is nitro weird?

black olives. he LOVES black olives. he was layin' on mommer's lap when she opened a little plastic bowl wif black olives left ofur from turkeyday.

he. went. nutz.

he reached up an' grabbed her wrist an' tried to pull it down to his mouf. he stood up wif his front feets on her chest an' tried to stick his face in her mouf. he grabbed fur the bowl. she finely giffed him a little piece that she had sucked alla the salt outta, an' he scarfed it as if it were gooshy food!

he went back to holding her wrist an' inspectin' her (oliveless) fingers. she picked up anofur olive an' he lunged fur it an' batted it outta her hand. (result: nitro - 0, dbd - 1)

mommer ate anofur one, an' gave him anofur li'l tidbit, an' he almost headbonked it outta her hand. when it fell on her shirt, he almost put the bitey on her through the cloth while he snarfed it up. then he loved on her an' rolled in her lap, still grasping fur her hands. it was like he was nipped out!!!

ennycat efur see (or do) this befur??

mommer needs help!

you sees the pretty stars an' snowflakes inna background? well, she maked that follerin' some destructions onna web about making backgrounds specifically fur blogger, but now it don't fit our bloggie an' she wants to make the green background blue anna type white (maybe). kin ennycat or bean bail her extensive @$$ out? we would like to haff our bloggie all holiday-ish!! (an' sometime befur the holidays;-) fanks in advance!!

mommer was S'POSED to haf this ready fur werdless wednesday, but she couldn't figger out how to post an animated gif to blogger. now she's got it an' din't wanna wait til next wednesday. she's furry proud of herself that she learnt how to make a ani-gif; it took her less time to learn the construction of it than it did to learn how to post it. she's a little slow--but i'm proud she chose me as her furst subject, an' that she made me so sexy!!

ok, now read the second line from the top ...

ed is practicing to become an optometrists' helper.

the magician refused!!!

see? it sez so, RIGHT HERE!
dumb boycats. nefur believe a word i say.

vertical cat totem pole

we kep' mommer all warm an' cozy on sunday--

iggy kep' her feets warm,

nitro kep' her lap warm, an'

ed kep' her belleh warm.

(thanks, guys--even thought it WAS 72 degrees out.

i know you meant well ... .)

werdless wednesday

curiouser an' curiouser

anofur edition of "strange bedfellows"--only this time, we ARE all fellows!

(last year, the older boys didn't cuddle with iggy. this year, evidently

they don't mind. he's always the last one on the pile, but they don't shoo him away.)

happy meowloween!

'nuther box

dad went to chicago, an' he brought back THIS box fur me. it's MUCH nicer than the previous one! i kin really stretch out innit, an' there's plenty of room to roll around!

mommer's little helper

i haf been furry valuable to mommer this week--TWICE, already!

(1)  i gotted the furst mousie of the season an' displayed it prominently

inna liffin-room floor so she could see it first thing. 

she was suitably impressed, although more with the prominent display

(so she din't step onnit) than the actual deed. (at least, i fink that's what

EWWWWWWfercrissakes! means.)

(2) i helped her sort out auntie rose's hankie collection, a really big job.

she started sortin' by folded size, then tried sortin' by subjeck matter, 

then by edgin', an' finely jus' plain giffed up.
s'awright wif me; they's comfy no matter WHAT order they's in!

Mommer speaks:  Nitro, I see you're not mentioning the incident where you reached up to whap XingXing while she was sitting on my lap, and you miscalculated, stabbing my hand bad enough that daddy had to bring me ice to kill the pain and keep the swelling down, and where there is now a large bruise.

(3) i was jus doin' my job keepin' her onner toezies. i'm sorry yer hand

gotted inna way, mommer. but really, she needed whappin'.  besides,
ain't you allus tellin' us we needs good "puncturation"?
that WAS a good 'un!

whisker wednesday

i isn't mancatly at all, but My Mama sez i haf furry nice whisker humps AND whiskers,

 so i thought i would show them off today!

toezie tuesday

mommer sez there's snowshoe bunnies in my genes.
i dunno what she's talkin' about. 

i don't even WEAR 'em, much less SHARE 'em!!

mancat monday

ed is mommer's cuddle-mancat.

