R.I.P Murder Cat Fred

As I feared would happen, Murder Cat Fred departed this life on December 13th 2009. The cats were chasing each other all over the lawn and Fred ran under the wheels of a car. They didn't have time to avoid him.

I wish I had not seen it happen.

Fred was a hoot to watch. He had calmed down quite a bit from when he first tried to kill me. He would allow me to pet him and even pick him up once in a while.

He had spent too much of his life as a wild animal and was not willing to be domesticated.. much like members of my family. To keep him safe from the outside world, he would have had to be caged. Again..much like my family..only the police keep THEM caged to keep the outside world safe.

An attack from Fred could come at any time. The things that set him off were numerous. Grabbing his tail, looking at him, not looking at him, reading a novel from an Author he didn't approve of.. it didn't really matter. He saw danger in the strangest places.

So.. Goodbye Murder Cat Fred. You will be missed.

Pecking orders and Sleazy Females.

This is a story about pecking orders. The list of players is as follows:

Murder Cat Fred
Evil Orange Marmalade Cat
Soon to be Pregnant Hussy Cat
Anti-Christ Cat

So... Murder Cat Fred used to be friends with Evil Orange Marmalade Cat. They would brush up against each other and were always together, plotting and scheming. Not only were they birds of a feather but they murdered and ate birds of a feather.. including most of the feathers. This lets me know they are tough because I can not eat the feathers of a chicken no matter how many times I've tried.

Yes, they were friends until Soon-To-Be-Pregnant-Hussy-Cat came by. Marmalade cat liked Hussy cat. Fred liked hussy cat too. One day they got into a big fight over her. Hussy cat sat back and watched the fight with mild amusement and a bag of microwave popcorn. Where she got the microwave, I do not know. I really must clean out the garage.

Now, Murder Cat Fred is afraid of Marmalade Cat. Marm Cat wants to brush up beside Fred and go for a beer like they used to but Fred backs off. He will no longer be a wing man. So yet another friendship is dashed because of a sleazy female. Fred needs to learn how to forgive and forget.

Entering stage right is Sweet Gray Cat. Sweet gray cat is sweet.. to me. I have the food. Sweet Gray Cat is afraid of Fred but not Marm Cat. He is ready to rip Marm cat a new one. Sweet cat seems to be defending Fred but Fred hates him. Apparently, Sweet cat does not like injustice and will fight for the underdog or cat as it may be no matter how convoluted the situation. Maybe I should change Sweet Cats name to ACLU Cat. If Sweet Cat starts to defend burglars inside my house after showing them where the hidden cash is.. I will do just that.

Anti-Christ cat is the king of the hill. Everyone is afraid of him and stays out of his way. I stay out of his way. If you don't, you are a fool and deserve to die. I can tell that Anti-Christ cat wants to be loved but his attitude is bad. I'm waiting for Hussy Cat to start chasing him soon. She is drawn to bad boys. She will pit Marm, Fred and Anti-Christ against each other just to watch them fight over her. Hussy cat needs to go back to her barstool and think about what she's doing over a shot of whiskey before she ends up being a drunken welfare mom.

I know this is not going to end well.

The Whimsical, Continuing Adventures Of Murder Cat Fred

Murder Cat Fred likes to play in the cemetery. Fred is enamored by the place for he spends many an hour frolicking amongst the graves. I think Fred has an unhealthy fascination with death. He didn't come by his name by stopping to smell the roses.. unless of course they were on top of a grave. There are many animals who live in the cemetery. Rats, Moles, Silver Foxes, Raccoons, Armadillos and Possums.

Murder Cat Fred met his first Possum last night. Fred was very curious about the weird cat with the nekkid tail. He swatted the tail several times as it swayed back and forth like a conductors baton, seemingly keeping time to the psychotic beat in Fred's brain.

I'm not sure what to name the Possum. I have no idea if the possum is a boy or a girl.. I am not about to check. It would be too weird.



