J-Damn!

A Life Well Lived

2010-06-30T17:45:00.046-04:00

Jonathan Dangerous, author of this blog, was laid to rest on Wednesday, June 30, 2010. Born on December 14, 1997, he was eleven-and-a-half years young. Extremely rare in cats, he had advanced cutaneous hemangiosarcoma, cancer of the lining of the blood vessels.

Depending on the company he kept or the severity of the act he had done, he was known as JD, John, JohnJohn, Jonathan, JDamn, and JDarn.

Jonathan Dangerous was born in New York City into a large litter of kittens, who found home in the Union Square Petco’s no-kill shelter. At eight weeks old, he and his brother, Archibald, were adopted by their mother, Ann, who was required to adopt two kittens.

She had no problem selecting these two kittens: all of the cats were asleep in their crate and John and Archy were in the litter box, fiercely duking it out. The kitten was named Jonathan Dangerous as he fancied himself a superhero who could fly, especially after climbing atop something high, but who was actually more dangerous to himself than any criminal.

The boys moved to a 1^st story, railroad apartment in Washington Heights, where they enjoyed chasing ballpoint pens up and down the hallway. Most notably, Jonathan and his brother were responsible for scaring away a home intruder while their mother slept. As the burglar came in the hall window, the boys ran into their Moms’ bed and woke her up. Annoyed, she loudly began to sing, “I’m looking over my dead dog Rover!” and the noise startled the intruder.

During his lifetime,Jonathan was a New England cat and lived in Washington Heights, Hell’s Kitchen, and Queens, New York; Boston and Norwood, Massachusetts; New Haven and Milford, Connecticut. He despised traveling but loved containers of all kind, especially the boxes that accompanied each move.

A portly cat, Jonathan’s highest weight was 21 pounds. Though he suffered from asthma and bad paw-eye coordination, John was always willing to give it a good college try when a mouse or other critter appeared. Working in concert with his brother, who would usually bop the critter over the head, John would proudly trot to his Moms to provide the bounty to the family.

Jonathan welcomed his Dads, Chad, into the family. As the child of a single mom, he and Archy were thrilled to have a male influence in their lives. The boys were the first to inspect and approve the engagement ring before Dads proposed to Moms.

An indoor cat, John was an avid fan of wildlife, and enjoyed watching squirrels, birds, chipmunks outside his picture window. In Norwood, he was known neighborhood wide for a two-hour stare down with a chubby pigeon during the height of a snowstorm.

Inspired by his brother’s work, John was also an entrepreneur. He was the proprietor of JDamn’s Juice Bar, a healthy beverage stand in WOB (Work Out Basement, founded by Archibald). Though the Bar mostly served whatever beverages were being stored in the basement, he was a keen marketer of the stock on hand and kept his client, Dads, very happy. John was also one of the first known cats to blog, sharing his adventures here from the perspective of a chubby cat.

An extremely handsome cat, Jonathan won two photo contests during his short life. He was the Cutest Pet at Stamford Hospital and the February 2010 Pet of the Month at Milford Animal Hospital, where he received his end-of-life care.

During the last year of his life, John welcomed his new brother, Nate, into his life. They became fast friends and he happily took Nate’s grabs, tugs, and yanks to be signs of affection.

His favorite toys included the blue sparkle ball; Smacky, a catnip filled squirrel; and his brother’s tail. He also enjoyed scratching his cheeks on sharp corners of books, tables, and furniture. His favorite foods included treats, potato chips, Fancy

Feast Elegant Medleys, and treats. In the litterbox, he was a super scooper, known to cover things for his brother and often got so into the zen of scooping that he would empty half the box on the floor.

This obituary serves as the final entry to a wonderful blog. Jonathan is survived by his Moms, Ann; his Dads, Chad; and his brothers, Archibald J. Cat, Esq. and Nate. He was one of the greatest cats to bless this Earth, and he will be sorely missed.

Trick or Treat!

2009-11-01T08:45:00.008-05:00

Happy Halloween, everybody! I hope you had a delightfully tasty evening! I am happy to say that, since Nate arrived, Moms has abandoned her efforts to make me and Archy dress up for the big day. Thankfully, she has turned her efforts to Dads and my baby brother and makes them get all gussied up for the holiday.

For his first Halloween, Nate was Indiana Jones and Dads dressed up has Indy's father, Dr. Henry Walton Jones.
While I have never seen the Indiana Jones movie, I have helped Dads play the Indiana Jones Lego Playstation II game. I gotta say, Nate looked a lot like Lego Indy. Moms made Nate a whip out of duct tape and rope, and got him a pleather jacket from H&M. Moms also insisted on singing the Indiana Jones theme song wherever Nate went. (Du du du du, du du du....)
Admittedly, I don't understand this dressing up thing, but I did think Nate was pretty cute. That was until Moms thought it would be a good idea for me to get in on the action. See, apparently Indiana Jones comes across all sorts of ferocity on his adventures. So Moms thought it would be "cute" if Indy attacked a wild lion on his adventures.
Did I mention that I don't get this dressing up thing? I didn't want to play along. I mean, really - like Nate could conquer me. Look at us - I'm twice Nate's size! So I just played dead, hoping folks would leave me out of this. Eventually, they gave up trying to engage me when Nate asked to count up his Halloween booty.
Nate thought this was quite a haul. He got a Hershey's bar from Auntie Marcia and Uncle Greg, and a dollar bill that fell out of Dads' pocket when he was fumbling for the keys. My first instinct was to tell Nate that this stunk - he should have a pumpkin brimming over with treats. But then my protective big brother instincts took over. Why teach my super happy baby brother disappointment when I could spend that energy in getting myself some Halloween treats?

Let me backtrack for a moment here. Nate's started to eat. Yeah, he still drinks milk but he now also eats rice cereal, carrots, and apples. He chows them. He LOVES them. (Proof that he really is my brother.) Anyhow. Nate eats them sitting in a chair. When this change started to happen, I thought, "Oh! If you sit by the chair, you get vittles!" Apparently, not so. I sat by the chair for a long time. The only thing that happened was Moms taking a picture of me, and patting me on the head saying, "Aw! Isn't that cute? John's waiting to feed Nate."

For the record, I was not waiting to feed Nate. I was waiting to be fed. Anyhoo....

So Halloween rolled around and I thought, "Gee. My brother's been getting all this extra food and all Archy and me have been getting is our regular half can of wet food and kibbles. When do we get extra food?" So I decided to play a trick on Moms and Dads to get a treat. (Is that so bad?)

Moms was napping and I told Dads, "Gee. I'm starving. And it's Halloween! Might you feed us some Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys for the occasion?" (Though Moms got laid off, we're still having the good stuff for special events.) Dads said, "Right you are, John! A treat is in order!" And, voila! A half can of Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys appeared in each of our dinner dishes for me and Archy.

Well. Moms gets up from her nap and me and Archy run over to her, you know, to say, "HI!" And I say, "Gee, Moms! I'm starving! And it's Halloween! Might you feed us some Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys for the occasion?" And wouldn't you know it, SHE FELL FOR IT! So Archy and I got the good stuff TWICE! Moms and Dads only figured it out after Moms served us our second supper. It was great. Brilliant, even! I will have to try this trick again. Like tonight....

Hope your Halloween was filled with only treats - or tricks that got you extra treats!

Your pal,
JohnJohn

Mews

2009-10-23T10:57:00.004-04:00

Good morning, JohnJohn fans! Have you been at home, pining for me to share my vibrant words? Have you been hitting refresh every two seconds just to see if I posted my latest brilliant mewsings? Well. I have been silenced. BUT I SHALL BE SILENCED NO MORE!

If you recall, Moms and Dads had a tot and this tot requires a lot of things, mostly time. And diaper changes. (Dude. Litter box. Catch on to the trend....) But, apparently, the one thing that the tot needs most is care. He can't be left home alone like me and Archy. He has to be stared at, and held, and changed, and HAND FED. Which got me to thinking, Archy and I got the short end of the stick here. I mean, really, had I known that hand feeding, 24/7 holding, and rocking chair rocking was even a remote possibility, I would have been putting my demands on the table much, much sooner. Apparently, though, my new demands are not heard through the giggles of my brother, Nate. (I will admit. They are cute.)

Anyhow. The care of Nate. So, ever since Nate showed up, Moms has been at home. ALL THE TIME. At first, it cramped my style but once I realized that I slept through most of it, I found I didn't care. But then all of a sudden, everyone became a bundle of nerves because MOMS WAS GOING BACK TO WORK and someone had to care for the baby. (Archy and I offered but Dads mumbled something about us sleeping 20 hours a day.) So they shipped Nate off to something called Day Care. Moms and Dads worried about Nate all the time and stared at him every night asking, "Natie Pie? Are you hap-hap-happy!?!" to which he would only giggle and I was all, "Folks. He naps there, right? Trust me. He doesn't remember a thing."

Then Moms made a new friend, Auntie Katie, who made her feel much better about the day care thing. Auntie Katie also has a blogeroo called Confessions of a Young Married Couple (and I'm giving her a HOLLA! here because if I giver her a HOLLA! then I can enter to win an iPod video thingy on her blog and, boy, would that make my waking hours tres exciting! Auntie Katie has dogs but I looked at one of them and really, I'm much bigger, so I'm ok with the dog thing.)

Archy and I were willing to do our part. Ok. Moms and Dads were stressed out. Ok. We only asked for dinner five times instead of our usual ten. Archy only pooed outside of the box once a week instead of his normal three. But after being back at work for two weeks, Moms' job got eliminated and WHAMMO!, she's home again. ALL THE TIME. It also means that Nate is here too. ALL. THE. TIME.

This called for a family meeting because, apparently, when Moms went to "work," she brought home MONEY. A lot more money than the cost of day care. So Moms not getting paid anymore is going to affect all of us. For me and Archy, this means that Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys are off our menu for a long time. And the regular Fancy Feast meals? Well. Dads still wants us to eat them, but Moms said we'll have to revisit that soon. The really good news is that cat litter is NOT getting cut from the grocery menu.

But this layoff thing also means that Moms can take more of my dictations. She can take my picture more for the blog. She can help me upload my video of the baby deer that now lives in our backyard. She can help me straighten my right eyebrow, which has gone totally askew and kind of curls back into my eyeball. And she can hold my paw and help me get over my fear of Nate jumping in that jumperoo thing. Folks. The jumperoo thing is loud, fierce, and scary. Very. Very. Scary.

So, JDamn fans. That's the mews of this week. I'll be posting again soon with my dear deer video (Ha ha ha! I crack myself up!). Until then, I wish you restful, wheeze-free naps.

Your pal,
JohnJohn

Sleep Training

2009-09-19T20:30:00.007-04:00

I know. I promised everyone that this wouldn't turn into a blog about my brother Nate but wait! This blog entry is about how I, Jonathan Dangerous, helped my baby brother. And trust me, I am a miracle worker.

So. This is Nate. He is my baby brother. He is almost 4 months old. He has "friends," like Sophie the Giraffe and a star that squeaks. How a star can be a friend, I don't know, but Nate's pretty positive that the star is one of his tippy top friends.
Being a baby, Nate doesn't know much. He knows how to pee, poo, and drink milk. Recently, he also learned how to coo, caa, and squeal. Oh, and he naps. Little naps. Two hours here, three hours there. Seeing as I sleep 20-22 hours a day, I didn't realize that Nate wasn't a champion sleeper like me (guess I slept through it all).

About three weeks ago, when I was scratching my cheeks on the corner of a nice book, I decided to read the title. It said "The Secrets of the Baby Whisperer" and had a post-it note that read, "Kerri said this got her babe to sleep through the night!" The next book I scratched my cheeks on was called "Healthy Sleep Habits, Healthy Child," with a note from Moms that read, "Dammit! Why won't Nate sleep through the night?" The last book I scratched my cheeks on was called, "Bed Timing." Mom didn't even bother to put a post-it note on this one; it just had dried exhaustion drool on it. I started to think there was a pattern in these book themes....but what was it?

I ruminated on these titles during my 18 hour nap, woke up and shouted, "Eureka! Nate needs my help! I can teach him the way of the super long nap! WOOH!"

Nate was in the romper room, playing on his quilt with his Hawaiian chicken, Moa. I mosied over to him and said, "Hey, Nate!" After we established eye contact, I continued, "I heard you don't sleep for a very long time?"

Nate said, "What is time?"

I said, "I don't know, but clearly you don't either. Look. You're driving Moms and Dads nuts. Up and down, up and down all the time at night! There's another way! Let me show you the way of the super long nap!"

Nate started to do his happy, excited dance.
I continued, "Nate. The Nap. It is an artform, it is a skill, it is a necessity. To begin to find the strength of the super long nap, you must be comfortable."

Nate agreed. He said, "Yeah. I love my glow-in-the-dark superhero pajamas. Do you know how to spell pajamas? It's P-A-J-A-M-A-S PAJAMAS. I know this because Mom sings it to me like Gwen Stefani sings BANANAS? Do you know how to spell bananas? It's..."

I cut him off. "FOCUS. Sleeping." Nate nodded. "Get comfortable. Find yourself a nice squishy spot in the house to snuggle in."
Nate said, "I can't! That's a suffocation hazard! HAZARD!"

I said, "Oh. Ok. Find a nice, firm surface and lie down on your side."
Nate said, "I can't. I'm supposed to sleep on my back."

I began to yawn. This "helping my baby brother" thing is *exhausting.* "Ok. Fine. So no squishy surfaces, no sleeping on your side. Sleep on your back in a confined, firm, safe place? How about the laundry basket?"
Nate said, "HEY! That looks like my crib. Except there are no jungle animals. Where are the jungle animals? Where is my mobile? WHERE DID MY FRIENDS GO?"

Good Lord. "NATE! Focus. Sleeping." Nate nodded. "Ok. When you get in your laundry basket, close your eyes and think sleepy thoughts. Count kibbles in your head." Nate started to protest. "Oh. I forgot. You can't count. Ok. Think about kibbles - happy, happy kibbles. Then think about treats! And catnip! The thoughts will be so happy that you won't want to leave them and so you'll just stay in your happy sleepy place for a really long time. Try it tonight, ok?"

Nate nodded. Exhausted, I went to start my next super long nap. When I woke up the next morning, Moms was ecstatic! She was running around saying, "NATE SLEPT FOR 11 1/2 HOURS! IT'S 7:30 IN THE MORNING AND NATE JUST WOKE UP FOR THE FIRST TIME!" She then said, "I got up at 2:30 and 4:30 and 5:30 just to see if he was still breathing." Silly Moms. Doesn't she know that the super long nap means you sleep for a super long time? Honestly.

I didn't tell Moms that it was me who taught Nate this new trick. I figure it's my gift to her, seeing as she rescued me and Archy from the Petco 11 1/2 years ago and all.... Nate's been sleeping through the night for three weeks now, except for those few days when he was teething, but that's another story.

Moms and Dads - I am available for Skype conference calls with your tots to share my methodology and provide you with the most restful night of sleep you've ever had. Call my agent/lawyer/brother, Archy, to negotiate the fee.

Your friend,
The Miracle Worker - JohnJohn

Fur and No Fur

2009-08-30T20:34:00.003-04:00

Hi, JDarn fans!!! For a while now, I've been hacking up furballs. Well. It is summer and that is the traditional time for a cat to shed fur. Being a portly cat, I have a lot of fur to shed and, obsessed with being clean, I've ingested a lot of that fur. I've gotten creative with my furball hacking. Sometimes I leave it on the carpet, sometimes on the wood floor. Sometimes I leave it in the pathway to the kitchen where Moms will step in it in the middle of the night and sometimes I am polite and leave it on the paper covering the floor in the now-gutted dining room.

Regardless of how much (or how little) Moms brushes me, I still hack up the furballs. Additionally, I've taken to licking my stomach. First it started as a dare from Archy Cat. He said, "Hey, John. Bet you can't lick your stomach." And I said, "Oh yeah? Why? Because I'm portly?" And Archy said, "No. Just BECAUSE." Well. Such an inane response made me mad so I said, "Oh yeah? WATCH." And I licked my belly. It's now become an obsession. I like to lick it ALL THE TIME. Even some of the fur has fallen out. What gives?

I got worried about my bald belly a few weeks ago, and started licking my belly in front of Moms and Dads to, you know, alert them to the problem and see if I could get them to order me some Rogaine. Instead, Dads jumped to the extreme and said, "Oh dear. We need to take John to the VET."

Holy crap. The VET. No. I was hoping to get some over-the-counter hair growth medicine but instead Dads talking about putting me in the CAR! and taking me to the vet. So I stopped licking my belly and looked up at Dads. He said, "Yes. The VET." Then he launched into a huge lecture about my brother Nate and how he goes to the baby vet every two months and gets poked every time and I'm like, "I DO NOT CARE. I have to go to the catpartment. NOW."

Friday night, everyone went to bed. I stayed up and roamed the house. Lo and behold - a fabulous mauve colored cat cave had appeared in the romper room! What a perfect place to nestle in and sleep! Well. The sun came up, which brought Saturday (also known as Caturday around here). Dads woke up, came downstairs and saw me in the cat cave and said, "Good boy, John!" He then LOCKED ME IN. Dammit. It was the cat carrier.

Dads took me to the vet. There was swatting, hissing and growling in the car, at the vet, and on the way home. At the vet, I got weighed. I am a svelt 19 pounds. Dads asked the vet if I needed to lose more weight. She said, "Well. He's a big boy. He's ok." I liked this lady. Just a little bit though.

Dads then told her about my furball hacking and my tummy licking. GUESS WHAT, EVERYBODY?!? I have a tummy ache! A perpetual tummy ache! And she said that I have something in common with my little brother Nate! See, Nate sucks on things to self-soothe. Apparently, I lick my tummy to self-soothe too! The solution? Well. I'm on medicine now. For at least three months. What kind of medicine, you ask? That's right. I've become the new Kitty Activia spokesperson, because I now have a three month prescription for it. It goes in my food. I eat it and my tummy feels better, I guess. Sing it with me now, folks..."Act-tiv-eeee-AHHHH!"

The end.

Your pal,
JohnJohn

Fans - I AM BACK!

2009-08-12T16:41:00.009-04:00

Fans - I AM BACK! It is me, JohnJohn and boy, do I have stories to tell! Lots has happened since my last blog entry. The biggest change is that our raccoon, Bandit, isn't a boy. Bandit is a girl. And Bandit has five babies. They are so cute. They run around our yard, tumbling over each other and eat lots and lots of corn and kibble from the critter kibbler. I don't have any pictures of them because they only come out to play at night but believe me - they're so cute that you want to eat them. We also got baby turkeys. They're little mouthfuls of beauty.
Oh, my Moms had a baby too. Remember that bump in her stomach that I used to rest my head on? The thing that was in there came out. We didn't know if it was going to be a boy thing or a girl thing. I pulled Dads aside one day before the tot arrived and told him that I was worried it would be a girl thing. I told him girl things were eewy and icky. Then Dads told me something I did not know: Moms is a girl thing. MOMS IS A GIRL. I just thought she was my Moms. After I learned that, I said a girl thing would be ok.

Well. The tot came out and it was a boy. HURRAH FOR A BOY! Moms and Dads were in the hospital for a whole week. First the tot did not want to come out, so the doctors had to make it come out. Then Moms got wicked sick after the baby came out, so she had to stay there to get better. (Don't worry, Moms is ok now.) Then the tot came home. By the way, the tot has a name. It is Nathan Robert - Nathan because they liked the name and Robert because that is my Hawaiian Bampy's name.

Anyhow, we call him Nate. So. Nate came home. Do you know what Nate does? He makes noise. He sleeps in short bursts and in weird positions, like the "don't shoot" position. See?
All this noise and lack of prolonged sleep for everyone in the household made all of us tired. When Nate sleeps, he does look peaceful. So, when Nate was napping, Archy thought he would too - and he'd try out Nate's sleeping position while he was at it.
Archy reported that this position is not conducive to a cat's body and can cause painful joints when arising. So much for trying things Nate's way.

Anyhow. This tot - I mean, my little brother Nate - can't do much. He can holler and sleep (we've covered that already) but folks - he can't poo or pee in the litterbox. Instead, he wears something called a diaper. (Gross.) He can't bathe himself. Instead, he has to wait for Moms and Dads to put him in the EVIL BATHTUB on a special day designated as "Bath Day." He doesn't eat kibbles or wet food or treats or random bugs that got into the house. Instead, he drinks milk. No chewing. Just drinking. I hear that I'm supposed to like milk but Moms and Dads won't let me try it because some vet said that it will give me some sort of condition that will make me need to wear a pamper and eewie I do not want to wear a pamper thank you very much.

Nate can sometimes be cute though. This one day, he called me over. He said, "Hey, JohnJohn! I want to petchew and give you snuggles!"
Not being someone to pass up a good snuggle, I went over to sniff Nate. (Thankfully, his diaper was clean.) I didn't let him touch me though - we're still working on trust issues - so Nate said, "JohnJohn! Do you want to dance? Let's dance!"
The kid started to dance around and giggle. He was kind of cute until, well, he shook himself up too much and tossed his cookies.
I don't ever want to hear Moms and Dads complain about my furballs again because this kid throws up - A LOT. Ok. So he doesn't throw up that much anymore, but in the beginning, his vomiting could only be described as spectacular.

I have come to like my brother. (We're still working on love.) I can be fiercely protective of him though. He has this funny seat that he gets chained into and Moms had to leave him alone in it while she went to the bathroom. WELL. I don't know much but I don't think babies should ever be left alone. So I turned on my laser vision (in case I had to take someone down) and watched the bambino as he slept. Luckily, I did not need to take anyone down.
JDamn fans, I want to reassure you that this blog will not become the "Blog of Nate." He can go get his own blog if he wants one. I still have grand adventures and have lots of stories about our wildlife's adventures too. But I did feel obligated to write about my new brother's arrival. And, ok. He's cute. And I kinda love him.

That being said, there will also be some stories about Nate on this blog so I'll leave you with this teaser about my next entry. There once was my brother Nate and a lobstah....Your pal, JD

PS - If you are Auntie Pam, email Moms and tell her what your new email address is, ok? OK!

Nom Nom Nom

2009-05-04T17:09:00.010-04:00

Holla for me, JDarn fans! This is my 100th blog entry! WOOH! Who knew that an eleven-year-old chubby cat would have so much to say. I'm so glad you've joined me today to read this very special entry. Well, all my entries are special but this one - this one raises the roof...literally!

To start the story, I need you to put on your wayback hat. Here is a picture of my pal, Bandit, who, by the way, has been visiting just about every night. Bandit enjoys partaking in sunflower seeds from the squirrel hut that my Uncle Blaine, Aunt Patty, and cousin Mac bought for me for Christmas.

It's a wicked nice squirrel hut but everyone got sassy with it after it was installed for a while. The squirrels figured out how to remove the roof (it was just set on there), so Dads outsmarted them by tying a tight knot that prevented anyone without thumbs from lifting the roof off. When Dads tied the knot, me and Archy applauded him. Dads was "wicked smaht" to solve the problem without resorting to barbed wire or electrocution.

