ya hasta turn yer sound 'way up loud to hear, but he's purring while he's chirping. he walks around the whole day, chirping, like it's necessary for breathing!
30 December 2008
29 December 2008
i am surely not without sin in respect to co-existing with pets, nor did i ever claim to be. but no single cat or dog i ever had ever came close to such danger and tragedy, let alone several of them. luck? probably some. concerted effort on my part and that of my family? certainly.
and on the subject of "judging", these phrases are in the christian bible, too:
# 1Cor. 6:2-3 Do you not know that the saints [the saved] will judge the world? And if you are to judge the world, are you not competent to judge trivial cases? Do you not know that we will judge angels? How much more the things of this life!
# Prov. 3:21 My son, preserve sound judgment and discernment, do not let them out of your sight;
# John 7:24 Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgment. (NB: while i no longer advocate debalconization or immurement, i still feel my judgment--as a peer [cat owner and human]--was valid).
# Jer. 22:3 Thus saith the LORD; Execute ye judgment and righteousness...
having had more than one cat (like kim), i can truly say i've learned more than a little about how they think and where they hide (or can get into and not out of). and because the lid is shut or the door is closed or whatever does NOT mean the kitty is not in there; the lid or door was not always closed, no matter what you think.
yes, of course we irate kitty-bloggers realized from the git-go that kitties are endowed with "amazing spirit and power"; from what i construe by considering the responses of the cat blogosphere folk is that we collectively decried the fact that poor bess had to live through such a horrible experience to demonstrate it, and that the story was presented in a light manner, rather than as a cautionary tale.
oh, and by the bye, ed, nitro and xing lu are "The MEOWERS from Missouri".
This is Nikita's Human. ;-D
My cat Nikita is my co-blogger in the Nikita's Place wing of Musings of a Mad Macedonian, and he is also a Catster, though he hasn't postred there since April, we are sad to admit.
I read your post about the Bess Story at the LA Times.
I've posted a long, and involving, essay in response to the Besstroversy, on Nikita's wing of my Blog.
If you want to spread the word go right ahead.
CatBloggers Fur Ruffled, Hackles Raised, Cough Up and Toss Hairballs =
TB = http://www.typepad.com/services/trackback/6a00d8341ca35a53ef010536995b2a970b
If ya want to burn me at the stake for a heratic, that's fine, too, I'll supply the marshmellows! ;-D
Your friend in CatBlogging,
Putting the ING in Blogging Since Spring 2003!
Musings of a Mad Macedonian = http://www.madmacedonian.com
Nikita's Place = http://www.madmacedonian.com/nikitas_place/
28 December 2008
we want to make this crystal clear: WE DO NOT CONDONE HER ACTIONS IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FORM (past or present). (and by the way, the phrase "stupid Russian maid" pissed us off, too; you can be stupid without being identified as a Russian.)
we felt that since there was more to the story, you should see it. the pain an' fear that poor bess surely must have suffered throughout the ordeal keeps our mom from fallin' asleep at night; as kitties (an' beans who love kitties), we cannot help but be empaths who quiver at every tweaked nerve in one of our own.
our own personal stick-in-the-brain question is, "how did she continue to live for nine (9, count them) weeks without food OR WATER?" food, maybe. water? never. we just cannot (among other facets of this case) get past that "fact". we finks this would indeed be a true miracle. are there any vetties or vet techs among us who could verify that this would be possible?
granted, miracles are things that can't be explained. so was this a miracle? yes--for bess. but a tragedy? yes--that she had to experience what she did to receive it.
27 December 2008
YOU feel blessed? You darn well oughta feel ashamed. BESS is the one who is blessed, and NOT by you, but by G*d. It would be a sin if you EVER get another pet. They're not just "things" that "come and go", to be "picked up". They're living beings with minds and feelings who live, feel happiness, and suffer--just like humans.
The thing that sticks in my craw is that you wrote this in an attempt at levity. I can hardly think of anything more pitiful.
Irately (still, two days after first reading the article),
Cheryl C. Pierce
well, by golly, here is her response:
I think a lot of people were similarly upset by my story (though thankfully, many also saw through to what was originally intended, a testimonial to the amazing spirit and power of one Small Cat.)
