i am mortified!!

*BLUSH* *BLUSH* *BLUSH*

samantha & tigger an' us4 was right! my rotten, no-good brofurs finally asplained about a "pear" anna "pair". they hooted an' hollered an' teased alla time they were asplainin'. those boycats are coarse, coarse, coarse!!

WHY would My Mama think i would even WANT such things???? they just gets lopped offa boycats, anyway, so how much could they haf to do with bein' brave?? i finks their portance must be vastly overrated. lotsa boycats AN' girlcats are brave an' haf adventures, so i don't see the connection at all. My Mama sez there are lotsa mysteries that are not meant to be solved. maybe this is one of them.

what's wrong wif my spelling??!

My Mama is laffin' an' laffin'. she saw my post about the pear, an' said my spellin' could use a little improvement. she said the improvement would make the whole phrase clear, but i still don't get it. a pair of WHAT???

toezie toosday

a nice matched set of nitro-toes!

grow a pear?

that's what My Mama sez to me efurry time i run yowling through the house, or hiss or spit or smack at those boogery boycats. i don't unnerstand. "oh, xing, fergossakes, GROW A PEAR!" how will that help me? i has tasted pears, an' they are juicy-yummy, but just can't imagine how growing a pear can help me keep those boycats away. i know growing it involves digging inna dirt an' droppin' a seed an' coverin' up an' fertilisin' an' waterin'--an' i can take care of all that! but what will growin' a pear help me do to those nasty boys?

sunday morning frost

nitro: yeah, frost. it's my butt that's frosted, howefur!! in both senses of the word. daddy is on the hiss list. boooooo! hissssss! he din't make a nice cozy fire last night OR this morning before he left for whatefur it is he left fur, an' it's so cold . . .
xing (offstage, left) : how cold is it???
n: not so cold that we would efur think of letting YOU inna nap pile, you pr. . .
MOM: Sonny, no name calling. Dad's company is taking part in a trade show, and he's the manager, so he's gotta be there even though it's Sunday. Now, behave.
n: sure. like dad behaved all night. he was out here snorin' an' mutterin' an' NOT PLAYIN' when we wanted to. an' we brought him all our best toys that cocoa hasn't eaten yet, an' all we got for our troubles was additions to the bad word list. an' i bin hafin' to wear ed's tail like a scarf to keep my delicate meower in working order so i can sing throughout the house later.
M: Well, you better stifle that singing tonight. Dad has a cold and is having trouble breathing when he lies down flat, so sleeping in the recliner helps him.
n: hah! he obviously does not haf a grasp on the nature of things in our house. beds in bedrooms is where beans sleep, an' recliners in living rooms is where cats sleep. you guys won't let us sleep in yer bed, so how come he gets to sleep in ours???
M: Mostly because he pays for the bed AND the recliner, you ingrate. It wouldn't be anything at all to you to move to the other recliner. I see you sleeping willy-nilly in all the chairs in the living room all the time. What difference does it make which one you sleep in?
n: the same difference it makes to dad, i guess. it's where i WANNA sleep.
M: Just hush your pert mouth, buster. In his case, that recliner is molded to his butt and it's more comfy. Your butt doesn't care where it's parked. Besides, you guys don't know what cold really is. Look at these pictures from Chicago--it's so cold that the birdies have to leave for warmer climates before their houses fill up with snow, and even the trees have to wear blankets!!
n: ??????
M: Yeah. So cork up.
n: corking up now, mom. (aside, to ed: jeez. she grew up there; no wonder she's so . . .)
M: WHAT??????
n: *ahem* ahhhh, no wonder you're so, um, so brave an' hardy an' stuff . . .
M: Yes, I'm sure that's what you were going to say.

plastic head

Mamma?
yes, my little princess cat?
why are you usin' the cell phone alla time instead of the one onna table that we like to whap an' play wif?
because the one you guys knock down every other minute is broken.
did we break it?
one of you did. i'm not mentioning names, but his initials are edmund percival.
oh. why is My Daddy crawlin' onna floor behine the cliner chairs where we sleep?
because he has to fix the phone.
Mamma!! he's usin' words from the bad word list!
yes, he certainly is.
is he gonna use 'em ALL up?
yes, probably.
does that help with fixin'?
i doubt it, but it might help keep your daddy from snatchin' ol' ed baldheaded when he catches him, because your brofur is a twerp.
well, yes. but what does twerpyness haf to do wif bad words?
ed has the particular kind of twerpyness that makes him eat plastic. you know he likes to crunch the bread wrappers, and wally-world bags, and the blinds, and sammich bags and such.
why is that so bad?
because it also makes him eat electric cords. he has nibbled my laser printer cord, two digital transfer cords, and now chewed the power cord on the telephone in two! i'm puttin' hot sauce on the new ones as soon as daddy's done.
like you puts on tacos? will ed like that?
let's hope not.
*smirk* i won't say a word >;-)

oh-so-freaky friday . . .

