FOR I AM CAT

A couple canines from Kansas wrote me asking if I thought it was normal for a neighborhood cat to sit right outside their fenced yard, a mere three feet from their noses, calmly cleaning herself. This cat is free to roam the entire area and seems to know we are fenced in the yard. Both of us barking our fool heads off, throwing hissy fits, yet she continues to sit there giving us this "have a nice day" stare. She doesn't seemed threatened at all that she's taunting a large retriever/chow mix and a short, older wiener dog.

Signed,
Just curious, Shorty & Stashe


Dear Curious in Kansas,

Just what part of C-A-T don't you get? You're lucky she wasn't sitting within two feet of your nosy little noses and swiping them with a front claw between cleaning licks.
Haven't you heard? Cats Rule...and I mean the world! They will strut their stuff wherever, whenever. I mean, c'mon now...what better entertainment could a feline have than to sit a spell, calmly bathe herself while watching a couple of barking dogs go completely ape-shit all because of her. My, my, my... all that attention just for little ol' me?

So it's a little bath time at the fence, a little free entertainment complete with sound track, and then a nice stroll off to wherever.

Yes, little doggies of the world, it is indeed normal. All that neighborhood cat is thinking is how it sucks to be you and how it's good to be her!

Blessings!

THE PERAMBULATING BLUES

My in-box brought me quite a plight from a very frustrated female who's only trying to do a healthy exercise by taking daily walks in her neighborhood recreation center. Unfortunately some of the regulars have annoyed her to the point of her having actually nicknamed the culprits. She refers to them as donkeys because they'll walk three abreast very slow, thus blocking the path while holding a gab fest along the way. Some that don't flap their jaws instead are flapping arms that tend to smack other walkers when trying to get past them. After receiving such a descriptive e-mail from this frustrated walker I was inspired to compose the following. Oh by the way, should anyone out there happen to recognize themselves in said inspiration, kindly pull to the right and let others pass. Don't make me blog you again!!

THE PERAMBULATING BLUES

Not so long ago and not so far away
A little walk I take nearly every day.
Here inside my neighborhood rec center
Comfortable in summer or come winter.

Oh yes, it's pounds I'd like to lose
But I've got the perambulating blues.

Around the three lanes we like to go walking
Works just fine 'cept for all the talking.
For three walkers in a row means all lanes blocked
And all they wanna do is talk and talk.

Oh yes, those lanes I'd so like to cruise
But I've got the perambulating blues.

Sometimes my walk finds me behind the Boxcar
A very short, very wide load so I can't get far.
Partnered with Methane and her Mr. Avon
For obvious reasons I really must move on.

Oh yes, I should have stayed home to snooze
For I've got the perambulating blues.

Isn't it enough my feet hurt so bad I could gasp
When Bulldozer steps on them as she walks past.
Next thing you know I dodge a punch to the eye
As I attempt to pass Madame Butterfly.

Oh yes, walking is all I really wanna do
But I've got the perambulating blues.

We've got Mz. Harley and her Sidecar
Once behind them you won't get far.
A true road-hog with her skinny mate glued at the hip
If only to pass them, maybe I should try and skip.

Oh yes, sometimes I may bruise
For I've got the perambulating blues.

And not to forget our little June Cleaver
In her tightly belted dress, she's quite the keeper.
Then dressed to the nines Marlena D, many face lifts and never sweats,
Out to snag her a rich old dude, I'd be willing to bet.

Oh yes, just listen to my clues
For I've got the perambulating blues.

In a little black dress blocking the way it's Granny Goodwitch
Changing tapes in her 8-track she makes me start to twitch.
Along comes Mr. 2nd Amendment displaying wrinkled bare arms
Drooling over Marlena expounding all his charms.

Oh yes, is walking the exercise I should choose
For I've got the perambulating blues.

Mustn't forget Mr. Chippenfail adjusting speed again and again
Barely in a speedo flirting with a chick he'd like to win.
Last but not least say hello to our nautilus man Jack LaPain
Constantly stretching in hopes height he'll someday gain.

Oh yes, I'm afraid it's all so true
No wonder I've got the perambulating blues!

Blessings!
Sister Very Catty

EYES AHEAD PEOPLE!

When did this become a once-a-month blog....what's up with that? So this month's post will be in response to a recent note from one who seems to be at a crossroads:

Dear Sister VC,

I have finally made my way out of menopause only to find myself once again in puberty at the age of 59! For example: developing a crush on someone unattainable; revisiting old childhood hurts!! Please don't tell me to get a pet...I am a world traveler and can't be tied down right now.

Any thoughts?
Perplexed in Pennsylvania

Dear PP,

Curious....who's steering the course on your ship's Tour de Life? Occurs to me, a neighborhood traveler myself, that maybe you need a new route master.

I'm sensing that by making your way out of men-o-pause you temporarily chose a single life and are now entertaining the possibilities of having a relationship.