I am pasting below a response I wrote up to help explain things a little bit more than my story did.
Also, let me give you an update: Bess has recovered nearly all of her eyesight, and most of her old spunk. She is racing around the kitchen and pouncing on her catnip mouse, and resuming her old habit of burying her face in the crook of my elbow when she wants to wind down. (I wish I had an elbow sometimes...) I think she's going to be fine.
Here's what I wrote yesterday:
I have gotten many wonderful emails from people about my story of Bess, and a whole lot from readers who were shocked at what happened to Bess, and my lousy record of pet ownership.
I am sending this out in an attempt to explain what happened, and why I wrote the story as I did.
Many of you will dismiss this as a sorry attempt to make excuses. Well, it is.
Let me start by saying that none of these reactions came as a surprise to me. As a lifelong cat lover (I find I am someone who likes animals better than people in many ways) there is no way I would have put all that in the story without knowing how many people (such as myself) would react.
I can tell you that none of the horrors that have gone through your mind can match those that have inhabited mine. Why didn't Bess meow? I've gone through it a million times. Did she leap in there while someone was getting a blanket out and then get hit on the head as the door was closing? Did she run quickly out of oxygen and go into a semi-comatose state? Did one of the children at the barbecue accidentally close her in a door or step on her, and then hide her in the cabinet because they were afraid to admit what happened? (I can tell you that while I described these as "blowout" parties in the story, they were not as many of you seem to imagine alcohol-fueled orgies. They were big dinner parties with lots of laughter and kids and Van Morrison on the iPod, the kind of events where the cats usually get cuddled and played with and which one would hardly expect would be a menacing event.
Why in the hell didn't I look in the windowseat? I went on every possible lost cat website, and every one of them told you to search your own house and outbuildings immediately. We looked under beds, in closets, in the kitchen cabinets, and called her name all over the house. We open the windowseat perhaps twice a year. It just never occurred to me that she could possibly be in there, particularly since she had been seen the night of the barbecue. I was simply SURE she had escaped the house, because of the open window in the guest room, and I knew those coyotes were in the woods very nearby.
As far as my history with cats, I have no appetite for making excuses, other than to tell you that I have always been a loving and careful steward of my cats. Amanda's foray hiding behind the dryer happened at the home of my friend while I was gone on vacation, and of course she was none the worse for her period of seclusion. Mario was locked out on the balcony by my husband, after I had already gone down to the car. We had an iron-clad rule in the house not to leave the balcony door open when the cats were roaming free in the house, and my husband violated that rule one evening when I was at the office, thinking Peter was asleep in my daughter's room. We got screens the next day--miserably, lamely, a day too late. Marie was closed in the dryer by my idiot Russian housekeeper, again, while I was at work (she, too, was OK despite it.) Katya was allowed to go outside and did escape our yard and got hit by a bus, and I am single-handedly responsible for this. I shouldn't have let her go outside. I let her and Kolya out in our garden in because they literally begged at the door, and seemed gloriously happy when they were let out, miserable when they were not. Nonetheless, I made a decision after that to never again let my cats go outside.
I included the litany of cat tragedies in my story about Bess as a means of full disclosure. If I was going to write about what happened to Bess--which happened in my house, to my cat, and which ultimately, like all of it, was MY FAULT--then I needed to face up to what had happened in the past. I didn't include it to minimize the tragedies that had befallen our cats in the past, every one of which brought unending tears to my family, I can't even tell you how many, though I wrote about it in a glosssed-over way for purposes of this Christmas story. I needed to include evidence of our family's past sins, I think, to show just how big a miracle happened to us. We deserved the grace of Bess's survival less than anyone I know. And yet it happened. I am humbled and awed and deeply, deeply thankful.
it doesn't make us any happier to know the back-story, but we rejoice to know that bess is better, and that the bean realizes that this WAS a big deal, not a witty story. yes, we is bloody-minded an' inflexible when it comes to stupidity, neglect, an' cruelty that results in critters suffering. we happily admits it, an' will nefur change.
