Nora The Piano Cat. . .

And then Tucker the dog has to come along and screw it up for everyone.

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Working On It. . .

Folks, I am working on a post to close the year out with so bare with me.  This, in between actually faking work for a living today.  I am destined to not do a single, solitary, productive thing.  I just know it.  I can feel it in my bones radiating up my vertabrae and into the epicenter of the brain which controls fucking off.  Who is with me today?

In the meantime. . .

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Creeped Out. . .

Don't worry kitty, it is disturbing.

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Pass The Molasses. . .

Yes, you can be a friend too.

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A Lesson. . .

Mom's cat demonstrating a vaulable lesson. . .

. . .how to "hang in there!"

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Mr. Innocent. . .

Always contemplating his next big maneuver against the world.

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The Unknown. . .

Bobcat, sometimes you just never know what's coming down the pike, do you?

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We Interrupt. . .

. . .your regularly scheduled Burning Toast programming for this important Lolcat announcement:

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

See Beatrice, I am not the only one!

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The Return. . .

Many of you may remember Mr. Baggins from previous porch encounters. Well, he's back and dumber than ever.

I left an open bag of bird seed on the porch Friday night, his favorite that contains peanuts and raisins. Beatrice and I were quietly drinking our adult beverages when I heard "munch, munch, munch" going on to my left. I looked down and lo' and behold, it's Mr. Baggins!

He appears fat, happy and healthy. And the cats? Well, they were probably busy dominating the internet or something as they provided no protection. Which reminds me of a certain deceased black and white Tico cat named Boo Boo who was also impotent against the invasive powers of Mr. Baggins.

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Catz. . .

Recently, there was a terrifically lame attempt at banning cats from the internet for a day. Now, this pisses me off for several reasons:

A. I love cats and have three of my own.

B. The official date of this pathetic exercise is in September which shares the month with another idiotic celebration called International Talk Like a Pirate Day and that fabulous day known as my birth on the 19th.

C. Let's face it, cats rule the planet and there is nothing we can we about it.

So, in the face of all this anti-cattiness on the internet, I am striking back with the following:





and lastly. . .


see more Lolcats and funny pictures

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Question Of The Day. . .

What is the only thing better than a circus?

Do-do-do-do
Do-do-do
Do-do-do-do
Do! Do-do-do-do-do. . .

A cat circus, that's what!

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A Cat's Life. . .

Throughout my entire life, with a handful of exceptions, I've always had a cat. Or two. Or three.

I can name all of them.

Chouca, Meo, Angel, Varmit, Sammy, Kitty Witty, Butch, Kit, Cat, Boo Boo, The Guy, Momma Kitty, Ché Boludo, Bobcat, Black Kitty and finally, Wildcat.

Each of them had a unique personality. Like Meo. She was a big, fat Siamese momma kitty and when I was a kid during a moment of great distress and began crying, like the time I tried to "adjust" my cowlicks with the scissors but ended up mowing my bangs down to the skull, she curled up in my lap and purred her little heart out. A mother first, a cat second.

Or Butch. A female Calico, who was run over by a car and managed to pull herself from the driveway with her two front paws around the corner of the house and through the open back door, suffering from a broken pelvis and the ball of her leg/hip joint snapped off. Once rewired by my godfather, Dr. Johnson, she lived a happy 13 years, "butching" around on her bum leg catching birds and mice.

Or Sammy. A gray and white American Shorthair who grew to a fiercesome 17 pounds of ass-kicker. Just ask the dopey Golden Retriever from down the street who would come to our yard with his personal tennis ball for a game of catch every now and then. I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it, but Sammy whipped his butt and took his ball too.

Now I have Wildcat.


He just showed out of the blue one day. Like Bobcat and Black Kitty, great wandering felines who simply happened upon the right doorstep.

I named him Wildcat because the night he arrived, he had Black Kitty cornered on the front porch and was putting on a spectacle of cat intimidation that even real wild cats could've learned from. His body was twisted and contorted to such degree and his vocal emanations so loud and chilling that if I were a cat, I would have not had any second thoughts about getting away from such insanity.

The racket was loud and scary enough to roust me from my bed at 11:30 at night. I stepped outside to see what was going on and in the split second that I opened the door, Wildcat barged inside and made himself a feast out of the community food bowl. Right at home, whether I liked it or not.

Since then, he has become a part of the great cat family. Always rambunctious and never knowing when to quit, he is always on the lookout for something to do. Like, taking a giant leap from the floor to the bed and scrambling across my face at 700 miles per hour at 3 o'clock in the morning. Leaving me as a total, discombobulated wreck. Or diving under the covers as I seek safety to bite me on the ankle or toe. Or even launching himself onto the screen of the window from outside when he wants to come in.


