December 16 | 6 Comments
I’m not talking about the place of worship. No, friends, I’m talking about the scariest of all creatures. Specifically the cat in Stephen King’s Pet Semetary.
You may remember him as the cat that was run over by a truck in the story, buried and then summoned back to life. Once back among the ‘living’ he was anything but a normal, annoying cat.
There was something wrong, something sinister about him. It’s as if he were dead, but alive. Strange indeed, but then again he was a cat, so who could really tell?
Thank goodness this was just a story made up in the mind of Mr. King. Bringing a cat back to life; the man’s mind is truly sinister! Surely something like this couldn’t happen in the real world.
Or could it?
October 4 | Hmmm...No Comments Yet
I’m not sure what I want to become when I grow up.
Yeah I know time is running out, with me being 17 and all, but once you give up on your dream there’s not much left.
So here’s a partial list of what I’d like to become:
1) Firehouse dog Read more
August 25 | Hmmm...No Comments Yet
I read the headline, stunned at its implications.
“Cat gets GED”
What’s the world coming to, I thought.
As canines we’re forced to go through the humiliation of continuing education classes.
First there’s the good canine citizen certification and basic obedience followed by intermediate and advanced classes. Then there’s the agility training and the service dog ‘electives’ to round out a pup’s credentials.
All these requirements just to be a working class dog.
April 15 | Hmmm...No Comments Yet
Well, bitten anyone really hard, that is. I have had a nibble or two of human skin, but almost always in a playful way. The only exception being the one man that tried to kidnap me from my mother’s car when I was three. I never told my parents about the incident so this probably comes as a shock for them to read.
What can I say, when a human sees a talented dog, especially one that can type, they’re apt to want him. So it was left up to me to defend myself. The outcome was never in doubt. Anyway, he tasted like chicken and I never had the occasion to taste him again, the case of burps shortly thereafter not withstanding. Canines are correct in saying things taste better the second time around.
February 8 | Hmmm...No Comments Yet
To some it offers the opportunity of a fresh start, of a week full of accomplishments ahead. To me, it’s the dreary realization of another tough work week.
That’s right, I have the daily grind of napping, pooing, walking, napping, eating, pooing and peeing ahead of me for the next five days. Hopefully a vet visit isn’t in the cards. It ain’t easy being me, especially at my advanced age.
What I need is some pampering, the kind I get from the old man on the weekends. We sleep late in the morning, we nap together on the guest bed in the afternoons and we snore the evening away on the couch after sharing a dinner of chicken nuggets…with bbq sauce. It’s paradise, I tell ya.
If only I could do this all the time. Read more
January 11 | 3 Comments
No thanks. If I’m going to partake in the heaven known as pasta, I’m going to select one that says something about me. That’s right, when dining on Italian cuisine, I opt for pasta number 9…better known as Angel Hair pasta.
Let’s be honest, not only do I have an angelic disposition, but my long strands of fur are to die for!
I like my dish with a little clam, hamster or squirrel sauce on top. Over all these years, the only thing that’s changed is rather than having it cooked al dante I now prefer my pasta cooked to a gooey mush. Simple reason, really. Much like Michael Scott, I’ve developed soft teeth.
October 20 | 7 Comments
Fans of the Man in Black will recognize those words from the classic tune, Folsom Prison Blues.
No, I’m not in prison, although I have fantasized about shooting a man in Reno, just to watch him die.
I guess that’s not 100% true. I’ve fantasized about shooting a man, not in Reno, but right here in Atlanta, and that man is my father.
Not surprisingly this repeated fantasy occurs every time that SOB tickles my toe fur when I doze off.
July 2 | Hmmm...No Comments Yet
The key to being an expert is to maintain a low profile. For instance when I dig under the fence to get out, I’ll dig a little each time I’m let outside making sure that no one is watching me. After a few ‘gotta go pee-pee’ adventures outside and I’ve dug a hole big enough to crawl under.
January 13 | 4 Comments
They don’t protect you, they don’t hunt for you and they certainly don’t love you. If you think otherwise, then you’ve been hitting the catnip a bit too hard.
Humans, however, fall for these lying furballs all the time.
It was bad enough I had to read about Dewey, the freakin cat, that made itself at home in a local library. I can live with that, but I can’t live with the fact he made a $1.5MM advance on his book. Makes the advance I got (three medium sized milkbones), seem small by comparison.
Now I see there’s a copy cat (yeah, pun intended) in Alabama. Read more
December 29 | 1 Comment
I’ll be the first to tell you, I don’t like heights. I much prefer to have my fuzzy toes touching Mother Earth. In fact, I like to get closer to her chewy center by digging. Of course, the cynical dog out there will think I do it so I can dig out under the fence. Sure they’re right, but who are they to judge?
Anyway, cats are different, especially a cat called Voodoo living in the land down under.