what either of my cats think on a daily basis
“alright, time to plan the day, lets see, ill sleep in this spot here for oh about 12 hours, wake up, lick my nuts, move about 5 inches in that direction and sleep another 12 hours, busy busy busy.”
Our cats are weird.
Zoe (big, fat, sweet,dumb boy): “Mommymommymommymommy. Mommy, I love you. Mommy, I can’t find the $40.00 electronic, flowing water dish that Daddy bought me. It’s right on the floor next to my food and I can’t find it. Turn on the sink. I love you, Mommy! Mommy, are you going to the bathroom? Can I come too? Because I love you. Are you going to take a bath? Then I will get into the tub too. Because I love you. Mommy, where is Sam? I need Sam. Let’s go look for Sam. I need you to come find Sam with me, because I love you. Mommymommymommy…”
Samantha (Zoe’s shy, sweet, co-dependant sister): “Zoe, you are filthy. I’m going to clean you. I don’t care if you like it. Lay down! Alright, then, I’ll hold you down! Are you done in the potty box, Zoe? Can’t you cover your own poo? Just a minute. I’ll do it for you. No, I don’t have to go, but we can’t leave it all exposed like that. Mommy, what is that Stella-thing? That is not a cat, Mommy. See, we are cats. We are all balck and white. We have nice, short kitty hair. That thing Daddy brought home is fluffy and lots of weird colors. I don’t like it. When you aren’t looking, I’m going to try to kill it.”
Stella (d_redguy’s fluffy Himalayian mix): "d_redguy, that short-haired thing is trying to kill me. What is that thing? Why do we have it in our house? I don’t like it. I’m going to hide under this end table forever. No, really. I’m never coming out. AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!! Don’t try to pull me out! I’m going to hide behind the couch then. Ha. So there…Hey! Aren’t you going to pet me? No, don’t pet me. I hate you. Give me wet food. Now. No, hyperjes may not feed me. YOU have to feed me. What? You’re going to work? Fine. I’ll hide under this end table. I’m never coming out. Glare.
We have too many cats.:rolleyes:
Do you ever read the comic strip Get Fuzzy?
Our bratty catty, Zoe, would be like Bucky.
Our man-child boy-cat, Owen, would be like Satchel.
Our princess, Hallie, would be like Fungo the ferret.
rocko, I love Get Fuzzy. It’s the only comic strip in recent memory that’s hilarious on a regular basis. 
Our cat is a broken record.
"Let me in! Let me in! Let me in! Let me in! Pet me while I eat! Pet me while I eat! Pet me while I eat! Pet me on the couch! Pet me! Pet me, pet me, pet me, pet me, pet me, pet me, STOP PETTING ME! Let me out! Let me out! Let me out! No, not that door, this door! Let me out! Let me out!
"…
"…
"Let me in! Let me in! Pet me while I eat! Pet me while I eat! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Give me catnip! Pet me on the couch! Pet me, pet me, pet me, pet me, STOP PETTING ME! Stop making noise! Stop moving!
"Zzzz.
"Zzzz.
"Zzzz.
“Let me out! Let me out! Let me out!”
Repeat every two hours, all day and every day.
Boogie Woogie (the cat): “It’s 4 am, it’s going to get light soon, let me out, I gotta go kill something, it’s out there. I have to kill it. I have to kill whatever’s out there, kill, kill, kill. I have to go kill something, get up and let me out, I have to kill.”
The puppy: WALK WALK WALK WALK NOW HAFA POOP HAFA PIDDLE NOW WALK WALK FOOTBAL! FOOTBAL NOW! CUDDL! CUDDL AND PLAY PLAY NOW NOW NOW MORE FOOTBAL NOW! WATR! MORE CUDDL MORE PLAY NOW WALK HAFA PIDDLE NINNER! NINNER NOW NOW NOW ROPEY TOY PLAY ROPEY TOY NOW MORE WALK WALK I AM FLUFEE PLAY PLAY PLAY NOW NOW CUDDL ME NOW I AM FLUFEE CUDDL NOW NOW (etc ad infinitum, he’s a border collie and rather excitable)
The wizened elder: :rolleyes:
Roar, I am an evil demon. I shall devour you soul. I was just kidding about that, Gizmo would probably say “I want food”.
