. Kitty condo. Cat tower. Cat playground . . . Cat furniture. Should you get your cat one? Or will it become just one more item you were so excited to buy for your cat that he will ignore (and you will trip over repeatedly)? Even if you have no interest in a cat tree . . . you'll still enjoy some cute pictures and anecdotes about Bear (as if he can be anything BUT cute - oh, wait . . . but I don't share those pictures). And at the end of the post . . . The Cat Tree Rules (very important!) courtesy of Bear. If you laugh at The Cat Tree Rules, you are human . . . and Momma won't tell Bear (because he takes them VERY seriously - as Momma can attest to with various scars in some inconvenient and somewhat strange places). 

Before I start, I want to assure you I'm not selling anything . . . I have no connections to any company related to cat trees and I receive no compensation from such. I'm simply sharing my (sometimes) funny experience, some awesome/cute pictures, and a bit of humor concerning (a cat) owning a cat tree. This appears obvious, but I'm going to say it anyway: the decision to get a cat tree depends on your cat - and while a vet might provide insight (which I am not), you are probably the best judge of whether your cat would like a cat tree. Kitty (my first and only cat before Bear) probably wouldn't have enjoyed it nearly as much as Bear has. She wasn't much into jumping or climbing up high . . . as long as she had a secure, protected spot off the ground, she was happy.

So what changed that I bought Bear a cat tree?

* Bear really likes to jump - the higher the better. On top of the kitchen cabinets, on top of the closet shelves, on top of the refrigerator . . . on top of the entertainment center. Because he's relatively fearless about jumping, I often feared he'd hurt himself, especially on the impossible-seeming jumps (like from the floor to the top of the 7 foot tall entertainment center) that he refuses to give up on (and still hasn't accomplished). With the cat tree, he seems less eager for these daring jumps . . . though he attempts them every so often . . . but I suspect he does these for attention because he knows I'll engage with him to try to get him to stop. You can read more about Bear's jumping adventures {HERE}.

* Bear used my laptop as a cat bed. When I got my laptop, I had to disable the touch pad and hot keys . . . and he still occasionally managed to change settings on my computer that took me hours to figure out how to correct (like when the display rotated 90 degrees - not just in Windows - but even before Windows started). Of course, he also enjoyed walking across or sitting on the keyboard. I recognize he probably just wanted attention while I worked, but it was still frustrating. I hoped by giving him a cat tree, that he'd prefer to sleep there and misbehave there (I tried a cat bed on the end of the table next to my laptop first - no luck - unless I shut the lid to prevent him from sprawling out on the keyboard). Having a cat tree didn't really help this problem . . . but getting a desktop did. For whatever reason (it's not warm maybe?), he has no interest in the desktop keyboard, though he still likes to stand in my way and make a nuisance of himself (which is mostly cute). In the end, I managed to pass all the sections of the CPA exam, after studying for them full-time on my laptop . . . even with my study buddy. 

Oh?!?! You want to work? No. I think you'll feed me/pet me/admire me! (Change in Bear's tactics from the laptop to the desktop)

* Bear spent a few weeks at a cat "resort" and fell in love with the cat tree in the play room (and I got pictures!). Of course, when Momma came to pick him up, he jumped down and ran into Momma's arms. But the seed was planted (very cutely I think)!

* Bear likes to use his claws: the carpet, the furniture, Momma . . . he just really likes to dig his claws in and show things (and Momma) who's boss. I hoped a cat tree with its 10 scratching posts would entice Bear to use them. Not so much. The scratching posts still look pristine after five years . . . Momma's carpet and furniture . . . not so much. The kicker? The below damage to Momma's loveseat happened in only three months when Bear was a kitten . . . at which point Momma covered it with a blanket. Alas, Bear figured out how to get under the blanket and pull the foam stuffing out. That's just how he rolls.

Putting the cat tree together
At first, the task seemed daunting, but it was certainly fun for Bear to "help" Momma (and not too bad for Momma).

The cat tree came with these stringy balls to attach to the cat tree, but the directions plainly said they were for decoration only and not for the cats to play with . . . really? Who made this decision to include the balls if they aren't for the cat to play with? If a person puts them up, the cat will play. Several times, Bear tried to steal the balls as I was assembling the tree . . . Knowing Bear's affinity for chewing through string and destroying his toys, the balls have been safely stored in the closet since I finished the assembly (it seems like a waste, but if the cat tree company cautions against using them as cat toys, well, I'm going to listen, especially because I know my cat's destructive tendencies).

Momma attaches the "decorations" for Bear as a one-time only activity. A bit of craziness ensued . . .


Final cat tree placement (with Bear as king of his castle and the corner)

As you can see, Momma pimped the cat tree out a bit. After reading the reviews about the thin carpet covering the perches, Momma gathered the cat bed, a few blankets, and a few towels to make the perches as comfortable as possible. I also ripped up an old sweatshirt to make a nest in one of the cat condos (which Bear hardly uses). Bear uses the largest cat condo (at the bottom) when we play . . . Momma moves a toy over the holes/entrances and over the top and Bear tries to pull it inside. I suspect a cat who likes boxes would appreciate the cat condos more, but Bear isn't that cat. He likes the perches. Whenever Momma's not available, Bear spends most of his time on his cat tree perches sleeping. 

One drawback of the arrangement: Bear took over the entire corner where the cat tree stands - between the couch and the loveseat. Originally, Momma put the cat tree in the corner so it was out of the way and she wouldn't trip over it. The "cat tree corner" is the corner area between two couches, where the cat tree stands, from the floor to the ceiling. Momma isn't allowed to go in the corner for any reason (see Cat Tree Rules below). 

An unexpected benefit of the placement of the cat tree: Bear now has an elevated perch from which to watch birds (the larger rectangle perch behind the largest, bottom cat condo). The position of this platform is perfect for looking out the window.

Cat Tree Rules (part of the Geneva Cat Convention) - From Bear

What is the Geneva Cat Convention? A carefully crafted set of minimum standards for the treatment of cats in all kinds of situations and circumstances. However, instead of being a treaty or agreement like the original Geneva Conventions, it hasn't been passed, ratified, or agreed to by humans and reads more as a set of demands. Because that's what cats do. In our conversations, Bear quite often refers to these rules when accusing Momma of mistreatment and indecency toward Bear. Perhaps Bear, in a future post, will further elucidate these basic tenets on a more thorough basis . . . because Momma does not know all the rules and they tend to change and shift with the whims of the cat . . . big surprise.

