Although I am saddened to say that once again, Cat has chosen to include a dog instead of refined feline in a book, I still highly recommend her book "Her Hired Man." And lookee here -- it's part of a bunch of books that cost only 99 cents.
I don't know if 99 cents is a lot or not because I have no need for money. Food magically appears in my dish, I lay any place I want and you know what they say. If you have to ask what it costs, you can't afford it.
But Cat seems excited even though it's been sooo cold lately and my personal drinking fountain -- I think Cat says it's a kitchen sink faucet -- has run dry. She tried to explain but seriously who cares? The water from the bottle was lovely and that's what matters.
Anyway about this book thing. The bunch of books is called "Unforgettable Heroes" and lots of people are already buying it in a, um, yeah, e-book. I don't like those things because unlike real books they don't have covers I can dig my claws into when they need sharpening. But if you have one of those boxes like Cat stares at all the time, you can read the book. Or so Big Stupid, the dog, told me.
I kinda thing "Unforgettable Heroes" is like catnip. You'll go ga-ga as soon as you get near it and won't want to tear yourself away. And it probably makes you roll around the floor with big wide eyes, too. Like catnip.
Check it out for yourself. It's from Turquoise Morning Press, which sends Cat money to help buy my toys, and you can buy it at your favorite bookstore on-line.
And remember: Every time someone buys it, that's a contribution toward that cat food I love but Cat is too cheap to buy me.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Friday, January 3, 2014
I'm finally back...
Did you miss me?
Let me tell you, 2012 was quite a year. I spent nearly all of it in a monastery in Tibet attempting to reconcile my dreams with my life.
Why, you ask?
Because not only do I now have Big Stupid, the oversized Sheltie in my life, but two more cats. And one more dog I call Big Goofus.
First, the cats. One, Bitsy, is ours. Cat decided I needed a playmate and brought her in. Personally, I like the life of a loner but whatever. It took a little time for me to convince Bitsy who the boss was, but once that was settled life was fine.
And then The Girl moved in. Cat's granddaughter, I believe. She's okay. But The Girl decided we needed another kitten. And, in one of those stupid human tricks, the black girl cat was named Batman.
The good thing is that she and Bitsy bonded like sisters which meant I didn't have to fake a lovey-dovey relationship with either of them. The bad news is that The Girl decided she wanted a dog instead.
And that's where Big Goofus comes in. Cat says she's a yellow lab which I think is code for "dumbest dog known to mankind." Big Goofus was twice the size of big old Batman when she moved in at the age of eight weeks and eats like there's no tomorrow. Heaven knows, I've tried to convince her to eat more delicately but you know how dogs are.
I've attempted to be polite around Big Goofus even as she chases me, barks when I relax on top of the television and tears up everything she can get her paws on. But enough is enough.
The cold weather means Big Goofus is in the house all day every day. As in ALL DAY, EVERY DAY! She thinks I like her since I have slowed down in my hissing and slashing toward her.
I'm comfortable in keeping her thinking that way. She is, after all, only a dog.
And I don't think she realizes that I'm not scratching on the basement step out of boredom or to show the younger cats how it's done. No, I've spent weeks now sharpening my claws. And the next time Big Goofus makes a move on me or my food dish, she's going to find out what happens when my claws and her nose connect.
Trust me, I won't be the one running to Cat for a big bandaid.
P.S. Cat has a new book out! It's called Academy for Losers and, yes, once again there's a dog in it but no cats. What is that woman thinking?
www.catshaffer.com is where you can learn all about it.
Let me tell you, 2012 was quite a year. I spent nearly all of it in a monastery in Tibet attempting to reconcile my dreams with my life.
Why, you ask?
Because not only do I now have Big Stupid, the oversized Sheltie in my life, but two more cats. And one more dog I call Big Goofus.
First, the cats. One, Bitsy, is ours. Cat decided I needed a playmate and brought her in. Personally, I like the life of a loner but whatever. It took a little time for me to convince Bitsy who the boss was, but once that was settled life was fine.
