Port, aka Portimus Minimus, gives you her SERIOUS face. Also, as seen from the foliage, this was taken during the summer when kitties could have carefree days in the garden. That Port, she looks so carefree, doesn’t she?

Oh, I get it. She’s channeling Angry Cat.

Somewhere around these parts, I have photos of Ahri lolling about in the sun. Now there’s a cat who appreciates seasons. (In fact, I believe he’s located the one remaining sunny window spot in the house. Soak it up while you can, orange guy.

(Weekend Cat Blogging is hosted this week by Amar and Luna over at CatSynth’s…. what? Their FEMA TRAILER? Where are those evil hackerz? Let me sick my kitties on ‘em!)

My web savvy cats have informed me that today is OneWebDay. What’s OneWebDay? It’s a day for celebrating the web because, simply put, the web is worth celebrating. Here’s more from the OneWebDay site:

OneWebDay is one day a year when we all – everyone around the physical globe – can celebrate the Web and what it means to us as individuals, organizations, and communities.

As with Earth Day – an inspiration and model for OneWebDay – it’s up to the celebrants to decide how to celebrate. We encourage all celebrations! Collaboration, connection, creativity, freedom.

By the end of the day, the Web should be just a little bit better than it was before, and we’ll be able to see our connection to it more clearly.

Now, I might be off to a late start (almost 6pm, PST), but that’s not stopping me from joining in the festivities. For my small part I’ve made a list of things to accomplish before the day is out. Fortunately for me, my “day” doesn’t end till Chopper gets home from work at 10pm, so there’s time yet. Let’s see how well I do…

A final thought for OneWebDay: As most readers of Belly Timber know, Chopper and I spent all of 2005 and most of 2006 away from our home, caregiving for my parents. We were on an island, not unpopulated by any stretch, but separated from our friends by hours in the car and more hours on an expensive ferry ride. We didn’t get out much. Had it not been for the internet — for email, for chat, for this blog, and for our other online communities — we would have lost touch with nearly everyone save for those few who still rely on phones and snail mail. (Don’t get me wrong, I love a good old-fashioned letter on paper, but how many friends of mine still write them? Let me count. Um… Yup, none.) Point is, during our island stint, the web was our lifeline. It saved our sanity more than once, it brought us opportunities well worth having, and it gave us many many new friends. I only hope that some day we’ll be able to travel and meet the friends we’ve made who live further than a day’s drive away.

And now, because it is also Weekend Cat Blogging, and Puddy and Katie have declared an optional theme of “Favourite Things,” here is Ahriman doing one of his favourite things: Color-coordinated sleeping.

A few weeks back it was the orange Top Ramen box. Today, it’s manila envelopes. Ahri is also quite fond of the blond wood of my computer desk (which indeed matches his fur quite nicely). Trouble is, he can never quite decide where on that blond wood to plant his orange butt. In fact, I think his favourite thing might just be the act of strolling back and forth in front of my computer screen while I am trying to work. Hmmm. Here’s a question. If I paint the desk a color that clashes with his fur, will he finally stop this madness?

(Much more Weekend Cat Blogging over at A Byootaful Life, wherein all “favourites” get that extra-nifty extra “u.”)

Taggity tag:onewebday

I’ve learned my lesson. Never say “hey, let’s test that new hard drive” in the middle of a project. Days later, and after much agony over ribbon cables and cooling fans, I’m back online. Fortunately, the cats did not interfere with the computer rebuilding process (this time.) Also fortunately, I was able to get quite a bit of writing done by hand, including a large portion of the following post, which I hope will cheer up those of us who are having a rough week.

Or, as I prefer to call it:

(more…)

“Is it time already?” the orange one asked as he lounged before the great calendar of all household things.

A room away, his little gray companion sat up. “Time?” she said. Her voice was louder than its usual squeak. “Indeed it is! Something’s coming. Something… shiny.” She paused, transfixed by a tail of multicolored yarn that floated across the ceiling and disappeared through the glass of a closed window.

On the couch, just a few feet away, the dog stirred but didn’t wake from her daily squirrel-chasing dreams.

“Pack your kit bag,” the gray one said. “We’re going on a journey.”

(It’s Weekend Cat Blogging here at Belly Timber. Leave links to your Cat Blogging posts in the comments or email us at the_cat(at)belly-timber(dot)com. Ahriman and Port’s Weekend Cat Blogging Round-up Adventure will begin Saturday Sunday and continue through the weekend with a final installment on Monday.

Please link back to us if you get a chance, and don’t forget this weekend’s other cat blogging adventures at the Friday Ark, and the Bad Kitty Chaos Festival.)

I am not usually susceptible to advertising. I tend to ignore what the hucksters are hucking my way on the telly. Sure the gecko’s kinda cute, but he’s not going to get me to switch insurance companies just because he’s shiny and green and sounds like Brick Top from Snatch — minus the bit about feeding people to the pigs, of course.

Same goes for print ads. Mailbox to round file: it’s such a short, short trip.

I even toss catalogs.

I should note that I don’t actually subscribe to any catalogs. Not a one. (No magazines either, but that’s another story.) When they show up unannounced, I rarely give them a second glance and I am so, so proud of my superior resistance to Madison Avenue.

But then this thing happens. This store opens within a short drive of our house. And a catalog for this store appears in my mailbox and… and…

Aagh. I can’t stand it any longer.

Look. Just look. Pages and pages of drawers and shelves and baskets — glorious storage compartments, and all with terrifyingly cute names like Björken, and Aspvik, and Ivar.

(I am MizD’s crumbling resistance.)

I can almost taste the Swedish meatballs and lingonberries as I turn the pages.

I know, I know, I have to fight it. We can’t do it. Can’t go shopping. The risk is too great.

But… but… if we acquired more storage compartments — badly needed storage compartments for things like laundry…

…we could prevent this from happening:

Yes, Port has discovered the dryer.

(Visit CatSynth for the Weekend Cat Blogging #115 Round up! Next week’s WCB will be hosted right here at Belly Timber, by our new feline residents, Port and Ahriman. I hear they are planning something unusual, but I’ve no idea what. Even the dog’s not talking.)

It’s one of those days.

I’m in the middle of transferring a large number of websites, databases, lists, galleries, and so on to a new hosting service and it is tedious work. For those who don’t know, one area in which I freelance is web design and I host sites for my design clients. My current host has been frustrating of late — frustrating enough that I’ve decided it’s time for a change.

This means Belly Timber will be moving hosts as well so there’s a chance we’ll be down for a bit later this week. I’m hoping to make the transition as quick and painless as possible, but I can’t guarantee that a certain persistent orange lummox won’t step on the keyboard at exactly the wrong time and delete my database backup. He has a rather uncanny knack for getting his paws into my work at inappropriate moments, just as Angry Cat used to shed on the articles of clothing that most needed to be clean.

