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.

As cool and collected as I appear, sometimes something comes along to get my fur up.

Last night, the Apes went shopping for Christmas junk and returned home with a crap load of bags and parcels. They must have blown a fortune on some of this stuff.

Being the curious Cat I am, I started to investigate some of these bags and parcels to see if they’d picked up anything for me.

Near the end of my investigations, I was shocked to see that they hadn’t gotten me a single thing. Nothing. Nada, Zero, Zilch! How insulting considering the massive amounts of joy I provide them.

There was only one bag left. So without getting my hopes up, I jumped in and found myself curious about the contents: A collar and leash.

Were they going to start taking me on walks? Doubtful. I don’t require tethering.

Were the Apes going to indulge in some kinky bedroom activity? Perhaps.

Then I discovered the chew toy. OMFG! We’re getting a dog! Judging by the size of the collar; a puppy.

This explains the conversations I’ve been overhearing for the last few days. Phrases like, "Great pet" or  "Perfect companion" and "Cute as Hell" were peppered throughout the exchanges. Naturally, I thought they were talking about me.

It was bad enough when The Wet One came along and stole the attention that was due to me. Am I now to be pushed away further while they make a fuss over a dog? Unacceptable!

Then again, on the plus side, puppies are highly trainable. I might be able to work some magic in that regard. I can show it which corner to pee in, which boot to crap in, select which article of expensive clothing to shred, stuff like that. Also, I’ll be able to do things that previously would’ve incriminated me on the spot. Dog = scapegoat!

What type of dog is also in question. If it turns out to be a Rottweiler or Pit Bull, I might as well put my head between my hind legs and kiss my furry ass goodbye. However, considering The Wet One, I suspect something much less vicious.

I have no timeline on the arrival of this little "treasure" but I fear I have little time to prepare. I’ll keep you all posted on the outcome.

I bet that gets the attention of the Star Trek Nerd Club. However, today’s topic has nothing to do with fiction.

You see, last night after a trip to the litter box, I walked away with a companion: a rather sizable nugget which had gotten stuck to my fur.

Normally, I’m quite good at cleaning myself up after a good dump, but I do have my limits. If it’s bigger than a marble, I seek alternatives to self-cleansing.

One option is to drag my butt across the carpet. Past experience dictates this just gets me a night outside. And it was just too cold out for that!

Being a master at observation, I’ve noticed that any time The Wet One fouls himself, the Apes are right there to clean up the mess. They change, wipe, and tell him what a good boy he is.

A plan with no flaws, right?

Wrong! Jumping on the Big Haired Wife’s lap, with nugget in tow, got me a result I wasn’t counting on: a water bath!

Let’s be absolutely clear on this point. Cats do NOT like baths! A fact the Big Haired Wife became aware of seconds after my being submerged. I kicked, scratched, then escaped 3 times, only to be caught and submerged again. One the plus side, the Big Haired Wife ended up with just as much water on her as I did.

Then there’s the soap issue. It’ll be days before I stop smelling like a French whore and regain my natural musk. Not to mention it took me 8 hours to dry out.

Thankfully I won’t see other Cats for awhile. I’d be the laughing stock of the neighbourhood!

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