And then The Girl moved in. Cat's granddaughter, I believe. She's okay. But The Girl decided we needed another kitten. And, in one of those stupid human tricks, the black girl cat was named Batman.
The good thing is that she and Bitsy bonded like sisters which meant I didn't have to fake a lovey-dovey relationship with either of them. The bad news is that The Girl decided she wanted a dog instead.
And that's where Big Goofus comes in. Cat says she's a yellow lab which I think is code for "dumbest dog known to mankind." Big Goofus was twice the size of big old Batman when she moved in at the age of eight weeks and eats like there's no tomorrow. Heaven knows, I've tried to convince her to eat more delicately but you know how dogs are.
I've attempted to be polite around Big Goofus even as she chases me, barks when I relax on top of the television and tears up everything she can get her paws on. But enough is enough.
The cold weather means Big Goofus is in the house all day every day. As in ALL DAY, EVERY DAY! She thinks I like her since I have slowed down in my hissing and slashing toward her.
I'm comfortable in keeping her thinking that way. She is, after all, only a dog.
And I don't think she realizes that I'm not scratching on the basement step out of boredom or to show the younger cats how it's done. No, I've spent weeks now sharpening my claws. And the next time Big Goofus makes a move on me or my food dish, she's going to find out what happens when my claws and her nose connect.
Trust me, I won't be the one running to Cat for a big bandaid.
P.S. Cat has a new book out! It's called Academy for Losers and, yes, once again there's a dog in it but no cats. What is that woman thinking?
www.catshaffer.com is where you can learn all about it.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
She's no superhero
My life used to be quite simple. I had Cat to meet my every need and Big Stupid to boss around when I was in the mood. Then Cat brought in a kitten -- which she gave the ridiculous name of Bitsy -- and then the Blond moved in. The Blond is no stranger; she used to sleep at our house every night before she disappeared for months. I figured she was out prowling the neighborhood, but I overheard Cat saying The Blond had gone to live in Ohio.
Cat goes to Ohio. Big Stupid goes to Ohio with Cat sometimes. Me, I stay here and protect the premises.
When The Blond came back from Ohio, she started living with us. That was okay. The Blond leaves me alone and I hiss only occasionally at her. But shortly after The Blond brought all her stuff to our house, she brought in a kitten. A black one. A girl with the ridiculous name of Batman.
I watch TV. I know who Batman is. He lives in a cave and fights crime. The Batman in my house does neither one.
She and Bitsy have become BFFs, which means I have to tolerate both of them at the same time. They eat my food. They use my litter box. They sleep on Cat's bed with Big Stupid and they even sleep in the bathroom sink, which everyone knows is there for my naps only.
It's been four months since the Terrible Two invaded my home, and they act like they own the place now. I've tried to show them the way, but hissing, spitting and swatting them doesn't seem to make a difference. I sit on my place on the newel post and stand guard, yet they continue to knock things over, investigate the potted plants and turn everything they find into a toy.
Please don't tell Cat, because she still thinks I'm the queen of all things, but I've grown to kinda like Bitsy and Batman. I've even joined in their games and although I still hiss when they get fed before me, I really don't mind that much. After all, they need someone to teach them how to become fierce felines, and Big Stupid is not up for the job.
The Blond caught me grooming Batman the other day. I immediately jumped away and hissed, but it was too late. She know my secret. And, I fear, she'll spill the beans to Cat.
So I'm planning my escape from the house. Perhaps one of them will hold the door too long when they leave or someone will keep it open too long bringing in those bags of food. I'll be out in a flash and do what I have to do.
I see no choice but to bribe The Blond to keep her from telling Cat that I really don't hate the kittens at all. And I figure if I can just get outside, I'll be able to find the perfect gift as a hush offering. A nice mouse perhaps or ... yes, I know the perfect thing!
The Blond and Cat talk often about the pigeons that light on the roof. I bet The Blond would be thrilled if I could catch one and take it to her in the basement, alive and wiggling, so she could have a pet pigeon of her very own.