* Basic tenet: What happens in the cat tree corner, stays in the cat tree corner. No cat shall be interrogated, harassed or reproved because of actions undertaken within the jurisdiction of the cat tree corner.

* Incursions: Bear shall consider anyone entering the cat tree corner (for ANY reason) as an act of war against the independent, autonomous domain of the seceded (from Momma's house) cat tree corner. Neither retrieving trapped cat toys nor cleaning up hairballs constitute exceptions to this rule against incursions and will result in Bear dive bombing the offending person (Momma who has to contort herself in painful positions to reach back there) from the perches above. And no, Bear doesn't dive bomb because he wants to "play," the behavior is 100% defense of his territory. 

* Removal: The cat shall not be removed from the cat corner . . . especially when he's hiding out back there (under the tree) because he doesn't want Momma to clip his claws, brush his teeth, or take him to the vet. All defenses will be deployed to prevent his removal. 

* Touching: Thou shalt not touch the cat when he's in the cat tree or in the cat corner. The following are not excuses to break this rule: the cat is just "too cute" that you can't resist petting said cat, removing the cat because you require something from him, and emergencies/natural disasters. The cat is not responsible for the human's lack of self-control (to pet him). In fact, he'd like to point out the extreme self-control shown by cat at all times (but namely when he comes running for some desirable activity and then acts oblivious and nonchalant for at least a minute before partaking of said activity once he's reached his destination). In the event of the sky falling or other emergencies . . . the cat will come down when he's ready and not a moment before. In any case, the cat will come down when he's ready, or when the doorbell rings or the cat carrier is removed from the closet. You will be given ample time to pet the cat after he exits the cat tree corner . . . as long as he feels like it.

* Talking/other cacophony: Thou shalt not talk to the cat when he is in the cat tree. Only two conditions are considered exceptions: the mention of the word "treats," and the mention of the word "play." Thou shalt not sing, dance, nor turn up one's hideous music to interfere with the cat's pleasure in his cat tree. Such iniquities are strictly forbidden and might result in the cat taking matters into his own paws and chewing through the stereo cords or other tactics for deliverance from these atrocities.

* Looking/privacy: Thou shalt not look at the cat in the cat tree (or take pictures). This only agitates the cat and he won't guarantee civil behavior in such event. As if this need be said, but if the cat, in the privacy of his cat tree, must lick his behind or otherwise groom himself, the human shall not leer, cajole, or otherwise acknowledge the cat's existence.

* Usage: No humans shall be allowed on the cat tree. This includes the wedging of a body between and within the features of the cat tree while attempting to clean the premises. Refer to the earlier statute on incursions and the latter statute on sanitation.

* Sanitation: Thou shalt not remove the furnishings of the cat tree under any conditions, including: to launder, wipe clean or otherwise defur the furnishings. Also, thou shalt not wipe clean, vacuum, defur, or clean up furballs on the cat tree itself and surrounding areas. If it's there . . . the cat wants it there. Violations and entry into the cat's autonomous territory are covered under the incursions statute. Also, the "straightening" of the furnishings on the cat tree is strictly prohibited . . . even if the cat is in the cat bed and the cat bed (and cat) are hanging halfway off the highest perch (as shown in the last picture before Cat Tree Rules): that's just the way the cat wants it.

* Hiding: Thou shalt not see a cat, in the cat tree corner, in I'm-about-to-pounce mode or any other mode of hiding where the cat wishes to be invisible and effect a "surprise" on the human. If the cat wants to surprise said human . . .  the human shall oblige. 

* Ownership: As with all other items in the household, the cat tree and its surroundings are the cat's. Or as Bear likes to say, "Mine, MINE, MINE!!!" Bear does not share. Bear does not negotiate. Bear does as Bear will. That is all.

Momma's Note: Yes, I have run afoul of these regulations on a regular basis. In retrospect, the incidents are funny . . . but in the moment, with the contortions required to reach back there, Momma has gotten stuck more than she'd like to admit. Which is bad enough: Add the dive bombing, angry cat - to the being trapped in an awkward position - and the whole thing devolves into hilarity . . . later. So my mention, in the introduction, of scars in inconvenient and strange places, suddenly should make sense to our readers with good imaginations.

Monday, September 21, 2015

Momma Kat and Her Bear Cat: Welcome!

Welcome to Momma Kat and Her Bear Cat. This blog is dedicated to my cat Bear, who entertains just about every one, including himself. I've been posting a lot of Bear related items to my Facebook page and was encouraged by my friends to start a dedicated blog.

Why is Bear extraordinary? He's the perfect combination and interplay of big heart and big attitude. Loves are his favorite, then food, then play. But he's not your typical sweet pussy cat. He loves to be mischievous and point out when he is not getting the attention he deserves. This usually involves deciding on a plan, making sure I am watching him, and then executing said plan (like sticking his paw in the toaster or knocking things in the toilet). So he can be a bit of a $#!+ disturber at times, but I'm pretty sure it's not out of meanness, but instead a way for him to get what he wants (he is the cat after all). It's all about him, all the time, except for when he doesn't want it to be that way. I'm mostly happy to oblige and go along for the ride. Above all, he's extraordinary because he is perfect for me. I admire his stubbornness and spirit, while appreciating his great capacity to love. He inspires me, makes me laugh and keeps me honest (he knows the things I shouldn't be doing just as well as he knows what he shouldn't be doing). Some times we are crazy together and chase each other around, but more often than not, we are snuggling on the couch. I wouldn't change either, or all the shades in between, for the world. At times, I'm awed by this little, living, furry thing that brings me so much happiness (and pain, he does have fangs and claws too) and I'm reminded that life is a miracle and something to cherish - whether it be mine or his.

