Because BK Said So

Well, well, well, what have we here? Seems that this stupid little junco not only slammed into a glass window, leaving a trail of feathers on the front porch, but he also decided to hang out at the door, like Jen was going to let him in or something. She doesn't even let me in during the day. This is when a bird could do with a sense of smell - it would have alerted him to the presence of a cat. 

But Jen couldn't be bothered to tell me, noooooooooo, couldn't maybe suggest I look at the front porch. Noooooo, she just let me laze about in ignorance. Oh! The fun we could have had, little junco, dear. I am more of a ratter, but such a gift right on my front porch? I would have liked to be advised. 

What was Jen doing anyway? Working on her silly photo projects, that's what. Where are her priorities?

Lazy

Jen and Josh have been coddling Sam his whole life. I have been trying to teach him a thing or two about fending for himself and what to hunt, of course.

But I always find him sitting on something or being carted around.

What's wrong with walking? Climbing a tree?

The kid can barely hold himself upright.

Torture Chamber

What do you call it when you place a baby in a confined space? How about if that confined space has cartoonlike renderings of terrifying animals on the walls? How about if that space also has horrible creatures hanging down in the baby's face and he does not have the ability to roll away from them? And what sort of sick mixed messages does said baby's mother send when she places the child in this space and then makes him coo and giggle?

Teddy will need some serious therapy in the future.

Double Standards

Whenever Jen lays a blanket down I, too, will stretch out on it on my tummy. I usually roll over in order to expose my softer side to petting. So I see Teddy does the same, and Jen gets all giggly and weird about it? Bizarre. When I lie down and roll, I either get pet, shooed off, or both.

The Defender

You know me as a tom who is not afraid of a fight. I am sure you all remember how rough our last neighborhood was: raccoons, possums, fast cars, dogs, and the meanest, mangiest cats you have ever met and had better never try to pet. I have two docked ears and some serious scars from 29th Ave. East. But I have mental toughness and fortitude as well as character. So this recent wound - and the scuffle that gave it to me - barely deserves mentioning and was totally worth it to defend my family.

Just look at how soft, pudgy, pale and vulnerable they are. They sleep inside, take showers, buy pre-killed food, and regularly cut their nails.

They - and the land they live on - must be defended.

And I am proud to be the Defender.

Quiet Time

Josh, Jen, and Sam came outside to have breakfast with me one morning. I took this to mean that they approve of my recent killings, so I have upped the ante in my quest for rats. I usually spend all night out and about, on the hunt. Josh planted a garden that the rats are drawn to, so they are easy pickings this time of year. I like to bring them, stunned, to the front porch and finish the slaughter there. I try to leave the entire rat for Jen to find - I know she likes them whole because she gasps the loudest when she finds them that way - but I usually end up eating at least half.

I always need a little rest after a long night on the prowl. These past sunny days and warm mornings have been nice and rejuvenating.

I just wish some people would stay out of my light.