The knot kept the peace. Even Bandit didn't bother with the roof, though he did sometimes scratch his cheeks on the corners. (That has to feel wicked good!) But the squirrel hut started attracting some troublemaker squirrels. See, everyone wanted to eat out of it at the same time and, while Dads gives plenty of squirrel sunflower seeds for everyone to eat in peace, some monkey squirrels wanted to be assertive and make it their territory. One morning, Dads caught a squirrel standing up and peeing on the squirrel hut. PEEING ON THE SQUIRREL HUT.

The peeing squirrel made the porch smell gamey, and he bossed around the other squirrels. With Archy's help, Dads delivered the peeing squirrel a cease and desist notice, telling him that he was no longer welcome on our porch. The squirrel nattered something at Dads, shook his little squirrel fist, and ran off. While unnerving, we all thought the situatation was resolved. Little did we know that it was just the beginning.

At dusk over the weekend, Dads stumbled down to the kitchen, exhausted from a day of construction in the baby's nursery. He looked out the picture window and rubbed his eyes. He looked again. He was shocked. The peeing, cease-and-desist squirrel was back, noshing on the knot to the roof off the squirrel kibble hut. He had chewed through the whole rope. The roof fell off and the peeing squirrel helped himself to food, head first.

Sure, the kibbler was empty, but it was the rude, blatant act of defiance that got under Dads' skin. Then the peeing squirrel had the nerve to show Dads his tushy. RUDE!He then got a little stuck in the kibbler, which made Dads giggle, but he got out ok.A hoodlum friend showed up to investigate. Once he realized that the roof had been razed, he cheered.
Dads ran out of sunflower seeds, and it's been raining lots, so it's just been empty like this for a few days. Dads said he's doing it to punish peeing squirrel but I hope he fills it up soon because staring at an empty squirrel hut does not entertain a cat.

In other news, me and Archy have taken on additional responsibilities for our impending baby brother or sister. The doctors put Moms on bedrest because she's having swelling in only one leg (two legs are ok, one leg is not so good), so she doesn't go to work anymore. She just lays down in bed and we snuggle all day long. I make sure to lie down on any magazine she's trying to read or to keep the remote controls toasty warm under my belly. I am such a good helperbee!!!

JD - OUT!

Update

2009-04-23T22:06:00.006-04:00

Hi everybody! It's me, John John! My buddy Bandit the Raccoon has been back to visit our porch a few times since the original video posting. Yes. He is coming out in the daylight, but it's later in the day (around 6) and he's always come over to ask for sunflower seeds. The four of us (me, Moms, Dads and Archy) put our heads together and decided that Bandit isn't rabid - he's just hungry.

Moms and Dads got pretty close to Bandit and snapped a few pictures of him. Here he is, trying to get sunflower seeds out of the hut that my Uncle Blaine bought me for Christmas.

Moms said that she was "close enough" to Bandit. I told her that I could get closer. She said, "No you can't. You will scare him away." I said, "Nuh-uh. I can get closer than you. Moms. Double dare me to do it." So she double dared me and then I proved to her that I was right. See?

Unfortunately, when I put on my bossy pants to prove Moms wrong, Bandit saw me. We got into a staring match. Both of us were a little nervous. I mean, it was the first time that we'd ever locked eyes. Ultimately Bandit humped his way back down the pole and walked along on his merry way. He doesn't seem to run. We don't know why. I've added Bandit to my list of outside, on-the-other-side-of-the-glass friends. We're pals.

In other news, Moms' baby bump is getting bigger. When I snuggle Moms' belly, the tot kicks me a lot...so Moms says. I've never felt it. She said it's because I have good cheek chubb. Moms' baby bump is bigger than Dads' head. See?

Apparently, the tot is coming "soon." Moms said there are two weeks and five days until her "due date." I asked what that means and Dads explained it's like an expiration date. I guess her belly will go bad and spit out the baby. I don't understand, but all I know is that I'm supposed to be practicing being a big brother.

Aloha from J-Darn, the future big brother cat.

Rabies (No. Not Mine.)

2009-04-13T20:25:00.009-04:00

Once upon a time, Moms came home from work. When Moms pulled into the driveway, I was waking up from my afternoon nap. Usually, when Moms comes home, she gets out of the car, comes inside, and feeds me. This time, she didn't. Instead, Moms sat in the car, screaming on the phone to Dads, "WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU ALMOST HOME!?! HURRY UP!" Dads said he was almost home; in fact, he was walking from the train station to his car and would be there any minute. Dads then said, "Why?"

I could hear Moms, still locked in the car, scream, "THERE IS A RACCOON ON THE PORCH. A RACCOON!!!"

You might be saying to yourself, "A harmless, cute, adorable, squishy raccoon? What is Moms freaking out about?" Well, apparently, if a raccoon is seen during daylight, it likely has rabies. The raccoon was also blocking Moms' ability to get in to the house.

Dads got all worried. I could hear Dads screaming, "STAY RIGHT THERE! DO NOT GET OUT OF THE CAR! I WILL BE HOME PRONTO!"

As it so happens, Moms had her digital camera with her, which takes crappy video. So she whipped it out of her purse and taped the raccoon (named Bandit) lest anyone not believe her.

There are three movies. The first one is here. When she got home, the raccoon was on the porch. By the time she got the camera out, Bandit had wandered over to the woodpeckers' suet brick. Even though he could be wicked sick, we all think he's wicked cute. I think it's the chubb that I'm attracted to.

As Moms sat in the car waiting for Dads, Bandit wandered back up onto the porch. Look at how he humps the porch to climb up to the corn cob! At this point, I'd wandered into the romper room....see if you can find me in the video. I'm the extremely bewildered one behind the safety glass.

Bandit chowed for a while...and then Dads pulled into the driveway and Bandit ran as far away as possible.

Dads never did see the raccoon. Moms is wicked glad that she took this video so we could prove to Dads that Bandit exists. He hasn't been back, though last night, when Moms went to the bathroom, the motion sensor lights were on. She didn't see a critter out there, but we both suspect that it was Bandit...or the deer that have been visiting and munching Moms' tulips....but that's a story for another time.

Your pal, JD.

Update

2009-04-05T10:16:00.001-04:00

Moms updated her tumtum flip book. Click here to see how she and the tot grows.

I'll write soon, I promise. Moms is sick. She has a cold or something. It makes her sound like a coughing frog.

JD-OUT!

A Story from the Godfather Kitty

2009-03-31T20:12:00.006-04:00

Greetings, everyone. It is me, JohnJohn the Godfather. From my puffy kitty nest, I guard the top of the stairs. No one may go past the stairs until you listen to my entire story, or until I fall asleep (whichever comes first). My friends, here is the story you must listen to so that you may pass.

Once upon a time, Moms and Dads had a baby shower. My Mam and Auntie Nikki in Maine threw the party for the tot. My Mam and Bamp live wicked far north in Maine and there's lots and lots of snow. This is the view from my Mam's dining room window. Where is the outside? I do not know. It cannot be seen!

This is the view from my Mam's kitchen. Can you see the outside? I do not think so!
Since it was a party, there needed to be chilled drinks. So they stuck the drinks in the snow bank outside on the kitchen porch. Auntie Nikki calls this a "redneck refrigerator."
And because it was a party, there had to be balloons. There wasn't enough helium for all the balloons to float on their own, so my Dads, who was the decoration committee, used his head (literally) to make them float. He blew up the balloons, rubbed them on his head to create static cling, and stuck them to the rafters. They stayed up there for the entire party.

There was cake. Lots of it and lots of different kinds. This one is a diaper cake. The tot will apparently have to wear these until it's old enough to go in the litterbox.

Auntie Nikki also made a party cake. It was three tiers of cake goodness. Each tier was a different cake and frosting flavor. It was a jungle cake.

LOOK OUT FOR THE ALLIGATOR!

After rubbing balloons on his head and looking at the cake, Dads ran wicked far away to Uncle Dale's house for boy activities like riding sleds attached to the back of snowmobiles and playing the Whee! Moms stayed behind for the girl festival. There was only one boy there - Moms' nephew Cameron. He's 18 months old. He didn't know that this was a girl party.

Here's all the girls who came to the party. There were a lot of them.

There were sticky tots at the party, too. So that they didn't get bored, there were party favors for them - baby chicks! That's my kind of party favor! Here is Aubrey giving the newborn chick a kiss. I wish I was giving the chickie a kiss.

After all the girls left, Dads came back and Moms asked Auntie Nikki to take their picture together, because we have no pictures of Moms and Dads together with Moms pregnant. They got the giggles during the picture because Dads said that they'll tell the tot that this is their wedding picture. (I don't get it.)

Then Moms and Dads came home with a sleigh of stuff for the tot and lots of boxes and bags for me and Archy to play in. We played so hard that we fell asleep touching each other. Moms had the nerve to take a picture of me and Archy (kind of) snuggling. Note that Archy is hogging the blanket. Ok, he's not really - but he has more blanket than me and that's not really fair.

K. That's my story. You can pass now.

Your pal,

JD-OUT!

Presents!

2009-03-12T20:07:00.011-04:00

Hi, everybody!

A really long time ago (three years ago next week, to be exact), Moms and Dads got married. When they got hitched, they got presents, and those presents came in boxes! BOXES! I LOVE BOXES! Here I am in a Crate and Barrel box. Crate and Barrel makes great boxes.Well. Did you know that when you get a tot, people also give you presents? They do! It's true! The first present arrived this week. It is this thing that you put the tot in and push it around. They said it's called a stroller, intended to help people stroll with tots.

Auntie Chris, Uncle Dale, and Dylan and Cameron gave Moms and Dads the pushie thing. It also came with something called a car seat. I recently learned that tots do not go in cat carriers when they go in the car and, apparently, tots go in the car a lot. Moms and Dads said that the tot will go everywhere with them, and won't be left home alone like me and Archy. I guess the tot is not as self sufficient as me and my brother. I mean, come on, Archy has Esq. at the end of his name, and I sometimes manage Work Out Basement! Moms and Dads even said that the tot won't know how to go to the litterbox for nearly three years! The baby sounds behind the times already.

The stroller and tot seat came to our house, and Dads put it together. He learned that assembling tot stuff is not like assembling cat stuff. There are lots of parts and instructions come in English, Spanish and Italian. Dads put the pusher part together first. A half-hour after starting to assemble the stroller, Dads made it look like the picture on the box. Here he is, proud that he figured out how to put together the pushy thing.Then Dads realized the car seat thing has to be assembled, too. It didn't look too hard. The car seat came in a plastic bag, and only had two parts and a rod. How hard could that be? Well, it wasn't hard. Dads figured out how to get the car seat rod in the pushy thing, and easily got the sitting thing in the pushy thing. See? Dads got the sitty thing in there real nice. He was so proud.Unfortunately, after this picture was taken, Dads couldn't get the sitty thing out of the pushy thing. He pulled and yanked on the sitty thing so much that Moms said the imaginary tot got whiplash five times over. So, they pulled out the instructions (in English, Spanish, and Italian) to try to figure out where they went wrong. After reading it a lot, they figured out how to safely release the imaginary tot and its sitty thing from the pushy thing. I think Moms and Dads need to practice more before the tot actually comes because they might screw up the tot if they forget where that release thingy is located.

But the most exciting part of the gift was the box. It was so big that our refrigerator could fit inside of it. It's like a gigantic tunnel - it's HUGE! When I am in it, my purrs echo.

Moms and Dads said that the box is a present for me and Archy. As big brothers, we will need to show the tot how to play, and this box is for us to practice play time in. Moms asked Dads to cut holes in it so that we can play "Sparkle Ball Surprise" in the box, and I've already requested daily catnip deliveries so that I can roll around and smell wicked good. Dads put the box in the romper room out back, away from the pellet stove in the living room, so that it does not catch fire.

Moms and Dads are going to a shower this weekend. A tot shower. No water is involved; apparently they "shower" you with stuff for the tot. I hope that the stuff comes in boxes and that they give the boxes to me. I am going to make a wicked large fort and call it "Johnny's World." If you want to visit, I will charge you admission.

Your pal,
JD!

Helperbee

2009-03-05T19:52:00.007-05:00

Hi, folks!

We're back at it - the home improvement game is ON! When we first bought this house, Moms and Dads turned this mauvy beast of a room into a ray of sunshine. Here's the "before" picture....
...and here's the "after" picture. See? Pretty sunshine yellow.Well, this sunshiney room has been selected as the "nursery." That is apparently where the tot will live. Moms and Dads never painted the radiator (pronounced "rad-ee-ate-or" in the cat world), so Dads built this wicked cool radiator cover for it. In order for it to fit, he had to rip off the baseboard and the windowsill. (Radiator cover not shown yet.)When he ripped off the baseboard on one side of the room, all of the baseboard started to come up. It was like pulling a loop off an afghan. Anyway, it's all up and we've discovered that the baseboard is original to our 1942 house. That's not drywall under there, folks. We think it's plaster or something more ancient than that. Anyway, with the unraveled baseboard, Dads is now going to town on moulding. We even bought a book. I think it's called "Introduction to Moulding."

Now that I'm going to be a big brother, there's apparently a family expectation that I will help more. Unfortunately, I got caught sleeping on the job.

I caught heck for that so Moms and Dads told me that I had to hold baseboard in place. I told them that I'm just a kitten -- an eleven year old kitten -- and a kitten needs his rest. So they said I could hold the baseboard in place while resting in my puffy kitty nest. I thought it was a pretty fair compromise so I obliged.

Then I said, "Hey, where's Archy?" Moms and Dads explained to me that I was better at the brawny stuff, and Archy will be contributing to the baby's wellbeing by teaching him or her math or classical music. Whatever. Baseboard is fine with me.

More pictures to come.

Purrs and kisses from JD!

Snow Day

2009-03-02T17:15:00.002-05:00

Squirrel Chalet closed today due to snow.

Must hunker in my bunker to stay warm!

JD-OUT!

Mom's Flip Book

2009-02-28T09:05:00.013-05:00

4 months (16 weeks)

5 months (20 weeks)5 1/2 months (22 weeks)

6 months (24 weeks)

6 1/2 months (26 weeks)
(She didn't shrink - Uncle Steven just took the picture at a weird angle.)

27 weeks

7 months (28 weeks)

29 weeks

31 Weeks

32 weeks (8 months)

33 weeks

34 weeks (8 1/2 months)

35 weeks

(Moms and Dads celebrated by getting an IV for the occasion. Not fun.

And Archy and me got supper late, too!)

Nine months! (36 weeks)

37 weeks!

Look! Moms' belly is bigger than Dads' head!

38 weeks! Moms keeps saying things like, "Get out, baby!" and "I'm tired of this."

39 weeks. Can you see the baby?

10 months (40 weeks)!

The baby is officially cooked, but Moms' belly button hasn't popped yet,

like that red button on the Butterball turkey.

Maybe that's what has to happen before the baby decides to come out.

All this baby growing makes for one tired JohnJohn.

The Haps

2009-02-23T19:08:00.005-05:00

Alooooooooha! It's me, JohnJohn. As you know, we've got a tot on the way. While we were rather upset when Moms and Dads broke the news, both Archy and me have come around to realize that it's not so bad to be big brothers. Role models. The big cheese. Since there's only eleven weeks (or less!) until the tot arrives, Archy and me have started helping Moms.

Moms lies down a lot. And when she's not at work, she naps nearly as much as we do! Archy felt he could support Moms in this endeavor, so he's taken to propping up her head when she watches teevee and crochets baby blankets.
I, on the other paw, have chosen to actually hold Moms' belly or, as I like to call it, the baby pod. Moms does not like the way she looks in this picture (she said to tell you that she had just taken a shower and the angle is weird and she doesn't really look this giant), but I am really proud of how I'm holding the tot here. So I begged and begged and Moms finally said I could post it on my blog. (It is MY blog, after all...)

After this, I fell asleep with my cheek on the baby pod. I don't remember any of this, but Moms told me that the baby put its feet up to my cheek and pushed against my head. I said that sounded rude, but Moms said that the baby was probably responding to my purring and was just saying hi. I thought that sounded nice.

In other news, Dads finally installed the Squirrel Chalet. My Uncle Blaine, Auntie Pattie and my cousin Mac bought it for me for Christmas. It holds a million pounds of sunflower seeds in it. It's brilliant. Ever since the Squirrel Chalet showed up, the squirrels don't know if they should eat from Uncle Daniel's corn kibbler or the chalet.

Anyhoo, Dads installed it like a week ago and, a few days after its installation, Moms noticed something funny when she left for work. One of the Cornys ripped the roof off the Squirrel Chalet and was in the kibbler, rump up, stuffing its cheeks to the gills, while another one of the Cornys turned his back in shame.

The new food option has been the source of a traffic jam. Lots of squirrels show up now, along with a raven, our naughty woodpecker (he makes Dads mad), and other birds. We've been thinking about installing a "take a ticket" system, like they have at the grocery store deli. Archy said that would be pointless, since squirrels can't read, but I still think it's a good idea.

Dads is home from work now, so I have to go. I need to convince him that Moms didn't feed me dinner and see if I can trick him into giving me second supper. (Every cat could use a second supper.)

Your pal, JD!

Where I've Been

2009-02-17T19:41:00.004-05:00

Hi, everybody! It's me, Jonathan Dangerous! I have not blogged in a while because I have been very, very busy. First off, I am preparing to be a big brother. I hear it's a huge responsibility, so I have been practicing my duties. First and foremost, I need to be a helperbee to my Moms and Dads. To that end, I have helped them put together the nursery. My parents bought a grass green rug, and I have taken the liberty to roll all over to get the McLaughlin smell well imbedded in the rug. Moms and Dads also bought a giant leaf to hang over the crib. I wanted to make sure that the leaf provided ample shade and entertainment for the impending tot. Here I am, testing it out.
For some reason, Moms' photoshop software won't acknowledge that my glowing eyes are some bizarre form of red eye, so it can't be easily fixed. No need to worry folks. I'm not an alien. It's still me, John John.

All of this helping has made me extremely tired. (That's also why I haven't blogged in a while. My naps are a bit longer than usual.) The exhaustion has caused me to do erratic things. Lately, Dads has been filling up the bathroom sink for me to drink from. Archy is skinny enough to jump onto the sinktop, but I am too chubby, so I climb on the toilet seat lid and wait until Moms or Dads picks me up and puts me on the sink. Well, my lack of sleep got the best of me, and I was too tired to realize that part of me fell in the water.
Here's my precious tail, floating. While my fur is water repellent, it's not super water repellent, especially after been soaked in water for, oh, a minute or two....(Did I mention I was tired?)
In other news, there's a new outdoor cat. Dad named him (or her - we don't know) Cal because she/he/it is a calico cat. Cal enjoys sitting on our fallen tree and flirting with Dads. I'm turning a blind eye to this momentary infactuation, as long as Dads doesn't give Cal any of my kibbles, treats, wet food, toys, cardboard boxes, or catnip. Archy asked me to share that his investigation of Corny's death has become a cold case. Two things have contributed to this. #1: Corny defrosted, and some outdoor critter took him away. #2: Archy has been too busy to focus on the dead squirrel, as he has spent his waking hour doing Moms and Dads taxes. Even though he's using the automated TurboTax, Archy wants you to know that this is hard work. In addition to Esquire and WOB proprietor, he is very proud to announce that he is also a CPA and is available to do your taxes.

Your pal, Jonathan Dangerous

CSI: MILFORD

2009-02-03T19:19:00.011-05:00

Hello, everyone. It tis I, Archibald J. Cat, Esq. I write to you on my brother's web log about a serious matter. Our neighbor's yard has become a crime scene. That's right, JDarn readers. It's CSI: MILFORD. This is our friend, Corny. I stand corrected: this WAS our friend, Corny. Corny was a squirrel. When we moved into our new house, he was a scrawny little thing. Thanks to Dads' fine cooking (pancakes, waffles), corn cobs, and suet bricks (pictured here), Corny quickly became a plump little critter.

When I say "plump," I am trying to be polite. While I have no photographic proof, Corny was fat. Possibly borderline obese. He really liked eating the treats and it showed. This winter, he had more than enough chubb stored up for the winter. When he ran, there was a bit of a tummy trail left in the snow. He loped a little bit slower than the other squirrels. He panted and sweat. (Ok. He didn't. But he should have.)

One week ago, Moms and Dads went to work. In our neighbor's yard, there were footprints. Squirrel footprints. Dramatic squirrel footprints. They started out in a straight line, then started wobbling, then went in a large spiral pattern and, at the end of the spiral, there lay Corny face down, tail up, dead in the snow. I was called in to investigate but, being an indoor cat, I was only able to do my surveilance through binoculars from the living room window. (I asked Dads to go put up caution tape and little mini orange cones but we couldn't find any that were made to scale.) Here is what I have surmised.

Though the patterns in the snow were dramatic, it does not appear that there was a perpetrator who attacked Corny. Only Corny's footprints were in the snow, and his body lay intact at the end of the spiral. Because there were also no footprints darting away from the crime scene, I do not think that a fox, squirrel, deer or other critter murdered our squirrely friend. THEREFORE, I have concluded that Corny had an obesity-induced heart attack. The snow patterns were very similar to those of a Mr. Fred Sanford during his numerous aortic palpitations, which were well documented on the television series "Sanford and Son." I would have liked to continue my investigation via binoculars but another snowstorm came by and covered up Corny. The snow recently melted and he was visible this morning, but it's snowing right now and he blends right in with the other icy lumps and bumps in the yard. My complete report, including possible autopsy (if I can convince Moms and Dads to bring him in the house), will need to wait until the spring.

Dads is considering a lower fat, higher fiber menu for our outdoor friends, but it's not really a topic that the "helpful" people at Home Depot want to discuss. Until that day, suet bricks and pancakes remain on the menu.

I wish you all good health and a good night.

Sincerely yours,
Archibald J. Cat, Esq.
Brother (or possible half-brother) to Jonathan Dangerous

Obamanaguration

2009-01-19T18:19:00.006-05:00

In honor of tomorrow's Obamanauguration, I have decided that I will take a nap. I am full of hope that this will be the best nap I will have ever had. Even though Mr. President-Elect Obama has decided that a DOG will be the White House pet, I'm ok with it because he is a Hawaii boy and that is where my Moms and Hawaiian Bampy are from. Maybe I will take a nap on Moms' fluffy, fluffy robe. It's so soft and, well, fluffy. I might also take a nap on Archy's spot on the couch. We've been switching it up a little, and Archy's been sleeping where I do and I've been sleeping where Archy usually does. His snuggle spot is very comfortable, and offers a lot of support for my chubby body.In home improvement news, we've improved! After a ridiculously long wait, the non-ghetto surround for the pellet stove arrived at the pellet stove store. Dads went to the store to get it and they all bowed down to him because they didn't want him to hoot and holler about the wait.

Dads spent Saturday installing the surround. In the meantime, we've been living "in the ghetto." (I liked to sing the song..."in the ghhhhheeeetoooooo!" when I looked at the old pellet stove.) See, the surround that came with the pellet stove was too short to fill in the fireplace hole, so we had a gap that let in cold, cold air from the chimney. Dads tried wicked hard to fill it in until the new one came. See?