26 December 2008
24 December 2008
23 December 2008
22 December 2008
21 December 2008
I had this idea that I was going to rope a deer, put it in a stall, feed it up on corn for a couple of weeks, then kill it and eat it. The first step in this adventure was getting a deer. I figured that, since they congregated at my cattle feeder and do not seem to have much fear of me when we are there (a bold one will sometimes come right up and sniff at the bags of feed while I am in the back of the truck not 4 feet away), it should not be difficult to rope one, get up to it and toss a bag over its head (to calm it down) then hog tie it and transport it home.
I filled the cattle feeder then hid down at the end with my rope. The cattle, having seen the roping thing before, stayed well back. They were not having any of it. After about 20 minutes, my deer showed up -- 3 of them.
I picked out a likely looking one, stepped out from the end of the feeder, and threw my rope. The deer just stood there and stared at me. I wrapped the rope around my waist and twisted the end so I would have a good hold. The deer still just stood and stared at me, but you could tell it was mildly concerned about the whole rope situation.
I took a step towards it... it took a step away. I put a little tension on the rope and received an education.
The first thing that I learned is that, while a deer may just stand there looking at you funny while you rope it, they are spurred to action when you start pulling on that rope. That deer EXPLODED.
The second thing I learned is that pound for pound, a deer is a LOT stronger than a cow or a colt. A cow or a colt in that weight range I could fight down with a rope with some dignity. A deer, no chance.
That thing ran and bucked and twisted and pulled. There was no controlling it and certainly no getting close to it. As it jerked me off my feet and started dragging me across the ground, it occurred to me that having a deer on a rope was not nearly as good an idea as I originally imagined.
The only upside is that they do not have as much stamina as many animals. A brief 10 minutes later, it was tired and not nearly as quick to jerk me off my feet and drag me when I managed to get up. It took me a few minutes to realize this, since I was mostly blinded by the blood flowing out of the big gash in my head.
At that point, I had lost my taste for corn-fed venison. I just wanted to get that devil creature off the end of that rope. I figured if I just let it go with the rope hanging around its neck, it would likely die slow and painfully somewhere. At the time, there was no love at all between me and that deer. At that moment, I hated the thing, and I would venture a guess that the feeling was mutual.
Despite the gash in my head and the several large knots where I had cleverly arrested the deer's momentum by bracing my head against various large rocks as it dragged me across the ground, I could still think clearly enough to recognize that there was a small chance that I shared some tiny amount of responsibility for the situation we were in, so I didn't want the deer to have to suffer a slow death, so I managed to get it lined back up in between my truck and the feeder - a little trap I had set before hand . . . kind of like a squeeze chute. I got it to back in there and started moving up so I could get my rope back.
Did you know that deer bite? They do! I never in a million years would have thought that a deer would bite somebody, so I was very surprised when I reached up there to grab that rope and the deer grabbed hold of my wrist. Now, when a deer bites you, it is not like being bit by a horse where they just bite you and then let go. A deer bites you and shakes its head -- almost like a pit bull. They bite HARD and it hurts.
The proper thing to do when a deer bites you is probably to freeze and draw back slowly. I tried screaming and shaking instead. My method was ineffective. It seems like the deer was biting and shaking for several minutes, but it was likely only several seconds. I, being smarter than a deer (though you may be questioning that claim by now), tricked it.
While I kept it busy tearing the bejeebers out of my right arm, I reached up with my left hand and pulled that rope loose. That was when I got my final lesson in deer behavior for the day. Deer will strike at you with their front feet. They rear right up on their back feet and strike right about head and shoulder level, and their hooves are surprisingly sharp.
I learned a long time ago that when an animal like a horse strikes at you with their hooves and you can't get away easily, the best thing to do is try to make a loud noise, and make an aggressive move towards the animal. This will usually cause them to back down a bit so you can escape.
This was not a horse. This was a deer, so obviously, such trickery would not work. In the course of a millisecond, I devised a different strategy. I screamed like a woman and tried to turn and run.
