(editor’s note: It appears that while I was away, not sleeping atop the warm PC tower, that hyperactive furball managed to locate my feline/human translation matrix and reconfigure it to canine standard. And here I thought she was a dumb puppy. Come to think of it, I’m certain she is a dumb puppy. Perhaps she had help; I hear raccoons can be bribed with the shells of recently-shucked oysters. At any rate, while I am decidedly NOT amused by this turn of events, I have, in the interest of keeping the peace (or rather, keeping that beast away from the counter and MY food dish), agreed to leave the furball’s post intact… though I will not refrain from inserting the occasional editorial comment as I see fit. –The Cat.)

Hellooooo! This thing working? Yes! Yippee! New people to talk to! People people people! Are you nearby? Can you come visit so I can lick your faces? Oh, pleeeeeease!
Okay, okay okay, I’ll try to calm down. Promise. But, but PEOPLE! Whee! This is so exciting!
Okay, deep breath. Gotta say stuff before the cat comes back because … Oooooh, Cat! Must Chase Cat. Must … Oooooh…

Okay, back now. Cat in hiding, hahah!

(ed’s note: She has no idea of the extensive network on in-house hiding places I’ve got… no idea what so ever.)

So, PEOPLE. Who wants to play with me? I’m great at fetch. Really. I do try VERY HARD not to turn fetch into keep-away. Promise. And I love the beach. Can we go to the beach? I wouldn’t be asking, but see, my pack has deserted me! Can you believe that? I mean, it’s not like they’re gone all the time, but it feels like all the time. They both have to be gone in the mornings now THREE WHOLE DAYS A WEEK, AND they’re gone in the evenings a bunch of days too because Beta Mommy has to go with Alpha Daddy and do things like answer phones and seat people at tables and — oh I could just cry — BRING PEOPLE FOOD! Big HUGE steaming hot, fantastic plates of Italian food, and even when they bring home their shift meals afterwards I hardly ever get any. I mean, how can I be a Platelicker when all the food comes in to-go boxes, I ask you? Huh? HUH?

(ed’s note: To-go boxes, left atop the kitchen counter, I might add. Oh how vewy sad for da poowr fuwrbawll…)

And then … then… half the time they have to go on trips and stuff, back to our boring house in Portland, where I have to be on a leash outside, and there aren’t any deer to chase, and they spend the WHOLE ENTIRE TIME cleaning and packing furniture. OH, the incaninanity of it all!

(ed’s note: Is that a word? Please tell me that’s not a word. Good grief, I never whined so much, even when I didn’t get that lamentable dairy dessert.)

So, PEOPLE, please scold Beta Mommy and Alpha Daddy for me, because you know what else? They hardly ever have time to cook! Can you believe that? Okay, I mean they did do ribs a few times this last month, but then they stopped giving me the bones to gnaw on. It’s not my fault that I’m so hungry I want to eat the whole thing and then all the bits of bone get stuck in my throat and I puke all over the floor. I mean, really! It’s just a little barf. Give me more bones, PEOPLE!

(ed’s note: really now. At least when I have a hairball I have the dignity of giving them a 30 second warning…)

Now, they TELL me that things are going to be better next month. More trips to the beach, more time to play keep-away fetch, and more time to cook.

(ed’s note, and it goes without saying, more time to post about cooking!)

All I’m saying is that they’d better be right, or my inventory of chewable things in this house is going to get a whole lot bigger!

–Platelicker

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 21st, 2005 at 6:09 pm and is filed under superfluous dogs. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.