we presents for your delectation:

http://groups.google.com/group/talk.origins/browse_thread/thread/9263b3be16d586f3/5241e6c947f8431e?pli=1

okay, it's a little out of date, but we've had other things to do . . . . besides, some of us weren't even borned yet when this church was organized! (ummmm, make that none of us were even borned yet, an' mom neglected to tell us about it. she has been remiss in our religious education; the never-cleaned litter-box awaits her. oh, wait; that's already at our house.)

please note: the meowers are not responsible for the tenets expressed in the text quoted. although some of them seem downright logical . . .

you see what i hafta put up with?

cocoa's a pretty nice woofie mosta the time, but gosh! sometimes she gets carried away; i think she thinks her squirrel toy and i are related
--an' my tail's not fluffy at all!!

izzis a welcome home ceremony?

or a cat wif a itchy head? YOU decide!

woe

our grampa has goned to the heavenly gates, an' collected woofied penny an' nitnoy at the rainbow bridge as he passed. our gramma is sad, but knows it's fur the best acause he wasn't nefur gettin' any better (or younger). so *wavin' paws*, bye-bye, grampa! we loves you!!

*sigh* sad news

the bean hopsital in chicago, where our grampa (who is 96) has been fur the last week wif a erinary fection has called gramma to say he is furry close to the rainbow bridge. so mom & dad are packing to leave. cocoa is goin' to gramma & grampa pierce's house an' miss ginger & mr gary will come ofur an' feed us & pet us. please purr an' purrray that grampa passes peacefully, that gramma is comforted, an' that mom & dad are safe on their trip to that snowy place. (oh, an' fur our auntie marilyn, who is flying there frum tucson an' will prolly beat mom & dad there.)

mom sez she will try to peek in atta cb an' our bloggie fur us while she is gone. love & purrs to y'all--

the meower fambly

what do i spy . . .

wif my little eye?mom sez a flutterby lived there . . .
perhaps . . . it is teh evil!!
i will creep up on ithmmmm. don't smell like no evil . . .
aha! it does not move. i haf scairt it to def!!
how nice it would be to play wif! it sticks to my claws!! but mom sez, "no". so i will go roust xing, instead. HA!

tabby (& some toesies) tuesday

tabbies is spos'd to be mellow kitties. i just dunno what's wrong with that xing-cat!! she nefur lets me get a purr in edgewise, an' gripes even if i look at her exaltedness. sisfurs! bah.

proud woofie!!

cocoa's still furry proud of the toy squirrel she got for catsmas! she totes it around, wagging all the way, for 20 minutes at the time--if not more. she doesn't want to give it to you, just have you notice that she's got it!!

nitro: will chirp & purr for noms!!

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!

reply to kiril, nitika's human:

(see post below if you are wondering where this comes in . . .)

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".

cheryl

an' it goes on . . .

Hey there!

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.

http://www.catster.com/cats/693857

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 =

http://www.madmacedonian.com/2008/12/catbloggers-fur-ruffled-hackles-raised-cough-up-and-toss-hairballs.html

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,

Kiril Kundurazieff

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/

y'all are our heroes!

nary one of youse who responded in any way to our posting re: kim murphy felt the tiniest degree of sympathy or pity for her. an' g*d bless you, each an' efurrycat.

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.

a response from kim murphy, l.a. times:

our mom got furry hacked off after reading about the womanbean who found her kitty after 9 weeks trapped in the window seat, which zoolatry, karl an' skeezy made known to us inna bloggysphere. so she wroted this to the bean:

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
Springfield, MO

well, by golly, here is her response:

Hi Cheryl,

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.

Kim


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 London 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.

Kim

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.

catsmas pressies!!

we all got our furry own nip toys: nitro got a rainbow, ed got the nanner, an' xing got the seegar. you can see how much we enjoyed 'em--ed was so blissed-out, he rolled away from the nanner an' nefur even noticed!

a proud cocoa finally got her squirrel!
daddy got some socks

an' if we had "smell-o-blogging", you would know that mom gots some gucci an' opium perfumes. daddy sez she allus was a spendy date;-)