Bobcat, Little Ms. Fussbudget, has learned to temper his aggressiveness with some scowling and guttural growls. Wildcat learned early on about Bobcat's razor sharp claws (we all have scars), yet this does not stop him fron an ocassional moment of bothering. Like plopping down just close enough to irritate, but slightly out of the danger zone from a quick swipe.


But Black Kitty on the other hand, still hasn't come up with a worthy defense. He, the perennial loner and lover of all things, has taken to slithering under the couch for a kitty nap or curling up inside the cat condo that no one else has anything to do with. Although, Black Kitty has learned that if a chase ensues, simply by stopping and spinning around with a hiss will halt all Wildcat pursuit. Hey, if it ain't running, I guess I don't want to eat it. Or harass it.

RETREAT!!!!


Yet, episodes such as this will never stop the intrepid Wildcat. He's always on the lookout for something to do. He is an adolescent after all and has much to learn. And of lot of that learning I fear, will be the hard way.


Take for instance, giant birds. They look tasty enough and maybe they'll run too!


Look good to eat from a distance.


On second thought though. . .

Where is Black Kitty? I think I'll just harangue him instead. . .

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Alright Then. . .

That's enough of that happy-go-lucky crap!

Click through to Gateway Pundit to see Nancy Pelosi pandering, as no one else could, effortlessly and without shame to a church dominated by Latinos.

She claims that it's "un-American" for law enforcement to kick in doors and drag ILLEGAL immigrants away. Ya know according to them, breaking up families is bad and all, no matter whether said family is violating a variety of immigration and work-related laws.

Laws?? Laws are for dumb, stupid, broke and unmotivated Americans. You illegals are "very, very patriotic" so don't go worrying bout no laws. Laws are not for you. And apparently for Pelosi either. Or any other random Democrat. I mean, paying taxes is voluntary after all.

Pelosi's act is simply shameful, sickening and in my narrow-minded view, high treason. She and others like her are enemies of our fair nation. They are far too comfortable at the top of the political dogpile and it's about time we sent some new dogs to Washington. Or maybe a cat or two.

I hope you had your breakfast already.

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Cat Politics. . .

To understand what goes through the golf-ball sized brain of a cat would take a room full of Cray supercomputers, but then again, supercomputers don't speak kitty.

Bobcat, fed up with the interloper, launched an all-out, frontal assault on Wildcat at this morning's breakfast prayer meeting. Black Kitty, as nervous and on edge as ever, imploded as he scrambled for the door making his way around the flying Meow Mix and cat fur. I think he even got a few punches in on the way by just for fairness.

I guess it's time to seize the day and the cat carry cage thing and haul ol' thundernuts off to Doc Randall.

Ironically, as I was hurling the hissing, snarling beasts out the door, one of them landed a claw on me. And out of the whole bizarre exercise, I'm the only one left bleeding. Damn cats.

And people want to keep chimps as pets??

Well before Wildcat's arrival, when it got really cold about a month ago, I put an electric blanket out in the dog cat house. Well, since Wildcat thinks he is top dog cat now, he immediately took over the dog cat house blanket. Since then, Black Kitty, who sadly, much prefers to be a majority-time outdoor kitty cat, has pulled a major head fake and sneaks in there to claim his ground when Wildcat is not looking.

What this has lead to is a nanny-nanny-boo-boo politicking between the two outside cats. A first come-first serve competition, in which the winning cat gets the warmth and protection of the blanket and house, while the loser squats on the ten square inches of blanket that protrudes from the front of the dog cat house. Only inches apart, they tolerate one another throughout the night, if only for the toastiness of the electric blanket.

This has been working out fairly well until last night when both cats were surprised to find a new housemate took over the abode. And I'm guessing that it must be Mr. Baggins, Jr.

What will they do now?

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Bringing Back The Boo Boo. . .

boo boo on rail
egypt hill, mississippi - may 2007

Boo Boo is my late cat from Costa Rica and I've been thinking about him lately. Here are some past remembrances and something important to ponder on this beautiful Monday morning, the value and sanctity of life.

Have a great Monday!

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No Garden For You!

Last night it rained over two inches under the explosions of big thunderstorms and it appears that it's too wet for gardening today. But after being cooped up for days with a cold, I decided to get out and about Camp Burning Toast to see what happening anyway.

With cats in tow. . .


I slogged around the pond through the sloppy mud and grass to find a dead turtle. Can turtles drown? He's an old guy, so I suspect that it was just his time to go. Before we arrived, a vulture was having a feast.


Bobcat was cautious.


And Wildcat seemed uninterested as he dried his paws on the back of my shirt.


We observed the excess water as is babbled from the pond and down into the creek system through the back 40.


But a little running water is nothing for young felines.


Bobcat will never be outdone by the new cat, an interloper in the standard of her kitty brain.