I'd love feedback! Please let me know what you like and don't like! Every thing is up for grabs here, except for the cat himself: He's mine! But I will share him with you :) 

UPDATE: Momma Kat's Facebook page {HERE}, recently received a number of new likes. To assist our newest readers in catching up, Momma and Bear share pertinent links (below) to pages of special relevance to the background of Momma Kat and Her Bear Cat. The links below aren't representative of the humor you'll normally find on this blog, but provide the perfect background to better understand Momma's and Bear's personalities. For those of you who are new, the main focus of this blog is humor - either in conversations between Momma Kat and Bear Cat or through descriptions of Bear's shenanigans. Occasionally, Momma posts more serious items, like issues related to felines that she feels deserve more attention. We love our readers and appreciate you giving us a chance to make you laugh! And thank you to our long-term readers for sticking around for Momma to become more confident in herself and Bear's story.

Pages (or see tabs at the top):

Characters                            Bear's Page

p.s. - And don't forget our Facebook page {HERE}: it will have {near} daily updates and posts and more spontaneous content than our blog, which Momma is a bit of a perfectionist about.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Food Exuberance and Kitty Temper Tantrums

There are few things Bear is more serious and exuberant about than food (other than his kibble, which to him, is not "real" food). Momma's food, Bear's food, not even food at all . . . it doesn't matter, because if Bear THINKS it's food, he must have it RIGHT NOW! And not following his demands often ends badly for everyone.

MK: Momma Kat
BC: Bear Cat

MK: Bear! Don't gobble down your wet food treat so fast! You'll toss your cookies!

BC: These are cookies? I always expected cat cookies to be . . . cattier . . . or cookier.
MK: They aren't cookies, I was speaking figuratively.
BC: What, so cookies are too good for me? I WANT COOKIES!
BC: COOKIES, COOKIES, COOKIES! I'm going to stage a sit in on your keyboard until you give me COOKIES!
MK: Oh, for crying out loud! You're worse than a toddler! When you've gotten hold of my cookies in the past, all you do is lick them obsessively. And then I get cookies covered with fishy tasting cat slobber!
BC: I'll have you know that cats DON'T slobber! How insulting! YOU slobber. I do not. I'm offended! Outraged! And I want COOKIES! The fishy tasting Oreos sound perfect, why haven't you shared them with me before?
MK: No, the Oreo isn't fishy flavored . . . oh, never mind.
BC: Fishy cookie hogger! Bear hater!
MK: Why don't you settle on your cat tree and I'll give you cookies in a few minutes?
{Bear jumps into his cat tree}
MK: No.
BC: Is it COOKIE time yet?
MK: No.
BC: {Yawn} is it cookie time ye . . . {snoring not so softly}.
MK: Thank goodness he quickly tires himself out . . . a cat with unlimited energy is the equivalent of a weapon of mass destruction.
BC: Meow . . . snore . . . fishy . . . snore . . . mine . . . meow . . .
MK: He is cute . . . and my willpower is comparatively weak.

BC: Oh! Momma! I'm so glad you're home! You're my favorite Momma ever! I love you, Momma!
MK: I was only gone for 15 minutes . . . no treats.
BC: But I missed you!
MK: Come cuddle.
BC: I can't cuddle on an empty stomach!
MK: Fantastic, I filled your bowl before I left.
BC: Hmph! You think so poorly of me that you think all the fanfare over you being home was only for . . . oh, hmmmm . . . I guess it was. I've been screwed out of my treats!
MK: Oh, here we go again . . .
BC: SCREWED! Starved! Mistreated! Unwanted. Unappreciated. Unloved! You should be ashamed of yourself! The worst Momma EVER! This is against the Geneva Cat Convention! Morally reprehensible! Despicable! I WANT TREATS!
MK: Your temper tantrum is going to last longer than I was gone.
BC: It's not my fault you are so dense that I have to carry on for HOURS before you "get" what you're supposed to do.
MK: No treats.
BC: I hate you!
MK: Given how I was your favorite Momma ever and you loved me two minutes ago . . . it's kind of hard to take that seriously.
BC: Now I REALLY hate you!
MK: I'm REALLY convinced.
BC: Mrow. Can't touch this!
{Bear saunters away confidently}

BC: I smell FISHY! Where's my FISHY?!?!?
MK: No.
BC: No, it's not FISHY? Because it smells like FISHY! I should check it out for you just to be sure . . . I wouldn't want you to unintentionally eat FISHY!
MK: No, it is fishy. But it's MY fishy.
BC: But, but, but . . . I LOVE FISHY! You won't share your FISHY with the kitty you love most in the world? No matter that I'm the cutest kitty in the world, EVER?
MK: Bear . . .
BC: I promise if some of the FISHY happens to drop on the floor, no FISHY will go to waste! "Blink, blink."
MK: You mean, "wink, wink."
BC: WHATEVER! I can't think properly in the vicinity of tasty FISHY.
MK: If I give you my food, what am I going to eat?
BC: I saw you weigh yourself this morning . . . you're not in danger of starving.
MK: Neither are you! So what will I eat?
BC: My kibble? You seem to think so highly of it. And I promise to always keep your bowl full! I could also remind you that there are homeless creatures who would LOVE my kibble . . . or so you tell me regularly . . .
MK: No. Just no.
BC: So my kibble's not good enough for you?
MK: It's specially formulated for cats!
BC: Which means you just assume we'll put up with anything . . . not suspecting that one day, cats will rule the world! You think we'll just put up with it forever . . . but one day . . .
MK: Bear, you can't have my fishy.
BC: I HATE YOU! Torturing your poor kitty cat with the sniffs of yummy FISHY without bothering to share!
MK: Not everything is about you.
BC: Want to bet?
MK: No.
BC: Coward.
MK: No. Just smart.
BC: I rule you already!
MK: Mostly.
BC: Hand over the FISHY before you get hurt.
MK: No.
BC: I will not accept defiance! Wait, wait! Nooooo! You can't go in the other room and close the door! I have to be in there with you!
BC: MommmmmmMA! Momma? MOMMA?!?!?!? I need to be IN THERE WITH YOU! LET ME IN!
MK: You're something else.
BC: But you love me.
MK: Absolutely.
BC: Then can I have some FISHY?
MK: No.
MK: Sniiiiffff. What is that smell?
BC: I think my kibble gives me gas. FISHY does not.
MK: No. And your kibble does NOT give you gas. Nice try.
BC: {sigh} Denied once again. I better get special snuggles for this!
MK: For as long as you want.