The reason I had always been told NOT to try to turn and run from a horse that paws at you is that there is a good chance that it will hit you in the back of the head. Deer may not be so different from horses after all, besides being twice as strong and 3 times as evil, because the second I turned to run, it hit me right in the back of the head and knocked me down.
Now, when a deer paws at you and knocks you down, it does not immediately leave. I suspect it does not recognize that the danger has passed. What they do instead is paw your back and jump up and down on you while you are laying there crying like a little girl and covering your head. I finally managed to crawl under the truck and the deer went away.
19 December 2008
17 December 2008
16 December 2008
UPDATE: thanks, dana an' meezer guys!! now all we need is to figger out how it got down there an' how to get it back. any suggestions from the more techie cats or beans??
oh, an' mom sez she's proud of us--the catsmas tree survived its first night. now we'll see what happens during the day! xing sleeps in her room an' cocoa sleeps inna beans' den at night, so things should be more aciting today! ;-D
15 December 2008
ed sez: i think they need a little christmas spirit seminar;-)
12 December 2008
Swedish man rescued from tree
Posted on: Thursday, 11 December 2008, 11:00 CST
A Swedish man said the fire department had to be called for a rescue after he followed his cat up a tree and was unable to get down.
The Kristineberg, Sweden, man said he climbed the tree Wednesday after his cat had been stuck for several days and panicked when he found himself about 50 feet above the ground, The Local reported Thursday. The man said he called emergency services after he found himself unable to climb down due to fear of the height.
It was kind of a funny assignment and certainly out of the ordinary. Once he was way up in the tree, the man didn't dare to come down, emergency worker Torbjorn Nilsson told The Local.
Nilsson said the situation had a happy ending for both man and cat.
Source: United Press International
First we took down the cat, then the guy, said Nilsson.
Everything ended well.
09 December 2008
01 December 2008
we all needed extra sleep acause mom an' dad moved alla our comfy chairs outta the warm room an' into ofur rooms yesterday, an' then some guy brought a giant two-headed rug sucker to our house an' rug-sucked for what woulda been squillions of naps, except nocat could sleep on accounta the noise. when he was done an' alla the comfy chairs was back where they belonged, efurrywhere smelled funny an' not furry much like xena or nels (or any of us, for that matter) anymore. the new smell isn't bad, it just ain't familyer. we can take care of THAT! ;-)
27 November 2008
best fishes from alla us meowers--
ed, nitro, an' xingxing (an' mom, dad, an' cocoa!)
20 November 2008
what? what did you say, nitro? the camera adds 10 lbs? well, sure, if you're carryin' it--some of 'em are pretty big, but . . . what? no!!! no!!! that's not true!!! i KNOW it's not true!!! ***LALALALALALALALACAN'THEARYOULALALALALALALALALACAN'THEARYOU***
(running feets) Mama!Mama! nitro sez i'm gonna be fat onna CCSI program--you KNOW i'm not fat!!! i know i'm not fat!! i'm furry dainty an' has small princessy feets, too!! he's lyin', he's lyin', he's just jealous, i know he is!!! he din't get asked to be on CCSI like i did, an' he's just sayin' that to be mean 'cause that's how he is, he's just
*drool* mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. catnip. *roll* *roll* *drool*
ahhhhh. *ladylike snore* *several more . . . * *deep, dreamless sleep*
(crisis averted--mom wonders, is this what "herbal lady" means?)
18 November 2008
an' while she was gone, we were each an' efurry one of us furry good, so she brought us goodies frum a furpersons' BOO-TEEK called scratch 'n' sniff (an' told us not to get useta such high-falutin' vittles). (well, they prolly won't let her back in there anyways, since she says she spent the whole time LOLin'.) cocoa went to the day hunting place wif dad efurry day, so she gots the t-shirt woofie cookie that's even gots frostin! the lamb & liver treats are fur anofur day.
