CAT FUR COAT

NEW PUSS ON THE BLOCK

Sorry I haven't been blogging. A new cat showed up the other day and well.....I've been kinda busy. She's a hot little number from the Italian's house. She's not Italian. I think she said her dad was Siamese and her mom was a Tabby. Nicole's really jealous of her. You know how some girls just can't get along with other girls? Well that's Nicole. The new cat's name is Francine but we call her Frankie. I don't know where Christmo went but the guy down the road has been feeding us and to tell you the truth I like him better. Nicole sez he's gay. I say so what? The food tastes just as good. She can be soooo judgemental.
Frankie's got this saying- "Quiet as a mouse pissing on cotton." She'll creep up on me and run those long claws of her's down my back and purr in my ear "Quiet as..."Let Nicole say what she will, I like her. I just saw Carlito drive by. I wish spring would come. Oh well, my ears hurt. I think this helmet shrunk when it got wet. Love you all. Paris out.

SICK OF IT ALL

Hi! This is Nicole. Paris is asleep. I'm wearing the helmet now. Everybody pays so much attention to him. Sometimes it kind of bugs me. I know he's got a way about him. And who can resist that mustache? But sometimes I feel left out, not to mention misunderstood. I try hard. I really do. You have no idea what I put up with. I could tell you stories. Seems like I'm always on my back with my legs spread. My father wanted to name me Miles but I came out Nicole. Well actually I came out Marta...then Nicole. I think I was adopted. It's all so confusing. I haven't seen Christmo in a couple of days. I hope he's OK. The gay guy from down the road's been feeding us. Even he seems to like Paris more. Oh well Paris swings both ways. I just had a full dinner and I'm feeling a little poosily. Gotta keep my figure.

ARISTOCATS

Stop me if you've heard this one. Tom cat walks into a fat cat's office and tells him he's got an act to promote.
"I married this cute little wild cat who used to be a show cat and God bless her, let me tell you this little pussy has an act you won't believe. She comes out on stage, shaves down, burns her whiskers with a blow torch,and gives birth to a litter of kittens. Now here's where I come out dressed Dr. scrubs. I help her give birth. Then I toss the kittens in the air, pull out a shotgun and blast them like furry clay pigeons. Then the wife pulls out her teeth and goes down on me, takes a crap on the stage and as i come she pulls a fiddle out of her ass and plays Nearer to God than Thee.You would think this would be enough, but she always holds back a few kittens that she propells from her cunt into the audience like those popping party favors. Sometimes we hire a pitbull as a ringer, who sits in the front row, catches the kittens between his teeth and swallows them whole. Other times it's a redneck with a burlap sack who drowns them in a bucket of water."

The fat cat leans back in his chair, sticks a cigar in his mouth and looks at the Tom cat in shock. "Christ almighty that's a blood bath. What do you call it?"
"PETA."

UNFORGIVEABLE CATNESS

Things i hate about Nicole: First there's the throwing up after every meal. And it's not just chipmunk guts. Anything she eats she ends up tossing. She's getting soooo skinny. Then there's the way she rolls on her back and opens her legs every time Christmo walks by. It's just trashy. And she doesn't even really like him. I know she's a good cat underneath it all but you know how it is when you're always around someone. Normal little things like asshole licking begin to grind on you. The other day I told her she could borrow my Pussy Galour T-shirt. Well, she stretched it all out and dribbled tuna fish juice down the front. Then she washed it in HOT water. She can be such a stupid bitch. Christmo just walked by and there she goes showing her belly and opening her legs. Jeeez! I gotta go. I'm disgusted.

SHOWING THE PINK

Disregard the previous post. Christmo insisted on showing me how it was done. Duh. As if... I was born on a small patch of pink insulation in the back of Carlito's barn. Everyone thinks Nicole is my sister, but she's not. We don't even look alike. She can be such an uppity bitch sometimes, but on the hole we're good friends. At birth we had different names. I was named Tommy and Nicole was Marta. Carlito's farm was nice. We had a lot of friends there and pretty much had the run of the place. But then one day last winter all the humans just disappeared. We were left to our own devices. That's when we decided to cross the road to Christmo's place.
At first he was very mean to us. We rubbed up against him and meowed sweetly to no avail. It was cold and we were hungry. We were forced to catch and eat mice and birds and chipmunks. Yech! Nicole likes that sort of stuff. I, for one, do not. After a week or so Christmo finally cracked and set out a plate of what looked like food. From then on things got better. This helmet is hurting my ears so I'm going to sign off. My favorite color is pink and i like to listen to "emo" music. I'll try to write more the next time. I wish Nicole wouldn't throw up like that after eating chipmunk. It's disgusting. Bye for now. Chow.

PARISHITLER.BLOGSPOT.COM

I was so touched by the cats species shifting that I wanted to do something for them. If they were talented enough to write in cursive pee script in the snow I figured maybe they could type. The problem was the instrument they used to etch the snow was out of the question on the Mac. and even with bottle caps attached to their feet they didn't have the dexterity..."Now is the time for all goood jiowmtosi cjosplaj." See? Then I had an idea. I found an old softball, cut it in half like a grapefruit and scouped out the insides. It was then that Nicole disappeared. Paris looked at me as if to say "Fuck her. I'm interested."
"Lets see if this works." I said fitting the little helmet over Paris' head. I rigged a tiny chin strap and adjusted it so it was comfortable. How would this helmet help Paris type? Just wait. As Nicole ripped the head off a chipmunk out in the yard, I removed the leather helmet from the cat. Then I cut a small hole in the top and inserted an old car antenna. On the tip of the shaft I taped a fishing sinker, set up the Mac., put the helmet back on and went online.
Within an hour he was surfing cat toy sites and googling "nip". "Nicole?" I called, motioning to Paris clicking away. I couldn't compete with the eviscerated munk. She wasn't interested. Then I had an epiphany. What if Paris had her own blog?
I could check in with what was going on in their lives while I was on the road and it would give them something to do while I was gone. I set up the site under my name. Because Paris and Nicole had no pockets they didn't have credit cards so I wasn't worried they'd get in trouble financially. I showed Paris how to log on and sat back. She took to it like a duck to water. So from now on you can check the cat's blog also. I'm hoping Nicole will put on the helmet and post some of her thoughts also. I looked over Paris' shoulder as he worked his head stick across the keys. "THAT'S HOT!" he clicked. I can't tell you how proud I am of him.

THAT'S HOT!

Ok, I know this all a little 05 but I'm tired of everbody else thinking they know me. So I thought what the hell, it can't be too hard to write my thoughts down. This typing thing is a lttle tough for me. So bear wiuth me. Lets see. Where do I start?