Life and Passions of Joe The Cat

rumors bring out my love

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 03:26:12 GMT

I heard my human foster brother N telling dabroots about another cat, one who lives in a garage in a fancy neighborhood. The owners of that garage are looking for a real home for that cat. N wants Dad to go look at that cat, with the idea of possibly bringing him home here to our place. With that in mind, I have been very affectionate over the past 48 hours, including a little trick of sitting on dabroots' lap and resting my chin on his thumb, purring heavily. I'm pulling out all the stops.

I was kidnapped!

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 02:17:56 GMT

I was kidnapped and held captive by a gang of Pittsburgh wild turkeys!

It was awful, but I escaped!

back in action

Wed, 01 Apr 2009 18:56:21 GMT

I've had my neutering reversed.

Balls on!

(Stud service available.)

Tell dabroots to wear pants!

Wed, 10 Dec 2008 18:56:54 GMT

Would all of you please drop a note to dabroots and tell him to wear pants at all times? I mean, what am I to do for a lap if his legs are bare? Sitting on naked skin would be just plain wrong. Sure, he can be naked in the shower, but no where else. When I walk up to him and I'm all ready to settle in, but see nothing between him and me, I turn up my nose and issue forth a little sound of protest, but it seldom does any good. So, yeah, help a a guy out.

TJ's Roasted Gorgonzola Flavored Oven Crisp Crackers better than TJ's Premium Dry Cat Food!

Wed, 22 Oct 2008 12:39:40 GMT

Sure, I spend several minutes a day with my face in a bowl of Trader Joe's Premium Dry Cat Food, but light years beyond it are Trader Joe's Roasted Gorgonzola Flavored Oven Crisp Crackers. More specifically, it's the residue from the crackers that I truly enjoy. After dabroots has stuffed handfuls of said crackers into his face, what I really love is licking the tiny crumbs and cheesy goodness off his fingers and, at least as long as he retains at least some facial hair, also out of his whiskers--that avenue of consumption is the best. Just sayin'!

WTF?

Tue, 15 Jul 2008 20:50:33 GMT

dabroots just now complained that it's not okay for me to sit on his lap when it's 90 degrees in the room. WTF is up with that?

the quality of water

Fri, 02 May 2008 21:57:02 GMT

You know, I'm usually happy as a clam to drink water from that nice bowl on the floor, especially when it's cool and fresh. Sometimes, though, there's nothing that'll beat licking some of that very special water from the leg of a human, just as he's stepped from the shower on a beautiful spring day.

Thu, 06 Dec 2007 05:01:04 GMT

Come to Life. Come to Joe The Cat.

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pittsburgh

Tue, 04 Sep 2007 13:25:37 GMT

Okay, people.

Time to get my foster father (don't EVEN ask about my birth father), dabroots into gear about getting a member of my own species here to be my companion.

Seriously, does he really want me to keep chewing on his Achilles tendons, biting his arms, etc., out of sheer frustration? I mean, crap, I'm bored out of my mind. What does he expect?

Pittsburgh is cool, I think. Haven't seen much of it, but I have a few great views. Out the front I can see hills, other houses, humans walking down the street, birds sitting on telephone wires, cars. etc. Out another, I get closeup view of pigeons. Quite a little clique they've got going, out there. Out the back, I see more birds, other buildings, and an occasional squirrel on the fire escape.

I mean, heck, at this point I'd even be happy if dabroots would just bring an occasional human female back here. I could sniff her woman parts, maybe even occasionally sink my claws into her bare ass if things get really interesting. Plus, she could pet me, coo at me, and pay long-due compliments.

solitary guy

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 02:34:58 GMT

Hey, people.

I've gotta say that this thing of being the only cat in the joint gets a little tedious. I mean, it's nice having a litter box all to myself, not finding anyone else's whiskers floating in my water bowl, never having to compete for laptime with dabroots, but WHAT'S THIS WITH NOT HAVING ANY OTHER CATS IN THE JOINT?

And then dabroots is gone eight hours or so, five days a week. At least he's usually coming home for lunch. And today he left that electricity-sucking heater on in the bathroom all day! Should I have told him? Nah. As long he can keep affording to buy food and litter for me, I'm okay.