Wildcat had to one-up her though, as he checked out the bluebird house. Sorry Wildcat, it's a little early for the bluebirds. Give it another month.

Well, all seems well and good. I guess I didn't miss much in my Nyquil-induced hibernation. Sure can't wait to do some fishing though! I think it'll be a good year. Another 13 pound bass this year? Maybe, just maybe.

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Garden, Day 17. . .

Ambient Temperature: 64°
Soil Temperature: 54°
Time: 10:30 a.m.
Date: February 12, 2008

I couldn't stand it. I had to cast of the chains of illness and go have a walk around the garden.

The ant mounds I treated last week appear to be abandoned except for the giant one in the compost pile. I poked it with a stick and ants appeared, but not thousands of them as before. My chemical warfare is working.

The potatoes that Beatrice and I planted a couple of weeks ago have not come up yet, but just to make sure, I dug down and found happy little potato nuggets setting beautiful roots, so it's just a matter of time before the tops breach the good earth. The soil is still a little chilly and is prohibiting speedy growth.

In the meantime, I will have to accept the fact that the only joy I will receive from gardening right now will be watching the seeds we planted sprout up inside the house.


We planted three varieties of tomato: Brandywine, Big Boy Hybrid, and yellow Jubilee. Also, jalapeno, cucumber (burpless), white creamer peas, purple hull peas, moon and stars watermelon and last but not least, an oddity in the plant world, Lunaria annua, aka "money plant" or "Honesty." Named so, because of the flat, silvery seed pods that resemble coins.

I just caught something out of the corner of my eye and thought it was the biggest squirrel I have ever seen. Turns out it was Wildcat chasing Bobcat up a pine tree.

Now get down from there!

And you. You're a BAD kitty!!

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The Score. . .

Black Kitty - 3

Cutesy Veterinarian Helpers - 0

I'll put it to you this way, human skin is no match for a terrified, buzzsaw cat.

Black Kitty's surgery went off without a hitch, almost. He managed to mangle two of the girls at the vet's office, but he seems no worse for wear after the whole ordeal. The frowning women of the doctor's office on the other hand. . .

Last night when we arrived home, I let him out of the cage and he stumbled and bumbled around, obviously still under the influence of some narcotic, the lucky bastard. I let him outside, whereabouts he tore into some food, alternating between two bites of food, 20 to 30 laps of water and several episodes of just staring off into space. Must have been some good dope. All of this was followed by insatiable scrotum-licking sessions lasting 5 to 6 minutes. Then, in an instant, he disappeared.

This morning, he was there, purring up a storm in the early fog. And happily munching away on his food.

Good kitty. Everything's gonna be alright.


Next obstacle?

Moving into Bobcat's house.

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Intuition. . .

Cats are incredible creatures. Intelligent, sneaky, affectionate and sometimes a downright pain in the butt. The black cat above, Black Kitty, is no exception. He greets me every morning with purrs and guttural meows, crashing his thick head into my ankles for a rub. Today was his big day or at least it was supposed to be.

See, he just showed up one day. Completely feral, untouched and untouchable. I guess he's been living around the house now for almost 9 or 10 months and it's just been in the last couple that he has allowed anyone to touch him. He is the lap cat of all lap cats now with a complete and full undertanding of the power of the human hand.

And much to the chagrin of Bobcat. . .


. . .I'd like for Black Kitty to become a part-time inside cat like Bobcat is. Only one problem: big, furry, cat balls.

For those of you who've never owned a cat, let alone a male cat, let me explain. Big, furry, cat balls lead to one thing and one thing only, well two things, but thankfully Bobcat is fixed.

Big, furry, cat balls lead to spraying, the instinctual marking of territory by the male. It's not a big deal when it's on a bush or the hedges, it's another when he splatters your couch. It doesn't stink in the normal sense of the word. It's stink like the stink has been distilled, refined, pressurize under the graviational pull of Jupiter, ionized, ozonated, concentrated, fermented, agitated and just for good measure, if you could piss off stink, this is what pissed off stink would smell like.

In a word, bad.

So today, Black Kitty was going to the vet for big, furry, cat ball removal surgery.


I bought a brand new pet carrier and everything. I had it all planned out, except for one thing. Cat intuition.

This is the first morning in months that Black Kitty has not been on the porch waiting for me. I suspect that he knew, he somehow understood that his big, furry, cat balls were hanging in the balance. Bastard!

I'll get you and your big, furry, cat balls tomorrow buddy!

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Some Say. . .

. . .the end is near and even Bobcat prescribes to the premise.

Dr. Peter Venkman, facing the prospect of the end of the world once said, "Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!"

The end has arrived. Painted in the face of a slack-jawed dog. . .

And the rich green eyes of a black feral cat.

Hang on folks, it gets rough from here on out.

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