Zazou: “I am a Cat! Yes I am! And I am very Fuzzy! I am a Fuzzy Cat! Look how Fuzzy I am! I’m gonna run around the room until you adore my Fuzziness! Pet me, for I am a Cat! I am a Cat! Yes I am! …ooooooo shiny!”
Littlun: “FOOD. NOW. …oh for fucksakes, it’s Zazou again. What do you want? chases him across the room Wussy. Anyway, pat me.”
Jackie the wee doggy would say : “Drop the toastDrop the toastDropthe toast, No not the one with butter, the one with peanut butter/cheese on it !” or
"Throw the ballThrowtheballThrowtheballThrowtheballThrowtheball…(two hours later) What do you mean you’re tired, not me ! See I still have tons of energy (bounce, bounce, bounce) !
**A Day In The Life Of Murphy, The Fat Lab ™ ** By Murphy, the Useless
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Wake up and shake somewhere near child #2’s bedroom so as to wake up her as well.
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Wake up mama with an urgent wet nose in her face, anxious look in brown eyes. She has never failed to drag herself down stairs to open the deck door to release me to my backyard toilet, but you never know about these humans. They need constant reminding.
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Go outside at the speed of molasses to begin my morning sniff, eventually pooing somewhere near the Proscibed Allowable Targeted Shitting Range that Mama and Papa gave me.
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Sit on deck basking in the sunshine until the very second that the two Children Units sit down at the table to eat breakfast, but do not bark or whine to be let in until Mama has just sat down on her chair. This is crucial. If I didn’t do this, her thighs would be much fatter.
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Wait for food to drop.
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Perform Domestic Canine Servitude Acts of *Earning My Keep * of licking plates clean before dishwasher is shut.
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Lay down on the floor in a corner trying to ignore the daily repeat of: " Where are your socks?" " I told you to put your pants on you can’t go to preschool in your pajamas." " Turn off the TV." and " You have to brush your teeth or your teacher will faint." and wait until my favorite words are hollered to the children units who are upstairs looking for *something * 'It’s time to Load UP!"
This is my cue as Household Canine Unit to spring into spaztic action barking and jumping at the door, giving Mama excited brown eyes to indicate how much I want to ride in the van with her. In case she doesn’t grasp how much these little rides out in the world mean, I race ahead, nearly bonking my melon-like skull against the door before she can open it fully, jumping in and settling my butt immediately down as the Children Units scamper in and begin their daily task of trying to remember exactly where the car seats are, how to bend their bodies in the correct fashion to use said seats and complaining about the Child Restraining Devices that Mama contains them with. Good thing too, or the little monsters would be all over me for the entire drive or worse, fighting over the same molecule of dust,thus making Mama turn the radio up nice and loud.
No, I just sit there, between the front seats where Mama says I am a good girl and that I sit so still that she could use my head as a coffee cup holder…but…that my days of traveling with the Ujest family boldly going to the store or post office will be ending soon as the summer is coming and Mama doesn’t want me to turn into an eighty eight pound Dog roast in the van. Listen to Mama talk to herself as she pets my head. She is a good Mama, but she will be pushing a shopping cart one day, if you know what I mean.
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Get home and wander the property which use to be 10 acres, but now has three houses on it. Stop and smell all the woodchuck holes, say hi to the neighbors. Sometimes if they are home, I get invited in for doing the prewash on their dishes too. Randomly poop in the neighbors yards, which is OK with Mama as none of the three neighbors are home much and rarely outside, if ever. And if they are home and outside, they stand on their driveways, arms akimbo. So I poop on the grass.
