If this is how I can expect 2016 to go, the news is not good, my furriends. Not good at all. There is some skullduggery going on here at the Three Cats Ranch, and I am not happy about it. Not one little bit. So here's the scoop.
Furst of all...there's the interloper who moved in. My Mom and Dad are calling her Maggie. I'm just calling her "Raggy".
She's this little street-walker ragamuffin, if you know what I mean. I heard she came from the streets and that she's been selling her body out there. I *even* heard that she has a litter somewhere. Just look at those eyes. She tries to hide it by dimming them, but you know a cat with eyes like that had to have come from the red light district. Hmph.
My mom and dad have been keeping her hidden away. As if! Double Hmph. Like they can fool me...King of the House. That's right! King!!! But that's okay because I just took a look at the pictures on my mom's camera, and you will not believe the disgusting things they revealed. For instance, just take a look at this:
Toe jam! It's the worst case I've ever seen in all my years as a cat!
And lookie here...even she's disgusted by her own disgusting filth. And let me just say that's MY carpet she's walking around on. We're going to have to have the place furmigated, I tell you.
And look at her there with her lasers turned on, trying to look all badass. Well, she'll soon learn that there's nobody who can muster more badassery than me, Smitty. Sheesh. The noyve.
But here's the worst part, and I had to drag my mom downstairs to talk this out. It seems to me that something is missing from my downstairs toybox.
See this here feather toy? Well. There is only one now, and I distinctly remembpurr having two of them up until you-know-who arrived on the scene.
So I took this up with my mom, and do you know what she said? She had the noyve to imply that I never even played with it! I know! I could hardly believe it myself.
And I said, "Lookie here! It's my favfurrite toy of all time! I play with it every single minute of every day. Okay, I'll give you that I don't play with it when I'm helping you sew, or when I'm chasing birds and mousies, or when I'm eating, or when I'm sleeping, but even then....I'm thinking about playing with it!"
Well, what could I do but haul this one off into the sewing room fur safe-keeping.
Although, my mom's sewing room is purretty much a disaster area right now.
See what I'm talking about? More disgusting filth. The disgusting filth abounds in 2016, and it's only the furst day. What is this world coming to?
And my mom tried making excuses about making sandwiches or something. I asked for toona, but did I get it? No! Nobody efur listens to me. No way and no how.
Not to worry, Feather Toy. Count on me, Smitty, to purrtect you from Raggy upstairs.
And my mom thinks she can hide all this skullduggery from me by keeping this door closed. What she doesn't realize is that right down there at cat-eye level, there's a little window I can purr through.
They put my food bowl outside the door...like I'm going to eat next to that mangy ragamuffin...Hmph. (I'm going to make "Hmph" my new word fur the year...just so you know.) Anyways...I looked through there and what did I see? Cat food! Like she's gonna stay fur dinner or something. Like there's hospurrtality coming her way or something. Like she might just move in!
And look what else!!! Just as I thought!
There she is with MY feather toy. And excuse me, but I do believe that's MY bed from the sewing room. It's true I never sleep there, but I might want to, and then what? Huh?
Well, when I saw that, I couldn't take it any more, and so I went up into my He Man Woman Hater's Clubhouse to cooled off.
But the insults continue, furriends and neighbors, because I just happen to know that they let Raggy out to explore MY house while I was in my clubhouse, and they think I don't know it. As if!
What's a guy to say about this insult, but Hmph!
I'll keep you posted. Fur now, it's me, Smitty, King of the House, signing off.