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Two for Tuesday

Don't say anything, but there's a cat behind me who looks just like me.
Double your pleasure, double your fun … it's Keisha x 2. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the most STUNNING of them all?

I think I owe my dear readers a light-hearted post this week and the peeps didn't do anything stupid, except when TW took the rice out of the cabinet to get to something behind it and it opened when she picked it up to put it back. But I've written that one so many times before. … The Woman had an epiphany last night while reading Homer's book. Suddenly she loves me more than life itself and has been playing with me and—gasp—she keeps trying to HUG me. Someone hide me before I get human's cooties. … Pop starts PT tomorrow for his elbow.

Love For Daisy

Tomorrow is the Walk For Daisy in England. I'm going to introduce Daisy to any of my readers who may not know who she is. Her story is the saddest, sickest story of animal cruelty I've ever read about. I first was made aware of her plight by my furrends in the Whiskas Liberation Front (#WLF). They were tweeting under the hashtag #LoveforDaisy and some of them had daisy twibbons. At first I thought she was another cat suffering from cancer or some other insidious disease and I felt for her. Then I read her story and felt even worse.

Meet Daisy.

From the comments on my post about the Hempstead Animal Shelter's abuse, I know some of my readers are a bit skittish so they might want to re-read my last post about the oatmeal. For the rest, I'm going to quote her story from her Facebook page so I won't be excused of sensationalizing it.

On Tuesday 3rd May a little Tabby Cat called Daisy was found with horrific injuries and close to death dumped near Teckels Animal Shelter. At first the staff at Teckels believed that she had been a victim of a Road Traffic Accident due to the severity of her injuries but sadly after examination by the vets it has become clear that this is no accident and this poor little cat was a victim of a deliberate and sickening sexual assault. She has been subjected to a violent and horrific ordeal. Not only was she taken from her home but she was then beaten and left for dead. She lost half her body weight in blood and suffered broken teeth, a fractured skull, a black eye, a dislocated tail which has now has had to be amputated but worse of all she was violently raped. Her poor broken little body was found by the amazing staff at Teckels who immediately got her into Vetinary care. The Police are investigating the despicable and utterly heinous crime and DNA evidence is present. Daisy was not an abandoned cat as previously reported she was and still is a much loved and cherished little pet who was just going about her normal daily routine at her home when she so violently and horrendously violated. The Vets and Staff and her loving owner are desperately keeping their fingers and toes crossed that she will be able to recover and resume a normal life after this un-believable and disgusting attack. Originally it seemed that she may have suffered such extensive damage to her little body she might not have been able to perform normal necessary toilet functions and to add insult to all the injury she suffered she might still have had to be put to sleep BUT that is thankfully no longer the case and we are all so pleased that she is recovering.

Folks, I cannot make this stuff up. The sad part is that this incident hasn't gotten the press or attention that it should have. I hope the Walk will give it the attention it deserves. This pervert needs to be apprehended and become some dude's bitch in the slammer.

How can you help? This list comes from my dear furrend @JessieJaney on Eldrid Elephant's #WLF blog. I hope she doesn't mind my sharing it here and trying to give it a slightly bigger stage.

  1. If you're on Twitter, keep adding the hashtag #loveforDaisy to get it trending.
  2. Add a daisy from twibbon, which you can get here
  3. Ax all your furrends on Facebook to "like" Daisy Cat's Page.
  4. Write to your local media. Copy/paste the full story shown above.
  5. Donate to her JustGiving account.
  6. If residing nearby, please join the Walk For Daisy. This flier will provide more information.

You can also copy the badge I've created and link it to her story. The badge pictures was taken from Eldrid Elephant's #WLF blog.

Oatmeal: Healthy or Hazardous?


First there was Hurricane Katrina. Then there was the Japan Earthquake and tsunami. Later came the tornados in Alabama. Now comes the Quick Oats incident of 2011.

☂♪Oatmeal keeps falling on my head and that means the woman will be bit until she's dead.

There I was, peaceably eating my kibble in the kitchen, under the hanging cabinets, when suddenly I felt—ping—something hit me. Those somethings just kept on falling. Ping, ping, ping. What could it be? It was white like snow. Luckily for me, it was also as light as snow. I just about escaped when all hell broke loose. The white stuff came raining down furiously. The Woman cursed just as furiously. When she finally stopped the carnage, I found out it was the quick oats. Readers of this blog might've guessed that a 3-lb tub of oats doesn't vanish in my house as fast as, say, a 4-lb chocolate Easter bunny or a 2-lb brownie. No, it stays there almost until its expiration date.