we, of course, were our usual mild-mannered selfs, so we got the bonito flakes. but then we got inna fight ofur them when daddy opened the jar. we know why they went missin' at skeezix & mao's house!! we doesn't know what "herrings" are, but mom sez they're chewier than "earrings", so we fink we'll like them. we gets to try them tonight.an' gramma gave mom this really kyoot purse for christmas (acause mom & dad prolly won't be able to visit her then). she allus finds really neat kitty stuff for mom even though she can't use the innernets to shop, so we guesses there must really BE a world outside our virtual one . . . ;-D
17 November 2008
11 November 2008
mom hasta go to chicago tomorrow mornin' acause her daddy's hafin' eye surgery fur his clawcoma (pressure's 40+ in each eye, should be 20 or less), an' to haf a catarak removed. we dunno why anybean would want anything "claw" or "cat" removed, but the doctor sez it's gotta get done so grampa kin maybe see a little again. he's 95 an' furry creaky, so we hopes you will all purr an' purrray fur him an' his surgeon & team. an' fur gramma, who's 91 an' don't take stuff like this furry well anymore. an' fur mom, so she can stay awake for the whole trip; that would be good. she's drivin' by herself acause daddy's doin' inventory an' boybean can't get loose of work.
daddy don't know nuffin' 'bout birthin' no blogposts, so unless we gets the chance to consult wif mom by cellphone an' she can find a public computer, we'll be quiet but wif efurry one of you in spirit. we'll be purrin' an' purrrayin' fur alla our furriends for whatefur their needs might be. we loves you all!!
10 November 2008
here, cocoa is saying, "please, can't i get on yer lap, too?" poor woofie; she was furry traumatized while they were gone. she went to stay wif our bean brofur, but he don't live where he useta. he an' his kitty powder moved in wif his girlfriend leslie an' her two kitties (thomas an' karma), an' so it was a unfamiliar place an' had two strange kitties to deal wif. she hasn't even let daddy go potty by himself since they came home!!ahhhhh! comfy at last!! daddy sure loves her to let her do this acause she squishes all kindsa important stuff when she wiggles around to get comfy!
08 November 2008
05 November 2008
01 November 2008
31 October 2008
24 October 2008
Woman, 61, fights off deer in attack on poodle
By John Grant Emeigh - 10/22/2008
Carol Lince said she had to fight a doe when it charged her in her yard at her home just south of Silver Star, about 35 miles southeast of Butte.
Lince said she sustained bruises where the deer rammed its head into her abdomen area.
"I'm still sore today," she told The Montana Standard Tuesday afternoon.
Lince said she had let her three poodles outside, when she heard one "screaming bloody murder." She went outside and saw a deer attacking the smallest dog.
"I see this big ‘ole doe that's ramming him into the ground," Lince recalled.
Lince kicked at the deer's hind legs to try to get the animal off her dog. That's when the deer turned around.
"When it looked at me I realized I bit off a little more than I can chew, but I'm going to fight," she said.
She said the deer rammed her with its head and pushed her into her fence. Lince balled up her fists and started walloping the deer's head until it eventually jumped her fence and ran off.
Lince said her dog, whose name happens to be "Little Fighter," was pronounced OK after it was checked by a veterinarian.
Butte area game warden Matt Strozewski said deer can become aggressive toward animals or people.
"Any wild animal can become aggressive," Strozewski said.
He added that deer can become especially aggressive during rut.
Lince, a longtime carrier for The Montana Standard, said she didn't think twice about confronting the deer because she is protective of her poodles.
"I'm not a wimp; I don't back down," she said.
23 October 2008
- Nitro, please do NOT headbutt my hand while I’m painting this earring. Please! Pl . . . damn. C’mere, you—you wanna magenta mustache?
- Which one of you hairy warts knocked the lid off that saucepan? You don’t even LIKE cauliflower.
- Hey, fatboy, who told you you could sit on my plate?
- Jeez, Ed! Where do you keep your nose? In the icebox??
- I’m going to de-whisker the next mother’s son of you that licks the butter stick!
- Nitro, you are NOT lost. If you MUST holler like that, please go in the laundry room where the echo is better, and it’s far enough away that you won’t drown out the TV.
- What criminal mastermind picked open the liquor cabinet door? And why???!!
- Xing, this is MY litterbox room—you have your own. I need no help whatsoever.