There is another new contender for my attention hanging around. Actually he doesn't give a rats rear for my attention, he just wants food. I think he specifically wants to eat my soul. A friend suggested I name him "Rocky" because he is a huge mass of muscle and attitude. I will not name him that because he isn't as socially adept as Sylvester Stallone portrayed Rocky. I have decided to name him "Anti-Christ Cat" My neighbor said if she didn't know he was a cat, she would be scared to death of him. I do not share her sentiment, I know he's a cat and he still scares the crap out of me. This picture does not accurately portray his freakish girth. He is quite beautiful but supposedly, the anti-christ will be also. I'm waiting to see if they are one in the same. Murder Cat Fred will not have a chance against him.

The Whimsical, Continuing Adventures of Murder Cat

It has been awhile since I mentioned Murder Cat. For those who haven't read, Murder Cat is a feral cat that was holding me captive in my house. Every time I walked outside my house, Murder Cat would attack my feet and try to eat me. Over time, his routine became tedious to me and I was tired of cowering behind the couch.. so I decided to feed him. He became much more pleasant to be around after that and I didn't have to budget near as much money for band-aids.

Last night I heard some strange sounds outside so I got up to see what was going on. I was specifically wondering if Murder Cat, was indeed, back to murdering something. After looking around for a few seconds, I spotted him across the street in the cemetery. He saw me too and came running to me across the busy four lane avenue. He then came to a dead stop in the middle of said street, sat down and proceeded to lick himself. When he sauntered up to me I told him that grooming simply wasn't that important and that whatever he was doing over in the cemetery wasn't any of my business but to leave my Mother alone.



The above picture is of Murder Cat attacking a menacing brick that was apparently taunting him. Murder Cat does not suffer fools, bricks, blades of grass, gust of wind, or any other objects tangible or intangible..lightly.

When Your Dad Starts to Spoil

I think my 83 year old dad is starting to spoil. I can smell him from 5 foot away. I do all the cooking and cleaning for him, well..I cook. I gotta admit I stink at cleaning, but I've never had to clean HIM up.. yet. I'm sure that day is coming but I'm pretty convinced that he would rather drop dead than have me bathe him.. No offense to him but I think I might prefer that too. It's a guy thing. Anywhoo... I'm smellin some stale tail goin on. Now the strange part. I've never known my dad to take a shower or bath during my lifetime...ever. He has always taken spit baths at the bathroom sink. I have never asked him why he does that and I have a sneaking suspicion that if I tried to put him in the tub now it would be akin to doing the same to a wild alley cat. Anyway, point is.. he smells.

I asked him if he had any clean clothes and he replied "Yup, I was gonna change-em a couple weeks ago but haven't had time". Yeah.. ha ha dad. Short of getting him to go out in the back yard and ambushing him with a bucket of bleach and a water hose, I'm not sure what to do. I suppose I could stick a can of Fabreeze in his pants, pull the trigger and run but he might think he's done pooped himself. I'd also rather not have to sleep with one eye open for the next few years. I say years because trust me, he wouldn't forget it. Memory like an Elephant, that one.

He did take a shower once. He was in the hospital after a stoke and the nurse was in the shower with him to help. She was dressed in some sort of getup that I'm sure was
to keep her dry but looked more like they had called Haz-mat in to control the toxic run-off.

Oh well. Its a bridge we will cross when we come to it, trouble is, after I cross that bridge I may have to keep running.

Feral Cats Are Trying To Kill Me.

So.. I go outside the other night and one of the feral cats that my dear sweet neighbor feeds is on my front porch. She starts looking straight at my toes like she is about to perform a science experiment... her almond shaped pupils fixed, reminding me of a corpse on a TV crime show. I decide to wiggle them a bit.. my mistake. She pounces and starts gnawing like a teething infant with 'roid rage.