They say oatmeal is supposed to be good for your skin, but I didn't stick around long enough to find out. And forget about the fact that it's supposed to be good for your heart; it damn near gave me a heart attack!

This package was so huge, peeps had to store it on it's side because it didn't fit upright in our cabinet; and, through one of life's little quirks, the top had partly opened. TW couldn't leave well enough alone and just clean up the few oats that were in the cabinet. That would've been too easy. In the process of trying to process what had happened, TW made matters much worse by opening the lid all the way. Oopsy! In less than a second, the kitchen floor was covered in oats, as well as the area rug and my place mat. There was even oats in my kibble and water dishes! I screamed at the woman! Woman, look what you've done! Get this [bleep] out of my food immediately, if not sooner! I'm telling on you! I was on a roll! I was beside myself! Here I was, trying to grab a few morsels of food and my snack had been interrupted. Although I was angry, more importantly, I now had grade-A blog material. I could nail TW and there wasn't anything she could do! From a safe distance, I gleefully clapped my paws.

I have to hand it to TW, there was nowhere near the crying and histrionics there usually is when something of this magnitude happens. In fact, she seemed to think it would've been hilarious if I'd have gotten completely covered in white oats. She laughed and laughed as I watched from the foyer with a "nut" sign over my head. She was, in fact, having a flashback to the great flour disaster of the 1990s.

Permit me to flash back to that time long before I was born.
Gramma was preparing to fry fish and so she had poured flour onto a piece of paper towel to coat the fish. Autumn ambled into the kitchen; and, before Gramma could stop her, she pulled the paper towel, flour and all, down upon her head. Bless, Bess, what a mess. Legend has it that her calico fur was white for about a week after that. I'd like to know why there are no pictures. If I'd gotten covered with oats, the flashy box would've documented the entire incident in gory detail.
Get that thing away from me!
After she got through laughing, TW's suddenly realized she had to run out to buy chicken for our dinner and it was 3:00 so she swept what she could of the oats into the garbage and ran out the door. (I'll tell you how she threw out the plastic pail that goes inside the garbage can another time.) Before she left, she refilled my kibble—you know what the consequences would've been had she NOT refilled the dish—and told me it wouldn't kill me if I got oats on my feet so I was allowed into the kitchen as if I'd set foot in there unless she came with me.  Listen here, woman! You better do a good job cleaning this mess up or Pop's gonna beat you! Of course, he wouldn't actually beat her, but this cat can dream.

After she came home, and I'd approved of the chicken, she had to break out the vacuum—I wish I had a picture of that to show Pop—and then washed the floor. Her steam cleaner is broken—apparently Shark's aren't very durable—so she had to get down on all fours and scrub. Again, I wish I had a flashy box.

Why is it that I can go for weeks without a blog because nothing exciting—or should I say nothing that would embarrass TW—ever happens. When I finally scrape something together, an event that begs to be written about rears its amusing little head.

Bird TV is Being Cancelled?!?!?

The other night my peeps had to go to a condo meeting. They hadn't been to one of those in years. Apparently they got bad news. Or, quite precisely, the cat got bad news. Let me lay it out straight for my furrends. I think you can take it.

When I was adopted into this "luxury" condo, we had a beautiful view out our window. I used to spend countless hours on my cat tree, watching Bird TV and I also love to watch the cars going by on the Lincoln Tunnel helix. I called it Car TV. They look like little toy cars and I always imagined that I'd catch one someday.
My window. That red is the sign at the entrance of the Lincoln Tunnel.
Well, the peeps told me that the building directly next door—a one-story factory—had been bought and the new owner was adding 3 more floors. Let this sink in. Unfortunately my peeps have their priorities totally mixed up. They're worried about things like the apartment being dark—even in the middle of the day—and their property resale value plummeting. Pop won't be able to do his own traffic report in the mornings by just looking at the Lincoln Tunnel traffic out the window and they'll be no New Year's Eve fireworks' display in the warmth of our home. BFD!, says Cathy Keisha. This ghetto cat is worried about the real issues here. Bird TV will be cancelled if we are facing the wall of the building next door. Car TV will also be cancelled. Say what?!?! I paid my cable bills and I want what I paid for! I know my rights! I will take this all the way to the Supreme Court, if I have to!!
Whoa! This roof may be ugly but I get good reception for Bird TV.
Soon all I'll see is a wall with frosted windows.
The next topic of concern for this kitteh is "what about sun puddles?" I'm very upset to say it looks like I'll be saying adios, au revoir, auf wiedersehen, arrivederci to the few sun puddles I now have. Our apartment faces North and East so I get my sun puddles early in the morning and by noon, they're gone. Now I have to wonder how the sun puddles are going to find their way through a 13-foot space between my building and the one that going up. Will they be able to creep through for me?