Speaking of people, what's with him being the only human being here? Really, it'd be nice to have at least some other mammal on the premises with me, like, all the time, okay?

Not ready for The Big Sleep

Tue, 18 Apr 2006 21:28:04 GMT

I've discovered a bedroom item that I never knew existed: the box spring.

dabroots has always slept on futon mattresses. No box springs required. Here at his new place in Illinois, seems that he sleeps on this arcane double-piece thing that includes not only a mattress, but also this peculiar and redundant item called "a box spring." I mean, what's the point?

Seems that it's the same bed that he slept on when he was a kid. Except I've heard him telling that woman E on the phone (she's back in NYC with her cat, Frank) that this particular mattress/box spring arrangement was put onto his bed frame when his parents traded up to something fancier, 30-plus years ago. And then his father died. Go figure, right?

Anyway, last night while dabroots (I love that new name, btw.) was lying in bed and reading Raymond Chandler's The Big Sleep, I decided to explore the underbelly this box spring thingamabob. There was a tear in this netting on the bottom of it, so I couldn't resist seeing what was inside. Mistake!

Before I knew it, I was stuck inside this monstrosity, staring up at a complex network of ominious steel coils, staring right back at me. I moaned for dabroots' attention. And I got it. He found me down there, all 10.9 pounds of me hanging helplessly in this hammock of deteriorating cotton fabric. Luckily, dabroots thought quickly and ripped the tear in the fabric even further until, plop, I fell unceremoniously out onto the carpeted floor.

Thank God that dabroots is still in my life!

fun fellows . . . so far

Wed, 12 Oct 2005 04:16:26 GMT

During my first couple of nights here in Manhattan at dabroots's new digs in the middle of this way-too-treeless island, I hid in a drawer under his new bed.

I could smell another cat's scent inside there, but no fucking way was I going to let myself get ripped apart by those two cranky old toms I saw when I first walked inside.

For nearly two days I barely ate, drank, pooped or peed--and I did so only when I dared to creep out at sometime around four a.m. on those two dreaded nights.

It was on the second night that the big orange one, Tikva, confronted me. He whapped my head through the back of the drawer and we got into a tussle like you wouldn't believe. I could feel my head banging up against the underside of the bed and Tikva's head banging up against it, too. We snarled, bit and hissed. But eventually we both gave up.

On the third day I rose.

Much to my surprise, Tikva and the black and white one named Frank seemed totally non-plussed by my presence.

What the fuck?

I walked into the kitchen where I knew there was some food and ate for at least ten minutes, filling my mouth with food that I didn't like all that much--wet mushy stuff from a can, and I'm a crunchy food kinda guy--and then drank water until I couldn't hold any more.

Lest I mess all over my new home, I checked out the litter box and stayed near it until my repast was digested. That's when I emptied my bowels and bladder with great, unmitigated pleasure.

A week later, it's not so bad. I've started sniffing Frank's and Tikva's asses and they've started sniffing mine.

Life in Manhattan ain't so bad, after all.

a long, long time

Sat, 02 Jul 2005 14:23:31 GMT

Yes, I know it's been a very long time since I last updated my journal.

My apologies.

Last time was just days after the 2004 elections. I thought about climbing into the litter box and never coming out.

And now--and for the past several months--I think I might be gay.

There's this young tomcat living in my current home here in Brooklyn.

His name is Jynx, and he has some hot Asian blood flowing in his veins.

Jynx and I spend lots of time together, lying around, licking each other, wrestling, etc.

I'm okay with it. Really.

Holy Mother of Pearl!

Thu, 04 Nov 2004 22:53:19 GMT

Holy Pile of Crap!

And I'm making no references to the reelection of that SOB GWB. No sir.

Hey, what's happening to me is even worse.

For however long, seems that dabroots (aka Dad) and I are holing up in an apartment where he apparently used to live with a woman who was once something called "his wife." The former wife is gone for right now, but her two cats are still here and they're making my life miserable.