Treats (again):
BC: MoooommmmmMaaaa!
MK: What's wrong, Bear?
BC: I've been following you everrrrrrrrywhere.
MK: Are you glad I'm home?
BC: I want treats! When you've gotten home the past few days, you've given me treats . . . WHERE ARE MY TREATS?
MK: You don't need treats every time.
BC: But I'm sssssssttttarrrrvvvvvvving! Especially since I've been following you everrrrrrrrywhere!
MK: Bear, you know where I keep the treats. If I were going to give you treats, you know I'd open the pantry first . . . there was no need to follow me because I can't pull treats out of my butt.
BC: Eww. I wouldn't want them if you did.
MK: Case closed.
MK: Could you please stop whining?

Momma's plate:
BC: Eww! What's this on your plate? It's disgusting!
MK: Get away from my food!
BC: Food left out in the open with no one around = free for all.
MK: Oh yeah? How about I go eat some of your fishy that you left on your plate? It's "unattended."
BC: You wouldn't!
MK: Watch me!
BC: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! I'll never eat off your plate again!
MK: You'll follow that for like five seconds . . . but it's five seconds, so, eh - deal.
BC: What was that disgusting crunchy crap on your plate? It was even worse than my kibble!
MK: Grape stems.
BC: How can you eat them?
MK: I don't.
BC: Then why were they on your plate?
MK: Because I ate all the grapes off them.
BC: So you mean I got in trouble for stealing something of yours that was inedible?
MK: Pretty much.
MK: Oh, Bear.

Momma's plate (again):

BC: This meat on your plate is disgusting!
MK: Get away from my food!
BC: Dis-gust-ing!
MK: It's not meat.
BC: What?
MK: It's meat substitute.
BC: Why would you eat meat substitute?
MK: I'm just trying it - but some people are vegetarians and don't eat animals.
BC: YOU EAT ANIMALS? What, so you adopted me, fattened me up and when I least expect it, you'll roast me over a spit like a pig? Is that why you bought apples this week?
MK: For crying out loud! What do you think meat is, if not animals?
BC: Meat is meat. It comes from the meat farm. There is fishy meat, and chicken meat and pig meat . . . now I'm hungry. How 'bout dropping some of those salmon nuggets in my food bowl?
MK: Leave me to my meat substitute . . . for not liking it, you sure licked it enough.
BC: Eh. It's a step up the fake meat food chain from kibble.
MK: The number one ingredient in your kibble is turkey - it's not fake meat!
BC: It doesn't gobble! Or taste like meat or even like your fake meat!
MK: I'm starting to think I'll never win.
BC: And you JUST figured this out?

Fishy vs. Kibble:
MK: Guess what, Bear? I bought you food!
BC: Gimme, gimme, gimme! Fishy, fishy, fishy! Come to papa sweet fishy!
MK: Not that kind of food. Kibble.
BC: That's NOT food . . . that's . . .
MK: Don't make me bleep you. And besides, I'm sure homeless, hungry kitties, just like you used to be, would LOVE your kibble.
BC: Like that does me any good! Why can't I have fishy all the time?
MK: Because you like to free feed and I can't leave fishy out all day.
BC: Maybe you can get me a fish tank and I can grab myself a snack when I'm hungry. Fresh!
MK: A) I'm pretty sure if a fish swam in your direction, I'd find you under the bed - even though it couldn't "get" you through the glass, B) You always whine when your paws get wet even though you're the one sticking them in water, and C) You have no idea what to do with a whole fish and would just spend hours licking it.
BC: So when do I get my fish tank?
MK: Never.
BC: I hate you.
MK: That's why I feed you kibble.
BC: Oh . . . you . . . I just . . . that's . . . PHHT!
{Bear struts off to hide out in his corner and pout}
MK: My mistake . . .

Tuna and Shrimp:
BC: MomMA! My plate is empty.
MK: I fed you your treat a few minutes ago. If you ate it all, that's it.
BC: You haven't fed me for DAYS! DAYS! Look, there's not one morsel left on my plate. Not one! Woe is me.
MK: Funny, because I remember opening the can of tuna and chicken like 4 minutes ago.
BC: It was tuna and shrimp.
MK: See?!?!?
BC: Drats! Can I have more to make up for the fact that you tricked me?
MK: No.
BC: Quadruple drats!


BC: What's that?
MK: Bologna.
BC: That's baloney?
MK: Yes.
BC: Can I have some?
MK: No.
BC: That's baloney!

Want to read more? Some of our longer conversations also relate to food (okay, most of our conversations mention food at least once, but these are the most relevant):

Where Da Fishy? {HERE}
Meow McQuacky-Pants & Bear's Food Time {HERE}

Sunday, September 13, 2015

"Conversations" With Bear Cat: Part 10

Ever wonder about what conversations occur in the Momma Kat household?

Bear and I talk quite a bit - about a whole lot of random things. In this cycle, we discussed: fire, fishy famine, and frustration {HERE}, strings, surprises and scared {HERE}, Bear's internet privileges (or lack thereof, because of some questionable behavior) {HERE}, and about Bear's desire to be addressed as "The Great Bear Cat" {HERE}.
 If you missed these extended "conversations" deserving of their own blog posts, please click on the links indicated above. 

See the previous collections of shorter "conversations" {HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}{HERE}, {HERE}, and {HERE}.
Here's a sample of the shorter dialogues from the past few weeks (some already posted to Momma Kat's Facebook page):

BC: Bear Cat
MK: Momma Kat

On gas, hairballs and love:
MK: {mumbling to herself angrily as she moves around the house}

BC: Ummm . . . Momma? Momma?!?!
MK: What do you need?

BC: Are you OK? You're walking around and ranting to yourself and it's kind of freaky. You're not going psycho-er on me are you?
MK: No. I'm just mad at the people in my life who can't take responsibility for their own stuff. I'm just blowing smoke out my butt. I'll be better in a few minutes.

BC: Is blowing smoke out of your butt like gas? Because THAT I can identify with.
MK: I was speaking figuratively. But yes, your gas is enough to fumigate the entire neighborhood.

BC: Thank you! Are you un-mad now?
MK: Do you want to snuggle?

