Yeah, right! Bite me!

The day started off fairly good. I had a huge pile of torn wrapping paper to play in for a while. Then, just as I was at the peak of having fun, the Apes cleaned up and threw my playground away.

ScapeGoat and The Wet One got showered in gifts and attention for most of the morning. I guess the uglier you are, the more attention you deserve. This explains why I was pretty much left alone.

I did get one gift. A rubber mouse. A gift I sniffed twice and ignored. You Apes may enjoy your inflatable or rubber companions, but Cats prefer something with a little more life in it. All in all, a real disappointment.

So I just made plans to sleep on the couch for the day. But could the Apes even let me do that? No!

Along comes the gathering of Ape-In-Laws to our home for the big feast. I couldn’t have squeezed myself amongst the fat asses which collided on the couch if I tried. The arrival of the Big Giant Aunt accounted for 50% of the available couch space. She made a point of letting me know she didn’t like Cats. So I stuck very close to her.

I could only watch the burping, farting, and general picking of orifices for so long. I lost my mind when the Grampa Ape picked his nose, then petted me to rid himself of the acquired nostril nugget. I swatted his hand and drew blood to show my disapproval.

Weather report for yesterday: Bloody cold! I ended up being tossed outside after my retaliation. I wasn’t alone either. Seems every Cat in the neighbourhood suffered the same fate with similar stories.

Apparently this whole day is about the birth of a specific Ape. An Ape they killed later on. There is little doubt as to why. This day sucks!

Operation: Eat The Goldfish went off without a hitch. ScapeGoat performed admirably, and in the end got the blame. I love it when a plan executes to the letter.

In case you missed it, ScapeGoat is a "dog" (or a mutant variation) which was a gift to this family. Apparently, we do not re-gift which is a real shame. 

I guess now that the fish is gone and the blame placed, I can let you in on my brilliant plan:

1. Knock Goldfish bowl onto kitchen floor. Smash! (Hey, I wasn’t getting blamed for it, so why be dainty?)
2. Consumed Goldfish from floor, but left tail fins and spine as evidence.
3. Put dog biscuits amongst the Goldfish remains.
4. Starve ScapeGoat. Keep him out of the kitchen and don’t let him eat all day. (Need the hunger factor for this to work)
5. Just as keys are heard in the door, let ScapeGoat pass. He’ll head for the biscuits.
6. Hit the couch and pretend to be sleeping. (Pretend? Gee, there’s a stretch!)

I couldn’t have timed it better! The Big Haired Wife entered at just the right moment; to see the last of her goldfish being wolfed down by ScapeGoat. Meanwhile, I lay on the couch, belly full and purr in my throat. Blame-free.

There was one aspect of all this which kind of pissed me off. Even though ScapeGoat got blamed, he didn’t get punished. Me? I would have been chased around the house until a swift boot sent me outside. What did he get? A playful, "Bad Puppy" while getting kissed on the forehead. Sickening!

Sickening, perhaps. Useful? Most definitely! I see a ton of potential here.

All in all, a good test run. I’m going to spend the rest of the night drinking lots of water and peeing in every corner I can find. What the Hell! With a puppy in the house, it’s pretty much a freebie.

Now this story from Nothing To Do With Arbroath brought a purr to my throat. It’s nice to know the Cat Spirit is alive and well.

Meet Georgi. By himself, he managed to instill fear into the heart of an Ape. Way to go Georgi! And not just any Ape: a Postal Ape. I hear they don’t scare easily. They have quick access to firearms from what I’ve been reading.

Georgi’s Apes just stopped getting their mail; a refusal to deliver to them because the Cat attacked the postal carrier three times in one week.

It’s obvious to me that Georgi hasn’t had his little trip to the v-e-t yet. I used to have the "boys" to defend my turf like this too, but after that trip on Day 374, I just can’t be bothered anymore. I suddenly took on this whole "what’s the point" attitude. On the plus side, the extra time I gained now goes to napping.

To Georgi: Use ‘em while you got ‘em! Because eventually, they’re coming off!

… What do you get when you cross:

• A rat…

• With a pig…
• With Marty Feldman?

You get the newest addition to this already over-populated family. A genetic meltdown which happened to land in my home just a few hours ago. Although a Christmas present to the family from the Big Hairless Ape, it’s here a few days early.

I cannot believe I lost sleep over this thing! I’ve dragged home bigger rats than this. Upon seeing it, I had to start purring to hide my laughter!. Quite the mixture of rodent, swine and comedy! It falls over while trying to lick its own butt.

This is what I got myself so worked up over? I feel so silly now. After a bit of research, I found this to be a Pug. Nature just didn’t give these things a chance, did it? How can they even mate looking like that? Perhaps this is where the term "Doggie Bag" really came from?

So far, all it’s done is shake and quiver nervously. Admittedly, I may have had a little something to do with that. You see, I’ve been playing "Tip the Pug" since it got here. I don’t even have to lift a paw to do it either. A bump with my nose and it falls right over.

We’ve also had our first "territory chat" when it decided to sample some of my food. Again, it just fell right over. Not the sturdiest branch on the tree, is it? But I think it got the idea. It’s stuck to its own dish ever since. (Note to self: Easily trainable)

It’s a good thing these are kept as pets. In the wild, they’d be food. Either that or victims of sympathy hunting for being so ugly.

I know what you’re all thinking at this point: He’s going to hurt that poor puppy. I’m no math wizard, but I’m pretty sure the equation extrapolates to something like this:

• Dead Dog = Gorgeous Gone

With both elements becoming true in the event of Dead Dog. So, no. I’m not going to hurt the poor puppy.

Besides, I have future plans for him as you’ll see by the name I’ve assigned:

{… Gorgeous jumps from the desk chair and approaches the Pug.

"I dub thee: ScapeGoat! - Taker of blame!"

Gorgeous puts out a paw out to anoint him, causing ScapeGoat to once again, fall over…}

This is going to be too easy.

Join me tomorrow while the Apes are at work. We’ll be saying goodbye to that smug bastard of a Goldfish who’s been taunting me for what seems like an eternity now. We’ll break in ScapeGoat while we’re at it!

(I told you I had plans!)

Okay! I’m now a complete nervous wreck. Ever since learning about the impending arrival of a new dog to my home, I’ve hardly sleep a wink. I only got 7 naps in yesterday, down from my usual 18. I’m exhausted!

Every time I do manage to drift off, I’m plagued with nightmares.

So far today while sleeping, I have dreamt of:

• DogZilla. A four-storey tall Repti-Mutt which I just couldn’t get away from. (Chased me all over Tokyo.)
• Dog of the Dead. Pictured above, this thing scared the crap out of me. Literally! (When I woke up, I had to turn the couch cushion over to hide that one.)
• Being ravaged by Micro-Mutts. These things were tiny. Not so bad, right? Well, there were thousands of them! They were like fleas. Crawling all over me. (Fell off the television during that one!)
• Engaging in Hand to Hand combat with a Pit Bull. And won! Amazing! Although, it was odd that we both had hands, not paws. (Still puzzling on this.)
• Watching salmon swim upstream. … (What? I always have this dream.)
• The return of DogZilla. Brings Dog of the Dead with him.
• Paris Hilton. (I’m not sure how she fits into all this, but frightening nonetheless!)

That was the last time I slept. I’ve been scared conscious ever since.

Now I find myself in a curious position. I’m curious about this new dog, and it’s killing me! I’m serious. Curiosity is the #1 killer of Cats in North America today! Haven’t you heard?

On the plus side, I’m told there’s a remedy to reverse the effect.