Yes, that’s Angry Cat from the photo archives, above. The Belly Timber Home Photo Uploading Service is on the fritz yet again. I have half a month’s worth of photos stuck on my flash card and no way to show them to you.

On the bright side, with no way to take pictures, we now have a great excuse for lazy, ugly meals.

Another (temporary) bright side: Port and Ahriman have not yet discovered the sleep-on-warm-clothes-in-the-dryer trick. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time…

(The delicious Boo-licious hosts this week’s Weekend Cat Blogging over at Masak-Masak.)

In honor of the new Simpsons Movie, Katie and Puddy, this week’s Weekend Cat Blogging hosts, have declared an optional “Simpsons” or “yellow” theme.

We are sadly lacking in Simpsons figures in these parts (a rather glaring oversight, considering we live in Matt Groening’s home town), and yellow… well, I’m afraid we don’t do well with yellow either.

We do, however, have an abundance of orange, and since orange is just one small step away on the color wheel (and the Simpsons are a rather orangey yellow to begin with), we’ve decided that our theme for the weekend will be orange.

See, here’s Ahriman in all his orangey glory.

And here he is again.

And since he is so keen on the color orange (and keen on locating entirely inappropriate places to lounge), here is Ahri, demonstrating the design concept, Orange on Orange. Todd Oldham would be proud.

Now, since we do reside in the hometown of Matt Groening, I would be remiss if I didn’t share two tidbits of trivia.

So there you go. All that home town love and trivia and still they put Springfield in Vermont! Hrrrmph.

(Check out all the Weekend Cat Blogging this week at A Byootiful Life!)

And don’t forget:

Saturday, July 28th is BLOGATHON 2007!

I’ll be posting from 6am till 6am (Pacific time), or at least until I drop. Check out all the details in my previous post, and sponsor me if you can!

Ahh, dear humans, I’ve snatched a quick visit with my favorite medium, Madame Kittikatsky, because I’ve something of great importance to tell you!

You see, it’s been nearly half a year since my untimely demise at the tender age of 19 (us felines should live till we’re three hundred in cat years, I tell you. Like Vulcans, we should live), and now at long last, my humans have delivered. They’ve brought in new kitties to torment the furball.

Oh, you might think I’d be miffed at their nerve. After all, I am irreplaceable. But no, all I need do is gaze down from my happy hunting ground and witness Platelicker cowering at incoming claws, and I am content. Jubilant, in fact!

So, dear humans, let me introduce the two newest members of Casa Belly Timber:

This is Ahriman.

And this is Port.

These kitties come to the casa from Rancho Lake, home of the illustrious human author Jay Lake, who longtime readers may remember for his scrumptious Ginger Chocolate Chip Cookies. At least I’m told they were scrumptious. My humans ate them far too quickly for me to discover for myself.

Back to the story: Port and Ahriman have lived in the grand style of Author’s Cats for several years now, assisting their human in his many endeavors, always making certain his computer was graced with fur of one shade or another. During this time, the human’s career took off, quite like that rocket in his first novel — the novel my human blogged about while dusting ginger chocolate chip cookie crumbs off her keyboard.

In fact the rocket took off with such fantastical style that Port and Ahriman’s human had to leave Rancho Lake for exciting, career-related adventures, sometimes days at a time.

The poor kitties grew sad and did what all kitties do when left alone for far too long: They told their human in no uncertain terms that they wanted more company.

And so, my human (being a friend and neighbor of their human) said, “let me take your kitties. My furball has had the run of the house for far too long!”

At least that’s what I trust she said.

So now, these two fabulous Author’s Cats are here and ready to keep my human’s computer in fur (as all computers should be), and I am confident they will carry on in my fine cat blogging tradition as soon as they learn their way around their new keyboard.

Now, before I go, I would be remiss not to put in a good word for Port and Ahriman’s latest masterwork, Mainspring. Oh, of course it has their human’s name on the cover, but who’s fooling whom, eh? Now, I haven’t read this novel yet myself, but I hear it’s quite spectacular. But, don’t listen to me, listen to Boing Boing. (You know, I’m quite certain a cat writes all of Boing Boing’s best posts as well.)

(For more Weekend Cat Blogging, check out all the brilliant, keyboard-savvy felines at over at Dragonheart’s Domain! For animals of all sorts, visit the Friday Ark!)

(From the 35mm vaults, Stuart on the sidewalk. My old tomcat who owned our home and garden from seventh grade through college.)

July 22nd, 2006, the cat reminded me…

I was a kid with home grown veggies, pies from our own cherry tree, eggs from our own chickens, and a compost bin long before you could head to Lowe’s and buy one pre-fab. We did pretty well on the environmental front, and I carried those lessons with me when I moved out on my own — for a while at least.

Thing is, I was surrounded by consumers who loved to consume. Consume and toss, consume and toss. It was college life in the Greed is Good era, and it was damned hard to not fall into it, lock step.

I pulled myself out when I made the transition from apartment to shared house, and then again, when I first lived in this place with its jungle of plums, figs, grapes, and berries. One year, I canned all the plums and made a tasty, spicy plum syrup. It was supposed to be jam, but I never quite got a handle on that pectin thing.

Then, for a long while, it all just slipped. I was tired. So tired and overworked, and I never had the funds or the time to do anything to the garden. I let it go, let my other efforts go, and I teetered perilously close to that 80s, trickle-down Uncle Ronnie love fest I hated so much. No. I’m not going to be like that. I hated it then, and I hate it now.

But dammit, I said, looking around at my clutter and chaos, it takes so much time and effort. It’s so hard and I’m still so very tired. And the money — good lord, all those rich people going greener-than-thou with their hybrid cars and their solar panels and their low VOC paint. I can’t afford any of that. Not even the paint.

Still, I wanted to do something — whatever I could — so very very much.

So, I started making lists of the small things. The little efforts I could afford, both in time and in money. And for a while, I thought, what’s the point. My efforts are microscopic. What good are they?

I knew my discouragement needed a good smack in the head, yet still I was discouraged.
(I still am, some days, but not today.)

Chopper joined me in thoughts, plans, and tiny deeds, and we were in turns optimistic and discouraged together, but never quite forward-thinking about any of it until we both got that head smack we needed when we took time last summer from our crazy tourist season schedule to head to the theater and watch An Inconvenient Truth.

Angry Cat took over the blog on an especially hot weekend just after to remind us all of how climate change mucks with the habitat of her furry friends to the North. She’s gone now, but we’ve got our sled mutt to keep the reminder alive in our house.

And we’ve been active. We take tiny steps where we need and bigger steps where we can. It’s microscopic, still. A drop in a monstrous bucket, but action of any kind is a hell of a lot better than inaction, or discouragement.