Puberty at any age basically sucks...get over it. Does the upcoming number '60' bother you? Get over that, too. Absolutely nothing you can do about it and if Cher can't turn back time, neither can you. Maybe puberty isn't the issue any more than menopause.

Did you forget you're the captain of your own ship? As a cat with most of her nine lives still in tact, I'm feeling the need to spell it out, for you who has but one life.

You claim YOU, a woman of free will and sound mind, allowed yourself to develop a crush on someone unattainable. Allowed being the key word here, not crush, not unattainable. Has it not occurred to you that maybe this crush came about with someone unattainable because of that factor? Subconsciously you fear re-entry to the dating scene with an available someone? Face it, should the unattainable someone not be on board with you the ship will never sail anyway.

Concerning the old childhood hurts...ah-hem...you did say you were 59 years old, right? Way past time to don the big girl panties and get over that too! C'mon...old hurts? To the cat box with the scat I say. Huge waste of time on your part to dwell on things of that sort. Besides the fact that if you keep looking back you may very well miss what's ahead. Next thing I suppose you'll tell me you're a recovering Catholic.

Now regarding you're not having a pet....that's just wrong. Where would Thumbs be today if I had not wanted a human? A pet should be your very reason for existence and I highly recommend a a cat!

Blessings & Bon Voyage,
Sister Very Catty

BLESS the REMOTE

Anybody else notice what was on TV this past week? A golden opportunity to watch some real golden oldies, that's what. I'm talkin' bout old black and white episodes of the Andy Griffith Show in tribute to their 50th anniversary. That's right...a fifty day vacation in goofy, sleepy-old Mayberry. What a treat to revisit Andy, Opie, Aunt Bea, Barney, and their quirky small-town pals.

While I'm not going to meow on and on about the good old days, or how things just aren't what they used to be, blah, blah, blah...I am going to squawk a bit about what's happening on the boob tube currently. Of course, nothing stays the same, we all know that. I mean who would really want to remain in the fifties or sixties anyway? Got to keep moving forward...progress, people! It is nice, however, to reminisce from time to time and seeing Sheriff Taylor certainly stirs up some happy memories of yesteryear...you know...when watching television was actually enjoyable.

On the rare occasion a good program comes on these days, its life expectancy is short. On and on they go about the exciting new season opener and next thing you know, four or so episodes later, it's the season finale. Bait you, hook you, and you're back sucking pond-water.

For the most part it seems television has traded the good old days of the hour long variety shows of singing, dancing, and comedy skits for the dislikes of say 'Project Runway', for instance, where you gaze at angry, emaciated waifs sashaying down the runway. Holy cat claws! Who will be our next top model?...WHO GIVES A SCRATCH! (Just once I'd like to see one of those skinny bitties do a diva dive off the end of the runway...stilettos flying...now that might be worth watching!)

Nowadays you've got your choice between the Bitchy Housewives of Wherever, Keeping up with the Kardashia-who's, or a miscellaneous assortment of attention-starved bozos. I mean, seriously, who are these people? Does anyone watch this crap on purpose? If only Deano was still around crooning 'everybody loves somebody sometime'...

I could go on and on, let loose with a few more well earned insults toward the situation, but then I'm only a cat so I'll leave it at that. Instead I give much deserved kudos to The Weather Channel, The Cooking Channel, The History Channel, The Discovery Channel and my personal favorite - Animal Planet featuring Cats 101. Now that's entertainment!

Blessings & Happy Channel Suffering...'er I mean Surfing

MATCHMAKER'S ME-OW

From Sister's in box we have the following question:

Dear Sister VC,

What do you do when you haven't dated in years and your friends keep bugging you? "Don't you want to meet someone?" ...and yet you are perfectly happy. I'm almost 60 years old and could care less. I'm finally happy just to be with myself and a few good friends.

Signed,
Fed-Up Fiona

Dear Fed-Up,

What in Puss 'n Boots name would we do without our friends? Better yet, what would our friends do without us? There's your question. You, being the person of interest, offer your friends something far more entertaining than their own trivial pursuits. Same old caca, different day, but what about YOU? Unmarried and all, you poor lonely gal, stuck at home with her cat. (You do have a cat, don't you? ...if not, get one!)

Two roads to take, choice is yours. On the one paw, next time you find yourself engaged in conversation with these well-meaning buds of yours, take command of said conversation. The minute the chit chat turns to your single-hood, start firing questions off.

For example...BFF #1, when was the last time so and so sent you flowers? Tell me you can remember! Direct the next round at BFF #2 with something like...have you and whats-his-name been out on a date night lately? What's up with that? Then hit BFF #3 with how small your grocery bill was last month and it's so fun to cook for one these days.

On the other paw, if that didn't send them running out of of your cat box, it's time to pull out the big guns. Turn on your mysterious aura...like the cat that swallowed the canary (pure fiction) only you aren't singing!