The new surround matches the rest of the pellet stove, and has a shiny metal border. It is no longer ghetto. It is nice.
When Dads installed the surround, there were a few curse words that were bantered about. Apparently, the screws are tiny and they kept falling in places that were hard to get them out of. It's ok, though. I just put on my "earmuffs" (covered my ears with my paws) until Moms told me to take them off, and Dads got the surround on eventually. If you're wondering where the pretty topiaries went to, they died. Ok. They didn't die at first, but they got attacked by spiders and Moms didn't want webs of spider babies in her house so she chucked them in the snow and then they died. So much for plants in our house.

For those who did not know, our computer operates on stinky Microsoft Vista. Moms has taken lots of video of us, our turkeys, our squirrels, and the like, but the video has been problematic and she cannot edit, rename or sometimes open the files. She learned today (between her naps) that it was due to Vista not being friends with RealTime video. So she uninstalled RealTime and, hopefully, I can share videos of all my pals with you soon.

Your pal,
Jonathan Dangerous

A long winter's nap

2009-01-16T07:49:00.003-05:00

Hi JohnJohn fans! I have not blogged in a few days because I've been taking a long winter's nap. See, it's been wicked, wicked cold up here. The temperatures have reached the single digits at night (I can count them on my paws!) and the wind chill has pushed them into the negative numbers (I do not know how to count negative numbers on my paws...I do not want to lose a paw!). The cold makes me sleepy, and also pushed Archy and me into bizzaro land. Here I am, taking my nap where Archy usually sleeps, on top of the couch cushion. Aren't I cute?

I asked Archy to blog for me during my nap but, apparently, he napped too. Oddly enough, he napped where I usually do - right next to Moms.

Christmas is over until next December. I was a big helperbee when Moms un-decorated the tree. She finds it odd that I am not interested in the tree, ornaments or lights. (I learned my lesson about chewing on plugged in Christmas lights when I was a tot...did you know your tongue is wet and will cause you to get elect-ro-cuuuuuted if you lick the exposed wire that you made by chewing on the green cord?) However, I am extremely interested in the boxes that everything goes in. I was very concerned that this box, which holds the Christmas lights, would be taken hostage by some evil force, so I sat in it until Moms needed it. Actually, I just wanted the box but Moms tipped it so I fell out and then re-filled it with Christmas lights (instead of cat).

Hope you and yours are nice and toasty warm by a pellet stove or the Pacific Ocean or the Ala Wai Canal.

Your pal, Jonathan Dangerous

PS - There have been rumors from the folks at Yale that, yesterday, Moms' belly visibly moved during a meeting and while just standing around talking to people. I do not believe it. I know about the tot but, really, it can't move. If I had ten months to just be somewhere toasty, I'd just nap. Why would the tot move? This can't be a true rumor....

For you doubters.....

2009-01-09T16:44:00.005-05:00

For those of you who doubt my Dads is strong, here is proof that he is HE MAN!
For those of you who doubt that the fallen tree is small.... Can you find Dads on the tree?

For those of you who doubt that I can fit into a small Gap shirt box, here's photographic proof that I am svelt enough to do it!

Here's the aerial proof. See? I'm in the box - with room to spare! The box was a Christmas present from Mordecai the Theatrical Wonder Cat. I love it. I enjoy sitting in it, lying down in it, and running across the floor to jump and slide in it. It's my new favorite box.

Moms has been throwing up again, and she had to go get another IV last night.

She and Dads figure that maybe the tot wanted them to take a picture of it for the baby book. Now that they took a snapshot, they hope that they'll never have to return. Moms was so dehydrated that they couldn't get the IV into her veins. They blew four veins and wanted to send her home to drink teaspoons of water (1 teaspoon every 15 minutes; she was throwing up water at this point!) until her veins plumped up enough to get an IV in. Moms' vet said no and asked the nurses to try one more time. Turns out the fifth try is the charm! Moms is all ok now but she's back to eating her safety foods like McDonald's plain biscuits and apples. I am a good helperbee though. I snuggle with Moms and rest my head right where they blew one of her veins. She says it hurts but, really, I think she's trying to say that it is comforting.

There is a snow storm coming tomorrow. I hope I'm allowed on the porch to go play in the snow. If I am, I will ask Moms to take pictures so I can show you what an outdoorsman I am!

Your pal, Jonathan Dangerous

Ice Storm

2009-01-07T08:29:00.006-05:00

Dear J-Darn fans,
Hi! It's me! JohnJohnIcyPants! Why do I have icy pants? It's because we're having an ice storm. There's ice everywhere. It's like clear frosting on every surface outside.

See the white parts of the driveway? That's where Dads put magical salt on the street. The black part? That's "black ice." It's actually not black...it's just super wicked clear like expensive restaurant ice cubes. It's so super clear that it looks like the street! Our lilac bush got schnockered with ice. See this branch? It must be wicked chilly!

Remember this pretty, pretty tree from Dads' wintertime pictures? Here's my picture window tree in the snow storm of December.
Well. It bit the dust this morning. I guess the ice was just too much for it. Dads went upstairs to put on clothes (he doesn't have fur, you know) and he started hollering to Moms, "LOOK OUT THE WINDOW! LOOK OUT THE WINDOW!" Moms got wicked excited and she tiptoed over there, thinking it was our magical deer munching on the deer kibbles that we left outside for him. Instead, she found something that couldn't be scared away - a dead tree.And it's dead. Really dead. It's down, goners, tipped over. I asked if we should just push it back up and maybe use some super glue to hold it but, for some reason, Moms and Dads don't agree.

The fallen tree now makes Dads very excited. The words "monster chainsaw" have been chucked around more than once this morning. Moms keeps hollering that, unless Hawaiian Bampy wants to come to Connecticut with his monster chainsaw, no one in this household will be cutting anything and we will spend money to have the tree people come take it away. (I hope that Moms doesn't ask to borrow from my treat allowance fund. I need it.)

Did I mention that the tree is really dead?

DEAD.

That, my dear readers, is all the news that's fit to blog. Except that Mordecai the Theatrical Wonder Cat got me a wicked nice shirt box for Christmas. It's a little small but I still like to wedge myself into it. That, and I like to take a running start, jump in the box, and slide across the wooden floor.

Your blogging pal, Jonathan Dangerous - OUT!

Happy New Year!!!

2009-01-01T08:57:00.010-05:00

Happy New Year, J-Darn fans! It's me, cutie pants John John! I hope Santa Paws was good to all of you for Christmas. Apparently, I was a good boy. I took a long winter's nap (ok, it was about 20 minutes longer than normal)... ...and when I woke up, my stocking was filled with TREATS! THREE KINDS! Archy got treats too and we got a Trader Joe's "Double Wide" scratchy board for us to share. We must have been really good in order to get all those presents!!!

This year, there is one more stocking than last year. Moms got one for the tot. It's a wee stocking, since the tot is wee. Even though the tot is wee, Moms is getting bigger.

See that bump on her belly? I think something's in there. I like to sit on it. I want to hatch the bump. I am obsessed with sleeping or sitting on Moms' bump. She keeps saying Ouchie and Get Off! but I go right back on the belly. I am the belly's body guard. I will protect the belly, though I keep falling asleep while doing it....

Anywho, we've had a few pretty snow storms. Dads took pictures for you Hawai'i people who don't know what snow looks like. This is our back yard. Isn't it pretty? I can stare at it through our picture window.

Unfortunately, when it snows, it covers Corny's corn cob and he doesn't come out for kibbles until the snow goes away. I wonder what he does in the meantime. Archy says that Corny made his own grocery store in his tree hole, but I don't think that's so. I mean, honestly, how would he fit a grocery cart in there?

Look at the snow piled up on this mini branch? How did the branch hold up under the weight of the snow? IT'S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!!!

Before we bought this house, someone put a horsey sign in a tree. The tree ate the sign. Kind of neat, huh? I wish it was a kitty sign, though, but Dads said that we can't get the sign out of the tree. Ever.

This is our house from the front yard. Doesn't it look like a pretty picture postcard?

In other news, Archy and me had our eleventh birthday on December 14. Moms gave us nice wet food and treats. However, she made a bigger fuss for Shadow, the dog in the office where Moms works. See, Shadow is Jewish and he turned thirteen. That means he had his Bark-Mitzvah. Moms made him a cake, and Auntie Deborah in the Costume Shop made him a yarmulke and a tallit. Moms even took Shadow's birthday portrait.

Look at the cake Moms made for Shadow! I only got wet food and treats!!!

People came to the party. Here's the whole Costume Shop plus the Development Office and the dog, plus Auntie Anne from Marketing. Moms took the picture so she's not in it. The Costume Shop people got dressed up and wore hats.

Moms said that, this year, maybe I can have a cake too. But cats don't eat cake and, apparently, dogs will eat anything so she said we might just go for Fancy Feast Elegant Medley wet food again which, well, would be fine by me.

To bring in 2009, I leave you with this beautiful picture of Corny. I love Corny, and Corny loves corn. Thanks for being my loyal readers, J-Darn fans, and I hope you have a lovely, cozy 2009!

JD - out!

Swear Words

2008-12-21T17:49:00.003-05:00

Due to circumstances outside of my control, namely Moms and Dads having a tot on the way, I have been told that I can't swear any more. Granted, my curse words never got higher than DAMN!, which spins nicely off my tongue when shouting my wrapper name jay-DAMN! However, Moms and Dads feel that damn is even too strong of a word for the impending tot. So, I have been asked to change my rapper name, and blog name, to J-Darn.

J-Darn. It sounds like I'm making socks in a rocking chair. J-Darn. Say it. It doesn't have the same ring to it. Moms and Dads said I could use the name that keeps coming up on my prednisone prescription at the vet, Jonathan Dang. (They don't have enough characters in their system to accommodate fancy cat names like mine.) Since J-Dang has a little big more spice to it, it's currently ranking higher than J-Darn in my renaming list.

I could also re-invent myself entirely. Maybe I could become JohnJohnFancyPants! or JJ! (I want to keep the ! included in all of my names. So, loyal readers, I ask you to send in new name suggestions. The only rule is that a) it can't be Archibald Cat, b) cannot have the word "dog" or "dawg" in it, and c) it can't have a curse word in it that isn't allowed on Nickelodeon. Send in your suggestions TODAY!

Your pal,
Jonathan Dangerous

I'm Grounded

2008-12-13T17:59:00.004-05:00

Hi, everybody. I have so many stories to tell you but I am grounded. Moms said the only story I can tell is the one that got me into trouble, and then I have to say that I am sorry. I really want to blog today, so I guess I will tell the story, and I guess I will say I am sorry.

See, we have this Snow Village set up on our buffet (pronounced in the cat world as buff-it). Moms and Dads collect Department 56 Snow Village houses. They buy one a year, and have only been buying them for two years. Last year, Auntie Xandra got us a house, so then we had two and, this year, Moms and Dads found them at a discount store in Maine (they'd been through a fire...but the houses were fine!) so they bought two because they were 50% off. They have four houses: a New England lighthouse, a church, the Sunshine Daycare (don't know why they bought that one this year, because I can take care of myself just fine....), and the Pancake House.

The Pancake House is really neat. It has a windmill on it that goes around and around and around while little fake people enjoy fake pancakes. Me and Archy have always admired it from afar - well, that's what we told Moms and Dads. They knew that we'd been in the Snow Village a few times, mostly as the path to get to the back of the couch, because the snow was all packed down and the shrubs looked like a snow monster walked through it. (No monster. Just me and Archy.) They never knew that we secretly admired the Pancake House up close...until today.

Today is Moms and Dads cookie baking extravaganza. They were making stuff, but they ran out of ingredients, so Moms went to the grocery store. To prevent fire, she turned off the Snow Village so it wasn't all lit up and spinny with no one human monitoring it. When she came home, she must have tip-toed in, because she caught me and Archy in the Snow Village, "inspecting" the Pancake House. While she said "No-no, bad kitty!," she thought it was a kind of cute photo, so she grabbed her camera and sucked our soul.

I was kinda pissed that Moms caught us together in the Village. AND, it's Cat-urday! I do not want to have my picture taken!!! So I looked pretty grumpy in the picture. Well, Moms kept taking pictures and stuff and I got bored, so I figured I'd better get back to business. I put my cheek on the windmill to scratch it. (I do that because it feels good.) Archy started whispering, "No no no no no," but I didn't know about what.

Archy's chanting got louder and louder. I said to him, "What? I'm just going back to what we were doing before Moms got here!" And then Archy got all uppity and said, "I didn't do anything before Moms got here. I was up here, admonishing you for bad cat behavior."

I said, "WHATEVER. You were watching. I'm tired of being poser cat." I opened my mouth and realized too late why Archy was saying, "No." It didn't matter. I already had done the deed. I HAD BIT THE WINDMILL IN FRONT OF MOMS. Archy hung his head in shame.

Everybody. I am here to say that I have an obsession with plastic. The plastic shower curtain? Chewed to bits. The little milk doo-hickey? I think I might have eaten it for snack. And, while the majority of the Village pieces are hand painted (and, as Moms reminded me, very expensive) houses, the windmill is made out of sweet, sweet plastic.

After this picture was taken, all hell broke loose. I got grounded, Archy fled screaming, "I TOLD HIM NO!!!!," and Moms inspected the windmill and figured out (I don't know how) that I'd been chewing it for a while now. (Something about teeth marks....)

So. I am blogging to say that I am sorry for chewing the windmill. Will I do it again? Yeah, probably tomorrow when my tummy gets rumbly. But I'm only grounded today. Why? Tomorrow is me and Archy's 11th Birthday!!! Dads said that's like a get-out-of-jail-free card, but he "highly suggested" that I don't chew the windmill in front of Moms (or Dads, for that matter) any more.

Your pal, JDamn-OUT!

I'm going to be a big brother.

2008-12-07T07:45:00.007-05:00

Hi, everybody! It is me, JohnJohn. I am sorry for my wicked long absence, but I can't really blog without the help of my Moms and, well, Moms has not felt like blogging for a very long time. See, she's been sick. No, she's not dying. Apparently, she's growing a baby. Every time I ask, "How did the baby get in Moms?" and "Did I come from inside Moms, too?," I am told something about birds, bees, squirrels and then I hear the word, "Hush." So. All I am able to share is that Moms has a baby inside of her, Dads had something to do with it, and me and Archy are going to be big brothers. Yup. Big brothers.

However, Moms and Dads had to break the news to us that we are not going to be big brothers to a cat. We are going to be big brothers to a TOT. Yes. A TOT. One of those monster things like Arden and Jack who visit me every now and again. They have sticky fingers and run after me screaming, "KITTY! KITTY!!" I don't know why Moms and Dads want to grow one of those. When they told us, I kept saying, "Why?" over and over again. Finally, they just broke down and would only respond with, "Because." So. I don't know why they picked a tot over a cat, but they said they love me and Archy lots and will still have room in their hearts to love us and we shouldn't worry. So I ate the treats they gave us and moved along.

The tot is supposed to arrive on May 12, so Moms will be eighteen weeks pregnant on Tuesday. She is wicked good at throwing up furballs, and now has some happy medicine to keep the furballs down. Moms and Dads are not going to find out if it is going to be a girl tot or a boy tot. They said something about needing the "surprise" to get through labor. I hope it winds up being a surprise cat.

Even though Dads is the one who helps Moms when she's throwing up and needs grilled cheese sandwiches and has to go to the hospital, this baby thing has taken a toll on me, too. I'm not getting my full eighteen hours of beauty sleep like I used to, so Moms, unfortunately, caught this shot of me. It was after a catnip bender. I'm so ashamed.

O faithful readers, while Moms and Dads are pregnant, and I am going to be a big brother, that doesn't mean this blog is going to turn into a baby blog. NO. This is still JDAMN! and I still have lots to share. For instance, during my blogging hiatus, Dads saw a deer with horns in the yard and a possum. (Moms saw the deer; she didn't see the possum. We're humoring Dads on the possum thing, as it could have also been a rat.) I also spent one full week on a stake-out in the kitchen. There was something under the stove. Yes. It could have been a molding carrot, but it also could have been the beast from hell. I spent all my waking hours, poo and chow time excluded, starring at that stove. Dads even pulled the stove out (he found some of my toys under there) but he didn't see the beast. Finally, I lost interest. But it does count as an activity during my hiatus from blogging.

Dads also bought a fire-breathing machine! It's called a pellet stove. It eats little, little pellets of wood (which look remarkably like bunny food) and spits out toasty goodness. We like it lots. Archy and I get brave and bop the fire glass when the machine is sleeping. It's easier to be brave when the risk of catching fire is at its lowest point.

And, yes, faithful readers. I have finally seen the squirrel that Moms and Dads talk about so much. Corny was chowing at the corn cob and I saw him. I now stare at him religiously, as if I were paying attention in church. He's darn cute, and has a friend, Corny, Too. We ran out of corn cobs, and so did the Home Depot, so Dads bought him a suet brick, which he chowed through in two days. Never fear. We have video proof! But that, my readers, will need to wait until the next blog.

So. I'm back! You may now rejoice!

Wishing you all toasty pellet stove goodness,
JDAMN - OUT!

Sorry for the delay

2008-10-01T18:51:00.005-04:00

Dear JDamn fans,

Sorry for the delay in my blogging. Usually I'm more regular than this but, well, it's been a busy time. My Aunt Nan came to stay in our house, Moms and Dads went to the tot Arden's 5th birthday party, Dad saw a deer, and there have been turkeys everywhere. So, with all of the excitement, my typing has slowed. Again, sorry.

However, it seems that Auntie Pam is the only one who noticed. She accosted Moms on the street the other day and said, "Why hasn't JD blogged?" Moms mumbled something about me being busy and then Auntie Pam said, "But you type for him, don't you? Are you trying to blame the delay on that cute, chubby cat?"

Yes. It's true. My Moms types for me. She takes dictation. But one day a while ago, I said I wanted to try typing. Did you know that cats cannot type? It's physically impossible. I have a wicked big paw that, when aimed at a key, types kiujhnm and a wicked big tumtum that, when placed on the keyboard, types dkjf;asdhyfiauewhfnanfdjk;sfhn;ajsghvipuahdnfksnsdakjfds. An error message then appears, followed by the blue screen of death. I'm not allowed to type anymore.

So. What has been happening lately? #1 - I've lost some weight! I'm down to a svelt 18.6 lbs, and Archy is down to 16.7 lbs. We're still away from our goal weights of 16 and 14 lbs, respectively, but we are looking darn good. Sometimes I walk by a mirror and think, "Gee, that's a mighty fine cat!"

#2 - The turkeys. They're everywhere!!! We have nine of them, all girls. We haven't seen the girl one with babies in a while, though. This one time, Dads threw wheat bread at them, and the next morning, all the turkeys ran to Moms looking for more bread. She was going to work and didn't have any and she kind of got freaked out by the flock or gaggle of running turkeys who were asking for free food. It seems that turkeys really do have bird brains, since they forgot to ask Moms for food the next morning, and the morning after that. The turkeys like to stop traffic in front of our house. They sit in the street, or strut in a really, slow moving line like senior citizens at a buffet. Sometimes they get divided, and half are over at Mr. and Mrs. Melman's house and half are at our house. I asked Aunt Nan if I could eat one. She said they wouldn't be very tasty like my Elegant Medley's Fancy Feast. She said they would be tough and gamey. I said I like games - checkers are fun and stick to the bald spot on my stomach real good. She said a different kind of gamey. I said, "Oh."

#3 - My Aunt Nan came! Well, Aunt Nan is really my Moms' aunt, so I guess she's my Great Aunt Nan. She stayed on Archy and my bed in the green room. She gave me lots of tumtum scratches, head scratches and rump scratches, and said I am wicked, wicked cute. She also let me go on the screened-in porch, my favorite place to be!!! I love my Aunt Nanner. She is swell.

#4 - The tot, Arden, turned 5. She got a party and, at her party, she got something called a pin-yah-tah. My birthday is in December and, at my party, I want a pin-yah-tah. Arden's was in the shape of a tiara. I want mine in the shape of a monster truck.

See folks, when you get a pin-yah-tah, you also get a bat. You whack the pin-yah-tah with it. Below, Arden whacked the tiara with a JDamn sized baseball bat. Not very effective, folks.

Since you have to share, Arden's little brother, Jack (the other tot), got to whack the thing too. Tots were blindfolded (Think folks - tots with bats and no sight. Kind of wrong, right?), but Jack got to peek. Peeking didn't really help is aim though.Finally, when the pin-yah-tah was gutted, Arden and Jack's moms ran around the tots and sprinkled extra candy on their heads. Do you know what I want to come out of my pin-yah-tah? Fancy Feast Elegant Medley cans and these new treats called Friskie's Party Mix.

They're new, they're tasty, and there's a shape and flavor for everyone. I think the cans of Elegant Medleys should be wrapped in bubble wrap, though, so that my head isn't bopped by it. If I were to be knocked out from a can of Elegant Medleys, and Archy scooped up all of the treats and wet food from the pin-yah-tah, I would be mighty, mighty mad.

K. That's all. Dads is coming home soon. He accidentally got on the wrong train tonight, so I'm sending him a HOLLA! that he comes home soon. I've got nothing special to tell him; I just want to ask if I can go on the porch now. (Moms already said no. Mean.)

Kisses!
JDamn - OUT!

The Haps

2008-09-02T21:39:00.006-04:00

Hi, Everybodies! I have not written in a while because Moms is my typerbee and she has not been here! Last week, Moms was in Nashville at a conference for fancy pants computer software that helps arts peoples sell tickets, and do marketing and fundraising. It was a also conference where cats were not allowed. It's ok - I declined to go anyway since it involved flying.

Moms stayed at the Gaylord Opryland Hotel. It was 52 acres of land under one roof, including a big greenhouse with a glass roof that had a river running through it. You could even take a boat tour! Auntie Clarissa told Moms that the greenhouse is kept within .3 degrees (that's "point three") of the exact temperature and humidity of "Hawaii" one year ago from each day. I say "Hawaii" because they talked about it like it was one big blob of land, not even touching the uniqueness of each of the islands. Honestly.

Anyway, Moms said it was neat, but the hotel was big, so Moms spent most of the time running to sessions. The conference gift was a pedometer. Everyone kept track of their steps all week and handed them in on the last day. The conference peoples added them up and figured out that, all told, the conference attendees walked 81% around the world. Seriously? I know computer software is wicked cool and all, but it cannot make you walk on water.

While Moms was gone, it was MANTOWN. It was a house full of us boys. Dads, Archy and me played lots of video games, made crazy crank calls to Peter across the street (when he picked up the phone, we'd woof like a dog....ok, Dads woofed like a dog) and Archy and me got Moms' entire side of the bed to share. Me, Archy and Dads kinda looked like this.

Yup. We were packed in the bed and it was great!

On Thursday night - k, actually, Friday morning at 2AM - Moms came home. She threw her luggage in the romper room and was wicked tired. She ran upstairs and went to hug Dads, even though he was sleeping. Dads was WICKED hot. Not handsome "hot," heat hot. He was so hot that he was smokin'! Moms poked him and said, "Dads. You have a fever. Lemme stick the stick in your mouth." Dads was grumpy and he said, "NOH. I am sleeping. Hi. Bye," and went back to sleep.