And now, looking ahead…

See the sparsely populated sidebars on Belly Timber’s front page? That’s a reminder to me as well: that we’re overdue for a shift in focus. The food’s not going away, nor are the occasional cats (in fact, we are knee deep in cat acquisition as I write this), but Belly Timber needs to reflect where we are with our lives, and right now our lives are about so much more than tripe, truffles, and checkered ravioli.

Not that I don’t still love those things, mind you. Not that we don’t still have a few crazy culinary ideas up our sleeves…

Just know that today — 07.07.07 — I’m not a food blogger and I’m not a cat blogger. I don’t know what to call myself just yet. Life blogger? Earth blogger?

Eh, how about just Blogger on Planet Earth. The only planet we’ve got.

Calculate your carbon footprint.
Take the Live Earth pledge.

(Check out the Weekend Cat Blogging: How To Beat The Heat! round up at What Did You Eat?)

(If my dad’s spirit is the heart of this blog, then Audrey, aka Angry Cat, aka Kitty Kaga, is Belly Timber’s snarky soul. Audrey died in December, following a brief but brutal illness, but it seems that even death hasn’t kept her completely quiet. Take this crazy rant that showed up on my screen this morning… –MizD)

Oh, you wee evil humans. Listen up.

A curious thing happened these past few months. Not long after I made my rather abrupt journey to the Happy Hunting Ground, my humans ran into a bit of misfortune. Not that my untimely demise wasn’t unfortunate. Hellish is more like it. I wasn’t even around to reap the benefits of that silly thieving newspaper’s forking out for my photo. What are they going to do? Ship catnip to the afterlife? Right.

(By the way, I have things to say to humans about the number of new arrivals around these parts. Things unfit for a family blog. And yes, my humans will never know for certain, but it is entirely possible that I too was a victim of this abomination. My food was on the list.)

So, here I am, off in the beyond (where there are plenty of fat, juicy mice with no toxic additives, thanks much), and what do I see? My humans aren’t posting! NO! This is my legacy, you freaky, pink-skinned good-for-nothing…puppies! Mrrooooar.

I’ve half a mind to go down there and haunt their dreams.

See, it seems they experienced what humans like to call “hard times.” The one called Chopper, he ran out of work and couldn’t get this thing called “unemployment” because he hadn’t been back in the state long enough, and the Miz D one? Well, she tried to do this thing called “freelancing” and the people who were supposed to hire her flaked off like so much icky, half-dried pouch food.

Miz D, she even came up with a name for what she didn’t want to do: BWB. Blogging While Broke. Sucks, she says. Can’t write about tasty foods, can’t write about cool trips, can’t even start that personal chef thing they want to do ’cause there’s no start-up funds, got to spend spare time searching couch cushions for quarters, mrow, mrow, mrow, you get the picture.

Of course I’m thinking: If I were there, I’D be posting. Just POST already, bipeds.

But noooo. They take a hiatus. Don’t even let the furball post. Not that the furball would have much to say aside from: Hey! House to self! No kitty! Wheee!

Huh. I wonder if she misses me.

What’s that? You want to know how I got here? Ahah. See, I’ve found a very nice medium with a keyboard. Madame Kittikatsky, she calls herself, and she’s managed to sneak access to the Belly Timber Angry Cat Blog account.

(She tells me she has a cunning plan for future postings – a plan may involve the appearance of a new kitten. Mroow. Clever medium. I think I’ll keep her.)

So, here I am with a message from the beyond: Oh humans, my humans? Don’t make me come down there and smack some sense into you. If I can BWD, then you can BWB. Besides, I know things are looking better for you. I can smell it. Fried kippers? Steamed mussels? SALMON?

Excuse me. I’m hungry. I have a mouse to catch.

(And now, for your viewing pleasure, My final photo shoot: Angry Cat + Back Scratcher = Happy Cat.)

(more…)

Yes, you’ve borrowed a camera for the weekend.
No, you don’t need to test every setting on me.

Angry Cat’s Cunning Plan Revealed!

Angry Cat’s faithful readers may recall last week’s incident of tragic proportions: Angry Cat, minding her own business, discovered HER PHOTO in the local newspaper.

Shocked (and just a teensy bit flattered) Angry Cat plotted her revenge. She drafted not one but two letters and then proceeded to consult with regional experts on feline exploitation. One such expert of the grayling persuasion made an ingenious remark. You have claws to count with, he said. Do the math.

The math, eh? Which math would that be?

Why, the math that indicates this newspaper would, were the tables turned, charge you fifty dollars for the single use of a photo, and thirty dollars for each additional use. Now, how big is their circulation and how much catnip is that?

Angry Cat stretched her claws and counted. Three hundred twenty five thousand papers, minus one at fifty dollars, times three hundred twenty four, nine hundred ninety nine at thirty dollars, add back the fifty, and…

HOLY CRAP, THAT’S A LOT OF CATNIP!!!

Needless to say, Angry Cat was quite grateful for the clever calculation, and embarked upon letter number three.

Now, said letter is still in progress (Angry Cat being much distracted by the recent photographic goings-on of her captors), but its lack of completion does not prevent her from taking this glorious opportunity of Weekend Cat Blogging Lucky #79 to make the following announcement to the human world:

HUMAN CAPTORS BEWARE. WE CATS WILL ALL BE STINKY RICH SOON AND THEN WE WILL OWN YOU!

Don’t even attempt to resist. We mean it!

So, who’s with The Cat?

Welcome to Weekend Cat Blogging Lucky #79! Post your links here, or email them to the_cat(at)belly-timber(dot)com. The list of Feline Warriors will be updated throughout the weekend.

Here’s Taboo snug again in her cave at whaleshaman’s place. Or is she just resting up for future adventures?

Angry Cat insists on signing up Xena and Kai for her feline warrior army this very instant. Their human Chris has trained them well in the ways of self defense!

Over at T.bird’s, a clever barn cat makes future (devious) plans for the bird feeder.

Here’s Sam, or “His Royal Sam-ness,” as his fellow felines prefer to call him, contemplating the less fortunate on a chilly day at Ostara’s place.

At Kimberly’s Music and Cats, Sasha is a cat after Angry Cat’s own heart, all filled with motion (and emotion) for the camera.

Burekaboy’s got a fine collection of cat tales, and one mighty fine tail over at Is that my buréka?

Apparently Kitikata-san’s humans use her for photo demos too! Angry Cat sympathizes, but, hey! Wait a sec. Kitikata-san has her very own blog!

Little does Jason know, but Kazon is actually practicing his laser death ray.

Over at Kross-eyed Kitty, Ramona introduces the magnificently sleek Mr. Mao to that curious thing called “snow.”