Worse, by far, is this old bitty named Cora. She must be at least nine years old. Acts like she's the friggin' queen of the place. She won't let me come near the food, the water or even the f---ing litter box if she sees me around them. Last night, she had me cornered under the kitchen table, where I was trying to hide among several boxes that dabroots has stashed under there. She's this big old black and white thing with a wide face.

And then there's this young tom. I think he must be part Asian or something. With this narrow little face and sinewy body. He's tolerating me. Named Jinx. Must realize that I'm a mature tom--nearly four years old--and worthy and deserving of his respect. All I can say, though, is that they'd better get his balls snipped really soon before he loses control and starts peeing all over creation.

I am currently praying that dabroots gets that job he's interviewing for in New Jersey, next week, and will be able to take me out of this pit of torment before December 1. Sheesh.

Kitties for Kerry

Mon, 04 Oct 2004 19:04:30 GMT

Kerry, The Noble Choice for Noble Cats

dabrooklyn might sell me to mexico

Wed, 29 Sep 2004 12:23:04 GMT

Jesus H. Christ. If dabroots doesn't get a job pretty soon, he's gonna try to sell me off to this village in Mexico to be a mercenary rat killer. Hey man, I've never even killed a rat but I know that I have the basic instinct.

I need to start learning some Spanish before leaving Brooklyn and hopping the bus down to Atascaderos . Back in his old neighborhood down toward Sunset Park, there were Mexicans a-plenty who could have taught me. Around here in this white-on-white neighborhood full of media conglomerate slaves, I'd be lucky to pick up enough Espanol to order a margarita, or even how to pronounce it.

Here's a story about what dabroots might be doing to me:

Mexican state recruits cats to fight rats

By Olga Rodriguez

Sept. 28, 2004 | Moneterrey, Mexico -- Rats of Atascaderos note: The tough city cats of Chihuahua are coming -- and they are hungry. Chihuahua state officials say they hope to collect an army of 700 felines for a frontal attack on Atascaderos, an isolated farm village in the rugged Tarahumara mountains, a region where officials estimate the rat population at half a million.

The cats are being collected in Chihuahua city, capital of the northern Mexican state of the same name, where they will be vaccinated and checked for rabies and then shipped by truck to Atascaderos, about 300 miles to the south, said Roberto Gallegos, a health official who is overseeing the recruitment of the cats.

"So far we don't have any cats, but an animal control agency already promised to donate 50," Gallegos said. "Our goal is to stop the rats from reproducing and that's how we hope the cats can help."

Ads asking for cat donations started circulating in Chihuahua newspapers Monday and officials hope some 200 will be ready to travel to Atascaderos this weekend.

Villagers in Atascaderos, a town of 3,000 people, started noticing the rodent problem a year ago when rats appeared in barns and warehouses where they stored their produce.

Farmers started setting traps and poison, but the effort backfired: cats and other animals that prey on rats started dying instead.

"Now they have no cats left and the rats just keep reproducing," Gallegos said.

Eustaquio Marin, a spokesman for the municipality of Guadalupe y Calvo, where Atascaderos is located, said about 800 households are infested with the rats. He said there was an average of 200 rats per home.

With the rats able to produce 800 offspring per year, authorities fear they could soon start spreading to neighboring villages.

"It's like the problem in "The Pied Piper of Hamelin" tale, but unfortunately that flutist doesn't exist and what we have here is an imminent health problem," Gallegos said.

The plan alarmed Emilia de Leon of the Animal Protection Society in Monterrey, the largest urban area in northern Mexico.

"Are they going to bring the cats to die of hunger?" she asked, and said it would be "a very big mistake" to use cats that had not been sterilized.

"Now there is going to be a plague of cats and what are they going to do -- start to exterminate cats?" she asked. From Salon.

Whoa. Who would've guessed?

Fri, 06 Aug 2004 23:47:11 GMT

Yeah!

Wed, 14 Jul 2004 16:07:29 GMT

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Yeah, me too.

