Steve the Cat Has Something to Say

Hi again.....it is I...Steve the Cat.

Or should I say it is me Steve the Cat?

Remember English is my second language. You will need to pardon what you may perceive as grammatical errors.

Now I'm confused.

Are confused and Confucius homophones?

Yesterday I was sitting on my Curious Cat Perch in the computer room looking over Chucks shoulder when he took a Facebook quiz. It was about plural words. He thought he was so smart when he got an A.

"Most people struggled with this quiz – but not you! We’re not sure if you’re a writer, or just a grammar aficionado, but you absolutely dominated this quiz! Great job!"

Big deal....he went to school.

He should know the plural of ox is oxen not oxes.

He is an ass....or is it asses?

English is a rather complicated language. Cat is much easier and so basic. 

We say "Meow" which means pet me, play with me, feed me and leave me alone. You could say "Meow" is a homophone.

Pleural and plural are homophones.

I heard him complaining about something yesterday and I'm thinking he should just stop. He could be one of the 100 million people freezing in the Siberian Express. 

He could be the cat hiding in our backyard waiting to pounce on unsuspecting birdies.

I could be the cat hiding in the backyard waiting to pounce on unsuspecting birdies. But they don't let me go outside alone, ever. 

Talk about humiliating.

My Mom takes me out on the patio in nice weather and makes me wear a harness....a harness. Not even a collar and leash like a foul and smelly hound but a real harness, the kind you would put on a little kid. It has strap like things that go around my legs.....by the way, did you watch the dog show the other night?

Big Freaking Deal.....The 139th Westminster Dog Show, the second longest running 'sporting event' in the world. It's second to that spectacle where overpriced and over prized beasts of burden run around an oval, the Kentucky Derby.

And a bagel...oops, sorry... a beagle won Best in Show...a Snoopy dog, can you believe that? She beat a cousin of President Obama's dog and a shit-zoo owned by Patty Hearst.

How times change.

I heard Patty Hearst called a famed American heiress. At a fancy New York dog show in 2015 she is an heiress. Forty one years ago in San Francisco she was a bank robbing domestic terrorist. Yes, I am aware of Stockholm Syndrome, I have relatives there. You ever hear of the Lynx?

And get this, the beagle dog that won...they call her Miss P.

Miss P, whose registered name is "Ch Tashtins Looking for Trouble," is actually a nickname dubbed by a judge who asked about her name during a puppy class, her handler (she has a handler) Will Alexander said. "I said 'Payton,' and he said, 'The Devine Miss P.'"

"Ch Tashtins Looking for Trouble"...what a name. And Ch means champion..how pretentious.

My name is Steve.....just Steve. You can remember that, right? It's kind of like Bond....James Bond.

On formal occasions I go by Steve the Cat.

I think it is about time for a super duper fancy cat show to look at on television.

A few nights ago I was watching a nature program with Mom and Chuck. I especially enjoyed the antics of the prairie dogs and was totally into it until a snake slithered in one of the burrows and grabbed and ate a baby.

I do not like watching animals eat each other. I would think that you would not like watching people eat each other but I know Zombie things like movies, books and television shows are very popular. 

Don't say anything because I know he feels bad but Chuck hurt himself yesterday. 

The delivery man stopped here and brought two boxes. They are now out in the garage and stupid Sparky who is still living in there will probably ignore them. I would go out there and play but it's too cold. If my poop and pee box were in a more civilized place, like the back bathroom, I would never go in the garage.

I don't understand why Mom and Chuck get two separate warm rooms to go in and I have a box in the garage.

They got a floor lamp and I got a fancy new kitty condo (I showed you a picture).

So after he put the lamp together I watched him reach under some furniture to plug it in. He has been on this Fitbit weight loss obsession and is now so thin he must have bruised his ribs and maybe even his pleura when he plopped down on the floor because I heard some very bad words. It was only his left pleura so it's not plural pleura. Last night Mom told him he needs to put some muscle on (for padding I guess) and he laughed and said he has old mans chest. 

Now it hurts when he breathes. If I could talk I'd tell him to stop but I need him around to put food in my bowl in the afternoon.

He is not going to a doctor or emergency room because he went to nursing school and thinks he is so smart. I don't understand how he worked with people all those years and he doesn't know enough to clip my nails once every other month. He will not clip my nails but he bitches about me clicking on the floor.

But Chuck knows a doctor will poke him, order an X-ray and give him pain pills. 

This morning I watched him take some Ibuprofen.

If it was me I'd hit the nip.

from a post 2-19-2015