Georgie knows where it’s at. Angry Cat is impressed and commends Champaign Taste’s human Lisa for her expert feline pampering skills.

At Westering Hills, Shannon makes mulled wine and Colin and Trixie take advantage. Clever cats!

Upsie gets rid of the squirrels and puts his angry face on. Wait, that’s his joy face? Zoinks! All that and Sher’s got squirrel pics, too!

Over at Amar’s CatSynth.com, Luna contemplates Calder. Surely those mobiles were designed for giant cats, right?

At Rosa’s Yummy Yums, Maruschka the dictator demands a belly scratching and Rosa must comply!

Here’s Knut luring us in with his kitteny charm. Angry Cat decides not to warn Pia. The extreme cuteness fools humans every time.

Hey! Wait a steeenkin’ minute! Tess has catnip!!!! (And D reports that Boots is not at all pleased.)

Ah, to be a queen. At Shelly’s place, Sheba shows off the breadth of her domain and demonstrates the finer art of feline camouflage.

The humans are doomed! Helpless against the kitten hordes, against the champion KitchenMages KittenMages, Dargo, TC, Trubble, and T3. Doomed, I tell ya. Doooooooooooomed!!

S’Kat might think Shishi, Spot, Sirius Black, and the Princess Melange are merely in room-conservation mode. But, shhhh, don’t tell. They’re planning a coup!

Poor not-so-lucky Lucky, forced to wear a bow for the holidays! Angry Cat thinks he looks quite ready to have some serious words with his human, Riana.

Next week, Weekend Cat Blogging takes a trip down the mighty Columbia to KitchenMage’s house of oh-so-clever Graylings!

A curious thing happened this past Wednesday. A newspaper appeared on our front porch. How odd. My human captors don’t have a subscription to the local daily. Did it belong to the neighbor? Was it a gift? A hint, perhaps, that the papers under my catbox need replacing on a more frequent basis?

Now me, being a cat and not caring much for human news, ignored the paper’s first arrival. On Thursday, the paper came again. This was definitely not a mistake. Someone wanted my captors to read. And my captors, being the messy humans they are, left sections of the paper on various easily accessible locations around the house providing me with multiple informative sitting opportunities (because, of course, we all know the old joke about why us cats sit on newspapers: we read with our butts).

This is all fine and dandy and all rather tedious (not once was the paper left open to a pet advice column or the latest Garfield) until yesterday. Until they left the paper open to this:

Does that fine specimen of felinity look familiar? Well it should.

Yes. It’s me. I’m in the paper, and if I interpret correctly the general rantings and ravings that ensued after the discovery of my published state, my captors knew absolutely nothing about it!

Indeed, my catnip fund is woefully empty.

Now, this photo (which — oh the irony — involved me fending off paparazzi whilst communing with my favorite herb-laced crumply paper) accompanies an inexplicably feline prelude to a brief notice of the Portland Holiday Ale Fest — an event my humans are certain to attend as it is well known in these parts they cannot resist any beverage bearing the name “Sledcrasher.” The prelude begins with an attempted rescue of a cat from under a radiator and ends with, well, beer. Yes, humans are that baffling.

I should note as well, that this piece is featured in the paper’s Arts & Entertainment section, and this week’s cover piece is a Holiday Wired Gift Guide. Oh, the further irony, I say (or should I say o teh ironies?). Humans who are keenly, expertly wired know full well one does not swipe photos from websites to publish in print media! Look, I may just be a cat, but even I know that theft off of other people’s intertubes is just plain wrong!

Which brings me back to that woefully empty catnip fund. I’m thinking I need to do something about this. Contact the paper and ask for something in return. Fleeting fame? Not good enough, buckos. I want remuneration. In fact, I believe I will draft a letter.

There. If that doesn’t work, plan B is already in progress. Here’s a sneak preview:

DEAR SIR OR MADAM,

I AM PLEASE TO BE MAKE YOUR AQUAINTANCE ON MATTER OF UTMOST URGANCE. I AM SOLE PRIOR OF EXPERT OFFSHORE COMPANY SPECIALIZING IN FELINE ACCESSORY OF HIGHEST QUALITY AND I HAVE THE PRIVILEDGE TO REQUEST FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE THE TRANSFER OF 47,000,000 (FORTY SEVEN MILLION) U.S. DOLLARS INTO YOUR ACCOUNTS. MY EQUITY HAS BEEN IN SUSPENCE ACCOUNT FOR TEN HUMAN YEARS AND UPON RECEIVING FROM YOU THE SMALL SUM OF 47,000 (FORTY SEVEN THOUSAND) CANS OF PREMIUM CAT FOOD, I CAN GUARANTEE THIS TEN TIMES RETURN ON YOU INVESTMENT RISK FREE AND WITH STRICTEST CONFIDENCE.

FROM THE DESK OF ANGRY CAT
INTERNATIONAL IMPORT/EXPERT DIVISION
SUPREME CAT ACCESSORY MULTICORP

There. About two hundred or so of those ought to do it.

Now, back to my reading. A new paper arrived today and at last one mystery was solved. Wrapped around the paper’s fold, a lime green flyer with the following text: Enjoy your complimentary copies of The Oregonian compliments of The Winter Hawks.

Apparently we have our local WHL hockey team to thank for this week’s curious adventure, (and for my subsequent fortune, thank you very much). Wait. What’s this I hear? My captors are now talking about taking funds they might acquire from the proper sale of my photo and attending a hockey game?

Look, I’m grateful, but I’m not that grateful. Hockey, schmockey! Where’s my catnip? Where’s my gourmet meal? And while I’m at it: Hey, cat stuck under the radiator? What the heck are you thinking? Just plant your butt on the floor vent like I do.

Lots more Weekend Cat Blogging over at The Hidden Paw, and come back next week — Weekend Cat Blogging lucky number 79 will be hosted right here at Belly Timber!

im in ur hous paintin’ ur wallz

So, you’ve probably noticed things have been a little sparce around these parts. Crazy stuff going on, from captors with computer troubles to household disasters to — would you believe — sabotage of the internets?

I kid you not.

And I wasn’t even the saboteur.

But here’s the thing: My captors have a GROOVY NEW PLAN they’re going to announce on Monday and it’s not just about this here blog. I’ll let you in on a little secret: It’s got something do with business plans and tax ID numbers.

Oh, and speaking of this here blog, and um, that there blog?

Well….

My female captor, she is SO indecisive. First day she wants two blogs. The next day, one. Next day, two again. MAKE UP YOUR MIND, HUMAN!

So, this morning, as I was leaving a household contribution on the paper just outside the rim of the catbox (my aim is impeccable), I noticed this nearby notebook, open to a page of female captor scratchings. Ahah! She’s written her bloggy thoughts. Let’s have a look!

Belly Timber – playing with our food everything since 2005.