The next morning, Moms was still sleeping and Dads snuck out of the house to go to WORK. When he came home, he had a temperature of 103. All night long, he was wicked hot, but the next day, he was ok. He was also sounding like me without asthma meds. He couldn't breathe deep and had a funny, hacky cough. I( offered him some prednisone; he politely declined.) Saturday night, sure enough, Dads got the kooky fever again. Moms said, "That's IT! We're calling the doctor!"

On Sunday, they called the doctor. The doctor asked Dads funny questions like, "Have you been out of the country?" (No.) and "Have you been in a hospital lately?" (Dads works there but he does not poke patients.) Then the lady said, "You'd better get in here PRONTO." Dads asked what was wrong. The lady punted and said, "Oh, I do not know but you better put the pedal to the medal and get in here now." When Dads told that to Moms, she knew that the lady was LYING.

When they got to urgent care, Dads got asked lots more questions. Then he was taken into the hospital and they asked him even more questions. Finally, the doctor asked, "Do you have cats?" Dads said, "Yes. Two of the most handsome, fluffy, talented, and smart cats ever." (Oh. Moms just reported that Dads actually said, "Yes. Two wicked big ones." Whatever.) When Dads said that, the doctor got wicked excited and said, "Oh thank God! You have cat scratch fever! Phew! We all thought you had malaria." They gave Dads a prescription and a yellow piece of paper. They said, "Go to the big hospital STAT. Go to the ER and march past all the waiting people and get a lung x-ray. PRONTO!"

Dads came out of the urgent care place, puzzled. He told Moms he had cat scratch fever, but that I never scratched him. True - we snuggled, but I did not scratch him. So they drove to the ER and had his lungs photographed. Then Moms and Dads called urgent care and they said, "Well. We're scratching our heads here. You either have cat scratch fever or pneumonia. Either way, the drug you have fixes them both. See ya!"

Moms and Dads went home and read WebMD.com and they think Dads has pneumonia because the symptoms he had sound like it and it is CRAZY to think that I would scratch Dads. Moms got wicked scared, though, and cut my claws. She couldn't get Archy to sit still though.

Dads took a pill and now he is all better. He only has to take four pills to be super healthy again. It is great. Now we can play video games and stuff again, except Moms is back, so it's not exactly Mantown since she is a girl.

In other news, Bandit the Raccoon hurled Moms flower box off of the porch railing again while trying to pull the corn cob off the corn cob holder. Our turkeys have also returned, just to say "Hi!" and stop traffic on the road. And Chuck the Woodchuck has come awful close to the house - so close, that Dads almost ran out the door to hug him.

Wishing you feverless nights,

JDamn - OUT!

SOS (and now - Update!)

2008-08-20T06:44:00.003-04:00

ON MY THIRD DAY AS WOB MANAGEMENT TRAINEE, I AM SORRY TO REPORT THAT WOB MILFORD IS CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE DUE TO THE SIGHTING OF A SNAKE IN THE GYM AREA.

The snake was reported to me by my Dads. He asked me to do something about it. I said that I was not going to do something about that problem--I do not do snakes. The snake is, apparently, caught in a cobweb. Neither Moms, myself or Archibald has seen the snake and we plan to keep it this way.

WE ARE SORRY FOR WHATEVER INCONVENIENCE THIS MAY CAUSE TO THE WOB MILFORD PATRONS. HOWEVER, WE'RE NOT SORRY ENOUGH TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THE PROBLEM, BECAUSE FEAR HAS COMPLETELY OVERTAKEN OUR SENSES.

- MANAGEMENT (TRAINEE)

UPDATE: The SOS ("Snake on Site") crisis is over, though I do feel that the incident has damaged our brand. When Auntie Pam heard about it, she couldn't stop laughing. (Auntie Pam, WOB is not laughable. WOB is a reputable gym. It just had a temporary critter crisis.) When Auntie Anne heard about it, she actually screamed. (Auntie Anne, so did I.) She then said she would never stay at our house overnight ever, ever again.

When Uncle Luis heard about it, he made a snakey-motion with his hand to ensure he had translated it correctly in his mind. Then he kind of turned pale. (Uncle Luis, the emotions that snakes create did not get lost in translation....) Thankfully, when Auntie Rachel heard about it, she said, "Aw! How cute! I'll come over on Thursday after work and will rescue him. Maybe I'll even take him home as a pet!" (That's when Auntie Anne said she'd never go to Rachel's house again, either.) Auntie Rachel had one caveat - it must be alive. If it wasn't, she feared she would cry and go into a deep, dark mourning period about nature gone loco.

At work yesterday, Dads got his wits about him. Moms called him and told him that Auntie Rachel was coming over tomorrow to save the snake. Dads said, "No. I am a man. I can do this." Then he kind of shivered all over his body.

Moms worked late again last night, so when she pulled up in the driveway, Dads was already home. The back door was open (no worries, the screen door was closed so no other snakes could enter the house). Our litter bucket was missing from the driveway. Moms entered the house and heard the basement door close. She cried out, "DO YOU HAVE IT?" Dads replied, with both fear and pride in his voice, "I HAVE THE SNAKE."

Moms felt bad that she put all of this on Dads. While most of their wedding vows were in Hawaiian, she's pretty sure that there was something in there "for better or for worse," and, well, this totally fell into the "worse" category. Moms said, "I'll help you set him free."

Dads turned the corner. He had the cat litter bucket (it's a big one) with the lid on, and was carrying the pole that we attached sandpaper to so that we could sand the drywall we patched. Dads looked worn.

He walked out the back door. Moms held the door open for him. Dads took about four steps into the yard and said, "Should we let him go here?" Moms shrieked. "No. Walk as far back into our property as we can. He probably likes the swamp. Let's put him near the swamp."

From my picture window, I watched Moms, Dads, the bucket, and the pole (Dads was still clinging to it) walk to the tippy end of the backyard. Dads set the bucket down on the ground. He tapped (ok, whacked) the lid of the bucket to ensure that the snake hadn't figured out how to cling on to the lid and was waiting to attack (in garden snake fashion) when they opened the lid. (To Dads credit, he got this fear from Moms stories about Hawaiian centipedes who coil themselves around the lid of the pan when you try to kill them by boiling....) Dads removed the lid. Moms put on her brave pants and said, "I want to see the snake."

Moms looked in the bucket. She looked at Dads. She looked in the bucket. She said, "Where is the snake?" Dads pointed and said, "That. That is a snake."

Moms said, "Um, no. That's a worm." It was about the length of the worms that commit suicide every day on our sidewalk, but was a bit chubbier (not by much) and was black. Dads said, "NO. THAT IS A SNAKE." Moms said, "This is stupid. I'm setting it free." Dads walked backwards about 30 feet. Moms tipped the bucket, gave it a tap, and figured the "snake" fell out, because she couldn't find it in the bucket anymore.

As they were walking back to the house, checking their pant cuffs and ankles often to ensure there were no snakes clinging on, Dads said, "You know, you didn't see it wriggle. You just saw it all coiled up. It's wicked scary when it wriggles." Moms said, "You're right. It was rather passive when I saw it." Dads said, "Did you see it's white neck? IT HAS A WHITE NECK."

Moms stopped in the yard. She said, "Dads, I will take you out for dinner tonight to celebrate the grand removal of the snake from WOB Milford - on one condition. The additional details of the snake, its appearance, its behavior, and its likes and dislikes goes to the grave with you. OK?"

Dads said, "OK." He paused. "Can I get dessert?" Moms said, "We can get dessert." Dads said, "Done deal."

Folks. That is the story of the SOS ("Snake on Site") at WOB Milford. I am proud to share that we are again Snake Free, so come on down! (Holla! to Auntie Rachel for offering to provide snake removal services.)

-JDamn - OUT!

Changes

2008-08-17T20:07:00.005-04:00

I have some exciting news to share with you! I have have a new position at WOB Milford! Some background...

I have been the manager of JDamn's Juice Bar since we started our first WOB branch in Fairfield. Thanks to the logo stylings of Auntie Pam (holla!), I had a steady stream of business from Dads of my delectible room temperature beverages including (when available) Coke, Diet Coke, Caffeine Free Diet Coke, and tap water. While I did not have fancy glasses to serve my beverages in, JDamn's Juice Bar offered the finest and, to my knowledge, the only place in WOB Fairfield where a patron could pick out his own beverage and use it to quench his thirst after a fabulous workout.

Last week, my brother came to me and said he had a tantilizing business proposition for me. In his conversation, he used the phrase "tantilizing" and "promotion." I had to hear more - I was hooked! We arranged a sit down meeting. Archy sat on one side of our catnip covered scratchy board and I laid aloof on the other side of it. (I was playing it "cool.")

Archy said, "I have noticed that, as of late, JDamn's Juice Bar has not had the same customer appeal as it did in our Fairfield branch."

I concurred. "True, Archibald. See, the Fairfield branch was a multi-purpose room. In addition to hosting WOB Fairfield, it also held our litterboxes, the washing and drying machines, and the shelves that held the food that couldn't fit upstairs. JDamn's Juice Bar has been severely damaged by Dads upstairs addition of a formalized pantry, which holds all the stuff that I used to sell."

"Right you are, Jonathan. Have you considered ever getting out of the juice bar business?"

I thought for a moment, gave a little asthmatic cough, and then said, "No, in fact the thought hadn't occurred to me. See, I'm only awake for about three hours a day, and I spend most of that time eating kibbles and cleaning my toes, so it doesn't leave much opportunity for reflection on important questions, such as the one you pose." (I then had to stop talking. I couldn't believe how professional I sounded!)

Archy handed me his new business card and said, "Jonathan, my responsibilities at WOB have expanded signficantly over this past week. After borrowing Moms computer, I realized that all of the tasks I do at WOB have a title attached to them, most begining with the letter C. Look at my card! It's teeming with titles!"

Archy then slid a folded piece of paper to me, over the scratchy board. "Jonathan, consider this job offer. Your juice bar's failure and my overwhelming success could make us the perfect pair."

Scribbled on the piece of paper was a new title for me. Payment? Archy will give me two of his treats every week. What a deal!

I said, "Archibald! Sign me up! I would love to join your team!"

Archy said, "That's great, Jonathan. I'm glad to have you as part of the WOB company. Regrettably, due to cutbacks, there's no opportunity to print you new business cards. Please amend your old cards to reflect your new position. Oh. And you will be reviewed at the end of sixty days. If you stink, you're out."

I didn't hear anything after he said, "That's great!" And check out my new business card!!!!
WOB is looking for a few new clients so I can begin to train in management. Until then, I will just have to practice my management prowess on Dads.

Your favorite Management Trainee,
JDamn - OUT!

Hunker in Your Bunker

2008-08-11T21:50:00.003-04:00

Last week Thursday, we had what you call a "news alert." What's a news alert, you say? That's the scary moment when the newscasters play that spooky "special announcement" music and cut into your regularly scheduled programming. Except this time, the "alert" happened during the 6PM news.

See, Moms and I were enjoying a good snuggle on the couch when the special music started to play. The weatherman came on the tele and said "hail" and "wind" and "tornado." You read right, folks. Hail in August and a tornado in Connecticut. He was talking about Stratford, which is the next town over. Dads was doing chores and Moms was blabbering to him about this weather guy who was telling people to get in their basements. Dads said, "Oh no, that can't be true!" So Moms got her bossy pants on and offered to rewind the weather guy on DVR. Dads said there was no need for Moms to challenge Dads.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, the weather man says that anyone in Milford should hunker in their bunker - NOW. That was the cue for me and Archy to skedaddle. Archy headed for the attic, figuring that he would be the first to take flight if a tornado hit. Moms got him out of the attic and stuck him in the cat carrier and dragged him to the basement. I decided this was the prime time to play hide-and-go-seek because, really, if this was the end of the world, we might as well have fun before we die. So Dads chased me around the second story. I tried to go under a bed (no dice) and in a closet (Dads stopped me). Before I knew it, I was being hauled down to the basement, kicking and screaming.

Since WOB (Work Out Basement) is located, well, in the basement, we had television reception there. So Moms and Dads watched teevee while Archy and I tried to get out of the basement. Auntie Maggie said that cats feel better during a thunderstorm if you rub them down with a dryer sheet, so Dads got one out (we buy the generic kind from Target) and rubbed Archy cat all over with it. He said it felt nice and he smelled April fresh. I played with the dish of water that Dads got out for us and asked numerous times when we could go upstairs to play with Smacky.

After the "all clear," which took about twenty minutes, Moms and Dads let us up into the house again. It was ok. No tornado showed up at our house, even though the "Dopplar Radar" saw one. A few people "saw" one offshore at the Milford beach, but it never came over to my house to play.

All this to say that Archy and I spent Thursday night hunkering in our bunker. The picture, you ask? It's Moms and Dads on O'ahu, at an actual military bunker that they use as one of the Dharma stations on LOST. It's much more glamorous than our basement.

This is JDamn, reminding you that "Safety First" isn't always a bad thing....OUT!

Outside

2008-08-04T07:03:00.003-04:00

This is my backyard. I have never had a backyard before. In New York, when we lived in Queens, we had one tree in an alley. That's where the squirrel lived. He would come visit me and Archy on our fire escape stoop. When we first met him, we went up to the window (glass down) and said, "Hello!" He got so scared that he started shaking and he peed.

Backyards are great. They have all kinds of critters! We have birds, bats, turkeys, and squirrels. Rumor has it that we also have snakes (none have been sited by Moms or Dads yet) and a coyote who eats cats. That is why Archy and I stay inside. While we are brave and fierce, we have no interest in fighting a cat-eating coyote.

Since we don't really go "outside," except for on the screened-in porch, Moms and Dads bring nature to us. Uncle Daniel (Holla!) gave us a corn cob kibbler for squirrels and Dads screwed it into our deck. We have two squirrels - Corny (named by that tot, Arden, because he eats corn) and Corny, Too. Corny, Too is much skinnier than Corny and also has emotional issues. He flips out when we notice him and I think he cried once.

This is Corny. You know it's Corny because he's plumper.
As you can see, Corny enjoys eating corn in a linear fashion. He always eats either in a straight line or in a Mondrian square fashion. We think he's a little bit OCD, like Jeff Lewis.

The backyard is also home to baby critters. When Bampy and Mam left our house last week Monday, Bamps found a Moms Turkey and five tots wandering around our yard. The babies were smaller than my Moms' hand. That was a week ago. Now they are bigger. They're about the size of her hand now.

While Moms and Dads call them, "Oh, come here cute Turkey babies!," I prefer to refer to them as "Mouthfuls." Here's a picture of the tot turkeys. I had Moms enhance the photo so could see all of my meals. I don't want you to think that all I do is gaze out the window, though. I contribute to this family. Sometimes Moms does work at home. She writes grants and stuff. She says she needs quiet and focus. I help provide that "quiet and focus" by a) trying to sit on her lap, b) wheezing loudly, c) pawing her elbow asking for a drink of water, more kibbles, or wet food when it's not time for it yet, and d) being cute. When I've exhausted all of my tricks to help provide "quiet and focus," I ususally fall asleep. This is me when I'm pooped out. Note how I'm still helping Moms. In this picture, I think I'm helping to steady the table she's trying to work on. How nice of me!

Furry kisses from your favorite cat correspondent, JD!

Gobble, Gobble!

2008-07-28T20:07:00.003-04:00

TURKEYS! WE GOT 'EM!

Gobble, Gobble to my JDamn readers! Guess what we got? TURKEYS! This weekend, my Bampy and my Mam from Maine came for a visit. When we all woke up this morning, Bampy came over and said that there were BABY TURKEYS in the yard. So Moms and Bampy went outside and made some noise and the mama turkey sat up and five little puffballs flew out from under her. Bampy thinks the baby turkeys are a few days old. So he went in our shed and got some bird kibbles and he hurled them at the mama turkey. She came over to Bampy-so close that he could almost touch her-and she ate kibbles.

Moms put on her worker pants and went to work and Mam and Bamp put on their traveling pants and drove back to Maine. When Moms came home, she found EIGHT GIRL TURKEYS! (There were no baby turkeys this time.) They were all in the backyard, eating the kibbles that Bampy left them. Guess what they gave us in return?

TURKEY TURDS!

Purrs, JDamn - OUT!

All Better!

2008-07-08T20:58:00.005-04:00

Hi, everybody! It's me, John John! Guess what? I'm no longer sick. Moms and Dads put their parenting pants on and made me take medicine. When I said, "No, Moms! NO! You're so mean!!!" Moms responded by saying, "I do not care." She was mean, but Dads said that she had to be. He also said something about putting on my "big boy pants" but I don't know what he was talking about.

We played some games with my medicine. First, Moms hid my antibiotics in a Greenies Pill Pocket. Greenies markets this product with the slogan, "A daily treat to encourage pilling compliance." (Sounds like some crap that Archy wrote in one of his legal briefings.) Guess what, folks? You can still taste the pill if you bite it, and antibiotics taste nasty. I thrashed my tongue around after eating the first "treat" and refused to eat the rest of the special goodies for the rest of my treatment time. Moms had to resort to hurling the pills down my throat while holding me like a baby. It's a known fact that I'm not very mobile or able to resist when held like a tot, so Moms won every time. Crappy. But then I got tons of real treats after the nasty pill and then I forget about it.

I've come a long way. When I got sick, Moms and Dads knew I didn't feel good because I fell asleep with my head in the big puddle of water in the bathtub and did not care. But now I feel great! I am back to my old self, scooping tissues out of the box at three in the morning, emptying the bedroom garbage can at four in the morning, and pawing Moms in the face at five. I know Moms and Dads are so happy that I feel better and that I'm back to my old self. They tell me so when they wake up every hour to make me stop playing.

There's some new activity at our house. We have a "regular" squirrel now. The tot, Arden June, named him Corny because he eats the corn off the cobs that Dads leaves for him. To get to his corn, Corny tromps through Moms' flower boxes, so she had to move them. He's kind of skinny; we're hoping the corn will plump him up. He is fun to watch and easy to scare, but I think we're friends. Well, we're at least pals.

We also have poison ivy! Moms has never seen it before. Mama Harde came over a few weeks ago and identified all the plants in our new yard. Some are good plants (like hydrangeas) and others are evil (like the poison ivy). Dads got some spray to make the ivy die. I will watch him spray it from our lovely picture window, thank you very much.

I also go Outside every chance I get. Outside is great. It has a pic-i-nic table, and chairs with cushions and a ceiling fan! Moms and Dads keep saying outside with "quotation marks" around it, and sometimes I hear the phrase "screened-in porch" and "Jonathan will never be allowed outside because of his asthma." I don't know what they're talking about. I go Outside every single day. I jiggle the doorknob to let Moms and Dads know that it's time to let me out. They think it's cute. Archy goes outside, too, and we get fresh water and sometimes we dine al fresco (Archy taught me that phrase). If you come over, maybe we can dine al fresco together.

Wondering about my picture? It's nice. It's a picture that we had Moms take of me, just in case I decide to join Archy's law firm. So far, it's not something I'm interested in, but I don't want to rule anything out at this point.

Kisses to all of my loyal fans -- JDamn - OUT!

Snotty.

2008-06-26T17:02:00.003-04:00

Hello, everybody. Are you wondering where the exclamation mark went after “everybody”? I can tell you. It went away. That’s because I am sick. I am so sick that I didn’t even protest when Moms put me in my carrier this morning to take me to the vet. And, I am so sick that, when I tried to meow in the car, I couldn’t because I’ve lost my voice. Folks. This is sad.

The vet diagnosed me this morning with an upper respiratory infection. He could tell the instant he saw me, since my right eye is puffy and has yellow and green goop running out of it. He said it is not the same as the eye herpes that Archibald has. No. This is an infection.

I’ve also been have asthma attacks every night for over a week now, so I’ve been getting a plethora of treats which Moms and Dads may or may not have snuck my prednisone in . Prednisone makes my immune system weak, which let my infection get fiercer. And now I’m just a sick, sad cat. Dads said he knew I was sick when I fell asleep in the bathtub with my head in a puddle of water and did not care. Sad.

I was a good boy at the vet’s. Dr. Vickie wasn’t there; she is on a cruise. So I saw a boy doctor. He was nice and manly. Dr. Manly gave me amoxicillin for cats plus eye ointment. And I now need to take more prednisone every day until I stop having asthma attacks.

A ray of good news. I stood on the scale at the vet’s today and chomped on some treats. Moms said that the scale read 19.2 lbs, which means my diet must be working. Dr. Manly told Moms to go home and weigh the big carrier (because I came in the little carrier so I could ride shotgun with moms). We know my last weight, in the carrier, was 29.2 lbs so she should add the weight of the carrier to my svelte 19.2 lbs and see how much weight I lost. I think I look good. I think I lost 10 pounds.

Purrs and slightly snotty kisses,
JDamn.

Here I Am!

2008-06-20T21:46:00.004-04:00

Hi everybody! It's me, John John! Did you miss me? I am sorry that I have not blogged in a wicked long time. It's just that, well, I do do other things than blog. I nap. I eat. I drink water and I scoop it in the bathtub. I also play with Hovermouse and my other toys.

I'm also very reliant on my mother to get my blogs posted on the in-ter-net. See, my paws are kind of chunky and I don't understand this QWERTY thing, so I dictate and she types. She's not been "available" much lately. After my last blog, work was wicked crazy plus she and Dads were doing home improvements. Then they visited my Hawaiian Bampy (aka my grandpa) who turned 87 on June 2nd.

Moms and Dads flew to Honolulu to celebrate the day. They had dinner at a fancy pants buffet that had more seafood than could ever be crammed in a cat food can, and Hawaiian Bampy ate five desserts from the cake buffet. The kitchen also brought him out a special piece of cake, which was slightly on fire, because it was his birthday. He thought the fire stick was kind of funny, see?

My Uncle Daniel (Holla!) and Uncle David make birthday cakes for their cats (who do not exist, because me and Archy are the only cats in the world). They claim to have made a tuna fish souffle for Abraham's birthday and they even put a fire stick in it. No one caught fire and I think an adult had to both light and extinguish the fire stick. Fictional stories such as this make me and Archy wonder why a parade isn't thrown in our honor on our birthday. For the record, our designated birthday is December 14. Presents are gladly accepted -- on the day, or in advance. Whatever tickles your fancy.

Anyhoo, Hawaiian Bampy raises puppies. Moms stayed after Dads for one week on Kaua'i (where Bampy lives). The day after Dads went back to the mainland, Smokey (that's a girl dog) brought her pups home and shared them with Bampy. Smokey said she was sick of feeding them, so Hawaiian Bampy made Puppy Chow stew with fresh, homemade gravy. He really likes puppies. Here he is, holding four of them. You say that you only see three? Well. There's four. The fourth one is underneath the other three. If you listen closely, you can hear him squeek, "Help. Me."

On Kaua'i, Moms and Dads helped Hawaiian Bampy out a lot at his house. In the south, you can get a "red neck" tan. In Hawai'i, you get a red dirt tan. Here's Dads. You can clearly see where his socks began and ended on his legs. So shame.