- How did the timer for the living room light get all screwed up? Have one of you been scratching an itch on it?
- Baby girl, you can’t fit in th . . . oh, never mind. I guess you can. But can you get out?
- Is it possible that yet another sweet, cute, adorable, cuddly kitty has deposited a hairwad the size of Cincinnati on daddy’s shoe? I suppose he should be glad it’s not IN his shoe.
- I love you kitties, I really, really do.
22 October 2008
mom sez she don't know why this day is any different from any other day--we all shows our 'tocks EFURRY day. well, she din't azactly say "'tocks", but this is a fambly blog. (maybe the phrase she used is just ozarkese, but we hasn't nefur heard any ofur beans but ozarkers. if you're in any doubt, mail us through our profile an' we'll splain it to you.)
15 October 2008
14 October 2008
06 October 2008
02 October 2008
it IS furry funny, judging by her stifled giggles an' snorts an' out-an-out haw-haws. but tell yer beans they shouldn't aspect to drop any poundage while readin'--it just ain't true. she keeps sayin' she's laffin' her butt off, but it looks just as wide as efurr to us!
01 October 2008
he was sweepin' up the scattered litter an' other stuff (ed can't manage to poop inna litter box if it was as big as a kiddie pool) inna laundry room, an' went to dump it all inna wastebasket. too bad the dirty clo'es basket was right next to it. yup. the dirty clo'es is lots dirtier now. *smirk* usually, it's mom who's the ditz. [HEY! don't i get a little respect here?] nope, mom. not when you allus furget to check if the spray bottle is set on "mist" insteada "stun the kitty". you deserves it when you blasts yerself inna head efurry morning!
26 September 2008
me-yarrr, mateys. thank'ee one an' all fur yer constant comradeship an' largesse--ye've made me later years full o'fun an' excitement. finer furriends a kitty never had. i'll be waitin' for ye all beyond that final cloudbank. arrrr, that i will. *headbonk*
our bereft fambly blesses you all, an' covets yer kind thoughts an' purrrayers. we begs t'inform ye that there be no wake nor obsequies. nels celebrated them hisself wif ye on the voyage; he knew then that t'would be his last. it were his wish that ye not know til he were gone.
21 September 2008
nels: whoa, ye hardheads! have a care where ye're tramplin'!! spread out an' slow down--we know not what form the treasure takes, nor whether it haf guards livin' or dead!
HARK! d'ye hear that? there be voices ahead . . . *a platoon of kitties, bowsprits low, afts high, tails waving slowly, creep through the underbrush*
:whispered: easy now, easy, lads. i sees movement up ahead!
:whispered: there be th' glint o' GOLD--GOLD!! we's found it--an' the few guards i see be live, an' precious small, if truth be told. we can take 'em, lads . . . careful now . . . careful . . .
:a hissing, yowling, spitting tidal wave of cats erupts from the jungle and engulfs the diminutive guards. claws flash in the subdued sunlight and it looks like dirty work will be done, 'til tiny voices ring out:
cap'n jack! cap'n jack--d'ye not know me, yer own crew???? look ye--'tis me, fagin!!
yes, an' me, skullcrusher left-eye, an' all us younglings!!
HOLD! HOLD, ye blackguards!! HOLD, i say!! what the devil has we here?
oh, cap'n nels--ye would not slay a kitten, would ye? we be yer junior crewmates, out to PLAYPLAYPLAY!!! (yes, PLAYPLAYPLAY!!!) we chased an' ran an' founded this tall feller who nefur moves. he be right pleasant t'climb upon, an' we can swing from his hook an' perch on his hat, an' take all manner o'liberties wif him, an' he nefur swats er pushes us away! can we keep him, cap'n nels?
keep him? i sh'd say not, ye silly kitt. he be a golden statcher, what be worth many a green paper in th' beans' world. we be haulin' him aboard the cat an' sailin' fur the nearest port, where we be sellin' him t' the highest bidder. we'll gain enough coin an' paper t'buy ye more (an' lighter-weight) toys, more toys than all o'ye could play wif in a month o' sundays. an' vittles fer all! an' a fine ship or two . . . an' we be endowin' an' old pirate cat's home fur them what retires from our fine but rigorous profession. there'll be warm, cozy spots for nappin', a keg o' the finest on efurry table, an' hammmm fur efurryone! in truth, i feels me age more an' more, an' think perhaps i may be the first resydent . . .