A blog about food, crafts, DIY, frugality, and random fits of chaos.

Note: Everything is interconnected: food to frugality to sustainability to DIY to craft. It’s all part of a whole (One Blog to Rule them all – mwaahaahaa!); all moving toward the same goal of living well on a low budget and not fucking up the environment in the process.

DIY and crafty things? Oh happy day! More distractions! More time for Meeeee! And, best of all, do you know what crafting means?

That’s right:

YARN.

My life is almost complete.

Hey. Wait a sec. Frugality doesn’t include ditching the canned cat food, does it?

(Check out more Weekend Cat Blogging over at Skeezix’s Scratching Post!)

Silly?

Nope. Sorry. Not happening. I’m Ninety-Three in cat years. I don’t do silly.

Not that my female captor didn’t try, mind you. Little catnip, little taunting with the props, but frankly, I’m just not in the mood.

I mean, look. Look at this:

It’s yet another window ledge (again with that not going outside thing!), and this time, the window’s got duct tape all over it!

Apparently — or so I’ve overheard — there were humans living in my house while my captors and I were away. And apparently, even though these humans agreed they’d take good care of the place, they left it in quite a shambles.

Which explains the duct tape. And the painter’s tape. And the little painty paw prints I just tracked across the living room floor.

And the fact that my captors are so busy reclaiming my house that they’ve no time to blog.

Hey. Wait a sec. Captors too busy for three weeks running? No time to…

Ha! It’s mine! Mine, I tell you! At long last, the blog is ALL MINE!

(For more Weekend Cat Blogging, including silly cats, check out Rosa’s Yummy Yums!)

(From the 35mm vaults: Stuart on Moving Day, many many moves ago)

Oh, how we hate moving. We hate it even more when it’s a tedious, agonizing process that involves the endless juggling of tenants, relatives, and mountains of semi-packed kipple. At this point, it’s a wonder we know where The Cat is.

(She’s fine, in fact. Cooped up a little, lonely at the moment, but surrounded by her treasured catnip-imbued crumply paper. She and Platelicker will be reunited soon… and then — ahhhh — life back to normal. Cats and dogs living together, mass hysteria, the usual tranquility.)

This past week we spent three days in a tiny mountain village in Central Washington: Our first true vacation since our honeymoon (which was, go figure, in a tiny mountain village in Central Oregon). It was a refreshing break from moving madness, but more than that, it gave us quiet time to sit back and say hey, what’s next.

Not that we lacked plans before this moment, it’s just that now our plans are beginning to crystallize. I’m not ready to go into specifics just yet, but I will soon, and the specifics will involve a few changes to Belly Timber, and the addition of a new blog in our repertoire.

This latter bit should be good news for The Cat, who is always looking for a new sandbox to defile. Er, I mean a new playground wherein she might romp, chase butterflies, and do all the adorable things sweet little (non-angry) kitties do.

My captors are toying with me again. First, we move from my island paradise to this tiny basement with but one window ledge for me to perch on and no outside access whatsoever, and then, adding insult to injury, they place an alien cat (a large and rather quarrelsome black and white creature) just beyond my reach to taunt me. I am in feline agony. And worse: I’ve no means to vent!

Yes, for the entire month of September, venting was, due to circumstances far beyond even my captors’ control, a lost cause. Why? Apparently someone in this overburdened flophouse of slackertude determined that they were the sole arbiter of internet access and — would you believe — HID THE MODEM when they weren’t using it for themselves.

Needless to say, my captors and I weren’t pleased. Oh, to be as blissfully ignorant as that silly furball. Ha. Just wait. Some day SHE’LL have literary aspirations, and they too will be squelched!

But I digress. You see, we’re no longer in that tiny purgatory of spiders and cement. We’re almost home! ALMOST.

Trouble is, my captors promised me a move toward better things. Toward a YARD again. Maybe even a CAT DOOR. Well, guess what? I’m still waiting.

And, where am I waiting? In yet another basement, only this one doesn’t even have a window ledge!

Oh sure, there’s carpet instead of cement, and I haven’t seen any spiders, but I ask you, is that supposed to make up for the SECOND EVIL CAT lurking outside the glass door, or the TWO ADDITIONAL DOGS in the house?

Be patient, they say. It’s just a week of house sitting they say, but I am cursed. Cursed!

Well, I’ll get them, I will. And meanwhile, I’ll laugh in the face of their daily traumas. Can’t find a tea kettle? The iron is broken? Allergic to one of the dogs? Oh, SUFFER. Next time, when you’ve got to dump the leftover gravy out of your one suitable pan so you can make a cup of evening tea, put some of it on my freakin’ cat food or I will walk all over your keyboard like I’ve never walked on it before.

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KL=-9]4132 RSD57EA3XFRSRWYGVUPKJBGDECV
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THERE. SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT. I’VE GOTTEN THE CAPSLOCK STUCK AND YOU’VE NO IDEA HOW TO UNDO IT, DO YOU?

BWAAHAAAHAAA!

OH, AND NEXT TIME YOU WANT TO WATCH ONE OF THOSE SILLY BRITISH SCIFI SHOWS, IT BETTER NOT BE AN EPISODE WHEREIN ALL THE CATS ARE VILLAINS. TRUST ME ON THIS. YOU REALLY DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT ELSE I’VE GOT PLANNED.

MizD is off-island on family business, but she knows the proper way to entertain in her absence: kittens! These particular three date back almost to my childhood, over 90 cat years ago. Of course that’s my porch they’re on. I’m so generous.

–The Cat

Try living with fur.

Seriously, people. You think you have it bad? How about a day in this heat as a tabby.

I know, I know, we’re all miserable.

Thing is, it’s only going to get worse.

Unless we do something about it.

For starters, get your human asses over to the nearest (air-conditioned) theater and see An Inconvenient Truth.

Seriously. I’ve got furry friends who can’t find any freakin’ ice flows to live on and this is pissing me off.

And if you think Angry Cat is bad news when she’s angry…

I hear Mother Nature’s got one hell of a set of claws.

(Check out more Weekend Cat Blogging over at Eat Stuff, and welcome back, Clare & Kiri!)

In honor of the World Cup and of the new documentary Once in a Lifetime — about the rise of the New York Cosmos in the 1970s — here’s Rita tackling a few players during Soccerbowl ’77. I think Pelé might be somewhere under her paw.

I won’t sit still for it.

(more…)

My captors are deserting me for the weekend, yet again. This time, it’s all about wine. Free wine. And some thing called a Geek Dinner. Hah. Geek dinner. Can I tell you just how geeky they are? They have Lord of the Rings action figures above the TV. They’ve memorized the entire script of Wrath of Khan. Don’t even get me started on the gaming books.

So, apparently, this whole wine thing has something to do with marketing. Like I don’t know about marketing.