(but great bast, how he snores!!!)

cold weather makes strange bedfellows

bleeeeeeyaaaaahhh!

free-range crickets are NOT as good as they are played up to be!!

werdless

we sails today!

meyarrr, me hearties! 'tis meself, meow fang,

what greets ye all this day aboard the good ship cat o'nine tails as we meet to form a mighty Flotilla an' sail to high adventure! we does this, as allus, inna names of all those furriends what haff gone befur us t'th'Bridge in this past year, an' we deddycates this moment o' silence to their mem'ries as we names them in our hearts!!

::seabirds call, wind snaps canvas, spars creak, an' waves slosh against the hull::

an' now, if all ye present will do me the kindness o'meetin' wif me in me cabin there to sign the articals as do all good gentlecats o'th'sea, an' please t'furget not to sign 'round the edges o'th'document, that its verity be ne'er questioned, then shall we share a toast o'rumfustian or bumboo or toona joose to our enterprise an' be under way in no time atall. 

inna meantimes, all ye lubbers what be sailin' along of us not as piratecats but as meer turisters an' mayhap haf not been t'sea befur may study the drawin' at left an' get the plan o'the ship fastened in minds, that ye be not losted to us at a critical moment. an' we bid ye not to confuse the "poop deck" wif th' "head", which be the sand-filled orlop deck!

::the lubbers study intently. one by one, the signers regain the deck with varying degrees of cheer, depending on how earnest their toasts were. the emerging crew assume their posts, and the visiting captains depart for their own ships. meow fang speaks::

meYARRRR! ::draws in a hearty breath:: ah, how i loves me th'scent o' catnip inna mornin'!! furriends, we be sailin' t'the north--a far cry from the warm carib an' south sea waters o'the past voyages. in those days, we were sailin' away from our trubbles; this year, i believes we needs t'occupy oursel's in honest treasure huntin' as a way o'healin'. (besides, the treasury o'the Piratecats Confederation be a trifle short o'th' ready; an' as gentlemen seacats, ye are well acquainted wif the phrase, "if there be no prey, there be no pay".) we haf a true-drawn map o' Oak Island,

where that blaggard Cap'n Bushbeard be rumored to haf interred a mighty treasure, so we bids ye buckle yer swashes an' shake out yer winter fur--t'will be a chilly cruise, aye, but t'will bring us riches an' honor! i swear it by th'good Saint Robert o'Middleton!!

we knows that efurry ship do face the perils o'th'sea. there be krakens seizin' vessels an' merdogs howlin' sweetly-like to lure unsuspectin' ships t'their doom.

be ye unconcerned that we shall meet wif these trubbles--i haf been reliably informed by our cook that due to th'fightin' skills of our doughty crew,  these partikular perils be no more than ways t'supplement our larder--

which in these days o'straitened funds consists of salmagundi, hammm, cackle fruit, hardtack, hammmm, an' toona joose. so let's make way!!!!!!!!

::the assembled Flotilla moves stately up the coast. time passes, and a lookout spies the island.::

land ho, cap'n.

aye? where away?

it be two points off the starboard bow, sir!

helmsman, d'ye haf an eye on't? make for it!

aye, cap'n! i does, an' i will!

nitro--you an' igmu be signalin' t'th'Flotilla--we rondyvoos in a turn o'the glass! ::two tails begin to wag complex figures from the fo'c'sl deck, informing the Flotilla's ships of meow fang's command. ship's boats begin to make their way to shore and soon a vast company is assembled. the order to commence digging is given, and sand flies everywhere.::

yarrr, bejaybers, lads! be ye not so unhandy in yer kickin' sand abaft--i be standin' here, ye brainless picaroons! ::muffled cries of "aye, cap'n" are heard, followed by vigorous showers of sand:: arrr. some o'these swabs will kiss the gunner's daughter afore this all be done! ::meow fang retires to the shade of a nearby tree, naps, and arises after a bit to play the cello; a report of progress is brought to him by a draggle-tailed tabby::

errr, cap'n?

aye?

we be findin' some fine scratchin' posts here below--t'was oak we shredded fur a goodly while. then there were a bit of dampenin' to our paws, an' it turned a bit mucky, but we persevered an' haf now struck some mighty fine shredded fibers what seem to haf already been shrod to their limit! the second gang o' diggers be now below.

all's well, then, an' progress abides, eh, tabman?

aye, sir.

go rest ye inna shade, or make off t'the races; some of the younger folk haf found feral hawgs an' organized some ennertainments. an' the both winners AND losers o'the race, bigod, will be the star guests at our evenin' meal!! MOL!!