I let out a tiny little yelp that startles the cat and brings the next door neighbors running outside with boxes of food and water. They scream at me they heard the siren and I should follow them to the storm shelter. I gently reassured them that it was only me and informed them of the cat attack and to go back inside. The mother pulled her children closer to them and looked at me with disdain and an arched eyebrow. The cats have run away, no doubt to gather the troops and plan another reconnaissance mission.

Anyway, I go back outside to get the morning paper for my elderly dad and TWO of the assailants start to attack. One tries to trip me up while the original culprit starts to attack my toes again. She is out for blood like a jilted at the alter, never married before middle aged woman. I am able to safely get back inside but not before the miniature assassin got in a few good bites to get to the chewy nougat center of my big toe.

I'm not sure what to do at this point. It's illegal to feed stray animals in my city yet, I'd rather not be the subject of a documentary on Animal Planet. Should I go ahead and feed them? Should I call the city to come pick them up and break the next door neighbors heart? Should I go with carpet or tile in my living room?

Starting a Diet

Today, I shall start a diet, oops, I mean a lifestyle change. We mustn't call it a diet. The word diet has bad connotations connected with it. Why? Well, I for one remember when Weight Watchers first came on the scene. It was extremely limited in what you could eat. Most of the menus had hay and tree bark as a staple. Now I don't have anything against WW at all. I'd be on it if I could afford the extra money and will no doubt use some of the recipes. However, when my mother first started the meetings I recollect a few of the recipes she used. One particular memory was when she made hamburgers.. only instead of hers being nestled in the confines of a lovely toasted bun..she had it wrapped in lettuce leaves with a sliced tomato and a bit of mustard inside. She actually was ahead of her time because these day you pay MORE for lettuce wrapped food.
I don't know if you've ever tried this concoction but tomato pulp is kinda slippery, combined with the mustard, the meat patty kept slipping out of the lettuce "bun" and falling on the floor with every bite. Sorta like the patty knew this was a grievous error in hamburger etiquette and was making an escape attempt in a culinary equivalent of a child's slip-n-slide. My father, brother and me, being the supportive family that we were, laughed our heads off every time it happened. After a few more bites and picking the meat off the floor for the umpteenth time. She burst into tears and fled the room. I realize now that the Weight Watchers recipe was PLANNED that way and was really going for the exercise aspect people would get while bending over multiple times to pick up the patty and then running away. The tears were extra.

Another recipe she would force us to eat was cheese toast with low fat cheddar cheese. This had to be the most ungodly food creation ever invented next to powdered milk but if SHE was on the diet, WE would be too. She wasn't going to suffer alone by golly and I'm sure she was thinking that if we were eating the same meals, we couldn't make fun of her. She severely underestimated the cruelty quotient of young boys. You see, we were the kind of children who invented ways to irritate her. Like the time we declared medieval war on our father and made our spoons into tiny trebuchets to launch green peas on him while he was sleeping on the couch. Our true goal was not to exasperate our mother but to get our dog to jump up on top of our father in order to eat the tiny green treats. We figured we could be gone by the time he woke up, realized what was going on and that the evidence would already be disposed of by way the dogs digestive tract. The only problem was that the dog was a bit pickier than we anticipated and came to the conclusion that she could live without green peas... but not until after she made that first fateful leap onto his face. We spent the first 5 minutes trying to out run my fathers swinging belt and the next hour picking up our little projectiles.

But back to the cheese toast.. thank God it didn't last long. The final straw was when Weight Watchers apparently conspired with the Hemlock Society to enhance the toast recipe into individual pizzas made with tomato paste and more of that low fat cheddar cheese on white bread. Tomato paste is ok in its own right. Any number of recipes can be made into a delectable feast with it. Smeared on white bread by itself is like eating concentrated ketchup. It's evil. With every bite you could hear Satan chuckle for he knew the diet would soon be over and you'd die of a heart attack sooner. The joke is on him because if the future included cheese toast you'd welcome that death with open arms.

I shall leap into my new lifestyle change with glee... but there sure as heck ain't gonna be any cheese toast anywhere near me.