You'll be thanking me and the academy soon for your Oscar winning role. Act I begins with you dropping evasive hints that you met someone recently. Bat your eyelashes as you describe this dreamy-eyed tom cat of a man. Work it, Baby! He can be whoever you want. Your very own imaginary Adonis. Drag it on thru several acts, baiting them, hooking them, and then abruptly changing the subject. Curiosity killed the cat (old wives' tale I'm sure) but you remain aloof the entire time...you know...after all, it's merely that love struck look.

Should they start to get too nosy, wanting to meet this imaginary dude...well, simply dump him! After all, that's what I-Harmony is all about, right? (imaginary-harmony and what's that little 'e' stand for anyway?)

Did I mention two roads? There's a third road...tell your "friends" to go stare into a mirror for a switch.

Peace out my sister!

CALLING CERBERUS...

Earlier this month I received an e-mail with some deep concerns over a very serious matter. I did my best to address it but it's a real challenge to find words to cover something so sad.

Dear Sister VC,

There has been a lot in the news lately about drug smugglers using horses to haul drugs across parts of the US border with no more than barbed wire, then the horses are tied to a bush and left to die in the desert. Once the drugs have been picked up by vehicles for transport to northern cities there is no more need for the horse. I realize that this is a hot-button subject, both 'fur' and against things going on right now and I don't anticipate a kitty of the Feline Order to participate in political hash. I am only interested in your animal point of view.

There are rescue groups who try to save them, in fact there is one horse up for adoption, listed several weeks now in the Tucson paper . If I had the appropriate property I would so offer this horse a safe home. Other horses are stolen from ranches along the border, then deserted further north to die in the desert. Sadder yet horses are by no means the only animals involved in this drama. Dogs are also being killed in order to silence their barking as the trespassing takes place across private properties.

Being an animal lover I've been bothered by nightmares about these innocent creatures of both drug and human smugglers. It upsets me that humans can care so little for these creatures. Can you offer me some solace or explanation for such inhumane behavior?

Signed,
Critter Lover

Dear Critter Lover,

Your e-mail reminds me of why I dislike reading or listening to the news so much. Of course, I am a bit prejudice when it comes to anything regarding the animal kingdom, and although it's a rare occurrence, I am almost at a loss for words. Things like this tend to curl my whiskers.

I simply have no explanation for such crude, senseless, selfish behavior out of humankind. Humans..."the paragon of animals", to quote Shakespeare...strange they can be so inhumane.

No animal deserves this kind of mistreatment, if only the tables could be turned. The reality of it is that even if the animal is rescued it has to be trained to trust humans again. Seems to me that if theses inhumane individuals go about such things they should just stick to their own kind and leave the innocent animals out of it.

There was an article written by Carmen Duarte in the July 9th issue of the Arizona Daily Star regarding the rehabilitation of drug smuggling horses. It explained the process of rescuing these horses and bringing them back to a better life. We must be thankful for such rescue groups as they invest their hearts and souls into the betterment of these innocent creatures. The article was titled "Carrying Hope Instead of Drugs" and it was well written with information about the rescue groups.

Speaking of hope brings to mind what I feel would only be fair justice to those guilty of committing such acts of injustice. May they face that gate in Dante's Inferno that reads: "Abandon every hope, ye who enters here". Let's have Cerberus escort the lot of them to about the 7th circle of hell.

So my dear critter lover, I too wish you had the space to offer a kind, loving home to a rescued horse. I'm sure that would be one happy, thankful animal. I don't know that I can offer much solace concerning something so sad but at least know there are many among us who share your feelings on the subject. It wouldn't hurt any of us to at least send up a special prayer each day for all the animals and trust it will be heard.

Blessings!

Keeping Up the Pace

Happy hot July to all! Long time no blog! I could say it was due to unforeseen circumstances...but I won't. I could say you wouldn't believe what happened last month...but I won't. I could say it's hard to get good help these days...but I won't.

Instead let's just go with the fact that my human, "Thumbs", as I like to call her (since, let's face facts, these appendages are what I pay her for!) experienced a wee bit of trouble keeping up the pace. Make her type when she's not in the mood and I guarantee you she goes cranky on me. Lucky for me when she's on a roll and both fingers are flying she never reads what she's typing. Consequently I can get away with a bit of badgering but don't get me wrong, we have an excellent relationship. The main reason she agreed to be my assistant was that typing my blog had to be better than listening to my incessant meowing. Touche!

Anyway, in the meantime, back at the Catvent, we'd like to introduce a new upcoming feature to our little blog. The Notch of the Week is coming your way soon.

From time to time haven't we all run across something that just about raises the hair on our back, rubs us the wrong way, makes our blood boil, gets the whiskers in a bunch? You know what I'm talking about! The things you see when you don't have a camera or a witness!

Then there are other times when something happens that strikes the funny bone, makes us laugh out loud, causes a warm fuzzy feeling or gives you a chill.

So good, bad or ugly, each week I will be on the lookout for something that screams for a whack from Sister's yardstick.

If any of you out there come across something you feel deserves a notch on my yardstick just send me an e-mail at: sistervc2@gmail.com

After all, this should be fun!

Notches Away!