::after a while, another somewhat damp kitty approaches, and announces::

ahoy, cap'n--we haf just gone swimmin' wiffin ye pit wherein water gushed like (shudder) bafftime, an' all of our shift haf escaped ol' jonesy but narrowly, if ol' jonesy can be said to inhabit a hole inna ground, yet it seems as it might be his territory as the swimmin' water be tastin' of sal...

YARRRRRR! belay yer jib-jab an' speak straight er i'll turn The Slice on ye!

aye, cap'n--what i means to say is, we of the second crew brought drillin' truck wif us to see how much further down we might be diggin', as all the diggers were consarned that we might be wetted beyond a cat's tolerance if we were to dig sufficient t'win through to the prize, don'tcha see, wifout...

DAMME! can ye not talk straight? are ye a sea-lawyer in disguise? can NOcat deliver this clobber-head of his burthen?

::the discredited cat backs up into the brush and disappears. from the same brush, a small tortie lass edges forward and says::

aye, cap'n, by yer leave--he means the drill seems to go downward furefurr, an' we be pullin' up bits an' pieces o'trash, but ne'er a bit o'kibble nor gold. howefur, i did notice that some twenty feets above where we haf dug to, there be a small dent inna wall that seems a wee bit different in composition from the surroundin' walls. i proposes we digs side-wise there, an' sees what we shall see.

although thou be but a small kit yet, i believe ye may be in possession of the largest brain onna second shift. ye must eat an uncommon lot o'fish, that bein' brain food. go ye an' do as ye will, an' report back to me so soon as ye may.

aye, cap'n fang; i shall see it done!


::some little while passes, and the tortie kit returns::


cap'n? the engineerin' lads haf hauled up many a sturdy box. would ye honor us wif yer presence an' tend to the openin' of them?

indeed, li'l missy, that i will do with a right good will!

::ka-crunch! one swift wrench of meow fang's paw hauls open the first box, and he exclaims::

oh, by great poseidon's hairy left n ... er, um ... pinkytoe--it be gold!!! true an' pure by the look o'it. arrrrr! we haf wrested back some o'that which were filched contumely from us ofur the years! quartermastercat! present yerself an' take these chests to our countin' room, an' commence to figgerin' up the shares! i doubt not that this be the treasure which many haf sought an' failed t'find, even to the loss of their lives. it took many an' many a wily, wicked scheme to separate us hard-workin' folk from't, and but a small kitty's wisdom to unearth it again to our benefit--i would petition the ship's company that she be awarded an extra share fur her savvy! where be the lass? i would haf her sit wif me at the feast tonight!!

::no one sees the tortie in the immediate area. runners are dispersed to find her. time passes. the torches are lit, the tables are laden, the strains of "fifteen cats on a dead man's chest — Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of toona joose" are heard at the fringes of the dining area. meow fang's voice is heard over the music and general uproar::

 well? well? where be the lass? i haf bid ye request her presence!

::rhubarbandrhubarbandrhubarbandrhubarbandrhubarbandrhubarbandrhubarbandrhubarb::

cease yer mutterin', i say!! where hath she gone?

::xing the slice slinks forth and says::

good cap'n, sir, i haf sent out missives to each an' all masters o'th'Flotilla. each haf returned th' information that there were no wee tortie aboard their vessels, nor on their rolls as crew or turist. no one onna second diggin' shift recalls that there were any cat o'that description amongst 'em. they all agree that they sorta just all decided to go back up to that spot an' dig. no one recalls who first voiced the idea, it seemed to be a common accord. 'tis seemin' like a mystery, my cap'n.

aye, xing, that it seems. *sigh* a winsom lass she were, too. shall we see her again? i wonders.

--finis--

werdless wednesday

tuesday twins

well, sorta twins.  twin-ish.