Tabby
P.S. Cat has a new book coming out this month! Watch for "Keeping Secrets" from Turquoise Morning Press!
Cat goes to Ohio. Big Stupid goes to Ohio with Cat sometimes. Me, I stay here and protect the premises.
When The Blond came back from Ohio, she started living with us. That was okay. The Blond leaves me alone and I hiss only occasionally at her. But shortly after The Blond brought all her stuff to our house, she brought in a kitten. A black one. A girl with the ridiculous name of Batman.
I watch TV. I know who Batman is. He lives in a cave and fights crime. The Batman in my house does neither one.
She and Bitsy have become BFFs, which means I have to tolerate both of them at the same time. They eat my food. They use my litter box. They sleep on Cat's bed with Big Stupid and they even sleep in the bathroom sink, which everyone knows is there for my naps only.
It's been four months since the Terrible Two invaded my home, and they act like they own the place now. I've tried to show them the way, but hissing, spitting and swatting them doesn't seem to make a difference. I sit on my place on the newel post and stand guard, yet they continue to knock things over, investigate the potted plants and turn everything they find into a toy.
Please don't tell Cat, because she still thinks I'm the queen of all things, but I've grown to kinda like Bitsy and Batman. I've even joined in their games and although I still hiss when they get fed before me, I really don't mind that much. After all, they need someone to teach them how to become fierce felines, and Big Stupid is not up for the job.
The Blond caught me grooming Batman the other day. I immediately jumped away and hissed, but it was too late. She know my secret. And, I fear, she'll spill the beans to Cat.
So I'm planning my escape from the house. Perhaps one of them will hold the door too long when they leave or someone will keep it open too long bringing in those bags of food. I'll be out in a flash and do what I have to do.
I see no choice but to bribe The Blond to keep her from telling Cat that I really don't hate the kittens at all. And I figure if I can just get outside, I'll be able to find the perfect gift as a hush offering. A nice mouse perhaps or ... yes, I know the perfect thing!
The Blond and Cat talk often about the pigeons that light on the roof. I bet The Blond would be thrilled if I could catch one and take it to her in the basement, alive and wiggling, so she could have a pet pigeon of her very own.
Tabby
P.S. Cat has a new book coming out this month! Watch for "Keeping Secrets" from Turquoise Morning Press!
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Arrrrrrrgh!
Excuse me, please, for being miffed, but Cat has done it again.
Yes, she has totally rocked my world by bringing a kitten to live in MY house. She's given the thing the ridiculous name of Bitsy (as in itsy bitsy kitsy cat, a phrase she uses to torment me,) Yes, the new creature is tiny but she is also cute. And one thing I cannot tolerate is cute.
Cats are supposed to be dignified creatures. I do my best to uphold that image. I refuse to be cradled like a baby, carted around like a sack of potatoes or be dressed in silly costumes while my picture is being taken. Did the cats that guarded Egyptian royalty wear frilly dresses? I think not.
Cat can see no wrong with this Bitsey creature. Sure, she sometimes scolds fit or climbing curtains or chewing on power cords, but she thinks it's cute when the thing tries to catch the images on her computer. Let me try that, and all I get is a "Tabby, get down!"
At least Cat has the good sense to feed the intruder away from me. I'm being forced to share the litter box, which is bad enough. Do you know how humiliating it is to be using the box while that big-eyed little thing watches?
Cat swears that eventually, I'll like Bitsy. In fact, she has even gone so far as to tell the other People who come to the house that Bitsy is supposed to be my companion. Really!
Big Stupid, the dog calls Maggie, naturally adores the stupid kitten. She attempts to play with it, even though her paw is as big as Bitsey's entire body, and lets it sleep on Cat's bed at night.
Do I get to sleep with Car? No. Big Stupid has a hissy fit and barks and growls until Cat yells and I'm forced to leave.