Dads got to burn rubbish on Kaua'i. He liked it. Hapa the dog also liked to sleep in the embers. Dogs are weird.

While away, Archy and I stayed at Captain Kitts' All Inclusive Cat Spa (No Scurvey Dogs Allowed). According to the "Ship's Log," Archy was a lush and couldn't be held enough and I was aloof and kind of grumpy. I think they got it all wrong. I could not be more loveable. I am the mushmush. Archy is the grump pants. Now my parents are all confused. But since the Captain Kitts "crew" wrote it on my report card, I mean my Ship's Log, it must be true. The "boat" was full of cats but I kept telling myself that Archy and I are the only cats in the world and these were "others" or dead people, kind of like on Lost. However, that did not stop me from asking the Siamese to stop talking. Good lord. One can only take so much chatter before going mad.

In other news, my loyal readers may remember the greeting that Archy and I received from Peter, who helps the cat neighborhood association, when we moved into our new house. You recall that the entire conversation occurred through the door: Archy and I never saw him. Therefore, we weren't quite sure if there really was a third cat in the world. Well. We met Peter. See if you can find him in this picture. Hint: Archy's staring at him.Peter looks like us and Archy thinks that Peter is a cat. When I heard this news, I lost it and I had an asthma attack. A full blown asthma attack. It was so bad that Moms stopped saying, "Oh look! You've made a friend! John. Stop hissing at him!" to grabbing me and whisking me away into the fluffy fluffy bed upstairs for some calm-down petting and treats. It was bad. I'm not sure about Peter. I think he's the devil. And I think Archy might want to be his friend.

I love you all, dear fans. Send me some fan mail. Better yet, send some fan treats. Via FedEx. I can eat them faster that way. (Don't listen to my Moms. I am not on a diet. Send full fat treats, please!)

Purrs & Kisses - JDamn OUT!

I Disagree.

2008-05-19T16:23:00.007-04:00

Hi everybody! It's me, JohnJohn Fancy Pants McLaughlin. All last week, Moms told me that there was a fun "surprise" for me and Archy coming on Saturday. She said we were going to go to the surprise but would not tell us what it was. So, Archy and I went up to our catpartment and put on our thinking caps. Archy immediately said, "We're going to cooking school!" He then ran around really fast and found the Yale apron that Auntie Anne bought for Moms one year. He laid it out neatly on the floor and proceeded to flirt flop and rub his cat sniff all over it.

I thought cooking school would be fun, though I'm more of an eater than a cooker. But I got to thinking, "Why would Moms and Dads not tell us about a school?" If it was an educational activity, they'd certainly tell Archy because he is a bookworm...or, at least, he's a book cheek-scratcher. No. It had to be something more special than cooking school.

While Archy was making the apron all furry, I thunk. I thunk a lot. Suddenly, I knew where we were going. MOMS AND DADS WERE TAKING US TO SPACE CAMP! This was the answer to all my prayers. See, lately Moms and Dads have been busy and couldn't go to Dr. Vickie's house to get us our prescription kibbles. So I've been eating grocery store kibbles (but the diet kind) and I've kind of been eating my kibbles and Archy's kibbles so I've put on a little weight. So, by sending me to space, I will INSTANTLY(!!!) lose weight and will once again be Skinny Pants JohnJohn. I decided to not tell Archy that I'd figured it out because, at this point, he'd fallen asleep on the apron. So I closed my kitten eyes and dreamed about eating cat treats in space.

The big day arrives. It's Saturday, more familiarly known as Caturday. And we're ready! I was in my cat carrier, taking a nap, ready to go to Space Camp! On schedule, Moms shut the door and hollered for Dads to carry me down the stairs. Moms got Archy in the mini carrier and she carried him to the car. Moms got buckled in and Dads turned the car on. And then Moms said, "Yay! We're going to have fun!"

Archy nodded, and I could hear him chanting as he sat in the carrier on Moms' lap, "Cooking School! Cooking School! Vive la parmesan!" Since our carriers faced each other, I said, "Hey Archy. We're not going to cooking school. We're doing something waaaay better!" He said, "Cooking School! Cook-ing...what did you say? Not true. Why. Where do you think we're going?"

As I inhaled deeply to support my planned scream of SPACE CAMP!, I heard Moms say, "Chad, do you have their vet folder?" Archy looked at me. I looked at Archy. In an instant we knew we had been duped. WE WERE GOING TO SEE DR. VICKIE.

This is Dr. Vickie. She's really nice, as vets go. But, she is still a vet. And because she's a vet, she has her bossy doctor pants on. For some reason, whatever she says, Moms and Dads believe. And I don't agree with everything she says. But, at least, she says that I am cute. (True.)

Since I am not the most willing contestant on The Biggest Cat Loser, Moms and Dads have to put me in my cat carrier and in order to weigh me on Dr. Vickie's scale. The last time I got weighed there, me and the carrier weighed 25.4 lbs, which put me around 19 something pounds. This time, the scale lied and said I weigh 29.5 lbs in my carrier. It is not true. And this time, I had my puffy kitty nest and Smacky and my decapitated Hover Mouse in my carrier, and they add a lot of weight. When Dr. Vickie saw 29.5 lbs, she said, "Ohhhhhhh." Dads averted his eyes in shame and Moms screamed out, "WE'RE GOING ON A DIET!"

I thought everyone was over-reacting. I mean, why am I the chubby one and Archy's the super stick? I was ready to share my frustration with the world when I heard Dr. Vickie say, "You know, Archy could stand to lose some weight too." I ate my words (tasty!) and then smiled. I'm ok if we both have to suffer but when it's just me, it's stinky.

So the prescription? Prescription diet kibbles are back in the meal plan. For a minimum of six months! Archy is 17 lbs; his goal is 13 lbs. I have a 4 lb. weight loss goal too. Sucky but true.

In other critter news, Moms saw the whistlepig running weally weally fast across our neighbor's yard in the rain. She also had to stop her car to allow two girl turkeys to cross the road and she saw a dead deer on the road.

Kthxbai!

Dieting JDamn - OUT!

Raccoon Rump

2008-05-08T20:30:00.004-04:00

Hi, Everybody! JohnJohn here - and I've got news! Do you remember that we moved to this big big big house and I have my own catpartment and stuff? Well. This place also has stuff OUTSIDE of the house. There's Chuck the Woodchuck, and then there are the (supposed) turkeys that Moms and Dads "see" outside, and we are working on cultivating the native squirrel population. Now, faithful readers, I am proud to introduce to you our newest outside critter, Bandit the Raccoon.

See, Moms and Dads have a wicked hot spotlight that beams light into the dark, dark forest of our backyard. Last night, before bedtime, they turned out all the inside lights and turned on the spotlight. You know what we all saw? RACCOON BUTT! There was this raccoon and he got super scarred by the light and he ran wicked, wicked fast into the forest. Moms thinks he was trying to steal our empty trash can so she named him Bandit.

I like meeting new critters. At first, I thought Archy and I were it. I mean, once God created us, why would he bother creating other critters? Then we move to Milford and life changed. Moms and Dads met the lady who lives in the house across the street and they have a critter like me too! His name is Peter. When the neighbor met my parents, they told them about how friendly everyone is around here and that there's a neighborhood association. Well. Peter marched across the street (he goes outside!) and he came to our doorstep and knocked on the door. We scratched the international cat signal from the other side, which means, "Hey. I'm a cat. I don't do outside."

Peter then slipped a flyer under the door about the Cat Neighborhood Association. He said that he is the President, CEO and Executive Director of the Association. As such, he claims to be entitled to two cans of Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys and one full bag of treats PER CAT that joins the Association.

Archy pushed a note back under the door, on his official Archibald Cat McLaughlin, Esq. notepaper, which read, "Who are the other members of the Association? Kindly provide me with their names and addresses and I shall contact them to ensure that we are not being hosed."

Another note came back under the door that said, "Um. Er. Well. We do have other members. Strictly speaking, none are cats. We have two squirrels, one crow and have one hedgehog who was semi-excited by my sales pitch."

As I began to scream, "I'M IN!", Archy's paw flew across my cute kitten mouth. Archy quickly typed up a note that said, "No deal. We join for free. Or else there's no other cat members of your Cat Neighborhood Association."

Two membership cards slid under the door with a post-it that said, "Welcome to the Cat Neighborhood Association! Since you do not go outside, our first meeting will take place in a few weeks from now at your door. Your President, CEO and Executive Director, Peter Melman."

So. I am now a proud member of my Neighborhood Cat Association. Since I do not have pockets, I keep losing the card. I hope I do not need it for the meeting.

Your friend,
JDamn

PS The more I meet the critters here, the more I realize we're alike. Moms googled "Raccoon" and this picture came up. Interestingly enough, this raccoon's name is also Bandit too! This Bandit was 77 pounds! While I am a svelt 21 pounds (Yup. Slipped on the diet...but now I'm on a new one...), I do see some similarities between us. For one, he's damn cute. In consultation with the mirror, though, I do believe I'm much cuter.

Bronax

2008-05-01T17:08:00.004-04:00

Hello, Everybody! It's me, Jonathan, and I am ready to go to Mantown. Why? Moms is not home! That means it's just the boys in the house. Me, Dads and Archy - we are going to have a great time. When Moms isn't around, Dads lets us sniff and lick all the cheese doodles we want. He also gives us extra treats and there's way more room in the bed for me to spread out.

Moms is at a conference in Washington, DC. Don't worry - she is not lonely. She has a new friend. His name is Bronax. See, Moms is staying at fancy pants Hotel Monaco and they gave Moms a complementary goldfish to keep her company during her stay. She doesn't have to feed him or anything. Poop cleaning? Housekeeping does that. All Moms has to do is enjoy. Moms said, "HELLO!" to Bronax and, apparently, it scared him and he jumped. Moms is learning that she needs to be quieter around her new friend. Here is a picture of Bronax.

Unfortunately, Moms said that he is not to be removed from the hotel room. Bronax cannot be my souvenir. Instead, Moms said she'd send me a postcard or something. That's sad. I'd rather have the goldfish.

This morning, I dictated a message to Moms that we left on the kitchen counter for Dads. It's a list of what I want to do during Mantown time, and it reads as follows:

Dear Dads,

When Moms takes her girly pants out of the house, let's have fun. I have made a list of things that we should do while she is gone.

1. Feed the turkeys.
2. Invite the turkeys over for dinner. Make sure to invite Archy and me too.
3. Eat the turkeys for dinner.
4. Scratch Archy Cat and me lots.

Kthxbai!
Johnny Cat

I hope that Dads reads the note.

Kisses!
JDamn - OUT!

Change of Address

2008-04-29T08:25:00.006-04:00

Everyone - we have arrived. Our new home in Milford now contains two chubby cats! It took a lot of work to get here. Moms and Dads were way behind in packing so Moms took Friday off to scurry and get everything in boxes. Dads had to work, so I promised to help. Look what a good helper-bee I am! I was in charge of holding down the wrapping paper and making it furry. Moms then had to pack clothes. I was in charge of holding down the clothes and getting them furry.
I was also in charge of making sure we took the laundry basket. I put myself inside of it so no one would forget.
When we got to the new house, it was amazing. So much to sniff! Archy and I have our own apartment on the third floor. (We do not have pictures to share yet of our cat-pad.) However, the wildlife continues to abound. On Saturday (moving day), Dads saw a girl turkey in our backyard. He made Moms look at it. They both said they saw it and they made this doctored photo to show you the gobbler.
Moms and Dads held us up to the window to see said girl turkey but all we could see were our pretty, pretty reflections in the window. So we went back down to the new carpet. This is our reaction to the turkey. We said, "We see no turkey."
The cable man came on Saturday to give us teevee and internet and telephone. Moms turned on the teevee to make sure it worked and we saw a commercial for Where in the World is Matt Lauer? Archy thought that was a great idea and he made his own version to introduce my faithful readers to our new home. Ladies and Gentlemen, I introduce, "Where in the Kitchen is Archibald Cat, Esq.?"

I found Archy! He is on top of the refrigerator. He got there all by himself.

Hey! Dads found Archy too!

Archy says, "Really, folks. It wasn't that hard to find me. It's the kitchen. Really."So Archy tried to find a new spot, trying to blend in with the stainless steel toaster. Can you find Archy Cat?

Up next: Where in the Living Room is Archibald Cat, Esq?

Holla to Auntie Anne and Uncle Kent for the super sweet can of Fancy Feast Elegant Medley's Shrimp and Salmon souffle dinner on our first night in our house! I gobbled it down, just like a so-called turkey.

JDamn-OUT!

PROOF!

2008-04-23T20:33:00.008-04:00

Hi, Everybodies! It's me, JohnJohn Cutie Pants! I have not blogged in a long time because I have been busy. During my multi-week silence, my most notable activity was falling asleep on the kleenex box.

Anyhow. We are moving to our new house on Cat-urday! I cannot wait to sniff it. Moms has been taking pictures of all of the work that she and Dads did in the new house but, as you may recall, Moms couldn't find the camera cable so all the pictures were stuck in her camera. Today, Moms packed our headphones and she found the camera cord stuck to the headphone cord. So she sucked the pictures out of the camera, but Shutterfly won't play nice today, so she will make friends and family suffer through the pictures later.

For the move, Archy and I have our own box. It says "Boys' Toys" on it. Today, Moms emptied out Trump Fairfield and put everything in our box. I asked if I could just take one toy out of the box -- just one! -- but Moms said I have toys hidden all over this house and I had better find one of those if I want a toy because the "Boys' Toys" box is getting taped up. And then she taped it closed.

I was mad about my box being sealed until I got some wicked exciting news. Everybodies, Moms has photographic proof that the whistlepig exists. Apparently Chuck (or Woodie) the Woodchuck likes to chow down on our new neighbor's dandy-lions. Moms saw Chuck last Saturday but she scared him and he ran away before Dads could see him. Dads later said that Moms was crazy. But today, when Moms went to stare at the new carpet, she saw Chuck. So she took this picture. It's kinda fuzzy, so I've helped you see my new friend.

Everybody, this photo is genuine. It is real. It is Chuck. I can't wait to meet him in person.

Dads says that our new window will have pictures of deer and a million squirrels and birds and swamp lettuce (that's a story for another time). Archy said that Dads is just telling fairy tales and such sweet goodness cannot exist.

In other news, Archy has been caught in a kitty-porn scandal. Here is the first internet peek at a late-night photo of Archy showing his wares. He begged me to not post it on the blog but I told him it was for his own good. I mean, wouldn't you want family to share this photo with the world before the Weekly World News did? Archy threatened legal action, but I know that Moms packed all the paper and pens in the house, so I think I'm ok for a while.

Anyhow, that's all the news I'm allowed to blog about now because Moms is wicked tired and wants to go to bed. Get ready for my first blog from our new house, folks!

Kisses! JDamn - OUT!

April Showers (of fur)

2008-04-03T07:45:00.006-04:00

**THIS PICTURE IS NOT ME!!! IT IS A STOCK WEB PHOTO!!! NOT ME!!! (I'm cuter. And I shed more.)**

Hello, every-bod-eeeeee! It's me, JohnJohn - aka your favorite blogger, JDamn! I have not written in a long time because Moms and Dads are working wicked hard. They work all week long and, on the weekends, they go to the other house and paint all weekend. Then they do it all over again. One time, Moms even went to the new house to paint after work!

I have not seen the new house but I have sniffed their paint color choices. If you want to see them, go to the Sherwin-Williams Paint Visualizer and search for Overt Green, Afternoon and French Roast. Overt Green (it's overt!) is the color of our guest room (aka my resting space); Afternoon (a bright cheery yellow) is the color of our whatever-it-wants-to-be upstairs room; and French Roast, the color of dark coffee grounds, is the accent wall in moms and dads (and my) room. That's kinda as far as they got. Now they have to figure out the floor. And they have to figure out when they are moving. The pictures are still stuck in Moms' camera because she packed the cable somewhere and she doesn't know where. I said I would be a helperbee but I keep falling asleep or playing with my toys so you all will just have to wait until she finds it, k? K.

If you haven't noticed, it's Spring. There are little flowers popping up in the view of Trump Fairfield. Spring also has a special meaning for me: shedding time. Last night, Moms got me and Archy a present to share - a brand new double-wide scratchie board with fresh catnip. Catnip makes me wild -- and it makes Archy Cat sleepy. After we both rolled in it and had a wicked good time, we went up to the bathroom to have a drink of water out of the cup that Dads leaves for us in the shower. Archy was sitting on the potty, starring at the pretty water. I was wicked happy (from the catnip) so I said, "HI!!!!" about twenty times to Archy Cat. What followed my kind, lovely and repeated gesture earned Archy a time-out. ARCHY MO-FO PAWED ME. A lot. Ok. I mo-fo pawed him back, too -- and contact was made by both of us. Since I was on the floor and Archy was on the toilet, he unfortunately had the upper paw (literally). Moms heard the thrashing on the floor and said, "Stop it!" a few times while she cooked in the kitchen, but we didn't.

When she came upstairs, she saw the aftermath: little tufts of my precious grey fur everywhere. There were probably twenty tufts floating around. Some of it was shedding, but Archy rushed the shedding process - those tufts were not ready to come outside. So Moms sees what happens and she looks at me and says, "No, No, Bad Kitty! Bad JohnJohn!" And I said, "Moms. I did not do it. Why do you think I always did the naughty deeds!?!? I DID NOT DO IT!" And I stamped my paws on the floor. (Normally this is the time that I'd call my lawyer, but seeing as my lawyer is my brother, Archibald, who wasn't talking to me, I wasn't sure it was a viable option.)

Moms kept going on and on about how naughty I am. She said something about, "Look at your poor, innocent brother...." She turned to look at Archy, sitting on the floor-missing no tufts of fur. He had his innocent eyes turned on and looked at Mom with his most angelic face. But Archy didn't know something. On the end of his long pointy whiskers, there sat a tuft of fur. MY fur. He couldn't see it wafting in the breeze of the heat vent, but it was there. Moms saw it -- and I was vindicated. Moms ran to get the camera to take a picture of my guilty brother, but Archy figured it out and ate the tuft of fur before she could capture it. Because I was made out to be guilty before being proven innocent, Moms and Dads let me play treat-ball in bed last night. I got a lot out of the treat ball-I think I ate 17 of them!

In other news, my right eyebrow is now missing. It fell out somewhere. If you see it, please return it.

Purrs & kisses,

JDamn - OUT!

Breaking News!

2008-03-16T20:25:00.005-04:00

Breaking news, JDamn Fans! Our new home in Milford has new critters! This weekend, Moms and Dads spent all weekend at the Milford house. They painted a ceiling with wood stain goo, picked colors for the wall and the wainscoting and Dads experimented (successfully!) with putting up sheet rock (which, no, is not a sheet of rocks...though that would be fun).

This afternoon, at the house, they were starring out the picture window (in a tired, new homeowner daze) and Dads said, "What the *BLEEP!* is that thing?" Moms looked and something was doing a low belly crawl through our back yard. Moms immediately said, "It's a Badger!" Dads said, "No, no, no. It's the Connecticut Yeti!" (I heard this in my sleep all the way in Fairfield, sat up, and cheered.)

They then went through all the scenarios. Finally, they realized they had to paint. So they painted all day long, got tired, came home and showered. They ordered a pizza and googled "connecticut woodland creature." What they found astounded them.

Friends, our new critter in Milford is a woodchuck. They are also known as a groundhog or a whistle pig (because, apparently, they whistle). According to some wildlife expert, the woodchuck has "a compact, chunky body supported by relatively short, strong legs." Friends. This is also a perfect description of me. LOOK.

Once I move to Milford, I hope to see my twin. I tried to tell this to Moms and Dads, but they are too busy trying to figure out what to name the woodchuck. Moms says his name should be Chuck; Dads says his name should be Woody. Maybe there will be two and we can have Chuck and Woody.

Moms and Dads took pictures of all their good work, but Moms cannot find the cable to make the pictures come out of the camera, so you will have to just wait to see them.

K. JDamn -- the woodchuck twin -- OUT!

'Nuff Said

2008-03-11T11:31:00.002-04:00

It pays to be the only employee of JDamn's Juice Bar.

As a reminder to our regular patrons, we are out of juice.

We are also out of soda.

(No one seems to go grocery shopping anymore.)

Due to the impending move to Milford,

we are down to Progresso and Campbell's Condensed Soup (tomato only).

Enjoy -- and don't forget to pay me in the kibble/treat jar.

Purrs & Snuggles,
JDamn!, Employee of the Month

NOTICE: JDamn's Juice Bar - Menu Change

2008-03-04T07:18:00.002-05:00

Dear WOB patron and JDamn's Juice Bar Fan,

In light of our impending move to Milford, the beverage choice at JDamn's Juice Bar have become slim pickings. As we are out of Diet Coke (something about someone not wanting to pay someone else to move soda), may I suggest that you partake in a can of refreshing Progresso Soup from the pantry? Our current selections include French Onion, Minestrone and Vegetable with curly, curly noodles. We also offer Campbell's Condensed Soup (tomato only). It might be a bit thick but, well, it's still a menu choice.

Standard treat offerings apply; please make sure to deposit the required treats in the JDamn's Juice Bar Register.

JDamn - OUT!

PS Apparently the Milford branch of WOB will be formally acquired this Friday. Stay tuned for the gym's relocation! (Archy said he will write later...right now he is deciding between paint chips for the new gym...)

2008-02-25T06:57:00.004-05:00

Hi, JDamn! fans! Sorry I have been out of touch. It has been wicked busy here. Moms keeps bringing boxes home from school and I have been very busy scratching my cheeks on those really nice sharp corners. Archy, on the other hand, gets stressed out that "change" is going to happen and keeps relapsing with his eye herpes. (The doctor says it's due to stress.) So Moms and Dads keeps telling Archy, "Look, Archy! Moving is fun!" and he keeps freaking out and runs out of the room screaming, with one eye closed....

Anyhow. While Moms and Dads have been busy doing things like getting a home loan and getting home insurance, Archy and I have been working on the plans for the new Work Out Basement (WOB). In order to best serve our only customer (Dads), Archy and I came up with a survey, which we gave to him this morning. Since it is a shining example of best survey and management practices, I am taking this opportunity to share it with my JDamn! fans. If this survey makes you want to join WOB, you can email Archibald and he'll ask Dads if you can come over and play.

####

Dear Dads,

We at Work Out Basement (WOB!) would like to thank you for your loyal patronage over the past year at our Fairfield location. We would like to take this opportunity to let you know that our Fairfield branch will be closing and will re-open at a more convenient location, in Milford, as soon as you and Moms move. We at WOB want you to know that our location placement is all about convenience, and all about wherever you and Moms take us and our stuff to.

We'd also like to take this opportunity to give you a survey so we can best assess your cat-isfaction, your current and future needs, and what improvements would be most appreciated and likely funded. Please take the next hour and a half to peruse this seven question survey and provide us with the answers before suppertime today.
Archibald Cat, Esq. - Manager
Jonathan Dangerous - Towel Boy & Juice Bar Entrepreneur

Question #1: What do you think of WOB?
A. It's great. It's the best gym I've ever been to.
B. I love it. The manager is amazing. He manages things well.
C. I love it. The towel boy is wicked cute and is wicked, wicked furry.
D. I've been looking at brochures for other gyms.
(Note: D is not an acceptable answer. If D is selected, your WOB membership may be in jeopardy.)