BC: I love you, Momma.
MK: I love you too, Bear. You always make everything better.

BC: Even when I have gas or land a hairball on your bed?
MK: Yes. Even then.

BC: You're weird.
MK: No, I just love you for everything you are - the good and the not-so-good because it's all part of being "Bear Cat."


On meowing symphonies:

MK: What? I'm just singing the melodies of famous symphonies!
BC: Yes, well, your singing is bad enough, but then you replace your regular "duhn"s with meows for the notes.
MK: My use of meows bothers you?
BC: You take the cute little noises of kitties and humanify them . . . then add your singing the notes - which by the way, has anyone told you you're tone deaf? - and the result is a cataclysm of NO! I want to rip out my beautiful fur to make little kitty earplugs!
MK: I'm sure you could gather enough fur off my clothes and the furniture so you don't need to rip out fur.
BC: No. The ripping is necessary as an expression of disgust and anguish at being exposed to such horrors!
MK: Cat treats?
MK: Does that make it better?
BC: What? You think I can be bought off with noms?
BC: A little.
MK: Meow.
BC: That will cost you the rest of the bag.
MK: You drive a hard bargain.
BC: You sing ugly.
MK: I love you, Bear.
BC: Yeah, yeah, me too. That's why I need to protect my hearing from your brutal singing.

On "fake" meat:
BC: This meat on your plate is disgusting!
MK: Get away from my food!
BC: Dis-gust-ing!
MK: It's not meat.
BC: What?
MK: It's meat substitute.
BC: Why would you eat meat substitute?
MK: I'm just trying it - but some people are vegetarians and don't eat animals.
BC: YOU EAT ANIMALS? What, so you adopted me, fattened me up and when I least expect it, you'll roast me over a spit like a pig? Is that why you bought apples this week?
MK: For crying out loud! What do you think meat is, if not animals?
BC: Meat is meat. It comes from the meat farm. There is fishy meat, and chicken meat and pig meat . . . now I'm hungry. How 'bout dropping some of those salmon nuggets in my food bowl?
MK: Leave me to my meat substitute . . . for not liking it, you sure licked it enough.
BC: Eh. It's a step up the fake meat food chain from kibble.
MK: The number one ingredient in your kibble is turkey - it's not fake meat!
BC: It doesn't gobble! Or taste like meat or even like your fake meat!
MK: I'm starting to think I'll never win.
BC: And you JUST figured this out?

On Bear's closet "art:"
BC: I didn't do it!
MK: You didn't pull down a bunch of clothes in my closet - covering the floor with clothes?

BC: Oh. That. He-he. Now THAT was fun. Oh. Right. No, I didn't do it. I get blamed for everything around here!
MK: And why do you think that is?

BC: You don't appreciate my art!
MK: Which means you are responsible for all your artwork.

BC: No, you're just jealous of me so you blame me for everything.
MK: I'm jealous because I wish I could be the phenomenal artist that you are?

BC: Obviously . . . err . . . NO! Not at all.
BC: RATS! I hate you!
MK: Funny. You go around making messes everywhere that I have to clean up, yet YOU hate ME.

BC: You don't appreciate me! THEY ARE NOT MESSES! They are . . . oh, crap! You did it again!
BC: Stop tricking me! I'm never going to admit to anything.
MK: Pretty sure you already did.

BC: I don't remember that. I just remember you being mean to me . . . and not appreciating my . . . err . . . tail!

On Bear's belly:
BC: Momma! Look at my belly! Isn't it cute?
MK: The cutest. I'm so tempted to touch it . . .

BC: Rub my belly, Momma!
MK: Being invited to give the cat you love so much a belly rub? The best present EVER! Even better than winning the lottery.

BC: PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR . . . You're the best Momma ever!
MK: I love you, Bear.


On touching:
BC: You're touching me.
MK: Yes.
BC: You're still touching me.
MK: Yes.
BC: Why are you touching me?
MK: You are laying on my chest and we're snuggling.

BC: That is irrelevant. Why are you touching me?
MK: Because sometimes you are so incredibly cute that I can't help it. I mean that cooing thing you do right before and right after you purr . . . and the deep rolling purr . . . it just gets me every time and I'm filled with love for you.

BC: So this is a problem with your self-control.
MK: No, I think it's a problem with you being so cute and so lovable.

BC: Mmmm . . . hmmm . . . mmmm . . . hmmm . . . {sigh} Yes, I see the problem. I am just too cute. It's a burden to bear, but true. I'm irresistible. And everyone loves me.
BC: You're touching me.
MK: Oh, okay. You want to lay on me, but not be touched by me.
BC: Thank you.
{a few minutes pass}
BC: You're not touching me.
MK: What?
BC: You're still not touching me.
MK: Sorry?
BC: Why aren't you touching me?
{Momma pets Bear}
BC: Cooooooo . . . . PURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR . . .

On movie menus:
BC: I really like this movie, what is it?
MK: It's the menu.
BC: It's a movie about a menu?
MK: No, that's the menu of the movie.
BC: Even better! Because I'd like to order some of those yellow guys in overalls. I keep licking the screen but missing them!
MK: You're licking the screen?
BC: You took the remote with you - I couldn't use that to order them!
MK: Stop licking the TV screen!
BC: Then order me my little yellow critters!
MK: No, the menu isn't for food, it's for the movie - like a menu of scenes and special features.

BC: Lies! That's a table of contents, not a menu! I can stick my fangs into the contents of a menu!
MK: Pe-tay-toe, pe-tah-toe.

BC: Are those on the menu?
MK: NO! There IS NO menu!

BC: So how do I get the little yellow guys?
MK: You don't.

BC: This movie SUCKS!
MK: Maybe you should wait for it to start to judge.

BC: Why watch a movie about something you can't have? That's masochistic!
MK: I guess you have a point.
BC: See! If you listened to me morer, you'd be smarterer!
MK: Exactly.