See? I’ve even made my own ad for this silly wine:

Let’s see those humans do better than that!

Oh, and since this is the one year anniversary of Weekend Cat Blogging, I’ve got a special treat over at You Tube. No, not me meowing. (Even though my meow is glorious.) It’s a small sample of just what I have to endure around here. Crumply paper. Dog. I don’t think I need to say more.

Check out more Weekend Cat Blogging at Eat Stuff!

The lovely Sam of Becks & Posh (who doesn’t mention cats nearly often enough) has posted a link to a new Flickr toy over at Food Blog S’cool and ponders whether this toy works with blogging software other than Blogger.

Well, viola!

(more…)

This has gone on long enough. First, the internet connection goes out two weekends in a row (right when I’m about to launch my nefarious plot to take over the blog… just you wait… mwrooow…) and then this weekend? It’s a frickin’ holiday weekend, so what does my female captor do? She taunts me with paper. Look at this:

She folds paper up into pretty shapes and I don’t even get to play with it! Where’s my justice, I ask? Where’s my crumply paper?

Ah… there it is.

(more…)

I said Mrrrreeeooowww.

Private moments with my catnip are strictly off limits!

(For more Weekend Cat Blogging, check out Clare and Kiri’s Eat Stuff!)

Do NOT touch my catnip-infused crumply paper until my licking is DONE!

(For more Weekend Cat Blogging, check out all the cute (and fierce, and sneaky) kitties down at Clare and Kiri’s Eat Stuff!)

The Cat is brooding. She cannot get past that whole Year of the Dog thing.

We tried to lure her out for photos, but alas, she keeps to darkened rooms and dusty corners.

So, we’re diving into the archives. This week: Vintage 1980s, Pekoe in the leaves.

Meanwhile, the puppy is giddy. See, Chopper came home with three ginormous packages of ribs (on sale, dirt cheap), and the puppy (as usual) is anticipating many table scraps this weekend. She will, alas, be disappointed. Not only are we expecting a colossal wind storm that may very well knock out our power during the Superbowl broadcast, but Chopper must go to work Sunday afternoon because (ahem) some person who has no respect for great sporting events has made dinner reservations at 5:30 p.m. Dude. We’re less than 100 miles from Seattle. Have you no heart?

Ah well. There’s always TiVo. If the power stays on.

And I swear, if anyone gives away how many touchdowns Shaun Alexander scored before Chopper finishes watching the fourth quarter, there’ll be hell to pay!

(Look for more weekend cat blogging at Kiri and Clare’s Eat Stuff!)

…Year of the WHAT??

A recent conversation at Casa Belly Timber:

Kitty Kaga: (positively dripping with disdain) Oh. So you’re back.

Platelicker: (bursting, as usual) Oooh! Kitty!

Kitty Kaga: I would have wished you gone forever, but there’s work to be done here, and I cannot do it alone. I suppose my captors completed the judging for Paper Chef?

Platelicker: Must! Chase! Kitty!

Kitty Kaga: Ahem. They were in Seattle almost a whole week, you know. They could have posted, or at least completed their judging notes.

Platelicker: Seattle has many dogs. Wheeee!

Kitty Kaga: Right. So, about the judging…

Platelicker: And yummy food and big hills and…

Kitty Kaga: They weren’t able to finish, were they?

Platelicker: If I tell you, can I chase you?

Kitty Kaga: If you tell me, after I am done eating, I shall let you lick up the scraps of food that fall from my dish to the floor.

Platelicker: Wheee! Free food! Okay, okay, so they didn’t finish, and they couldn’t post and — you’ll probably hear about that later cuz it all has to do with stuff like bowling and dancing, and meeting other food bloggers, and strange, yummy food they wouldn’t let me eat — and, well, they tried to think it all through, but they just got pooped, and then there was this whole planning for the future thing, and visiting relatives, and knee injuries and…

Kitty Kaga: Planning for the future thing?

Platelicker: You’ll hear about that later too. It has to do with words and jobs and more strange, yummy food they wouldn’t let me eat, and — Hey! Do I get to lick up your food scraps now?

Kitty Kaga: Silly furball. You always lick up the scraps of food that fall from my dish to the floor.

Platelicker: Oh. Right. (a befuddled pause) Oh! Guess what! I’m going to take climbing lessons!

Kitty Kaga: Wonderful. Now, go away.

Platelicker: I’m starting with chair backs and working my way up to counter tops and trees.

Kitty Kaga: (after a heavy sigh) How nice. Say, isn’t that a leftover pig ear out in the garden?

Platelicker: Pig ear!! Wheee!

(exit dog, kitchen left.)

Kitty Kaga: Well then, it appears I must complete my chairmenical duties and announce the winners for this month’s Paper Chef Competition. Oh, shut up. I know chairmenical isn’t a real word. Do I look like I care?

So… on with it.

This was, as can be deduced by the lateness of this post, a most arduous process. I have reason to believe my captors quibbled and quarreled over their decisions for days on end. (When they weren’t off bowling or shopping or planning their futures that is. Silly creatures.)

I have, since their return, obtained their copious notes, reviewed them, and am now prepared to post the official announcement.

Well, there you have it. The results of my captors’ arduous quibbling.

Oh, wait! They appear to have attached an additional note to their abundantly annotated scoring page:

(Meanwhile, Platelicker has returned to the room)

Platelicker: Mommy and Daddy are asleep! I want to play and they’re asleep!

Kitty Kaga: Oh. Back again?

Platelicker: Why are they asleep?

Kitty Kaga: I don’t suppose you know what the phrase “It’s been a long week” means, do you?

Platelicker: Play with me?

Kitty Kaga: Not a chance.

Platelicker: (pouting) They won’t be doing this Paper Chef thing again any time soon, will they?

Kitty Kaga: Not if they can help it. As much as I relish this donning of finery — and don’t you dare raid my wardrobe again! — I do possess great sympathy for their battle with this thorny task, and understand completely if they choose to run screaming from such competitions in the near future.

Platelicker: But, but… next month could be cream and salmon and tuna water and juicy mouse head month!

Kitty Kaga: Cream… Salmon… Juicy mouse head… Ahem. Well. My sympathies can be short-lived if the occasion warrants. You were saying?

Platelicker: Play with me?

Kitty Kaga: (with a flexing of claws) Don’t push your luck.

Hey! Who’s been messing with my wardrobe?

Ahhh… this black one looks especially good on me!

Mrrrrrrreooooow!! Phhhhhtht!

There. Much better.

Yes, my fine feline friends, Kitty Kaga is back, just in time for Paper Chef #14!

It’s a brand new year, which means time for brand new ingredients and a brand new theme!

Right. The ingredients are new every month. I knew that.