I attempted to escape this horrid situation, but something even worse happened outside. The Sara Thing that lives next -- I believe she's Cat's offspring -- came over last night. I rushed through the front door before she could shut and sniffed the sweet air of freedom. Oh, but not for long.
The Thing from next door opened the back door, my usual entry after I managed to get outside, and called the cats from her house. Noel I can almost tolerate. But Chica hates me; the feeling is mutual.
Before I could even chew grass or jump the fence to next door, those cats were heading toward me, growls rolling from them. Chica had evil in her eyes so in self-defense, I had no choice but to go back into the house where that wretched little kitten had presumed to take control.
The lack of respect by all concerned was appalling, but I'm going to forgive them this time. But next time, they're in for the full Tabby temper tantrum, I swear.
P.S. I still haven't been featured in any of Cat's books. This fall, when her new novel "Keeping Secrets" is published, I sincerely hope she's rectified that mistake. Or at least not made Big Stupid or Bitsy a chaacter.
Yes, she has totally rocked my world by bringing a kitten to live in MY house. She's given the thing the ridiculous name of Bitsy (as in itsy bitsy kitsy cat, a phrase she uses to torment me,) Yes, the new creature is tiny but she is also cute. And one thing I cannot tolerate is cute.
Cats are supposed to be dignified creatures. I do my best to uphold that image. I refuse to be cradled like a baby, carted around like a sack of potatoes or be dressed in silly costumes while my picture is being taken. Did the cats that guarded Egyptian royalty wear frilly dresses? I think not.
Cat can see no wrong with this Bitsey creature. Sure, she sometimes scolds fit or climbing curtains or chewing on power cords, but she thinks it's cute when the thing tries to catch the images on her computer. Let me try that, and all I get is a "Tabby, get down!"
At least Cat has the good sense to feed the intruder away from me. I'm being forced to share the litter box, which is bad enough. Do you know how humiliating it is to be using the box while that big-eyed little thing watches?
Cat swears that eventually, I'll like Bitsy. In fact, she has even gone so far as to tell the other People who come to the house that Bitsy is supposed to be my companion. Really!
Big Stupid, the dog calls Maggie, naturally adores the stupid kitten. She attempts to play with it, even though her paw is as big as Bitsey's entire body, and lets it sleep on Cat's bed at night.
Do I get to sleep with Car? No. Big Stupid has a hissy fit and barks and growls until Cat yells and I'm forced to leave.
I attempted to escape this horrid situation, but something even worse happened outside. The Sara Thing that lives next -- I believe she's Cat's offspring -- came over last night. I rushed through the front door before she could shut and sniffed the sweet air of freedom. Oh, but not for long.
The Thing from next door opened the back door, my usual entry after I managed to get outside, and called the cats from her house. Noel I can almost tolerate. But Chica hates me; the feeling is mutual.
Before I could even chew grass or jump the fence to next door, those cats were heading toward me, growls rolling from them. Chica had evil in her eyes so in self-defense, I had no choice but to go back into the house where that wretched little kitten had presumed to take control.
The lack of respect by all concerned was appalling, but I'm going to forgive them this time. But next time, they're in for the full Tabby temper tantrum, I swear.
P.S. I still haven't been featured in any of Cat's books. This fall, when her new novel "Keeping Secrets" is published, I sincerely hope she's rectified that mistake. Or at least not made Big Stupid or Bitsy a chaacter.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Move away from the window
I don't ask much of life. Really. I'm perfectly happy if I have a clean litter box, full food dish and Big Stupid is out on the front porch on her chain.
When the weather outside is delightful, I will admit to attempting a clean escape so I can jump the fence and terrorize the neighbor's children. But when it's frightful, as in "oh, yuk, it's winter," I much prefer to watch the world from the warm side of the glass.
Until recently, all was well. Then Cat, carrying out some ritual that only humans would do, covered my favorite windows with plastic – and then had the audacity to yell at me when I attempt to create a teeny, tiny hole to look through.