Tue, 06 Jul 2004 16:00:11 GMT

advise me about max temperature, if any, for lap/butt-sitting/sleeping

Mon, 14 Jun 2004 22:20:10 GMT

(cross-posted at graycatclub and petjournals)

You know, I really enjoy sitting on/in laps and sleeping on people's butts when they're asleep, butt-up. However, as the weather grows warmer, I am noting what seems to be discomfort on the part of dabroots, in particular.

Is there a maximum temperature--in Fahrenheit, please--at which a gray cat should steer away from lap/butt-sitting/sleeping?

I await your advice.

Dogs are so friggin' stupid.

Fri, 23 Apr 2004 20:59:10 GMT

British vets find 28 golf balls in dog's stomach
Fri Apr 23, 1:18 PM ET
MANCHESTER (AFP) - It was the mysterious rattling sound from the 18-month-old German Shepherd's stomach which first alerted the British vet to what might be wrong.

A subsequent operation removed no fewer than 28 golf balls from the dog's belly and -- unsurprisingly -- the mystery ailment which made her stop eating has been cured, her owner said on Friday.

Mike Wardrop said he was "gobsmacked" to discover what his pet, called Libby, had been up to during their daily walk around Didsbury Golf Club in Manchester, northwest England, where he lives and works as a bar manager.

from here http://story.news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/afp/20040423/ts_afp/britain_animals_offbeat_dog_040423171804

I'm in a good place, these days.

Mon, 12 Apr 2004 23:06:07 GMT

A few days ago, Dad noticed that I had turned on the burner on the kitchen stove. Didn't notice it until after he got home. I have a habit of hanging out on top of it and sometimes playing with the knobs. Nearly burned my ass off, that time. I heard Dad talking to his woman about how he was considering getting child-proof--cat-proof--burner knob guards to help keep me alive. I guess he really cares about me, after all.

At this moment, I am curled between Dad's legs in his desk chair, reaching up with my cat fingers, carefully pecking out this message. Dad has lost some weight, making more space here on this chair. I like it. It is a good place.

perceived as royalty

Tue, 23 Mar 2004 04:45:43 GMT

Dad, aka "dabrooklyn", says that his girlfriend observed that I resemble King Henry the Eighth of Britain. What's that about? Seems that she was impressed by the way I wrap my cat arms around her forehead and commence to chewing on her hair like it's a feast or somethin', reminding her of that dead king's apparently huge appetite.

FYI, tried killing Dad, again, by throwing a dish rack down on his head from a shelf in the kitchen. Didn't phase him. Must regroup and reassess.

goddamned motherfriggin' dad and his books

Wed, 21 Jan 2004 05:30:28 GMT

For the past few days, dabroots has been hauling more and more boxes of books into the apartment. God knows he's got books already--probably a thousand or more. And he apparently made use of some old packing boxes, because one that he brought up last night was falling apart.

So, there I was, curled up snug as a bug in a rug with Dad around 3 a.m., after we'd finished watching yet another rerun of a 1994-vintage X-Files episode, lights out, when the first book shifted inside that old carton. Scared the crap out of me and out of him, too. We were both lying there with our eyes wide open, wondering where the sound was coming from. I thought maybe the woman downstairs was raising a ruckus, but it seemed too close.

Ten or fifteen minutes later, "Boom" again! No fun. Dad turned on the bed lamp and looked around. And then he climbed down out of the loft and even looked in the bathroom, living room and kitchen, no doubt preparing to meet his maker, if necessary. And then while the lights were on, another loud boom. And then I saw it. I saw the books slipping down through the tear in the box. To put an end to the madness, I stood there and sniffed at it, pointing at it with my nose, inclining my whiskers toward that Dad couldn't miss it. And it worked. Dad emptied out the box and threw the box into the hallway.

Dad thought he could get some sleep, then, but I had other plans. Instead, I did my favorite thing of sitting on this pillow and licking his balding scalp, so that I'm sure he could hear my raspy tongue, clean-straight into his brain. And that's when he threw me onto the floor, the bastard.
I still love him, though.

greetings from joe

Sun, 21 Dec 2003 04:31:40 GMT

*

Happy Holidays to each and everyone!

Yours truly, Joe

*image from here

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