Question #2: We've noticed that sometimes you don't go to WOB. What are you doing when you aren't at WOB?
A. Scratching JD and Archibald .
B. Preparing a delectable breakfast for JD and Archibald.
C. Working on the plans for "Cat Town - Milford."
D. Looking at brochures for other gyms.
(Note: D is not an acceptable answer. If D is selected, your WOB membership may be in jeopardy.)

Question #3: What is your favorite amenity at WOB?
A. The two choices of workout equipment.
B. The limited channels on the workout teevee.
C. Heat, provided by the dryer.
D. The totally handsome manager and the wicked cute, chubby chubby juice bar guy.
(Note: D is the only acceptable answer. If A, B or C is selected, Management reserves the right to interpret this as sarcasm and your WOB membership may be in jeopardy.)

Question #4: What do you think of JDamn's Juice Bar!?
A. The logo is great. Auntie Pam should become a graphic designer.
B. I love the warm Diet Coke. It's a good thing the only beverage served is one that I like.
C. The juice bar guy is wicked, wicked cute. I just want to pick him up and snuggle him.
D. It's a great amenity. In fact, it's better than WOB itself.
(Note: JDamn's Juice Bar! staff has not done inventory in over a month. Yesterday, JDamn's Juice Bar! staff member went to the bar only to discover that a whole fridge pack of Diet Coke was gone. JDamn's Juice Bar! operates on an honor system. If you took it, you'd better pay for it in the Treat Jar, located near the beverage choice. If you took it and did not pay for it, JDamn's Juice Bar! staff will talk with WOB management to see if there's anything that can be done, you know, to suspend your WOB membership.)

Question #5: How are our towels?
A. They're great. The towels are always fluffy and pre-warmed.
B. It's the best amenity at WOB, equally as great as JDamn's Juice Bar! In fact, it's better than WOB itself.
C. I heart towels!!!
D. Not so great. They usually came from the hamper, smell stinky and covered with too much fur. It's also difficult to remove the towel boy from the towel since he's usually asleep on it.
(Note: D is not an acceptable answer. If D is selected, your WOB membership may be in jeopardy if the towel boy can convince management that this would be a perfectly appropriate thing to do.)

Question #6: What new equipment and amenities would you like to see at WOB?
A. A floor-to-ceiling cat condo/activity center.
B. Katnip Korner: A big bin filled with katnip, ala those ball pits that small people play in at fun parks.
C. Larger litterboxes.
D. A bigger teevee, a cable box, and upgraded workout equipment.
(Note: D is not an acceptable answer. If D is selected, you might find a special poo somewhere on the existing WOB workout equipment.)

Question #7: Will you continue your membership at WOB at our new Milford branch?
A. You bet. The manager is the best!
B. You bet. JDamn's Juice Bar and Towels are the best!
C. You bet. The manager is great and I love the kool kat who runs all of the ancilary operations.
D. You bet. I'll be there because I'll live there.
(Note: D is not an acceptable answer. This question is designed to make you choose sides. If you choose C, we'll understand that you're trying to "play fair," but WOB management and JDamn's Juice Bar and Furry Towels would really prefer if you said who you liked more.)

Thanks for taking the time to fill out this survey. Please bring this completed survey with you when you next visit WOB. WOB management and JDamn's Juice Bar and Furry Towels will review it and will eventually let you know if you said anything that jeopardizes your membership.

Purrs and furballs,
Archibald Cat, Esq., WOB Manager and Legal Counsel
Jonathan Dangerous aka JDamn!, Proprietor of JDamn's Juice Bar and Furry Towels

FOR SALE: Cosy, 1 1/2 Story Penthouse - Must See!

2008-02-01T06:50:00.001-05:00

Hi, Jdamn fans! I write today about a fabulous real estate opportunity - just for you! The rumors are true, friends - Trump Fairfield is for sale. Why is it for sale? The McLaughlin's are movin' on up (I-95)...to Milford, that is! That's right, Moms and Dads bought a house. Or, more to the point, are in the middle of buying the house. They said something about being in the home inspector phase. That's usually when I ask someone to scratch me.

The conversation in our house lately pretty much sound like this:
Dads: "This is so exciting! We're buying a house!"
Moms: (Labored breathing. Slightly blacks out. Revives.) "This. Is. Not. Fun."
Dads: "But it's supposed to be fun, honey! Have fun!"
Moms: "THIS. IS. NOT. FUN."

I, however, think it is fun because this means that boxes are coming out and I'll have an overwhelming amount of places to scratch my cheeks. It's so exciting I sometimes have to take a moment to calm myself. Archy warned me about a car ride in our future but, really, all I heard was, "Blahblahblah car blahblahblah boxes." Then my inside voice said, "BOXES!" and couldn't stop chanting it until I fell asleep. (When I wake up, the chant begins again.)

So, you may ask yourself, why is Trump Fairfield for sale? One answer, my friends: It's in Fairfield. And, I, apparently, will be in Milford. (Archy's here. He wants me to ask how I'll get to Milford. One answer, my friend. BOXES!)

Let me show you the features of this house!

Here's Trump Fairfield during the construction phase, along with the master architecht and builder, Dads. This was during the construction and design phase, actually. Dads got his first power saw and didn't really know what all he could do with it. Once he figured out how to make this cute rectangular box, he realized this could be more than an apartment that was half the length of my rump: this could be Trump Fairfield.
In the above picture, note the solid scrap wood materials. Also note it's straight: no wobbling here! The early design also features two distinct sides for the placement of toys: an Archy and Johnny design, if you will.
Here's the finished product. Note the completed Archy and Johnny toy shelves, the lip around the top of the condo to prevent my squishy, squishy pillow from falling off and the extended length to allow for most of my body, excluding my tail. This penthouse features an unobstructed view of the flower box and the shrub outside. There are also amazing views of Chipper the Squirrel, but only if you have someone to do your outside bidding and leave nuts on the pic-i-nick table.

Disclosures: Trump Fairfield has no lead paint. There are no known plumbing problems because there is no plumbing. And there's no need for a radon test because it's got no rocks.

The fine print: In order to "own" Trump Fairfield, you must rent the house that Moms and Dads are currently renting. Trump Fairfield fits perfectly at the bottom of the stairs in said house; therefore, it cannot just be taken anywhere. And since it's got the word Fairfield in its name, it is inconceivable that it could be anywhere else but here. Rent of said house where Trump Fairfield is locataed could involve actual cash, though it is the advice of this counsel that a generous offer of kibbles, treats, wet food and tumtum scratches might be amenable. Any person passing a generous offer of the aforementioned items is an idiot. - Archibald C. McLaughlin, Esq.

Now. The price of Trump Fairfield? Make me an offer. May I suggest that your offer include more treats that kibbles and a pretty equal amount of wet food (topped with treats) and tumtum scratches. Send me a message and let's make a deal.

JDamn, real estate mogul, OUT!

Boxing Day is Coming!

2008-01-19T21:01:00.000-05:00

Hello, Everybody!!! It is me, JohnJohn, lover of boxes big and small. You may be asking yourself, "Boxing Day is coming? Wasn't it last month??" No, my friends. It is coming. It is soon. Unscheduled, but soon. (Stay tuned.)

What would make boxes appear? Moving, of course! Moms and Dads are going to buy our first home. Gone with the renting, gone with the moving again and again. Finally, we will have a scratching pad of our own. You might say, "JDamn, why are you leaving Fairfield? It is fair and it has a field!" To that I reply with this:

1. The squirrel population proves to be sparse. To date, we have one. While Chipper is near and dear to our hearts, I would like to expand my roster of furry, furry outside friends. Archy also has a stellar idea - he's going to create WOB (Work Out Basement) for the outside folks. We're currently kicking around the names WOY (Work Out Yard) and KIC (Kritters in Chubb).

2. There's not much space here. There's hardly any space for our kibble dishes, wet food dishes and water dishes. I would also like a bathroom and a bathtub of my own. Scooping water in my own tub would be *great.*

3. I'd really like some furniture of my own. Seen the most recent issue of Cat Fancy? I want the Cats' House. Here's a picture. I've printed it out for Moms and Dads to take with them when they meet with their real estate agent.

It's pretty cool, right? I'd change the color scheme and get rid of the cat rug. And Dads and I have already discussed the need for a large, flat-screen teevee with the 24-hour bird channel. Then it would be *perfection.*

We're going to have to move by mid-May, because that is when our lease is over. I cannot wait for all of the boxes to come out. It overwhelms me, though -- so many corners to scratch my cheeks on and so little awake time...

In other news, Archy and I were napping the other day in Moms and Dads bed. I was all snuggled in the comforter, and so was Archy and we were apparently close. *Real close.* Dads stopped in to say, "Awwww" at us and I woke up. I saw Archy, right next to me, his paw outstretched. He looked so nice and squishy, but his paw was a little smelly so I decided to lick it and, you know, make him sniff better. So, I licked his paw pad with my little sandpaper tongue. Apparently, it was unappreciated and unwanted. The next thing I know, Archy is awake, Archy is upright, and Archy is giving me the Bruce Lee mofo paw: his paw (with a nice smelling paw pad) is fiercely poised in the air, claws semi-retracted, ready to strike if I say something sassy like, "I dare you." Well, of course I say, "I dare you" and I got womped on the head. Then I womped him back and some fur flew and Archy left the room. Naptime soundly being over, I then went to the kibble bar and had a snack. Wasn't that a nice story? It was true. Archy said that's called non-fiction. I told him I don't like negative things.

Purrs and kisses,

JDamn-OUT!

P.S. My left eyebrow is missing again. Don't know where it went. We don't know why only the left one keeps falling out. If you see it, there is a reward for its return. One kibble bit. Yes. It's worth that much to me. Also, if you know of any faux eyebrow stores for cats, lemme know...

Santa Paws

2008-01-05T21:50:00.000-05:00

Hi, everybody! It's me - the 2008 version of JDamn! Sorry I haven't typed in a while but things have been busy. Moms and Dads went to Maine to see Mam and Bamp for Christmas. They also saw Tyson, Miss Kathy, Maco, Tweak and JoJo (the five cats) and Bulldozer and Princess (the two dogs) but did not see Timmy and Mimi (the two goats) because they were busy trying to stay warm. Then they came back and played all the video games that they got for Christmas. Moms got Civilization IV from Dads and Dads got Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and God of War for Playstation II from Moms. They're so obsessed with their games that they hardly pet me anymore. Good thing that my claws are kinda sharp now so I can really let them know when I'm ready to be held....

I am proud to report that I was a good enough boy last year because Santa Paws came and he brought me a great toy. It is this thing that hangs over the top of a door. It has a "diving board" that extends off of it and, at the tippy end part (where you'd stick yr toes), a long piece of elastic dangles down to the floor with a fluffy mouse. Of course, I always think that it is a magical mouse that can hover...that thing tricks me every time!

Moms and Dads say they like the toy because it makes me exercise. I do not know what they are talking about. In reality, I am putting on my superhero pants and saving the world from Hover Mouse. On our Christmas morning, Archy said the toy was his, too. I said it was not. He said it was too. I said he could not touch it. So he got pissy and chewed through the elastic and made the mouse fall to the floor; Hover Mouse hovered no more. Archy said, "There. I've put an end to that. Now it's no one's toy. And no one needs to be saved anyway from Hover Mouse. Mice can't hover. Silly cat." Then he went and munched kibbles. Dads came over and he did something fancy with the elastic (Moms said it's called a "knot") and now Hover Mouse is back to be avenged. It's great.

I have so much fun with it that Moms and Dads took a video of me playing with it. It wouldn't upload to Blogger but it uploaded just fine to Photobucket, so you have to click on this link to go see my supahstah video. Trust me. It is worth your time.

Moms and Dads do not like the toy when I play with it at midnight, one, two or three in the morning. (I do not know why. It is wicked fun.) One morning, the late night "Attack of the Hover Mouse" game was cut short. Unbeknownst to me, Hover Mouse can also be used for a game called Cat Ball. And I apparently made a slam dunk. When Moms and Dads woke up and came downstairs, they found this:

Dads said this shot is worth 1,000 cat points. I'm pretty pleased; I wasn't even trying! Here's a bigger shot so you can see how amazing I really am.

Purrs and Kisses to everyone in the New Year. And keep your eyes on the polls in New Hampshire; I think I might get some votes.

JDamn - OUT!

SUCCESS!

2007-12-20T19:58:00.000-05:00

Dear Friends and Super-Fans,

It is me, JDamn! As you may have noticed, I am on a diet -- a vet mandated, prescription kibble diet. Lucky for me, the prescription kibbles are wicked good and I like to gobble down mine and Archibald's too. I have been on the diet for three months now. My starting weight was 20.5 lbs. To date, I weigh 19.3 lbs. That is a total weight loss of 5.8%! That's right, everyone - I AM ABOVE THE YELLOW LINE! Let me explain.

Here's me:

Jonathan "JDamn" Dangerous 19.3 lbs / 5.8% weight loss
HERE IS THE YELLOW LINE

See? I'm above it!!!

Now for some photographic proof.
Here's me before (20.5 lbs)

And here's me, after!Only teasing! That cat is not me; I am still as handsome as ever.

Archy has asked me to mention that he, too, has lost weight on my diet. (See, I gobble whatever there is so Archy has to be on the diet, too.) Archy has lost 2.5 pounds. That means that13.5% of his body weight is GONE. Sure, if we were to line up our numbers, that would make me below the yellow line and up for elimination but we decided to play our own game so no one is the bad kind of loser.

Hohoho to my loyal readers. Remember - be good. Sandy Paws is watching...

Purrs and pine needle furballs,
JDamn - OUT!

P.S. If you haven't yet put up your Christmas tree, check out these great instructions!

Ho-dee-ho-ho!

2007-12-10T20:35:00.000-05:00

Hi-dee-ho there, JDamn fans! It's me - JDamn! (High five!) In case you haven't noticed, it is almost time for Santa Paws to come to my house to pay me a visit. Last year, he brought me twenty empty boxes that I could sleep in. It was the best.

Apparently, you cannot get Santa Paws to come to your house without bringing the outside inside. I asked Moms and Dads to bring Chipper inside but they said, "Noooo. It has to be a shrub from outside. It must be a big, big tree." Moms and Dads wanted to make Christmas wicked special this year. They wanted to make an event out of the tree picking ceremony, so they went to the Jones Family Farm to hew down their own shrub. When you get to the Farm, they give you a saw and set you free. (They ran out of maps to show you what kinds of trees were where so Moms and Dads just randomly roamed the fields of trees.)

Here's Moms. With a saw. (Did I mention it is cold outside?)
Moms and Dads walked and walked...and walked until, at last, they found the perfect tree. They believe it is a Colorado Blue Spruce tree; since the Jones peoples ran out of maps, though, Moms and Dads aren't sure. They can tell you one thing though - the tree is pokey. Really pokey. So pokey that they named it the Christmas Cactus. Here's Dads with the tree. He can touch it because he was protected by his puffy arctic explorer coat.
Here's Moms hugging the tree. Again, she can touch it because she is protected by her puffy, puffy puff coat. And her hood.
Here's where the non-romantic part comes in: once you find the tree, you must cut it down. In case you were wondering, the base of the tree is not a wee twig that you can snap. It requires someone (let's say, Dads) to get down on the ground, move the pokey, pokey branches aside, and saw like mad. And sweat.

The night before, we got our first snow. The day they got the tree, it was warm, and the snow melted and made the dirt into mud. Dads got wicked, wicked muddy like a pony that rolled in the mud. (Only it was Dads.) Here's Dads rolling in the mud.
Once Dads hewed down the tree, they counted the rings to see how old the Christmas Cactus was. They think it was ten years old. (I cannot count that high. I only have four paws and one tail.)
Did I mention that Moms and Dads wanted the *perfect* tree? Finding the*perfect* tree required walking far, far away from the place where you park your car. And, once you find the perfect tree, you have to carry the tree all the way back to your truck. The Jones' folks said to bring a tarp but Dads thought that was the unmanly way to do it. Everyone - LISTEN. When you cut down your own tree, it has something that your friendly Home Depot tree does not have -- WATER. It is wicked, wicked heavy with water. So heavy that Moms couldn't even manage to carry part of it. My manly Dads carried the pokey, pokey Christmas tree all the way to the car. Don't be fooled folks; that is not a walking tree. That is my Dads working wicked hard. He was sweaty, kind of smelly and had cut his face and was bleeding from the tree's pokies. It was not fun.

Moms and Dads got the tree home (but not before buying some wine from the Jones' winery) and Moms decorated the whole thing with lights and ornaments and ribbons. The tree is so pokey that Moms had to wear a long sleeve shirt and her leather gloves when she decorated it. This is no lie.

In other "do-not-touch" news, Moms and Dads bought their first Department 56 house. They are going to buy one every year. They are collecting the Snow Village houses and, for their first house, they bought the Dutchman's Pancake House (because Dads likes pancakes). The house lights up and has a windmill that goes around and around and I am not allowed to touch it. It is pretty to look at. If I stare at it long enough, I fall asleep. But, really, I do that with most things.

Here's hoping that your Christmas Cactus isn't as pokey as ours,

JDamn - OUT!

icanhascheezburger - iz mine!

2007-12-02T19:58:00.001-05:00

Hey loyal JDamn Fans! I have a picture on icanhascheezburger.com. Click here to vote for me, JDAMN! Gimme five cheezburgers, k?

kthxbai!
JDamn - OUT!

Happy Gobble Gobble Day!

2007-11-24T19:39:00.000-05:00

Dear JDamn fans,

Happy Gobble Gobble day! I hope this blog entry finds your tumtums full of turkey and treats. We had a great Thanksgiving. It was the first one that the four of us all spent together. The big day's preparation got started the night before, when Moms and Dads, on the advice of Auntie Vicki (which was seconded by Aunties Anne and Maggie), soaked the turkey in a brine. The brine they picked had sea salt, apple cider and Guinness beer. (Yes. Dad's bottom lip quivered a bit as he sacrified the beer to the turkey but it all turned out ok in the end.) They soaked the turkey overnight and, on Thanksgiving, they stuck it in the oven. It was the juciest, yummiest and saltiest turkey either of them have ever eaten. Doesn't it look nice? It is the biggest bird that I have ever seen.

This is Dads carving the turkey. Archy and I got special Fancy Feast Elegant Medley's Turkey in a can with greens. It was great, but Archy said I had the greens stuck in my teeth afterwards. (I didn't. I looked.)

The real exciting part of the day, though, came between the taking the turkey out of the brine and eating the turkey. That portion of the day is now referred to as "Chipper Time." That's right, ladies and gents. Moms and Dads have successfully cultivated a squirrel to be my outdoorsey friend. Chipper (not to be confused with Chippy, my deceased chipmunk friend from Norwood) first appeared to us around Halloween time. Moms bought four wee punkins - one for me, one for Archy, one for her and one for Dads. After Halloween, she put the wee punkins on the front steps and our big, uncarved punkin out there too. The next day, two of the wee punkins were on the top of the pic-i-nic table, about 30 feet away, and were carved to a fine point, like the end of a newly sharpened pencil. The other two wee punks were missing. In the big punkin, there were little, little gnaw marks. It was a mystery until one day, Moms caught Chipper chipping away at the pic-i-nic table punkins, sharpening them down and down until there was nothing left. He was relentless. Chips of punkin were flying everywhere. It didn't seem like he enjoyed it; he just seemed to like to chip at them.

Since the punkins were chipped to oblivion, Moms and Dads were worried that Chipper would starve. So they bought Chipper some nuts in shells from the grocery store. Turns out, he like nuts too. But he started making commentary. On Thanksgiving, Moms and Dads awoke to find that he only left the shelled walnuts - five of them - and took the rest. As they were starring in disbelief, Chipper came back to take possession of said nuts.
This is my disbelief that Chipper is eating the walnuts.

But then they watched, and realized he wasn't eating the nuts -- he was squirreling (HA! Get it?) them away in the dirt, which explains all of those scratch marks in the yard. Moms and Dads couldn't believe it. It was like he was planting trees. He's a nut.

So, kids. That's all the gobble stories I have for you today. Later, I will tell you about Jingles the Outdoor Cat. He boggles my mind.

Purrs and turkey kisses,

JDamn - OUT!

Where's the Cat?

2007-11-17T21:53:00.000-05:00

Today Moms and Dads went to Stamford to watch big balloons get blown up. I thought that the ones she buys for us at the party store were big but, no, there are bigger ones. These float in the sky like the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade, except that they float in the Stamford UBS Parade tomorrow. Moms and Dads went to the balloon-blowing-up party. There were lots of cartoon characters being filled with helium, including Oscar the Grouch, Big Bird, and Kermit the Frog. What was missing from the balloons were the ones of the CATS. "Garfield" was represented by Odie. There was Clifford the Big Red Dog but there was no cat of a similar or different color. Moms even had the nerve to pose with the big bright puppy dog.

Don't worry. The dog has legs, but they hadn't gotten that far yet. They only inflated his head and tumtum. They didn't even inflate his happy tail yet.
Dads posed with my favorite balloon, a monkey in space. My folks kept saying his name was Curious George but I don't care. I'm just curious to see if he can come over to play.

Dads' hospital sponsored a balloon. Here is the rump of their balloon -- they picked the Love-a-Lot Care Bear. I'm not sure how much he cared about Moms and Dads though, since she wouldn't look at them.

Where did Bob's body go?

Moms made Dads stand with the biggest bird we have ever seen. Big Bird, as he is aptly named, was dressed up like a grand marshall. Maybe he will lead the parade tomorrow. Here's a picture of that big dog again, along with Betty Boop who said hi to everybody. I think that little girl across from Boopy is crying.

Moms and Dads are so excited that they've figured out how to take video on their digital camera that they video tape *everything* now. Moms took a video of how they blow up the balloons but Blogger doesn't like video uploads today; she'll post it up later. You know, all of the floats are tied to the ground with great big bags of catnip. The parade is tomorrow and they expect 100,000 people. Even with all of that catnip there, I will stay at home, thank you.

In other news, Moms asks that everyone *not* discuss the Yale/Harvard game that happened this afternoon. She's pretending the whole mess never even happened...

Purrs from your virtual cat, JDamn!

A Grand Weekend Out

2007-11-12T20:24:00.000-05:00

Moms and Dads went to Maine this weekend to see Mam, Bamp, Uncle Blaine, Auntie Patty, Uncle Dale, Auntie Chris, Nikki, Dave, Marissa, Kasey, Boy Kasey, Mac, CJ, Dylan and newest baby Cameron. Because they were going away and they felt guilty, they sent me to the pleasure palace, which is more commonly known as Captain Kitt's All-Inclusive Kat Spa. At the Spa (pronounced "spah"), Archy and I stayed in the Surf and Turf suite. We were given three rooms that were connected with tunnels, which were big enough for chubby tumtums to fit through, and had unobstructed views of both the 55-gallon fish tank and the parakeets in the cage. (Both were frustratingly out of reach.)

