Don't worry little bird, you have health care

I took a little bit of a nap, nothing really to be sorry about. Seems that half of Marietta burnt down while I was out, and apparently the country is now under the control of Democrats.

I try not to talk about current events, unless one is feverishly for or against a particular plight. Right to lifers, staunch Republicans, now Teabaggers (by the by, "teabagging" used to me something altogether different in my youth) all are determined to sway the minds of all of the mindless humans with their quippy soundbytes and rhetorical questions. Their snickering reminds of huffy children who aren't getting their way or birds who complain because I want to try on their wings.

Birds.

They lord over me on their high-tension wires and try to poop on my dog, Beatrice. She may wag her tail at the attention, but if you think that trick will ever work with me or my kind, why don't you come a little closer and show off your brilliantly colored feathers. Closer dear. Closer.

All this talk of politics is making me hungry.

Long live the king—and that's me

Terrible news in the human world, not so much in the cat world, however. Michael Jackson, whom my human believed to be one of the top two musical performers in the world, has died.

And now the old bat's moping around the joint, not feeding me and—all of a sudden—wanting to hold me. The worst part about it is she keeps asking me, "Annie, are you OK? Are you OK, Annie."

I think she's lost it.

My idea of Heaven—Bush's thriving economy

I think the economy is going very well...for cats. In fact, a few of us got together in the alley the other night to talk about unemployment, the war, the price of gasoline and pollution.

"It's all good," said my neighbor, Muzzy. "Gas prices are so high, all of the humans either have to walk everywhere or they drive VERY SLOWLY."

Tripod piped up right away, saying "I wish we had Bush in '99. Might have kept my leg."
Muzzy smirked and said under his cat breath, "Meow, meow, ohwr, arwl." (Translation: Maybe not sleeping the road would have done the trick, you big stupid 11-year-old three-legged bonehead.")

Of course, this led to a scuffle, as talk of politics always does.

Finally, Marge stepped in and both parties backed way off. She's been a bit chippy for a few weeks. I think her humans got another dog. I almost feel sorry for her.

Anyhoo....the discussion resumed with a chat about the Iraq War and terrorism. Gertie, my other neighbor, showed a great deal of interest in this, so I changed the subject to pollution and took a quick nap.

By the time I opened my eyes, most of the cats were in the garbage trying to fish out the human kids' dinner. I thought it was funny because I had already ate all of the meat off their plates. The only food left in the bag was overcooked corn.

But it would take teamwork to find that out, so I left.

She was on the juice

As some of you may have heard, I got beat up by a girl this week.

I was stalking the old bat as she watered the grass when I noticed Marge, the girl cat across the street, heading for one of my food bowls, which happens to be on the stoop of the house across the street. All of the humans in this neighborhood set out extra food bowls for me.

Like I said, I was ready to attack Lumber Legs when this girl started casing my dish. I trotted very carefully across the street, checking both ways and not stopping for a nap. Legend has it, Tripod, the down the street male, made that mistake. In the matter of 40 winks, he lost a leg and had to change his name from Quatro to Tripod.

Back to the bad day...It was just going to be a straight forward warning to stay away from my dish. My mind wasn't in the fight mode. I barely made it into the grass when the attack occurred. Never in my life have I ever been so viciously attacked. She was an animal.

Worst yet, the whole time, I could hear snickering coming from across the street. Snicker at me, lady? I left a couple of headless birds in the yard. And I bit her kids. Snicker all you want, lady—you didn't come face-to-face with the Genghis Khan of cats. Something was definitely the matter with that cat. She may be in Major League Baseball; a pitcher perhaps. Where is Jose Catseco when you need him?

I need a nap.

If I only had a shirt

I wanted to watch the Pennsylvania Primary unfold last night but political analysts (who surprisingly reprise their roles as journalists during off election years) have spoiled my excitement for this election. Without a doubt, if I was 18 and human, I would vote for Hillary Clinton. But to watch the news coverage—journalists-turned-pundits—begrudgingly report her leads in polls only to eschew the notion that she may actually win, makes me want to cough up the bird I ate for lunch.

By 10 p.m., news outlets basically called Clinton the marginal winner (who happened to have a 10 percent lead over Obama) and added that MATHEMATICALLY SHE CAN'T WIN. The numbers just don't add up, they assured viewers. Need I remind the Super Delegates what happened the last time the popular vote was ignored.

Back to my abode, which will be walled up with my fur once this shedding season is over—the youngest of my human pack had to take a recycled item to school in honor of Earth Day. The old bat put a Vote For Hillary pin on her shirt, which pleased the little thing almost as much as it did me.

Ah, humans are so ... predictable

Lesson Number One: Don't get angry. Make someone else REALLY angry instead. This will completely change your mood.

I live with four humans, three of whom like me. The eldest, who is also the grumpiest, left me indoors all day with Beatrice, a dog, and left for work. After I shredded the last loaf of bread, I made my way upstairs and left my frustrations on two areas of the hallway rug.

Upon returning home, the old lady found my hefty presents, woke me from my splendid sleep, and chased me in her haphazard, ogre-like fashion. She ran as if here flat feet were made out of concrete. I watched from the bottom of the stairs as she piled up paper towels and hoisted the gifts from the carpet. It looked like she had a furball trapped in her throat as the smell reached her soon-watering eyes. Classy dame.

In the matter of a brief nap, the carpet was cleaned and the hall smelled like a pine forest. I liked the smell so much, I crept into the basement and left two more gems at the base of the stairs. Then I shut my eyes just for a few moments, waiting.

I think I love this next part the most. Again with the yelling. Again with the ogre-like chasing. It was as if she had forgotten what had just happened. She may be dumber than the dog. Again with the paper towels and the gagging, and more yelling. This time, she cried a little, and then we finished it off with Pine-Sol. I need to eat a little more so I can try for round three.

If I could smile, I would.