Guest Blog by Major T. Cat

Hello, my human slave (aka "the-one-who-feeds-me") fell asleep at his computer thingy, thereby allowing me this opportunity to smack his mouse around a bit (why it’s called a mouse is a mystery, it doesn’t taste like one at all!) and to relate the latest episode of indignities placed on me by these fur-less human morons.

My slave keeps a lot of white bottles around. I see them when I jump up on their eating place (while they are not here, of course) and like to knock them onto the floor, just to see the stupid dogs chase them around.

The chief slave talks about "enzymes" a lot, I deduced that they are what he takes with his meals, why he does, I have no idea. I do know that when I go outside to snack on lizards and bugs, he does not appreciate me regurging my meal into his house shoes. Oh, the yelling and chasing that ensues, such great fun! When he catches me though, my fiendish slave slathers an oily substance onto my handsome paws, forcing me to cleanse them with my lovely pink tongue. It tastes like chicken, so not too bad. In the past, this has done nothing but annoy me, however, lately I’ve noticed something different. First though, a little background.

I, being a superior species of cat, spend a great deal of time grooming my lovely hairy self. This causes a lot of hair to be swallowed, which does not bother me, but for some reason really irritates my slaves. I guess it is because I want to show them my collection of hair balls, which I usually dispense on the family room carpet and they ungraciously pick up and throw in the trash! I overheard the chief slave discussing a "remedy" for the situation, and he subsequently opened one of the bottles marked "Peptizyde". A little pill rolled out and I saw him open it and put the powder into the oily stuff. Sensing that I was once again going to be put through the trauma of having nasty material placed onto my beautiful being, I ran for my hiding place. The other slave, however, caught me and despite my protests, allowed the chief slave to put the altered coating on me. After rewarding the insubordinate human with a swift swipe of my deadly claws, I retired to my hiding place and began the tedious task of removing said material. Afterwards, I wanted to show my "appreciation" to my despotic slaves by yacking a slimy hairball onto their sleeping place, but try as I may, nothing came forth. I also noticed the powdery substance was in my food bowl, but I’m powerless to resist the eating of food, whatever else may be on it. I actually liked the taste, however.

Strangely, I have not been able to produce my fabulous hairballs since. I heard my slave crowing to some other pink-fleshed creatures that he had "fixed" my "problem" by adding enzymes to my food. He said it would break down the hair in my stomach. Shocking! Another demonstration of the humans lack of artistic comprehension!

Well, I tire of this conversation and it is well past my fifth nap of the day.

Til next I grab the mouse, adieu!

Major T. Cat, Esq.