young fagin, all the cats o' the flotilla be beholden t'ye as the finder o' this fine loot we will divvy up amongst us--an' we must think on a fittin' reward for ye. but tell me, lad: ye were knockin' back the tuna juice, bowl for bowl wif us seasoned topers last night. how is it ye be so alert an' sprightly this day, while tiny imps wif hammers an' saws be dismantlin' me head inside?
oh, t'were easy, cap'n. whenefur ye were, ummmm, occupied playin' the cello so t'speak, i poured my cup inta yours!
arrrrr, ye tricksy devil! ye've the makin's of a fine pirate cap'n!! :cuffs him fondly:
the story of how they came to haul the statue away and sell it to the benefit of pirate catkind must wait for another day. our typist's fingers are protesting, an' her eyes be closin' swift. we hopes to sail wif ye again next year. fair winds an' calm seas t'ye all!
20 September 2008
or whatever part of whomever they can reach*
*the banquet tables are besieged by kitties who has slept LONG past breakfast for the furst time in their lives. if only their beans were here to enjoy it!* *sigh*
*the comfort stations are besieged in the rush of after-brekkie nature calls*
*ears perk as ghastly moans are heard from within the ship . . . be it a ghost? . . . an ofur-fed reveler onna way t'the head? . . . the prisoner, bemoanin' his fate?*
*a dory wif a chastened an' penitent nitro an' ed pulls slowly towards the cat*
by means o' some long-distance tail signals an' ear twitches, arrangements are made to meet forthwith wif skull-crusher left-eye louie, dana, an' princess isis the woofie at the first clump of trees west o' the rocks to PLAYPLAYPLAY!!!! since wig-waggin' out inna open is seen by all, a good many dories, skiffs, an' all manner o' ship's boats converge on the appointed spot, an' th' junior set be seen no more til late in th' day. PLAYPLAYPLAY!!!
pallid than usual--even his black cap, spot, an' tail seem a bit washed out),
cap'n jack, an' dante creep forth into the sunlight, blinking furiously*
meYARRRRR, cap'n! th' sun be ofur th' yardarm, an' that were th' signal t' scour the island fur th' treasure!!!
ow! xing--shut yer piehole, ye silly git! d'ye haf no respect fur the dead? moderate thy strident tones, wench. i can hear the grains o'sand on the beach grindin' togefur like boulders--ah, i forswears that tuna juice furefurr, my oath on't!--jack, lad. be ye livin', er be ye dead?
*ghastly moan* (ah! the mystery be solved)
livin', i thinks. but i also thinks i wish it were not so . . . arrr, that be a fearsome brew ye fed us, nels.
an' dante, me bucko--how fare ye?
*gulps* *runs for the head*
ah, well. we'll be off for th' treasure after a few strips o' bacon an' some nice, greasy pork chops fer our vittles . . . hoy! jack! where be ye goin'?? *nels laughs* th' head be THAT way! *points wif his tail* xing--be sure the lads get the next conveyance t' the island. i be off inna ship's boat. t'will be a sad day when demon tuna juice keep me from me rondyvoo wif treasure. an' by the bye, where be fatcat? he be the keeper o' the map!
i saw fatcat an' nitro slink aboard a while ago. fatcat had no map about him that i could see. an' i could see plenty, for he were mother-nekkid. so were nitro, for the matter o'that.
what in th' name o' king neptune hisself be ye doin' nekkid?? where be yer hat an' maille shirt? bigod--if yer shivs weren't fastened on t'ye, they'd be gone, too, i swear it.
ahhhhhh, there were this cask, y'see. an' some pretty native ladycats, an' me an' nitro . . .
arrrr, yess . . . ye needn't go into any partikulars now. ye be pirates, after all, tho' ye has no hoo-hahs. but where be th' map? tell me true, now, er i'll put ye in wif th' prisoner after keel-haulin' ye!
errrr, i hasn't seen it lately, yer worship.