On Momma's craziness:
BC: AHHHHHH! What was that? That almost hit me! My life flashed before my eyes! Are you trying to kill me? AGAIN?
MK: No, I just threw the phone on the couch for when I get back from the bathroom and it bounced over the back of the couch . . . hit the blinds . . . and then fell on the floor.
{Momma pauses to think about it and starts laughing hysterically}
BC: What? WHAT?!?!? Why are you laughing? This is an outrage!
{Momma laughs harder}
BC: Have you been taking your medication? I demand an answer!
{Momma keeps laughing}
BC: Get a hold of yourself, woman! If you pass out, I AM NOT giving you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!
MK: {stops laughing long enough to say} It flew at least seven feet from where you were . . . {then dissolves back into laughter}.

BC: As I said, it ALMOST HIT ME! What's so funny? What is WRONG with you? I don't like this! I don't like this AT ALL!
MK: It's just been a long day . . .

BC: You're telling me! I almost DIED! Because of your negligence!
MK: I needed this.

BC: Why can't you relax like normal people?!?!?
MK: Oh, Bear, I love you.

BC: No! No! Don't touch me! You're crazy! You'll try to kill me!
BC: Oh. Oooooohhh. That feels good. Move it a little to the left . . . now THAT'S an ear rub. My back needs scratching . . . oh, yes, just like that!

On strange ducks:
MK: Don't you think you're being slightly dramatic?

BC: Slightly? You insult me, madam. I clearly have not taught you to fully appreciate the dramatic.
MK: I meant that as an understatement.

BC: There is nothing understated about this tabby!
MK: You are one strange duck.

BC: Pardon me, but I am all cat.
MK: You're right. Strange is a synonym for cat and therefore is redundant when used with the word, "cat." However, I used it with "duck."

BC: There are no synonyms for "cat," we are completely unique! Now ducks are strange. All that quacking and preening all over the place.
MK: Do you ever listen to yourself?

BC: Duh! That's one of the greatest pleasures of being me. Proper reverence from you wouldn't hurt. Don't hate me because I'm pretty!
MK: I think I need some ibuprofen and a dark, quiet room.

BC: Serves you right! It might take two to tango, but the cat will always be the last one standing.

On boxes:
BC: NOOOOOOOO! You aren't going to get me in there unless it's over my dead body! HELP! Momma's trying to kill me! AHHHHHHHHHHHH! Bear abuse!
MK: It's a box. Cats usually love boxes. Since you refuse to go near one, I was just hoping you might try one and change your mind.

BC: No . . . that's a torture device!
MK: See?!?!? I can sit in the box and nothing bad happens . . . err . . . oops . . . it seems that the box was a bit too small for me . . . can you help me pull this off?
BC: Oh, if only I knew where the camera was . . .
MK: Bear! Help! Don't just sit there laughing!
BC: Now you know what it felt like when I got the plastic bag handle stuck around my body . . . you couldn't stop laughing . . . but I was TRAUMATIZED! Anyway, NOT MY PROBLEM. Ciao!
{Bear calmly struts away}
MK: Bear??? Bear?!?!?! BEAR!!!

On naughty claws:
MK: Bear! I hear you back there! Your claws are ripping up the back of my chair!
BC: Who is this Bear of whom you speak?
MK: Bear, knock it off!
BC: There is no Bear here . . . though rumor has it he's a pretty cool and bad-ass cat! You should probably fear him!

MK: I'm not stupid . . . you are the only living thing in here with long claws.
{Momma swings the chair around)
BC: What . . .
MK: Hi Bear! Amazing finding you behind a chair that is being ripped up.

BC: Who me? I'm just a cute little kitty cat! I've been framed! I saw the little miscreant run that way!
MK: Right.

BC: It was only by my bravery to confront the evil-doer that he ran away! You should thank me. Without me, he'd still be ripping up your chair!
MK: Right.

BC: It was a run-by clawing!
MK: Which reminds me . . . I need to clip your claws!

BC: WHAT?!?!? Why must I pay for the wickedness of other cats? You know I'd NEVER destroy anything that belongs to me!
MK: Judging by the sound the shredding made, I think your claws are long enough.

BC: Over my dead body! Put me down! I hate you! BEAR ABUSE! Your abominable behavior will be noted and revenged! Now you know why I destroy things . . . err . . . I mean . . . RATS!

On buying food that's not really food:
MK: Guess what, Bear? I bought you food!

BC: Gimme, gimme, gimme! Fishy, fishy, fishy! Come to papa sweet fishy!
MK: Not that kind of food. Kibble.

BC: That's NOT food . . . that's . . .
MK: Don't make me bleep you. And besides, I'm sure homeless, hungry kitties, just like you used to be, would LOVE your kibble.

BC: Like that does me any good! Why can't I have fishy all the time?
MK: Because you like to free feed and I can't leave fishy out all day.

BC: Maybe you can get me a fish tank and I can grab myself a snack when I'm hungry. Fresh!
MK: A) I'm pretty sure if a fish swam in your direction, I'd find you under the bed - even though it couldn't "get" you through the glass, B) You always whine when your paws get wet even though you're the one sticking them in water, and C) You have no idea what to do with a whole fish and would just spend hours licking it.
BC: So when do I get my fish tank?
MK: Never.
BC: I hate you.
MK: That's why I feed you kibble.
BC: Oh . . . you . . . I just . . . that's . . . PHHT!
{Bear struts off to hide out in his corner and pout}
MK: My mistake . . .

On grass buffets:
BC: Grass buffet here I come! Oh grass! I love you! You are the best ever! And you are so pretty . . . even when I regurgitate you back up! Yummy, yummy, yummy. Grass in my tummy!
MK: Inside!
BC: Bite me!
MK: If you insist . . .
BC: No! Don't touch me! I hate you!
MK: Oh, Bear . . . I'm not going to bite you . . .
BC: Wait, what?!?!? Put me down! I'm not going inside! Over my dead body! PUT ME DOWN!
{Door closes - Pause}
BC: Rats! Now I'm stuck inside. You can't have my pretty grass! I'm going to "recycle" it in a place you can't find . . .
MK: That's just gross. I don't want to find your regurgitated grass in a few years from now . . .

BC: By then, I'll have eaten it like 100 times.
MK: That is even grosser.

BC: Y-U-M-M-Y!!!
MK: How the heck can you complain that your kibble isn't "real" food, but you eat grass, like it's a great delicacy?!?!?!

BC: Easy. You want me to eat the kibble. You don't want me to eat the grass. Any questions?

