If Griffy Could Speak English...

...This is likely what you'd be reading had I handed the reigns of my blog over to Griffy.

ETA: Part I of this saga can be found here.

"Blog fodder.  That's all I am to this mere human who sits on her rotund behind and tap tap taps away at the keyboard.  Why else would she make me look so utterly ridiculous and turn me into the laughing stock of all the other feline inmates (and I do use the word "inmate" in all seriousness.), here at the Barking Mad Asylum?  No doubt if that barking lunatic, Casey, were still locked up here, he'd be having a field day with this one.  He was only a mere pup when she did this to me last year.

It was bad enough that I was condescended to at the torture chamber my humans call "the vets" and told that I would feel "oh so much better" and look "cutsie wootsie" with my new hair do. Barf!  I was forced to sleep and then my long and lustrous coat was all but ripped from my body.    To add insult to injury,  my human walked in to remove me from the torture chamber and proceeded to laugh hysterically when she saw me for the first time.  It was too much for regal dignity to handle.   I knew I must start plotting my revenge.

After being stuffed back into the dark, stuffy box and carried into a larger moving box on wheels (at least she gratefully turned on some cold air, I was all but suffocating in that damned box!), I decided to burst from my cramped confines and at least take my place in the box on wheels like a passenger rather than cargo.

I don't suppose she'll be using this again any time soon.

I made a slight error in judgement, for the box on wheels was already moving and I needed to secure myself so as not to go careening into the side of it, as my human most assuredly handles this wheeled box like a bat out of hell.  I positioned myself where she could not only see me in her looking glass, but where I could be sure she could hear my growls of discontent.  I was perched directly behind her and she was keenly aware of my presence, as she uttered several human words I have heard before when I leave her presents meant to let her know of my distaste for her actions.

When we arrived at the place my human calls "home", which I refer to as my holding cell, I could not wait to escape from the box on wheels.

I was feeling a bit peckish and stopped at a local eatery on the way into the house, to see about a quick bite.  Under the front steps there is a delightful little place where one can find chipmunks large and small, and the occasional mole.   As I approached the entrance to the dining establishment I could hear muffled giggles coming from my potential snacks.

Laugh now little chipmunks...later I'll be enjoying you with a side of grass.

Upon entering the asylum my younger sibling, Gracie sniffed me and then giggled.  Gracie darling, if you can't find your favorite stuffed mouse I suggest you look in the loo box.

Geronimo and Godvia were most annoying.  Godiva has deemed my once gorgeous tail, her new favorite toy.

One of the other female humans, upon hearing my return, made her way upstairs and one can only interpret that look on her face to mean that she thinks I am now disgraceful.

Go ahead and laugh humans.  Make yourselves roll on the floor with giggles and chuckles.  For it is I who will ultimately have the last laugh."

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Yes, Griffy has kept good to his word and left me a little "present" this morning next to my bed.   I wasn't really surprised as he does this whenever he gets pissed off at one of us.  Our vet said it's not at all uncommon for cats to make themselves vomit in retaliation for a perceived wrong.  Over the years, Griffy has become quite proficient at this.  

I will admit to being a little taken aback when I initially saw him after his Lion Cut.  Last year they didn't give him "leg warmers", only little "booties" on his paws were left.  He still had the ridiculous poof at the end of his tail though.  If I'm being totally honest, I do tend to think he looks a bit silly...sort of like a feline fashionista who would not appear completely out of line walking down the streets of NYC's fashion district...on a leash.  And yes, I agree with Megawatt that he looks like a bobble head, or that he's got the wrong head on his body.   OK OK...he does indeed look like a feline version of Mr. Potato head.

I would have posted this last night but it seems the entire animal world (locally anyhow) is out to get us.  I don't know if Griffy sent out some sort of SOS in animal code, but one side of our home was sprayed by a skunk and we spent the better part of the evening and wee hours of this morning trying to keep from being asphyxiated by the stench that was slowly but surely making it's way through the house.

After last night, I wouldn't be surprised if PETA showed up on my doorstep.