Moms and Dads took Archy and I to the spa because, two nights before they went to Maine, I woke them up at three in the morning with an asthma attack. It was a mild one, but it scared Moms so much that she woke up Dads so he could watch too. (They literally stare at me. It's kind of annoying.) The peoples at Captain Kitt's could give me medicine. I was tough and said I wouldn't take any while I was there, though. The "First Mate" lady told Moms something about my prednisone being "in" my catnip night cap but I don't know what she was talking about.

At Captain Kitt's, I received great treatment. I got an appetizer with every dinner (a shrimp!), wet food, kibbles and a cat nip night cap. Moms and Dads also felt so happy that they sprung for a 10 minute massage for both Archy and I every day. Unfortunately, I had my grumpy pants on every time it was was massage "time" and, instead of being po-lite, I showed fang and growled. Archy, however, was all about the massage. He watches fancy-pants teevee like the Home and Garden channel and said that he's been thinking about adding massage as a feature of his business, Work Out Basement. So, when it was massage time, he went limp and lapped it up. In all, Archy got four massages. I got none -- but Archy said that's what you get when you have your grumpy pants on. We also got play time and got to watch cat teevee that aired "The Kitty Show." It's almost better than Ellen.

Moms and Dads came to get us today. I cried but was excited to go home too. The whole way home, I talked. I told Moms and Dads about the fishies and the birds and how the Captain and First Mate said that they were only for looking and not for touching and that they didn't believe me when I told them fishies and birdies would like being kept warm in my mouth. Then I told them all about shrimps (Moms is allergic but I'm not!) and catnip night caps and how we should incorporate these culinary rituals into our nightly feedings. (I mean, just dumping measured diet kibbles into a bowl doesn't necessarily scream Four Seasons.) Moms kept saying, "Uh-huh. Uh-huh." But then, as we were coming up to New Haven, Moms said, "Uh-oh." Dads said, "What?" Moms said, "I think Archy's got to go." Dads thought Moms was crazy, but I knew. I was meowing to Archy, "Why didn't you go before we got in the car? That's what parents are always saying!!!" And Archy just cried back, "I don't know! I don't know! BUT I HAVE TO GO!" And, meanwhile, Dads kind of thinks that Moms is nuts for thinking that Archy has to go potty. I mean, really, how would she know?

Moms was right. We got to the Milford Mall exit and, wolla, Archy pooped. Boy. Did he poop. He knocked the new car sniff right out of Moms' car, Eli. And, for the remaining ten minutes home, Moms and Dads gagged and laughed. Moms threw up a little in the yard when we all got home and we all learned a lesson -- go before you get in the car.

I had to sniff everything once we got home but, now that I'm sure I'm home, it's good to be here. I had fun at Captain Kitt's though. I am sorry that I growled at the First Mate. It's just that, sometimes, I wear grumpy pants (I get it from my Moms) and, well, I'm just not myself if I'm not snuggled up next to my Moms and Dads.

I learned a rating system from a book on tape that Moms and Dads listened to on the ride home. It was by Ruth Reichel, former restaurant critic of the New York Times, called "Garlic and Sapphires." She rates things with stars. I , however, like squirrels. So. I give Captain Kitt's three squirrels. Three furry, warm, squishy squirrels. I love the squirrels and I hearted Captain Kitt's too.

JDamn - OUT!

Dad's the Man

2007-10-27T21:06:00.000-04:00

As you may recall from my previous post, I was accused of being 23.3 pounds. Let me repeat, Twenty-Three-Point-Three Pounds. This was due to my "weigh in" at Dr. Vicki's office where I was kept in the carrier for Moms' and Dr. Vicki's "protection." Anyhow. There, I weighed 24.3 lbs, and both Dr. Vicki and Moms estimated the carrier to weigh one pound, so they did some fancy math and came up with 23.3 pounds.

When Moms told Dads that she estimated my manly pink carrier at one pound, he said, "No way, Jose. No way does that carrier weigh one pound." So, the next night, I thought the cat carrier would be a cosy place to sleep. Moms thought, "Hey, we'd better get JD's baseline weight on our home scale." So she locked me in the carrier and brought down our bathroom scale. She put me and the carrier on the scale and it weighed 25.3 pounds, a full pound heavier than at Dr. Vickie's house. Moms and Dads couldn't believe it, so they got Moms' three-pound dumbbell. Sure enough, the scale said 3.0 pounds. So. The home scale is accurate. Moms made some scrunchy face about it. I don't know why...

Then Dads took me out of the carrier and just weighed it. It was 4.5 lbs, not the one pound that Moms and Dr. Vickie "estimated." So, in twenty-four hours, I dropped two and a half pounds. That's ten percent of my body weight!!! I asked Dads if we could celebrate Man Style with lots of fatty treats and a beer for me to sniff, but then he talked about "healthy diet" and how Jared from Subway should be an inspiration to me. Then I asked if, instead, I could have some of those "just under two calorie treats" that Moms bought at Target. Dads said OK and gave me a handful; he just said, "Don't tell Moms." (Hope she doesn't read this blog.)

Moms found this cartoon online. Dads must have drawn it. It is just like me at five in the morning. I hope you enjoy it. I am available to do wake-up calls on the tel-ee-phone if you need one. (You do have to answer the phone and tell me what a cute kitty I am, along with paying me with handfuls of two-calorie treats.)

Jdamn-OUT!

The Biggest Loser

2007-10-24T07:34:00.000-04:00

Hello, JDamn! Fans -

It's me, JDamn. If you're a true fan, you've read my earlier post about my asthma. Yes. I have asthma. Thanks to Fritz the Brave, Moms realized that my recent sitting up and hacking moments weren't a failed attempt to get a furball up -- they were actually mild asthma attacks. So now, instead of cheering, "You can get that furball up, John! Go, John, Go!," Moms and Dads freak out and cry.

I think Moms freaked out more than Dads did, because Moms went to work late so that I (and only I) could make a special trip to see Dr. Vickie at the v-e-t-'-s office. Archy was "excused" and got to stay home all by himself. I do not know why he was so "special." Moms kept telling me that I was "special" too, but I somehow think it was in a different, more poking-and-prodding type of way.

So I put on my brave pants (ok, I didn't - I tried to get under the bed but Moms pulled me out at the last moment) and went to Dr. Vickie's house. When I got to go on her "table," I thought it was nice for one second. Then I realized it was steel instead of wooden--and there was no tablecloth. So I went right back in my crate. Unfortunately, the crate could be opened from the top and the side -- so both Moms and Dr. Vickie could touch me from a variety of directions.

When Dr. Vickie came in, I put on a show. I hissed. I growled. But I still let her give me a kitten massage (I growled only when she stopped) and clean my ears with a fantastically long q-tip (that felt damn good, too). But they couldn't get me out of that crate, until Dr. Vickie asked if I could go have some "alone time" with her. I couldn't believe it when MOMS SAID YES. Dr. Vickie told Moms that she got me out of the crate and held me in a funny position and took three vials of blood from my kitten thigh and that I'm so chubby that I didn't even know I got poked. She also said I was "all talk" and didn't swat or bite at all. What really happened was that I was a swatting ninja and they were so scared of me that they couldn't even touch me. They just told Moms that they got my blood but, in fact, they put some Kool-Ade and water in vials and called it a day.

After all this, Moms keeps talking to Dr. Vickie. The words "DIET" and "PRESCRIPTION KIBBLES" keep getting repeated over and over. Then Dr. Vickie gave Moms some more of my prednisone and we were free to go. But we stayed in the lobby. Then this giant bag of Hill's Prescription W/D kibbles (W = weight loss, no clue what D is) showed up. And then, Dr. Vickie had the nerve to come out in the lobby, in front of everyone (ok, we were alone, but still), and say, "Let's get John's baseline weight." BASELINE WEIGHT. To not traumatize me any further, they kept me in the carrier and weighed me with it. With the carrier, which they estimated at 1 lb. (I think it's really more like 10 pounds), I weighed 24.3 lbs. There was a lady in the weighing room, holding her cat, waiting to see Dr. Vickie. When we left the room, the lady hugged her cat and said, "You're so skinny and pretty, Cat. You're so skinny and pretty." In my heart, I hold a little bit of hate for that woman.

So. Both Archy and I are now unwilling contestants on The Biggest Loser. Moms said she'll be Bob (because she likes Yoga) and Dads will be Jillian (because she's a bad ass). I don't know which one of us each has chosen but I hope I get Moms because I already do yoga in my sleep.

At least the prescription kibbles are yummy. Archy and I gobbled them all up last night for supper. Moms says to check back here to check my weight progress; the goal is for me to lose three pounds in two months. Instead, why don't you just say that I've already lost 10 pounds from that one bowl of kibble and the diet is over? Tell everyone. I'll be a miracle cat.

Mwah!
From JDamn!

Seasons - They are a Changin'

2007-10-21T19:37:00.000-04:00

It's something called "Fall" here in Connect-ee-cut. Archy says this is the time when the air gets crisp, leaves turn from green to bright golden colors and tumble to the ground, and folks go apple picking.

Well, it's been warm. Today it was 75. Second, only a few trees have turned colors; the rest are still summertime green. Third, we got them apples! Last weekend, Moms and Dads went to Bishop's Orchard and got on a wagon and picked apples! It was Moms' first time picking apples. They got five types of apples but I can't remember what kind. Anyhow, there were so many apples on the trees that they looked like bunches of grapes.

It was $1 per pound of apples. Moms and Dads picked over eight pounds of apples, more than they eat in an entire year! We still have apples here. They are big and crispy. I do not like them in my food.

Then Moms and Dads went to Bishop's Orchard's store. They sell things like apple cider, fresh veggies, prepared food, yummers desserts and fruit wines. But they also have a huge outdoor festival in the fall. They have a million punkins to pick from, make-your-own-scarecrow and, yes, fresh maple kettle corn. Here is mom chowing an entire bag of it in front of some of the punkins. (She claimes she shared it with Dads but, when I ask Dads, he just shakes his head no.)

Moms and Dads didn't buy a punkin at Bishop's Orchards though. They bought one today from some garden store in Westport. Dads says it is a really nice punkin and we should take a picture of it before we carve it all up and make it rot.

Then yesterday, Moms and Dads put on their Halloween party pants. We have no idea how many kids will come and take things from us but Moms keeps hoping that lots of people will show up. (I don't know why.) They decorated half of the walk way and the garden gate with orange and purple lights with orange and purple lanterns. (Moms is going back to Target to get more lights this week because we ran out.) They look really, really nice from the upstairs window. Moms has a Halloween flag that says "Treats Here" that Dads is going to put up on Halloweenie night. On that night, I'll be upstairs, under the bed.

These are the lights along the walkway with the lanterns. They're really nice. Dads did lots of work to make them all pretty...I mean, manly.

This is the view from our front door. Moms and Dads hope the lights will help guide the kiddies to the door for treats. I hope it will provide a clear, illuminated path for them to get out.

Happy Fall!

JDamn - OUT!

My P.S.A. about F.A.A.

2007-10-19T18:46:00.000-04:00

Hello to my loyal JDamn! blog readers. Today, my entry is a Public Service Announcement about a terrible, terrible affliction for kittens and kats - asthma. Yes, readers. I am a sufferer of kitten asthma. And it is a horrible thing.

First, I wheeze. It's not too bad in the summertime but it's bad when fall and the winter arrive. Lately, I've been what Moms and Dads affectionatly call a "wheezer bunny." It's so bad that sometimes I wake up Moms at night because I'm so loud.

Second, I cough. It's true. I can sit up and cough. It sounds like you're coughing but the doctors told Moms and Dads that the noise is the constriction of my throat. In normal words, it means my throat closes up. I have become wicked good at coughing at really brilliant moments that make my folks giggle (even though kat coughs aren't funny). For instance, if I am dissatisfied with, let's say, dinner, I will stare at my "meal," stare at the preparer, stare at my "meal" again, stare at the preparer and cough. It's an affliction but also a tool.

Third, I get asthma attacks. It's been a long time since I had a really bad one. When they're bad, my tongue falls out of my mouth and I cannot breath without opening my mouth wide and my sides get really puffy and I look like I'm going to fall over. I had them when I was little and I played too hard. Now, I just randomly sit up and sound like I'm trying to hack up a fur ball but I'm not -- I'm just moving fluid and stuff out of my lungs because I cannot breathe.

There is a cat named Fritz the Brave who also has asthma. He started a website all about Feline Asthma Awareness (FAA - not to be confused with the airplane people). Fritz even was videotaped having the asthma attacks that I have been having lately. It is narrated by some guy who tells you what is going on.

To manage my asthma, I am on prednisone. Lately, I'm taking it every night but today I will be taking it twice because Moms saw the above video and realized I haven't been trying to hack up a furball but have been having asthma attacks and now she's freaked.

Unfortunately, the doctors "think" that asthma is triggered by weight gain or being overweight. (And, might I add that prednisone causes one to gain weight. It is a chubb-chubb situation here.) I have been watching "The Biggest Loser" with Moms and Dads. I am not in that much need of losing that much weight but Moms disagrees. She got huffy today and didn't give me wet food for dinner. I'm mad but am wheezing so I didn't push it. But I did cough at her.

So there you have it, faithful readers. You are now aware of kitten asthma. I know it is Breast Cancer Month now. Maybe next month can be Kitten Asthma Awareness Month (KAAM).

With wheezes, JDamn - OUT!

Toujour Gai!

2007-10-07T10:07:00.000-04:00

Hello. It is I, Archibald Cat McLaughlin. My Uncle Ron sent Mother a note asking how our names came about. I felt it was time that I took to the typing helm, with less exertion than my namesake of course (yes, Mother takes dictation), and shared my naming with those of you who actually read my brother's blog.

My mother named me after Archibald, a poet with a tormented soul who died and was reincarnated into the body of a cockroach. In the 1910s and 1920s, Mr. Don Marquis left a piece of blank paper in his Royal typewriter and Archibald the roach head-butted out his soul, sharing his view from the underbelly of the world. Mr. Marquis was kind enough to reprint Archy's words daily in the New York Sun and, later, the New York Tribune. While Archy mostly spoke about being a Manhattan cockroach (who occassionally went to the other boroughs and, later, to international places such as Egypt), he also discussed a cat who followed him everywhere. Her name was Mehitabel and she had no mind. She kept giving birth to kittens and forgetting where she left them. Her motto - Tourjour gai! And she often swore, always dictated by Archy as "wotthehell."

When Mother took a look at me, she saw the torment in my eyes. While being a damn cute kitten (and now an adult cat), she saw that I had so much to say and yet couldn't because my poetic soul was trapped in the body of a furry kitten with only kitten lips to try to whisper out my words. My paws are too big to type; and sitting on the computer keyboard only affords me a series of letters that are dkdjidjfoaihhrelwnlkldndlkdkhfdoiiy that no one can translate but I. My lack of ability to share my poetry with the world often makes me tense, jumpy and, of course, tormented, like my namesake. But, thankfully, I have parents who understand and they love me nonetheless.

Here's the first poem about Archy that appeared in the New York Sun. Remember, everything Archy types is in lower case because, on a Royal typewriter, you need to hold down TWO keys in order to get CAPITAL letters and a lowly cockroach certainly doesn't have the capacity for that.

the coming of archy
By Don Marquis

the circumstances of Archy's first appearance are narrated in the following extract from the Sun Dial column of the New York Sun.

Dobbs Ferry possesses a rat which slips out of his lair at night and runs a typewriting machine in the garage. Unfortunately, he has always been interrupted by the watchman before he could produce a complete story.

It was at first thought that the power which made the typewriter run was a ghost, instead of a rat. It seems likely to us that it was both a ghost and a rat. Mme. Blavatsky's ego went into a white horse after she passed over, and someone's personality has undoubtedly gone into this rat. It is an era of belief in communications from the spirit land.

And since this matter had been reported in the public prints and seriously received we are no longer afraid of being ridiculed, and we do not mind making a statement of something that happened to our own typewriter only a couple of weeks ago.

We came into our room earlier than usual in the morning and discovered a giant cockroach jumping about on the keys.

He did not see us, and we watched him. He would climb painfully upon the framework of the mahcine and cast himself with all his force upon a key, head downward, and his weight and the impact of the blow were just sufficient to operate the machine, one slow letter after another. He could not work the capital letters, and he had a great deal of difficulty operating the mechanism that shifts the paper so that a fresh line may be started. We never saw a cockroach work so hard or perspire so freely in all our lives before. After about an hour of this frightfully difficult literary labor he fell to the floor exhausted, and we saw him creep feebly into a nest of the poems which are always there in profusion.

Congratulating ourself that we had left a sheet of paper in the machine the night before so all this work had not been in vain, we made an examination, and this is what we found:

expression is the need of my soul
i was once a vers libre bard
but i died and my soul went into the body of a cockroach
it has given me a new outlook upon life
i see things from the under side now
thank you for the apple peelings in the wastepaper basket
but your paste is getting so stale i can't eat it
there is a cat here called mehitabel i wish you would have
removed she nearly ate me the other night why dont she
catch rats that is what she is supposed to be for
there is a rat here she should get without delay

most of these rats here are just rats
but this rat is like me he has a human soul in him
he used to be a poet himself
night after night i have written poetry for you
on your typewriter
and this big brute of a rat who used to be a poet
comes out of his hole when it is done
and reads and sniffs at it
he is jealous of my poetry
he used to make fun of it when we were both human
he was a punk poet himself
and after he has read it he sneers
and then he eats it

i wish you would have mehitabel kill that rat
or get a cat that is onto her job
and i will write you a series of poems show how things look
to a cockroach
that rats name is freddy
the next time freddie dies i hope he wont be a rat
but something smaller i hope i will be a rat
in the next transmigration and freddy a cockroach
i will teach him to sneer at my poetry then

dont you ever eat any sandwiches in your office
i havent a crumb of bread for i dont know how long
or a piece of ham or anything but apple parings
and paste leave a piece of paper in your machine
every night you can call me archy

Mr. Marquis used Archy mostly for entertainment but also used him to make major social commentary on the stock market crash, the Great Depression and Communism. It seems folks were willing to read about these topics when hearing about them from a cockroach. Mr. Marquis poems are still in print, and there's even a whole website dedicated to him.

I hope Jonathan's faithful reading audience enjoyed learning about my name. I suppose Jonathan will write some over-the-top explanation about his naming. His name, however, will always be less dignified than mine, since I am truly named after a major literary figure of the 20th century.

With cordial purrs,
Yours truly,

Archibald C. McLaughlin

Cats are Kids, Too.

2007-09-27T06:48:00.000-04:00

Moms and Dads get asked all the time by people, "When are you going to have kids?" Thankfully, they always respond, "We already have two kids. They are ten years old. And they're damn cute." They are, of course, speaking about me and my brother, Archibald Cat McLaughlin.

But then folks say, "No, the other kind of kids. The kind that take nine months to grow instead of the kind that come from Petco in Union Square." As we've rehearsed, they always say, "Oh, those kind of kids. Those are evil. We're not really sure about those."

Why, you may ask? I'll tell you why. Archy and I have met kids. Every time Arden comes over, she tries to have "Johnny" sightings. (Kind of like Ming Cho Lee sightings where Moms works only, well, different.) Arden tries to find me and, when she finds me, she whispers wicked loud, "I SEE JOHNNY CAT!" and then she tries to pet me. If she manages to touch me, she gets little girl cootie germs all over me and it takes me at least a week to lick them off.

Arden and her counterpart, Jack, are apparently things that fall into the "kids" category. As such, Archy and I are not interested. Lo and behold, photographic proof from Maine recently appeared confirming our fears -- the 9-month-to-grow type of kids and us kids do not mix.

Do you remember a long time ago when I posted a picture of a baby girl who was covered with kisses? Well, that girl (Marissa) can walk now. In fact, she can run. She can also grab cats.
This is Marissa with "her" cat, Tyson. At first, I thought for sure that Ty was choking on a furball and the tot was trying to help him. But then I learned from Moms and Dads that, no, Marissa was trying to hug Tyson which, yes, means that Ty is now covered with baby girl germs.
Apparently, Tyson kept coming back for more (so says her Moms) and so Marissa gave Tyson yet another hug. She also tried to make him throw up.
While Marissa may be smiling and is quite pleased with herself, I assure you that Tyson is in hell. Therefore, please stop asking my parents if they are going to have kids. They already have kids. Two of them. And we do not have baby cooties.

Cat Power!
JDamn - OUT.

Late Night Phone Call

2007-09-24T07:37:00.000-04:00

I was sleeping last night, snuggled away against Moms and Dads (I was the little spoon). And then the phone rings. First I think, "Oh, Dad's being paged." Then I realized Dads wasn't on call this weekend -- and the ring was coming from my Superman BatPhone. So I ran out of the room to get the phone. I said, "Hello?" And the voice on the other side said, "This is Bandit. I have your camp hostage."

At first, I feared for the beauty and comfort of Trump Fairfield; I thought it was being punked. But then I said "Trump Fairfield" and "Camp" and realized these weren't the same things. So I said, "Hey. Who is this?" The voice said, "It's Bandit. I'm a Maine Coon. And I have your Camp." I asked, "You're a cat? Are you chubby? My folks say I weigh too much but, really, I've never been able to talk it over with anyone other than Archibald and we're not quite in agreement that I'm FAT..." Bandit cut me off. "I'm not a cat. I'm a Racoon. A Maine Coon. And I have your camp. Your BAMPIE'S CAMP."

At first I freaked out. Then I realized I'm not allowed to cross the street, let alone leave the door. So I couldn't physically fix the problem. I said, "Pretty please, leave my Bampie's Camp alone." Bandit just said, "Ha. Ha. Ha." Then there was a click. I tried talking for a while more (if anything, to get another opinion on the weight thing) but the phone started beeping and then I fell back asleep. This morning, these pictures were in my email box with two words: "Love, Bandit." Thankfully, he left paw prints. I think we can get 'em...

Alone Time

2007-09-23T19:31:00.000-04:00

Hey, Jdamn fans! It's me, Jdamn.
Me, Archy, Moms and Dads have been in serious negotiations these many years about "alone time." You see, Moms and Dads don't seem to give Archy and me "space" on something called the "weekend." We are growing boys. We need our sleep, at least sixteen hours a day of it. On the weekend, Moms and Dads want to have "scheduled time." There's kibble time, snuggle time, poo time, play time, sitting in Trump Fairfield time - they want to schedule every minute of every day, sometimes even waking us up during the most important time of the day -- nap time.

Anyhow. Today, we came to an understanding. They left the house and we got alone time. We said they could go do whatever they wanted to, so apparently they went to Arden's house where there was a birthday party. Arden is four this week. (Note to self: I am nearly ten. Ten trumps four.)

For the occasion, she got something called a jumpy castle. (Note to self: must ask Dads for a jumpy castle. And an air pump.) Here's Auntie Xandra jumping with Arden in her birthday jumpy castle. Arden told Moms and Dads that the castle was, "weally, weally wumpy."