Here's the current view from our window—the one the peeps are concerned about.

TW is calling realtors to find out if the resale value of our apartment is going to take a hit. Anyone with a cat looking at this place will no doubt have to pass it by. No Bird TV + no sun puddles = No sale.


Oh Happy Day!
Oh Happy Da-a-a-ay!
When TW walked
When she walked to the Pathma-a-a-a-ark



Who could've guessed that TW would wind up being my hero. She got my tuna and my world is right once again.

Is this the bag with the tuna?? I need to see the tuna!!
PeeEss to Mario: Another episode like this and I'll be packing my bags for Green Bay to take you up on your kind offer.

Tuna-less Tuesday

If you think this is a strange title for a blog on Monday, wait till you hear my sad story.

I've already written about how clumsy and accident-prone Pop is. He's always hitting his head and getting concussions. He'd just been to the doctor with post-concussion syndrome last week and the doctor gave him strict instructions "NO MORE ACCIDENTS!"  Cut to Friday. When the weather is clear, he and his friend take 3 mile walks during lunch hour. It's good exercise for them. Friday they were walking near the WTC construction site and Pop stepped in a pothole. He couldn't catch himself and went down. When he tried to get up, he noticed there was something seriously wrong with his arm. He went to the ER where he was diagnosed with a Radial Head Fracture. In layman's terms, he has a broken arm near the elbow. They put him in a sling and sent him home.

This hasn't been a very good month for my peeps. TW already had been diagnosed with asthmatic bronchitis and had gotten colitis from the antibiotics, which is why I haven't been leaving comments on your blogs. She was a mess—coughing and wheezing. She thought she would have a relaxing weekend and then came the call from Pop.

The peeps have a very small carbon footprint. They don't own a car. During the week, TW does all the small day to day shopping. She buys what we eat during the week. On Saturday, Pop does the big shopping at the Pathmark. He buys the stuff she can't carry home—litter, water, soda and cat food. Doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Pop wasn't going to be carrying that stuff with a broken arm. It is with that knowledge that TW set out w/Pop and the cart to Pathmark Saturday afternoon.

Pop is fiercely independent and wanted to do as much as he could at the supermarket. One of the things they bought was 18 cans of my Fancy Feast grilled tuna. It's my favorite flavor. Duh! They had a coupon for $1 off 18 cans and Pathmark was doubling coupons. TW bagged the tuna and Pop carefully placed the other items into the cart.
Am I upset???? What do YOU think? My tail is even puffy!
Flashback to around 6 pm Saturday night.

TW: What happened to the cat food? I can't remember if I took it out of the cart and I don't see it anywhere.

Pop: Whaaaa? You had to take it out of the cart. I remember putting it in. *looks at empty counter*

CK: *ears perking up* Huh? Where's my tuna?!? WHERE'S MY TUNA, WOMAN!?!??!?

TW: I bet we left it hanging on the bag rack.

CK: Bag rack? How could you leave something so important on the [censored] bag rack. There must be a mistake. My mistake is trusting you to buy my food!

Pop: How could we do that?

CK: It's easy! You're ANCIENT! SENILE! *hyperventilating* OF ALL THE STUPID [CENSORED]

Pop called the store and, yes, they had the tuna; but unless the peeps could pick it up before they closed, they couldn't hold it for them. No, they wouldn't lose their money. Yes, they'd lose the tuna. Well, my peeps are old and sick and they weren't about to walk another mile and a half back to Pathmark—not even for me. All my kitty ears and brain registered was that the peeps had their people stuff so screw the cat. The cat apparently isn't important enough for them to hike back and collect my Fancy Feast. This is so wrong and unfair!

So the sad fact is that we only have 3 cans of tuna left in the house to last 5 days and TW may or may not go back to Pathmark before next weekend. She could get it around here but she'd have to pay twenty cents more and,apparently I'm not worth it. Yes, we have other flavors in the house but tuna is my FAVORITE! I DON'T WANT ANY OTHER FLAVOR! I WANT MY TUNA!

I'm going to go lay on Pop's new cotton/bamboo blanket. It's my new fave spot to sleep, only today I'm going to sulk—until it's time for my tuna.