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Go home and bark to be let in. Bark to be let out. Repeat at least 35 times in a twenty minute period. It is truly the best part of my day.
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Sleep upstairs on Mama’s side of her bed until I saunter back down and do #9 again at least five times.
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Lay on the kitchen floor randomly fumigating the room with the after effects of the cheap dog food that Mama buys me. Serves her right.
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Play keep away from Children Units with a variety of goobered dog toys. Murphy 30,572 to 0. Yeah!
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Collapse in heap in the living room to watch cartoons.
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Wander upstairs to hide from Children Units and their bizarre affection for me by laying under the desk and provide a Valuable Service to Mama being her footrest as she surfs the boards. Whatever that means. let a few rip and listen to Mama complain, " Jesus Christ Murph, light a match, would you?"
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Fall asleep at the foot of the bed and either have doggie nightmares or snore at a decibel that could bring down small apartment buildings. Wait for a pillow to hit me.
The End.
I’ve got two Old English sheepdogs, Wesley (8yrs old) and Max (5yrs old).
Lifelong puppies, they are.
Wesley… “throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball”
Max…throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball throw the ball"
Shortly after Max became part of our household, I imagine this conversation took place between them.
W- “So Max, they shaved off all of your long fur AND cut off your balls, eh”
M- “yeah…bummer”
W- “BWAAAAA-HAAA-HAAAA-HAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“Dammit, I am not getting out of your lap just so you can masterbate to your silly human porn!”
Itssssssss BACON!
Well, my little Amber girl got desexed today. I think now she’d also say, “Give me back my uterus!!”
Bobbie (the senior Lab): I LUVVVVV you, mom . . . I’ll just lay down wherever you are so you have to step over me, cause it will remind you how much I LUVVVV you mom . . . and it hurts to get up a little, but I’ll soldier on because I LUVVVV you mom . . . and I can’t go outside without you going out there with me, because if you’re out of my sight for 30 seconds, you’ll forget that I LUVVV you, mom . . . and the only reason I give Joplin bad looks and block his access to you is that I LUVVV you mom, and it really cheeses his drawers.
Joplin (the evil twin, aka Fatboy): Lady, I like you and everything, and you’re rather amusing, but you really have to start giving me lots more food. That’s why I jump up and swipe things from the counters, and frankly, if I could figure out how to open that magic white box in the kitchen, you’d be out of a job. Except for taking me for rides. And do something about Bobbie giving me mean looks, will you? She’s freaking me out. Can I have more treats? Could you move over so I can stretch out my legs? And stop snoring!
Our Three Cats:
Midnight: Vaseline! Give me the Vaseline! You know I need Vaseline! Don’t hog it all for yourselves.
Let me out NOW! Okay, I want to come back in,
Keep that kid away from me. Unless she has food.
Vaseline! Gimme Vaseline!
Clarence: Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me Pet me
Feed me.
Lotta: Pet me Pet me
No, not now. Gotta run.
Okay, pet me Pet me Pet me
Can I go Outside, PleasePleasePleasePleasePlease?
CalMeachum, why does your kitty need Vaseline? To eat?!
Scene: INT, kitchen, day. HUMAN SLAVE is forking a large dollop of ‘reeky-stinky’ cat food® into the CAT’s bowl.
Enter CAT, who watches with interest and then sniffs at food.
CAT: [Eddie Izzard voice] What’s this then?
New and improved? Is it really? Hmm.
Well, I’m going out…
[/Eiv]
CAT gestures that HUMAN SLAVE should hand over spare set of house keys, and not to bother staying up.
Yep. As I’ve noted before on this Board, Midnight is a Vaseline junkie. I don’t know why, but she is. She’s obsessed by the stuff. When I get up in the morning, she’s waiting on top of the toilet to ambush me. (“Can I have some Vaseline, pleeeeeease!”) And when I go in at night to brush me teeth, she’s there again. She also pesters Pepper Mill at the same times.