*extremely patiently, wif a scary smile:* an' when would be the last time that t'weren't "lately", fatcat?
it were, ummmm, perhaps at two bells o'the second dog watch, kind cap'n, sir.
WHAAAAAAT? an' how be we findin' o'the treasure, then?
me an' nitro, we seen clear sign o' where it be, yer lordshipness! we kin show ye!!
let's get t'the island then, an' if ye show it t'me plain, mayhap ye'll save most o'yer lives.
*off to the island, wif nitro an' fatcat rowin' as if their tails were afire (which may yet happen, if they please not the cap'n, who be crankier than usual owin' t'the tuna juice)*
here, cap'n nels!
it be at the bend in th' path. ye'll see, right enough!
we'd best be a-followin' this trail!
sound the alarum!! all cats t'me, by th' horn o' triton!!
*thundering feet are heard*
cap'n jack, dante me lad--ye be here in the nick o'time--we be on the road to riches an' glory!! let's press on . . . an' devil take th' hindmost!!!
be careful where ye dig, mind ye--be sure the spot be not too close t'the comfort stations!
. . . an' what d'ye think happened next? . . .
wait an' see!
19 September 2008
this be me good ship, the cat o' nine tails:an' these be her crew:
obey them as ye would me in all things, an' we'll bring ye safe ta journey's end!
we be gathered here togefur in a great flotilla on this, our second annyul meow like a pirate day! do we sail to seek our fortunes? what say ye? *ears twitch at a roar of approval* AYE! that be the spirit!! all cats on deck, cast off them lines, an' anchors a-weigh--we be adventure-bound!
*sea spray fills the air; cats from homes with squirt bottles run for cover*
look ye--here be our safe harbour at last!
lads an' lasses, now that the rabble be cleared away, ye may depart fur the island. remember yer manners, an' avoid poopin' onna beach--there be plenty o' comfort stations 'mongst them trees. we'll be jinin' ye presently.
fatcat, ye sluggard!! trot yer stumps up here wif that map!! aye, there 'tis . . . *squints* what be this here? *pokes a claw into the map*
*a clarion call is heard:* ahoy, cat o' nine tails! we be the ship's boat o' the black furball, an' we be bringin' aboard the prisoner ye bade us capture!
why, shiver me timbers--'tis cap'n jack, his loyal sir dante, an' a near-grown ladcat. ye must be fagin, of whom we've heard tell--only good things, lad, only good things (save that coffee cups be unsafe in yer presence.) a thousand welcomes aboard me ship, me hearties; i scarce thought to be gifted wif a visit from ye in person. delivery of a mere prisoner usually warrants but an oarsmancat an' a marine. will ye jine me in the cap'n's quarters? there's a furry fine vintage tuna juice i'd share wif ye . . .
but first, let's have a look at this specimen ye've brought. i liked him not when i clapped eye on him through the long glass; me thought he had a shifty look about him:yarrrr! an' now i like him no better for the seein' o' him close-like. clap him in irons, an' let him have bread an' water 'til we makes our home port. perhaps wif only bilge rats for company, he'll . . . oh, bugger. i forgot; we be kitties. there ain't no rats on this ship . . . well, then, he'll haf only hisself for company. an' fair enough; even the poor ratties don't deserve that. gentlecats, let's adjourn for a glass or two . . . aye, ye'll jine us, young fagin--by the look o' ye (an' by th' looks ye've been gettin' from the ladycats), ye be old enough now for a nip or two;-)
*fatcat an' nitro broach a cask of tuna juice, wander off into the brush, an' are not seen again*
*sun fades, an' the light o' the moon silvers the waves*
*the map skitters away on a vagrant breeze, an' is lost in the whitecaps*
*the cap'n's quarters glow yellow wif lamplight, an' the yowl o' sea shantys has faded til only snores is heard*
*cats ashore an' aboard pile up an' purr an' dream . . . *
WHAT WILL TOMORROW BRING?
(while ye wait, perchance ye'd see what others do on this day of days!)