On furry catcakes:
{Momma moves her foot off the couch to a seeming explosion of black fur into the air}
MK: I'm sorry! I didn't know you were on the floor, right up against the couch!

BC: You almost stepped on me!
MK: I'm sorry! I'm a bad, bad momma!

BC: Yes, you are! You almost made me a catcake!
MK: I'm sorry. It was an accident.

{Momma holds out her hand, which Bear sniffs}
BC: Do I look like a rug? No wonder you always walk all over me! Bossy, bossy, bossy. And now THIS!
{Momma reaches and pets Bear, tentatively}
BC: PURRRRRRRRR . . . RATS! . . . Leave me alone! There's a mandatory period of time that I get to be mad at you!
BC: Okay, pet me now.
MK: I lov . . .

BC: That's enough. Now leave me alone.
MK: Okaaaay . . .

BC: You have no right to judge! You almost stepped on your sweet, poor, defenseless kitty cat.
MK: Defenseless? DEFENSELESS?!?!?! Your fang was attached to my arm less that 20 seconds ago! And don't even get me started on showing you the scars!
BC: Whatever. This show is BOR-ING! I'm going to go stare at the wall. Please be quiet so that you don't impinge on my viewing pleasure.

On Bear's flying capability:
BC: Momma, you always find a way to clip my wings.
MK: Ummmm . . . okay.
BC: I want to fly - free like an eagle.
MK: You don't actually have wings. And while you call your fur plumage, you don't have feathers either.

BC: Technicality.
MK: Okay. Show me you can fly and I promise to never clip your wings again.

BC: Prepare to be amazed! Oh . . . um . . . right . . . hmmmmm . . . That's inconvenient . . .
MK: I'm waiting . . .

BC: Hold you pants, woman! I am doing my pre-flight checks and there appears to be some technical difficulty.
MK: Yeah. You don't have wings.

BC: You don't know everything! Actually . . . I kind of like it up here . . . I think I'll take a nap.
MK: Do you want help coming down?

BC: Phht. Help. From a human. I got up here all by myself, you know! All your annoying made me sleepy - so now I must slumber.
MK: Bear, there's not enough room up there for you to sleep. Let me help you down.

MK: Fine. How about you jump down and I'll give you some treats. And I promise not to point out that you didn't fly.

BC: I hate you. But only after you give me treats.
MK: Obviously.

On fur thievery:
BC: What happened to you?
MK: What do you mean?
BC: Most of your fur is missing!
MK: I got my hair cut. A lot of it cut.
MK: What?
BC: My plumage is beautiful - I will kill you before you rid me of it.
MK: When have I ever cut or shaved your fur?
BC: There's a first time for everything. I just wanted to be sure we had an understanding. Besides I know you skim a little bit off the top by brushing me. You think I don't know . . . but you are a fur thief!
MK: Bear, I brush your fur to take the dead fur out so you don't shed everywhere and get more hairballs. Besides, it makes your fur extra shiny! And you purr the entire time I brush you and rub yourself all over the brush.
BC: I'm saying good-bye to the fur you steal! I love my fur!
BC: So we have an understanding.
MK: Umm . . . I guess so.
BC: Those jerks at the vet must have shaved the patch of fur after they knocked me out - I was more horrified to wake up with no fur in that area than I was with anything else. If they'd done it while I was able to fight - they would have been the ones knocked out!
MK: Bear, "those jerks," probably saved your life by removing your infected tumor.
BC: But they took my fur! Like 1/4th of my fur! I bet they took extra and saved it because it was so pretty. Fur thieves!
MK: It grew back - you can't even tell anymore.
BC: No more fur thievery! All the lady kitties admire my plumage. Oh! You wouldn't understand . . . your fur isn't pretty like mine . . . and you take no pride in your plumage . . . it just hangs there . . .
MK: You are one-of-a-kind.
BC: I know! That's why everyone wants my fur! Oh, the travails of having gorgeous, sumptuous fur! Such a burden to bear.

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

The Great Bear Cat

As much as Momma Kat and Bear Cat love each other, sometimes the house (or more specifically, Momma's bed) is not big enough for the both of them. Add some jealousy, cattiness, bad habits, and a thesaurus to the mix, and things get even more interesting. How many fancy words can Bear fit into one conversation? How does Momma feel about Bear's demand that he be addressed as, "The Great Bear Cat?" And what randomness with be thrown in to the mix today?

BC: Bear Cat
MK: Momma Kat

The Great Bear Cat (and the thesaurus):
BC: From now on, I want you to call me The Great Bear Cat.

MK: Okay.
BC: T-H-E  G-R-E-A-T  B-E-A-R  C-A-T. Do you need to write that down?
MK: Oh, Bear .  . . 
BC: Repugnant! Invidious! Opprobrious! Insolence! Pay heed how you speak to The Great Bear Cat or you will be compunctious!
MK: I think the blog has gotten to your ego a bit. And I need to take the thesaurus away from you.
BC: I have a public now! People are watching!
MK: I hate to break it to you, but given our readership numbers, you have less of a public and more of a litter of readers.
BC: What?!?!? You must be doing something wrong! I demand a new writer! You're fired!
MK: You don't pay me.
BC: That's beside the point! The Great Bear Cat is above hiring staff.
MK: But you're not above firing staff? Bear? The Great Bear Cat? Hello?
BC: You're fired! See yourself to the door.
MK: But this is my house! You can't kick me out of my house!
BC: Don't make me call security!
MK: Security? We have security now? Or are you just repeating a bunch of crap you've heard elsewhere?
BC: The Great Bear Cat does not repeat. He is an original.
MK: You got that right.
BC: You're still here.
MK: Who will feed you?
BC: RATS! I need some ear rubs right now too . . . are you serviceable?
MK: Sure.
BC: But after that you have to leave . . . when I don't need anything else . . . just be aware that you are simple chattel.
MK: Right. Give me the thesaurus.

Tail thievery:
BC: Remove your big grubby paw from my tail!
MK: What?
BC: I said . . . REMOVE your big grubby paw FROM MY TAIL!
MK: But . . .
MK: I was only moving it so I didn't lay on it!
BC: No. You were trying to steal my tail! I'm not stupid!
MK: Don't be ridiculous.