So, without further ado…

Our first three ingredients, chosen at random from the nomination list:

1. Cashews
2. Quinoa
3. Yoghurt

And for our fourth, specially chosen ingredient, in honor of the brand new infant year….

(No, not BABIES, silly!)

Here, have a lookie:

Got it yet?

That’s right. It’s Baby Food!

Er…

Or rather, it’s the baby variety of any older food, be it veggie, fruit, meat, or fish. Baby corn, baby bok choy, baby clams… the possibilities are endless!

Now, if you’re feeling a bit scary adventurous, we’ll also allow any food that’s got the word “baby” in the title! (Though, if you go for either of those last two in our photo set? You’re weirder than we are, got it? Weird.)

So… go healthy, go vegetarian if you like, go for simple elegance, and express the spirit of a brand new year’s renewal with your brand spankin’ new burblin’ baby ingredients!

Oh, and don’t forget to play!

Now, here, freely lifted from Tomatilla, are excerpts from Owen’s Paper Chef event guidelines:

And now for our nitty gritty details:

Entries are due midday (PST) on Monday, January 9th. We’re pretty lax around here, so any time before mid-Monday evening will probably do, and even after that we’ll be forgiving, if, say, you managed to torch your kitchen while inventing Baked Baby Yukon Gold Alaska.

Send your entries to mrs_d AT belly-timber DOT com, and include your name, blog name, location, and a permalink to your entry. You can also post your entry information here on this comments thread. Also, I’d like to encourage everyone to add a “Paper Chef” technorati tag to the end of their post, thusly –

Tagged with: <a href=”http://technorati.com/tag/Paper Chef” rel=”tag”>Paper Chef</a>

– so it gives everyone an extra place to search for entries before we post the round-up.

Have fun, and once again, Kitty Kaga sez:

Allez Cuisine!

That’s it.

Now the dog gets to be part of Weekend Herb Blogging and I’m neglected again?

Hrrrmph. Last week it was all about rock stars.

Well, I said I’d show them, so guess what? I made a few phone calls (yes, my paws can hit one number at a time, what of it?), and I tracked down some assistance. Sure, my male captor cooked dinner for a rock star, but did he then get the rock star to write lyrics for him? Hmm? I think not.

And okay, I admit it; my female captor did give me a nice, smelly, crumply paper prezzie to go along with these photos, but the things I had to do…

Well. I’ll let my rock star lyrics tell the rest of the story.

Just an angry cat on an island called San Juan.
If I could have my wish, I’d wish this puppy gone.
More misery than any cat could bear.
Rescue me before I shred your favorite chair!

Hurkin’ up some big hairballs
Hurkin’ up some big hairballs
Hurkin’ up some big hairballs…

(For more weekend cat blogging, check out Clare and Kiri’s hep cat pad over at Eat Stuff!)

My captors have neglected me yet again.

Three weeks, I tell you, three weeks without cat blogging. Will this torment ever end?

I am told they are (as always) busy. My male captor, the one called “Chopper” for reasons that quite terrify me, is keeping long hours at the restaurant and cooking for rock stars.

I kid you not. Here’s the conversation upon his return last night:

Dude, he says (he often calls my female captor “dude”), Steve Miller came in again. He loved the cod so much he had to come back. And my Egg Nog Panna Cotta was a huge hit!

Cool beans, my female captor exclaims, despite the fact that she’s eating soup out of a box for dinner and has completely ignored my requests for a third meal of the day.

So. You gonna blog it? he asks.

If I get to blog about the time I once served dinner to the Ramones, she answers.

Oooo. See? Now aren’t we special? Well, I’ll show them. I’ll find my own rock star and I’ll… well, just you wait.

Oh, and meanwhile? What’s my female captor been doing while she’s stuck at home not cooking? Trying to learn a new blogging platform so she can do new and pretty things with the blog and link to important posts in the archives like this one and this one and this one.

Yes, those links are all about me.

As well they should be, dammit.

Come to think of it, this entire blog should be about me. In fact… that’s it. Tonight, when she’s fast asleep, I’m taking over the computer, learning Photoshop, and designing a new logo. Here’s a sneak preview. Shhhh. Don’t tell.

(For weeekend cat blogging of a less sinister nature, check out Clare and Kiri’s blog over at eat stuff!)

Today, I am not an angry cat. Nor am I a frivolous cat, dressed in Kaga finery. Nor even a hungry cat, fending off my kibble from the evils of Platelicker.

No, today I am a sad cat.

My dear kitty friend Kiri’s owner Clare has been injured due to an attack by an evil canine creature and some people think it’s Kiri’s fault! Poor Kiri, doing only what us cats do best: freaking out in the face of imminent danger. I know he didn’t mean it. He’s a good cat and a sweet cat and, I imagine right now, a very sad cat as well.

And so, for Kiri and for Clare, since I can’t get to the chocolate (as it’s being heavily guarded by humans with cravings), I offer this small token of my appreciation…

…a fall color explosion!

(For more special get well soon Weekend Cat Blogging, visit Boo the cat over at masak-masak!)

Another one from the kitty photo vaults: Rita and Stuart celebrate Laundry Day.

(For more Weekend Cat Blogging, visit our fabulous guest host Boo the Cat over at Masak-Masak!)

(And don’t forget, it’s Paper Chef Weekend. Get cooking!)

If my memory serves me right, this, the weekend of October 29th and 30th, holds a special dual significance. Not only do we don our festive attire and celebrate the birth of Kiri, beloved cat of Clare’s Eat Stuff, we also mark the launch of the internationally acclaimed Paper Chef Ingredient Nomination Week.

Ahhh, Paper Chef. It was nearly a year ago that one man’s fantasy became reality and this grand event of the food blogosphere came into being. From humble beginnings, Owen of Tomatilla has risen to the occasion time and time again to bring us this quintessential competition, where masterful chefs from all corners of the globe celebrate their creativity and their diversity in artistic dishes never tasted before. Each month, the secret ingredients are revealed, and each month, the illustrious winners are announced. Who can forget the majestic Cocoa-Pomegranate Roast Chicken with Eggplant Stuffing, the salacious Feta Soufflé with Walnuts, Dates and Feisty Greens, the mighty Po’ Boy?

So now, bloggers, show me the ingredients you so desire for the creation of your culinary masterpieces. Remember, you may only nominate once, so choose wisely. Let Paper Chef Ingredient Nomination Week begin!

Oh, and happy birthday, Kiri!

(Paper Chef ingredient nominations run today through Thursday. The four chosen ingredients will be posted Friday, November 4th at Noon, PST. Stay tuned for a complete list of nominated ingredients. Not eligible this time: duck, pears, ginger, & nut butter.)

(For more weekend cat blogging, visit Kiri’s Birthday Bash at Eat Stuff!)