Of course, I pretended to be sorry. I gave her my best big-eyed look and even curled around her ankles. And all would be well if Big Stupid hadn't been put on patrol duty.
The dumb dog doesn't seem to understand that its pets versus people. We four-leggers have to stand united or before long, everything will be off limits – not only the table and the counter but the top of the refrigerator, that warm spot where the sun hits the kitchen floor and every other good place in the house.
A noise caught my attention yesterday and, with my natural curiosity a driving factor, I knew I simply had to find out what made it. That involved me jumping on the sill of a window I don't normally use – and oh, did that set Big Stupid off.
She rushed up and barked in that tattle-tale way of hers until Cat came to see what was the matter. Cat actually took my side for once, but Big Stupid won't take "leave her alone" for an answer. In her canine enthusiasm, she jumped right into my face and let off a big bark.
Well, that most certainly crosses the line of polite behavior. I let her know such actions were acceptable by a ladylike yowl and one slash of my claws toward her – I didn't even draw blood. But she's such a big baby, and so spoiled, that when she yelped, Cat came yelling.
And guess who's side Cat took?
Nope -- mine. But somehow Big Stupid got the best of the deal anyway. Yeah, I got to stay in the window where the sun was pouring in, but Big Stupid got all of Cat's pizza crust.
Dumb dog.
Tabby
(Oh, BTW - if you received a Nook, Kindle or other e-reader for Christmas, remember Cat and her friends have tons of e-books out there. You'll love them all!)
When the weather outside is delightful, I will admit to attempting a clean escape so I can jump the fence and terrorize the neighbor's children. But when it's frightful, as in "oh, yuk, it's winter," I much prefer to watch the world from the warm side of the glass.
Until recently, all was well. Then Cat, carrying out some ritual that only humans would do, covered my favorite windows with plastic – and then had the audacity to yell at me when I attempt to create a teeny, tiny hole to look through.
Of course, I pretended to be sorry. I gave her my best big-eyed look and even curled around her ankles. And all would be well if Big Stupid hadn't been put on patrol duty.
The dumb dog doesn't seem to understand that its pets versus people. We four-leggers have to stand united or before long, everything will be off limits – not only the table and the counter but the top of the refrigerator, that warm spot where the sun hits the kitchen floor and every other good place in the house.
A noise caught my attention yesterday and, with my natural curiosity a driving factor, I knew I simply had to find out what made it. That involved me jumping on the sill of a window I don't normally use – and oh, did that set Big Stupid off.
She rushed up and barked in that tattle-tale way of hers until Cat came to see what was the matter. Cat actually took my side for once, but Big Stupid won't take "leave her alone" for an answer. In her canine enthusiasm, she jumped right into my face and let off a big bark.
Well, that most certainly crosses the line of polite behavior. I let her know such actions were acceptable by a ladylike yowl and one slash of my claws toward her – I didn't even draw blood. But she's such a big baby, and so spoiled, that when she yelped, Cat came yelling.
And guess who's side Cat took?
Nope -- mine. But somehow Big Stupid got the best of the deal anyway. Yeah, I got to stay in the window where the sun was pouring in, but Big Stupid got all of Cat's pizza crust.
Dumb dog.
Tabby
(Oh, BTW - if you received a Nook, Kindle or other e-reader for Christmas, remember Cat and her friends have tons of e-books out there. You'll love them all!)
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Have a happy, everyone!
Ah, yes, it's Christmas! Cat finally hung my stocking on the staircase beside Big Stupid's and I think I saw her sneak something furry in. I'm hoping for a hamster, but it's probably just a toy. Sigh.
Cat also ran an extension cord out the front door for lights on the railing and a tree she has out there. I hope the neighbors appreciate it, because I'm finding it hard to take a snooze anywhere without shimmering lights bothering me. Not, of course, that I mind the Christmas tree inside the house. I can hide behind the pile of packages and scare Big Stupid when I jump out. You think she'd catch on, but ...