Jack is too little to go jumping, so he got a balloon instead. Here's Auntie Chris holding Jack, with a hammer that he got for his birthday.
Arden had party favors for her guests and, of course, herself. She put two party horns in her mouth because, well, two is funner than one. (Note to self: Need party favors for my shindig next week. Second note to self: don't tell Moms and Dads about my party next week. Third note to self: Get Moms and Dads out of the house again.)
Her theme was girly ponies. The pony on her cake was named Rainbow Sprinkles or something like that. (Note to self: Make sure Moms and Dads get me a cake with Rambo on it for my birthday in December. Sprinkles and sparkles are still ok.)
But then something happened. Arden had a big day. Actually, she had a big weekend with not much nappy time. Yesterday, she had a party for her school friends with cake. Then this morning, before her party, she had to go to a birthday party for a classmate of hers at the Little Gym. And then she had her own party with a jumpy castle. And she ate sugar. So, by the time it got around to the celebration part -- you know, blowing candles and eating cake, Arden didn't want to play any more. It didn't go too good. But she had to pose for her family portrait around her cake. Arden, well - Arden thought it was ok to be in the picture, but not necessarily to be happy in it. Jack was just wondering how that frosting got on his hand.
Arden got the first piece of cake, being the birthday girl and all. That was ok with her.

Then Jack got his own piece. He was only allowed to have it if he was a) swaddled in dishcloths and b) had a big bib on. He did ok, though rumor has it that there was a lot of cake in his lap, which could be why they're considering buying a d-o-g. (Note to self: make myself more useful on eating scraps from the floor. Usefulness could be improved if humans ate kibbles.)

So. I got a nap, Archy got a nap and Moms and Dads got cake. And I have lots of notes to myself.

That's my story. Next blog - WOB YOGA STUDIO - Action photos are coming your way.

Over and out - JDAMN!

For Adults Only

2007-09-15T17:01:00.000-04:00

**WARNING** If you are not a grown up, you cannot read today's blog entry without getting your parental units' permission. **YOU HAVE NOW BEEN WARNED.**

Yesterday, my Aunt Kasey had her sassy pants on. Aunt Kasey, who lives in a fancy pants trailer all of her own on Mam and Bamp's compound, is eighteen. For reasons unknown to us all, she's chosen to date a boy who is also named Kasey (same spelling, too). To make sure everyone's clear on who is being referenced, folks up in Medway have taken to call them Kasey and Boy Kasey.

Anyhoo, Boy Kasey turned seventeen yesterday. And, to celebrate, Auntie Kasey wanted to make Boy Kasey a cake. Auntie Nikki had a basketball cake mold that she used to make Marissa's caterpillar cake with -- and Auntie Nikki is wicked creative. Since Boy Kasey likes pool, Aunt Nikki said that Kasey should make him a bunch of cakes that were pool balls. But Kasey said that was too much work, so she said she'd just make Boy Kasey an eight ball cake. Aunt Nikki told Kasey that it would look like a poop cake, but Kasey said, "Nooooo," and went ahead and made an eight ball cake, covered with chocolate frosting.

When she tried to decorate it, Aunt Kasey realized that Aunt Nikki was right -- it looked like a big round turd. Then Aunt Kasey freaked. She had to go to work at the pizza shop, and didn't have time to make another one. So she begged Aunt Nikki to make a new cake for Boy Kasey. Aunt Nikki said ok. Uncle Dave was home too, so he said ok as well. But then Aunt Kasey put on her bossy pants. She said the cake better look good, and it better taste good, and the frosting better be nice, and it better be done by eight o' clock on the dot or else. Then she left for work. Well. Uncle Dave and Aunt Nikki took one look at each other and said, "Let's make a boob cake."

They surprised Boy Kasey (and Kasey) with his birthday cake when Kasey got home from work. Of course, Mam wanted to be in on it, so Boy Kasey got a boobie cake in front of Kasey & Nikki's grandma.

I think Aunt Kasey now knows that a) sassy pants can lead to trouble and b) a poop cake might be better than having your sister make one for you.

JDamn - OUT!

My Family

2007-09-12T21:01:00.000-04:00

Hey, everybody! We got another McLaughlin boy! (Go boys! Girls have cooties - except for Moms.) The talking people are calling him Cameron. He was born last week. When he showed up, he weighed less than half of what I do, but folks seem to think that 9.4 pounds is a "big boy." That's my Uncle Dale holding Cameron. Uncle Dale is Cameron's Dads.

That means that Dylan is now a big brother (not big in size, though, well, he is bigger). To celebrate, my Bampy brought Dylan a crocodile. I don't know why, but I certainly agree that a crocodile always makes a party sparkle.

Did I mention that my Bampy rides trucks with guns? Uncle Dale bought a truck (for fun). It is an Army truck. To show Moms and Dads how fun it is to use, Uncle Dale drove Dads up and down the driveway, while Bampy showed off with Dylan's toy rifle. I think he looks awful fierce. If I saw that coming up the driveway (whatever that is), I sure would run.
The last time Moms and Dads went to Maine, Miss Kathy got sassy and sat on our car, Eli. Then, when Moms caught her sitting there, she just starred Moms down and, apparently, Miss Kathy won, because Moms blinked. I think if Miss Kathy engaged me in a starring contest, I might play for a while. But then I'd wise up and realise that I could just sit on her (she weighs, like, six pounds). I'm sure sitting on her would be considered "winning" in some countries, right?

Bad Poos

2007-09-04T17:23:00.000-04:00

Hello, JDamn fans! Sorry I haven't blogged in a while. I cannot share my news without Moms' typing skills and, well, she keeps saying she's "busy" or "tired" or "asleep." Wotever. K. I have big adventures to share.

Archy had a bad poo. I mean a poo so bad that it scared Moms and Dads. (They said something about lots o' blood.) So Moms scooped Archy's poops into a tupperware container, scooped me and Archy into two kat karriers and we were whisked off to the new state-of-the-art emergency veterinary hospital, the Shoreline Veterinary Referral and Emergency Center in Shelton, Connecticut. Thankfully, Dads just bought a TumTum (known to the rest of you as a TomTom, a GPS system) that told us how to get to the vets' place.

We got to the vet and they took Archy away to "inspect" him. They left me with Moms and Dads in a lobby full of sick pups. I was pretty cool, calm and collected but, from all accounts inside of the inspection room (excepting Archy's -- Moms and Dads were NOT allowed in there), Archy lost it. They actually said he was "less aggressive" than they expected and the vet was able to "sorta feel" his tumtum through his "layer of chubb." (True.) It took 2 1/2 hours for Archy to be poked, prodded and to have his poo-in-tupperware looked at. During that time, among many animals, a cat came in and died (wicked sad), a pug puppy came in with a swollen face because he got bitten by a spider or a bee, and another dog had what could politely be referred to as a "rump problem." The receptionist got to scream "Front Desk STAT!" to the vets in the back three times but one time it wasn't really a STAT moment so she got repremanded for that one.

The facility was wicked cool and nice. I know, because I got to look at it for, again, two-and-a-half hours. Moms and Dads partook in the coffee bar and read "Cat Fancy" magazine. (They're now thinking of subscribing.)

At the end, they took Moms and Dads into a private room to tell them what was wrong with Archy. Since I belong to Moms and Dads, I came too. The vet (Moms and Dads are older than he is) said that it could be many things including 1) nothing, 2) a bad poo, 3) liver failure, 4) kidney failure or 5) cancer. Without further inspecting the poo, they couldn't really tell much but the vet thought it was either nothing or the worst. (He wouldn't commit.) In the end, Moms and Dads went with "Bad Poo" and took Archy home. He got some antibiotics (liquid -- just in case) but they didn't give it to him and, since the poking and proding experience, he's not had a bad poo.

Later that night, after Moms and Dads were asleep, Archy pulled me aside and told me what *really* happened. He said that the vet and the veternariry staff were all aliens. Yes, they did poke and prod him. Yes, they did look at his poo in the tupperware. But after that, they asked him to BE THEIR LEADER, just like Gonzo in "Muppets from Space." (We just got HBO.) He didn't know what to say -- he said he needed some time to think about it -- exactly two-and-one-half hours. He thought about it but, in the end, he decided he was just to brilliant to only "lead." He had more to contribute to the world, including teaching us all how to knead a puffy kitty nest into the perfect blissful state. They said they "understood." Each staff member bowed to Archy Cat and then they said they wished him well. Archy's still not sure why they charged Moms and Dads money for the priviledge of being in his presence but, really, who is he to question such things.

Wishing you all great poos,
JDamn - OUT!

PS - It is almost my Auntie Anne's birthday. I hope Uncle Kent buys her kittens. Cute, chunky monkey kittens. Purrrific!

I'm now officially a winner!

2007-08-04T20:15:00.001-04:00

Hello, JDamn fans! I am here to officially report that, yes, I am a winner. Above, you see Exhibit A of my cuteness and brilliance.

When Moms and Dads got married, they got lots of presents from people all over the place. Lucky for all of us, the presents came in boxes and, in the boxes was lots and lots of wonderful packing material. When I say lots, I mean LOTS. So much that, when they put it on the floor, I got lost in there. Thankfully, Moms and Dads would come look for me (they said they knew where I was the whole time...something about rustling). Anyhow. This one time, Moms thought I was wicked cute in the packing material so she took this picture of me. It is entitled, "Where's Johnny"? (Keep looking if you don't see me. I'm in there.)

At Dads' hospital, they had a "cutest pet" contest. So he and Moms picked the Where's Johnny? photo and gave it the hospital people. Clearly they have good taste too. I WON THE CUTEST CAT CONTEST. When I received the news by phone, I made it clear that this was too small of an award to accept in person; in absentia or via satellite were the only options. So, Dad tightened his tie knot and proudly accepted my 1st Place ribbon from the hospital folks.

Here I am with my 1st place ribbon. Read it and weep.

But then I put on my compassionate hat and realized that Archy didn't get squat. If I was in the position where Archy won something, and I didn't get anything, I'd probably need a whole jumbo bag of treats to make myself happy again. So I called Dads at work and told him we need to do something nice for my brother; just leave it all to me. Dads said something about not being able to talk with a cat during work hours blah blah blah, so he hung up quick and I went about my plans.

Using bright pink ribbon and stencils from Moms craft bin, I made Archy a "Miss Congeniality" sash. When Moms and Dads came home, I pushed play on the stereo and it played trumpet fanfare. I marched toward Archy and said, "Archy, I have some news. I am a winner. I am THE winner. And, to prove it, Dads got a winner badge for me at work and they held a parade in Stamford. However, I want you to know that you're alright; it's just that you're not alright with a bag of po-ta-to chips. So, I present to you the official 'Miss Congeniality' prize. I hope you like it. I used scissors to make it. And I kinda ran with them. Anyway, here's your sash."

I put the sash around Archy's neck. He didn't say anything for a while. I think he was stunned. But then, it all went wrong. He started to growl. Then he ate his sash. Then he retired in the corner of the couch. I'm not sure he was pleased.

Does he look pleased?

Anyhow, I'm the winner. Feel free to continue your worship of me, JDamn!

Purrs and Winner Kisses,

JDamn - out!

WOB - Yoga Studio is OPEN!

2007-07-18T07:47:00.000-04:00

Hi, JDamn! fans! It's me, Yogi JohnJohn. Archy and I regret to inform you that Moms went over to the dark side. Despite numerous offers from WOB (including unlimited privileges to scratch my tumtum), Mom joined "The Edge" gym down the street. She said something about personal televisions with more than five channels, cool equipment like a "treadmill," and yoga classes. (She's only taken one but, still, she says that was something that WOB didn't offer.) However, she did say that WOB only had a water vending machine; no JDamn Juice Bar there!

So Archy and I held an executive meeting. We thought that we could lure Moms to join WOB if we offered a yoga class. So, I sat on a yoga book (during a nap, of course), absorbed all the information and wolla - I now welcome you to try JDamn Yoga. We stress relaxation and rest during the "exercises." The class length varies anywhere between 30 minutes to eight hours, depending on how relaxed the instructor (me) gets.

To now demonstrate poses:
This is called the Upside Down Cee. It is great to stretch your paws (if you stretch them out and wiggle them), and makes a nice curve to your spine. It is great. (Remember, pupils, no yoga mat is needed if you take my class on the nice king sized bed in Moms and Dads room.)

This is called the "stretch and curl." Reach a paw way up in the air. Then, take your tail and make it into a Dairy Queen curl. This is great for stretching your "abs." (It's also a nice sleeping position.)
We then end the class with "flat sun saluting cat." Park your hind paws on the floor and walk your front paws as far forward as you can. Lie down, tuck your front paws under your chest and then salute the sun with your neck. It's great.

Instead of chanting at the end of the class, we end with an asthmatic cough. Participants should then pay homage to their Yogi with bountiful treats.

Namaste,

Yogi JohnJohn

I Could Be A Movie Star

2007-07-04T20:55:00.001-04:00

Hello, JDamn fans! Friday was a big day. Archy had eye herpes again so we went to see Dr. Vickie down the street. Archy got pissed and growled at Dr. Vickie. I was all nice and casual and even said hi to Dr. Vickie. Then Moms got all sassy and asked Dr. Vickie if I could be weighed. Do you know how much I weigh? 23 POUNDS. I have gained 2 1/2 pounds (Dr. Vickie says it's my new Catkins wet food diet...) Dads swears that his finger was on the scale when I was weighed, which would certainly account for the 2 1/2 pound weight gain. Now Moms is making us cut back on wet food. This sucks.

We went home and then Moms and Dads got ready to see Mam and Bamp in Maine. First they stopped in New Haven to see the filming of Indiana Jones IV, which they're taping right around the corner from Moms' office. They had an open call for paid extras a few weeks ago.

I said, "Let's go!" but then Moms and Dads explained that I'd have to get in the car to audition. That put an end to that. They've turned downtown New Haven into the late 1950's, complete with vintage cars. Starbucks is a tavern, Woolworths is back and Claires Cornercopia is now a bakery. It's so fun that the New York Times even wrote about it! They couldn't get very close, but Dads got this cool shot of a motorbike that they're using in the film.

Supposedly, they're doing a motorbike chase through Sterling Library at Yale...that must of cost Mr. Spielberg a lot of kibble cash! Here is a picture of Sterling; I hope that guy reading the book is not there when the motorbike comes.

By the way, they also filmed "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants II" in the theatre where Moms works. (They filmed it in the University Theatre but will say that they're at some summer stock place in Vermont.) The film crew was ridiculously rude, but Moms is glad to report that she and Auntie Deborah saw America (she plays Unly Betty on Moms' favorite show) eating a sandwich at Atticus. Moms reports that America is really pretty and, no, she doesn't really have braces. Or bangs.

K. Anyway. So Moms and Dads drove eight hours to Maine and they had to go as fast as they could because there are lots of moose that are getting in the road. Cars are hitting them so they promised Mam that they drive after dark. They made it home at 8:30PM. On Saturday, there was the Pelkey Family Reunion (Mams family). They got a picture of Mam and Bamp's kids and stuff there. I don't know why they didn't ask pets to be in the picture; Princess and Bulldozer were there.

Then on Sunday, Moms and Dads left Maine wicked early (like 9 am) and drove to Boston for Auntie Heidi and Uncle Jeff's wedding at the fancy pants Fairmont Copley Hotel. They saw Uncle Gilbert(o) and even danced the hora. Then on Monday, they came home and we got treats.

While Moms and Dads were gone, Archy and I slept, woke up, ate, drank water, went to the potty and then started the whole cycle again like a million times.

Purrs and air sniffies,
JDamn - out!

PS - I forgot to mention that Moms betrayed us. She held Auntie Ashley's puppy. Wotthehell. She even looks happy in the damn picture.

Trump Fairfield - SOLD OUT.

2007-06-24T20:18:00.000-04:00

Dads works in Stamford, Connecticut. The other week, there was all kinds of fanfare because Trump himself was across the street from Dads' work to cut some ribbon for Trump Stamford. Dads didn't get to see da Trump but we got Dads a pink Trump tie for Dad's day so it's like he has a piece of him. Anyhow. Dads and I got to talking and we thought that there was demand right here in Fairfield, right here in our house, for a Trump building. So, Dads picked out some property (the bottom of the stairs) and hired a crew (himself) and bought materials (wood and a power saw and a drill that actually works from Home Depot). Then he did stuff in a cloud of sawdust and wolla - there was Trump Fairfield. I did a cursory sniff, approved the "model" and Moms and Dads painted it in the garage. Trump Fairfield was officially opened today. There's one unit and it's mine. Dads mumbled something about about "sharing" but I didn't really listen.

My legal council (Moms) said that I need to be clear that Trump Fairfield is not endorsed by Mister Trump nor does he even know or care about it. But if he saw it, he'd realize how wicked cool Trump Fairfield really is. It holds my (and Archie's) basket of sparkle balls, my wiggle worms, my stuffed hamster and my hairbrushes. It also holds me.

My fan mail should now be sent to: Jonathan Dangerous "JDamn!" McLaughlin, Trump Fairfield, Fairfield, Connect-ee-cut. The phone line is private; no calls please.

Purrs & sniffs,

JDamn

This, That and The Other Thing

2007-06-20T18:26:00.000-04:00

Hello, everybody! It's me, JDamn! Lots of stuff has happened since I last blogged. So we came back to our house in Fairfield. Coming home was nicer than going there because moms bought us a new cat carrier that both Archy and I fit into so we could be together for the car ride. We got home and found the rotten pipes in our driveway. They had pukas (holes) in them.

See? The pipes were junk. Good thing they replaced them. Archy and I had to stay in Moms and Dads' bedroom for another day while the "landlords" did paint stuff in the kitchen. Then we got to roam around the house again. It smelled better after they left.

Moms asked if she could put some of her pictures on the internet through my blog. Since Moms takes my dictation, I said ok. When Maine Bampy (grampa) was here, he and Dads built Moms some flower boxes for our windows. Then they got paint to match the front door (in case you're wondering, the color is called Atomic Tangerine) and they painted it and then they stuffed them with dirt and smelling things. I get to sniff them from the other side of the screen. It smells as nice as it looks.

Moms also spent all day Sunday weeding. She made a wicket nice garden right next to where Dads parkes the silver bullet. Moms really wished that she took a "before" picture so you all would appreciate her hard work.

Dads worked really hard on making a nice not-in-the-house area. My folks got some lay-down chairs and a table and an umbrella and a pit of fire. In the pit of fire, Moms and Dads like to burn yard waste. They figure if someone says it's illegal, they'll say that Maine and Hawaii Bampy do it all the time.

This is Moms' car. Uncle Max named him Eli. We went to and from the hotel in Eli. He smells nice.
This is me and Dads. (Hi, Dads!) For Father's Day, me and Archy got him a pink Donald Trump silk tie, a Trump shirt and Trump shorts -- because Dads is the Donald Trump of our life. The clothes we got him are wicked nice but I think it would all look way better with some fur on them. (You should see what I've done to our suitcase.) Anyhow, Dads also bought a power saw (the round kind not the saw back and forth kind) on Pops Day and he built me and Archy a window seat so we can safely sit with them when they eat outside (instead of teetering on the skinny ledge).
Dads built the cubbies so we can put our toys in there. He's going to add a lip to the top so mom can put a squishy rump pillow up there. They are going to paint it. Mom said something about painting flowers on it. Dads said he'd talk with Moms to tell her to paint something manly on there like monster trucks or Uncle Ron's motorbike.

K. Bye.

Purrs and tons of furballs,

JDamn - out!

Sheraton Four Points and Me

2007-06-02T21:25:00.000-04:00

Hey there, JDamn Fans! It's me - Hotel JohnJohn (not to be confused with the gnome from Travelocity). I'm here to give you the report on the Sheraton Four Points in Norwalk, Connect-ee-cut, where Archy and I are staying this weekend (with Moms and Dads) on account of the sewage problem at our real house.

On Friday, me and Archy Cat stayed in the cool, cool bedroom. Moms left the air conditioning on for us, and Dads brought up our kibbles, wet food and water fountain. The people who own the house (and the dog that used to live in the house) flew all the way from Chicago to stare at the hole in the pipe. The guy from Chicago ripped up the wall while we were up there. He even threw the kitchen sink into the yard! He turned off the water so no one can go to the potty, either.

Then Moms and Dads came home and put us in the scary carriers. We got to ride in the back of Eli (that's what Uncle Max named our new car). Archy's carrier was buckled in and Moms held me in my duffel bag (that's because she loves me more). We drove around for a while (in circles, I think) and we showed up at the lovely Sheraton Four Points Norwalk. (I think the four points are me, Moms, Dads and Archibald but others don't seem to agree. Anyhow...)

The first thing we did was get out of our carriers. Archy immediately flirt flopped on one of the two beds. I just sniffed EVERYTHING. This hotel gets an "OK" for smell.

Dads fed us (Moms got us Elegant Medleys for the WHOLE weekend!) and then it was time for us to pick our beds. I picked the one on the left, Archy picked the one on the right.

Moms and Dads asked where they were sleeping. Archy suggested the drawer and, to show them how comfy it was, he opened the drawer himself and got in.

Then Archy and I wanted to play. We picked "hide and go seek." I counted (to one) and Archy hid. Archy is not a good hider. I found him pretty quick.

Dads took Archy aside and gave him some hiding hints. Archy said he wanted to play again, so I counted to one (again). He still didn't get it.

I asked Archy wicked nice if he wanted to play again but he got all huffy and said he wanted to go to bed.
I didn't know what else to do, so I fell asleep too.
My ratings for the Sheraton Four Points Norwalk are as follows:
Bed: Squishy

Pillows: Squishy

Carpeting: Carpety

Water: Tasty

Mirrors: Have a cute cat in them

Smell: OK

Over and out,

Roaming JohnJohn

WOB - Closed!

2007-05-28T19:45:00.000-04:00

Dear Prospective WOB customers,

I regret to inform you that WOB is temporarily closed. That also means that my juice bar is closed. (Uncle Ron - we do have wi-fi. You gotta bring your own computer, though....but you might not want to plug it in...read on.) We got plumbing issues and, no, I don't mean that I can't go to the bathroom. We live in a wicked old house (1912 was when it was built - that was like a million cat generations ago). In our house, we have cast iron pipes. In the pipes, there is a puka (that's Hawaiian for hole). The puka is way up in the kitchen (first floor). Whenever Moms and Dads takes a shower (why they don't just lick themselves, I don't know) or goes in the potty, it rains in WOB. If you just said, eew - good for you because, yes, it's sewer water in the basement.

SO. Moms and Dads put on their executive pants and said Archy and I cannot go in the basement so that we don't get waste water on our paws. They brought up our potty and put them in the dining room and closed off WOB.

But fear not! It's all getting fixed. Our lord....I mean our landlord....is flying in from Chicago on Thursday and he's putting me, Archy, Moms and Dads in a HOTEL next weekend! Archy told me that there will be a fancy pants pool and something called ROOM SERVICE!!! I cannot wait.

Therefore, do not go to WOB or JDamn's Juice Bar. They are closed. Archy said there will be no refunds and he's not sorry.

On a happier note, Dads installed the air conditioner today in the bedroom. I like to stick my face in the cool, cool breeze and sniff. It's grand fun. You should try it some time.

Purrs and Cold Air Sniffs -
JDamn - out!