In case of power outage: Light lamp, cuddle cat.

(For more weekend cat blogging visit Clare & Kiri’s all-cat round-up and kitty party announcement over at Eat Stuff!)

Hah! They think it’s all about them, but they are mistaken. In truth, it’s all about ME. See, I peeked at that latest webstats and you know what? “Messy Kitchen” is no longer the top search string. That’s right, It’s been replaced. The top search string now?

ANGRY CAT!

Ha ha! I am jubilant! I am vindicated! I will celebrate with Friskees and dead voles! I will revel in my anger!

I will…

What’s that you say? You want to look at pictures of happy kitties too? Oh very well. You know the drill. Weekend Cat Blogging #19, over at Kiri’s pad — check it out!

From the cat photo vaults, Pekoe at the birdbath: Here, dinner dinner dinner…

(For more kitty photos, check out Weekend Cat Blogging over at Clare and Kiri’s hep cat pad!)

Oh very well. Since we are showing off pictures of our friends, here is… ahem… Well. I do not know her name, but trust me, she is a very dear friend.

Otherwise I would not be letting her bask on my garden bench, now would I?

(Visit more gorgeous kitties over at Kiri and Clare’s Weekend Cat Blogging Round-up!)

I will have my revenge, Furball!

(For more weekend cat blogging and more kitties (most of them in better moods) check out Clare & Kiri’s eat stuff)

Many moons ago, in my former life in Portland, I lived in a neighborhood of many cats. (Honestly, we ruled the neighborhood, no question about it.) One neighbor collected cats. In fact, she had so many, she fed them on the sidewalk! Strays always had a place to go here, no matter what.

Curious to know how cats were faring down south these days, I did a quick image search (and you think cats can’t Google — hah!) and look what I found!

Kitten!
And, oh my goodness more kittens!

Ahh, it’s days like this that I think maybe our human captors aren’t quite so bad after all.

For tons more Weekend Cat Blogging, visit the amazing Kiriasaurus Rex (in a hand-knitted jumper!) over at Clare’s eat stuff

It’s like this, see. First, my captors disappear for a weekend at some silly thing called a wedding which means NO PHOTO of me for Weekend Cat Blogging #11. Second, my female captor returns with a summer cold. The sniffles, of all things, and she claims that — what with work and all — she’s too tired to post! TOO TIRED TO POST?? I’ve got news for you, missy. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m seventeen years old. That’s a hundred and nineteen in captor years and here I am posting! Put that in your bowl and lick it, baby!

Oh, and did I mention my male captor has a new work schedule? (Yes, work: How sad for them to have to work while I dodge that evil black fluffy thing all day!) Supposedly, adjusting to his new schedule takes time, and so he too is (yes, you guessed it) TOO TIRED TO POST.

Oh the tragedy of it all.

Well. Here I am at any rate, and I see that I am in fine feline company once again this weekend. For all the details and visits to others of superior intellect and agility, venture over to Kiri’s blog, where his captor, Clare, (who does have time to post, unlike some captors) has put up a nice collection of Weekend Cat Blogging links.

I’d eat you if you weren’t made of plastic.

More weekend cat blogging:
Kiri at eatstuff
Tanuki and Yoshi at a cat in the kitchen
Meow Meow at masak-masak
Nic’s hungry kitty at bakingsheet (No! Not the pie!!)
Bella at a few of my favourite things
and Edith (and her cute tongue!) over at anne’s food

Oh, my beloved bumper. How I love your warm smoothness against my furry forehead.

(Taken in the parking lot of our local winery. We had to pick up the cat and move it so we could safely drive out.)

Ah yes, I remember my old yard and my favorite spot, B.P.

Stay away from the food, and while you’re at it, hands off the cheap Chilean wine.

Day 6202.
Dear Diary, Platelicker still torments me at every turn. I’ve taken to climbing the wisteria to the upstairs balcony and hiding for long hours at a time just to keep her annoying, wet nose far far from my person.

And now, insult added to injury: My captors spent yesterday evening concocting a dish using buttermilk and eggs and heavy cream, and (despite my yammerish demands) they have not shared a single drop of it with me!

It began thusly: Friday morning, they read the ingredient list for this month’s Paper Chef on Tomatilla. I should note that I also read the ingredient list at this time, as I was curled up in front of my female captor’s computer, attempting to tip the tea mug over in hopes that she would buy a more ergonomic keyboard. (I could curl my body around the old one; this one is just so… flat.)

The ingredient list:
Medjool Dates (eh, too gooey for my aging teeth)
Eggs (do they not realize how sleek and silky my coat looks after I’ve eaten a raw egg? Where, I ask you, where are my raw eggs? Don’t just feed them to me when you run out of cat food!)
Honey (I’ll skip this one. Too reminiscent of that time I licked my female captor’s arm after she applied Ben Gay to a sports injury.)
And, lastly,
Buttermilk. (BUTTERMILK! A delectable blend of butter and milk. The best of all possible worlds. Oh, my scrumptious liquid of joy… feed me, feed me… WHAT? I don’t get ANY of the BUTTERMILK???)

Yes, sad to say, I did not get any of the buttermilk. Nor the eggs, nor the heavy cream, nor the white chocolate (which I am certain I would love if they’d just give me a chance), nor even a nip of the rum.

The rum, I should add, that prompted many murderous thoughts in my feline brain:

Redrum… Redrum….REDRUM!

But, I digress.

I’d hoped for a tasting opportunity when my male captor devoted himself to creating something that resembled a rather delicate and less noxious cow pie out of chocolate meringue, and my female captor left the confines of the house to pick salmonberries for the dessert’s garnish, but no. The parfait itself was snugly poured into a soup can and safely ensconced in the freezer (hah — in their desperation, my captors could not find a proper dessert mold and so this — their culinary pride and joy — will have telltale ridges! If given the chance I would scrawl “Friskees” on it with a fore-claw).

The kitchen counters were now bare. I could not even scour the floor for remnants of the process. Platelicker lurked at every turn. All I could do was wait.

Minutes ticked by. Then an hour. At long last, my male captor removed the parfait from the can, and the two of them proceeded to ruin the monument of creamy goodness with silly garnishes of rum-soaked dates and salmonberries. I should note my one small victory: I managed to distract them long enough to forget the additional garnish of dark chocolate curls. Hah-HAH!

Still, it looked quite impressive. I thought: This means something.

It means tasty goodness. It means a delectable blend of sweet date, tart berry, and cream, cream, luxurious cream, but what it did not mean was this: food for The Cat.

No, agony and woe, my male captor devoured the dish in three minutes flat.

And Platelicker got to lick the plate.

I will, some day, exact my revenge. Just you wait. Next time they pull out the heavy cream and the buttermilk, I tell you this now in all secrecy: It’s hairball time.