My favorite place of all time is The Village. Cat had it long before I came to organize her home and life, and every year she rearranges things to create a city and a farm with lots of people and stuff. I decided early on this season that if my life had to be disrupted by her going all goo-goo over a bunch of fake buildings and trees, I might as well enjoy it.
So what are you doing to celebrate the season?
Tabby recommends Cat Shaffer's new historical suspense novel, Bittersweet, as an excellent addition for all those folks who get e-readers for Christmas (and yes, it's available in print as well.)
Cat also ran an extension cord out the front door for lights on the railing and a tree she has out there. I hope the neighbors appreciate it, because I'm finding it hard to take a snooze anywhere without shimmering lights bothering me. Not, of course, that I mind the Christmas tree inside the house. I can hide behind the pile of packages and scare Big Stupid when I jump out. You think she'd catch on, but ...
My favorite place of all time is The Village. Cat had it long before I came to organize her home and life, and every year she rearranges things to create a city and a farm with lots of people and stuff. I decided early on this season that if my life had to be disrupted by her going all goo-goo over a bunch of fake buildings and trees, I might as well enjoy it.
So what are you doing to celebrate the season?
Tabby recommends Cat Shaffer's new historical suspense novel, Bittersweet, as an excellent addition for all those folks who get e-readers for Christmas (and yes, it's available in print as well.)
Friday, December 9, 2011
What is her problem?
In my not quite four years of having Cat as my servant, we've gotten along relatively well. She knows her place, and keeps my food dish full and has yet to chase me away from the top of her wardrobe, where I sleep at night atop the spare sheets.
So you can understand my surprise and displeasure when she walked into the kitchen the other night and yelled at me. Yes, moi, the most wonderful cat in the world.
I was doing nothing. Honestly. Seeking a big of peace and quiet from the television and Big Stupid's barking, I found a place to relax. More than large enough to accommodate me, it was out of the flow of traffic.
Yet in comes Cat, disturbing my peace and acting as if I'm waaaaay out of line just because I'm sitting on top of the range hood. Yes, I had to use the table and the stove as springboards, but what's so wrong with where I landed?
Sometimes I simply can't understand her. Instead of delicately licking the dripping water from the spout in the bathtub, she immerses herself in the thing when it's full of water -- ooh, even the thought of being that wet gives me chills. And rather than doing the polite thing and licking her paws clean when she eats, she wipes her fingers on paper instead.
Christmas is just around the corner, though, and I do feel that perhaps I should give her a gift in acknowledgment of the generally good job she does as my caretaker. I know many of you are authors and readers. Would you happen to know where I can purchase a manual for her -- perhaps one titled "Care and Feeding of the World's Most Wonderful Creature?''
Tabby
P.S. If you're looking for a book to give for Christmas, don't forget all the books Cat and her good friend Cammie Eicher have out there!
So you can understand my surprise and displeasure when she walked into the kitchen the other night and yelled at me. Yes, moi, the most wonderful cat in the world.
I was doing nothing. Honestly. Seeking a big of peace and quiet from the television and Big Stupid's barking, I found a place to relax. More than large enough to accommodate me, it was out of the flow of traffic.
Yet in comes Cat, disturbing my peace and acting as if I'm waaaaay out of line just because I'm sitting on top of the range hood. Yes, I had to use the table and the stove as springboards, but what's so wrong with where I landed?
Sometimes I simply can't understand her. Instead of delicately licking the dripping water from the spout in the bathtub, she immerses herself in the thing when it's full of water -- ooh, even the thought of being that wet gives me chills. And rather than doing the polite thing and licking her paws clean when she eats, she wipes her fingers on paper instead.
Christmas is just around the corner, though, and I do feel that perhaps I should give her a gift in acknowledgment of the generally good job she does as my caretaker. I know many of you are authors and readers. Would you happen to know where I can purchase a manual for her -- perhaps one titled "Care and Feeding of the World's Most Wonderful Creature?''
Tabby
P.S. If you're looking for a book to give for Christmas, don't forget all the books Cat and her good friend Cammie Eicher have out there!
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