BC: I've seen you admiring it . . . pining for it to be yours . . . and you think I won't notice?!?!?
MK: Ummm . . . I'm sorry?
BC: Is this why you've been researching re-tailers? So you can annex my tail?
MK: What? Oh, you mean "retailers." I have to buy a birthday present for my nephew. I'm not looking to attach your tail to myself.
BC: Hmph. My tail wouldn't make you any cuter anyway. How do you live with yourself . . . trying to steal a little, cute, kitty cat's tail? Do you have no moral compass? No sense of right and wrong?
MK: This from the cat that has no qualms stealing my stuff.
BC: MY stuff.
MK: Oh, fine. I'm always wrong. You're always right. And I am woefully inept at being in the presence of such grandeur as The Great Bear Cat.
BC: That sounds sarcastic . . . but you speak the truth . . . so I will pretend that is all I hear.
MK: Magnificent.
BC: Yow! You laid on my tail! How rude! Can't you see this place is taken? That's my tail!
MK: Bear, you don't have to treat your tail like a fancy car that parks in the middle of three spaces just so no one could possibly hit it.
BC: You want to run over my tail?
MK: Oh, for crying out loud! I'm going to sleep on the couch!
{Momma lays on the couch, Bear comes running}
BC: MommmmMMMMA!
MK: Now what?
BC: Don't you want to snuggle?
MK: Well, yes, that was what I was hoping for to begin with! But that meant moving your tail so I could touch you without laying on your tail.
BC: Never mind. I don't feel like snuggling anymore.
MK: Because I want to?
BC: You don't know everything!
MK: Are you TRYING to funk with my sanity?
BC: I didn't realize you had any in there.
MK: Fantastic.

Momma's bad habits:
BC: Momma? How do you get a candy bar named after you?
MK: I don't know . . . why?
BC: Liar! I see your Kit Kats! And your name is "Kat."
MK: Those are just a coincidence, they aren't related to my name.
BC: But I want a Bear Blockbuster Bar!
MK: And that would be . . .
BC: Lots of chunks of fishy . . . a whole chicken . . . all smooshed together and coated with gravy.
MK: Ummmmm . . . eww?!?!
BC: I guess we can include an ewe . . .
MK: No, I mean, YUCK!
BC: You don't see me judging when I watch you eat (BLEEP) Kit Kats a day! Hey! YOU BLEEPED ME! It was just a number - not a bad word!
MK: Not everyone needs to know how many Kit Kats I eat a day.
BC: Oh yeah? Well, how about when you (BLEEP) the (BLEEEEEEEEEEP) and then (BLEEEEEP)ing (BLEEP)!
BC: I see you typing the bleeps! What, so you only share MY unfortunate incidents but you can't admit to your peccadilloes?!?! That is so unfair!
MK: I like my privacy. At least from the rest of the world . . . since you have no sense of boundaries and I can't do ANYTHING without an audience. And the blog is about you - not my craziness.
BC: I'm going to start a blog based on your bad habits and call it . . . . Kat . . . Kat . . . Something-bad-that-I'll-figure-out-later! I'll tell everybody about how you (BLEEP) and (BLEEP) when you (BLEEP) and (BLEEP). ARG! I hate you!
BC: Hey! Where are you going? You are NOT closing the door! I NEED TO BE IN THERE WITH YOU!
MK: Well, if you're going to tell everyone what I do, you can't watch.
BC: You're mean. You are totally, inexcusably, discriminatory! I have rights! OPEN THE DOOR! Momma! Momma?!?!?! I promise to keep all your filthy secrets . . . just LET ME IN! I HAVE TO BE IN THERE WITH YOU!!!
MK: The door isn't closed all the way, Smarty-Pants!
BC: Oh! I knew that . . . 
{Bear pushes the door open with his nose and looks around}
BC: Hmph! You think you're so important . . . I don't want to watch you anyway. The Great Bear Cat has better and more exciting things to do!
{Bear prances off}

Is Momma a lost cause?
BC: What happened to you? You look horrible!
MK: Gee, thanks. I tossed and turned all night and didn't get much sleep.
BC: Yeah, well, your tossing and turning kept waking me up but you don't see me walking around looking like that!
MK: But you nap all day. And besides . . . you wake me up at least five times every night because you require attention!
BC: Hmph. The next time you can't sleep, do me a favor and leave my bed!
MK: It's MY bed . . . and you have 50 other places to sleep . . . 
BC: You appear confused . . . perhaps because of your lack of sleep?
MK: Oh, never mind. This never ends well for me.
BC: Neither will another night of keeping me up because you have no self control!
MK: What does that have to do with it?
BC: If you cared about me at all, you'd be quiet and lay still.
MK: I was trying to get comfortable!
BC: And what about the dramatic sighs . . . were those necessary to get "comfortable" too?
MK: You have no right to lecture ME on dramatic sighs!
BC: I see you didn't answer my question.
MK: And who did I learn that as well as the dramatic sighs from?
BC: I know. I know. I'm an internet celebrity and my public loves me! You copy all the cute little things I do, hoping they'll make you cute too. Perhaps you should find your own ways of cuteness?
BC: Oh, who am I kidding . . . some times you just need to recognize when it becomes a lost cause.
MK: Hey! I hear you!
BC: Can I have a treat?
MK: What?
BC: A treat? That chicken or salmon flavored tidbit you drop in my food bowl every so often?
MK: Where did that come from?
BC: The treat factory? 
BC: You've been VERY miserly with the treats recently.
MK: I could bang my head on a wall and feel more listened to.
BC: Your lack of sleep is clearly causing you difficulty . . . just give me the treat bag and I'll take care of the rest! Or, you could not give me a treat, lay down and try to sleep, and then have a can of hungry cat open on your (BLEEP)! Then you REALLY will know what it's like to not sleep.
MK: You do that to me all the time already!
BC: Momma! Focus! We're talking about treats!
MK: {mumbling to herself, somewhat mockingly} "have a can of hungry cat open on your . . . "  What's next?
BC: I'll be by my food bowl whenever you're done with whatever you are doing . . . Oh, and don't make me wait. The Great Bear Cat DOES NOT wait!

Poor Bear must sleep on the couch because Momma's tossing and turning in bed, and he needs his beauty rest