“My compliments to the chef. His cooking tastes
much better than his hand.”
Field Marshal Turkish von Turkenstein (commander, 1st Feline Home Defense Regiment), is a stout fellow and a resolute trencherman.
So when a crook gut puts His Excellency off his feed, as it did Friday evening, it’s a matter of utmost concern for the general staff.
He retired to his quarters, leaving orders not to be disturbed, and stayed abed throughout Saturday, refusing both food and drink.
An expedition to the emergency room was considered, and rejected. He prefers his personal physician, who is unavailable on weekends, and the ER is not a secure facility, especially when His Excellency is being treated. Anything might happen to anyone at anytime. When under stress the grizzled old soldier takes his tactical cues from the late Richard Pryor’s character Mudbone: “If somebody get hurt in here, I ain’t gonna be the last one.”
So we waited.
Finally, come evening, he agreed to take a soupçon of nourishment. An inspection tour of the litter box followed. And after a good night’s sleep, His Excellency greeted the morning with a substantial breakfast and the traditional nip at the hand that feeds him.
Mad Blog Media 
January 12, 2020 at 1:13 pm |
Our neighbor is one o’them “cat ladies” so we have feline neighbors all over outside, including on the pallet that is currently serving as a sort of porch (soon to be replaced by a proper steel ramp) tor the entrance to our ground floor shop. The other day there was some serious yowling going on outside – I looked outside to see the old gal chasing some unwanted feline visitors away with a broom handle! That took care of it and they haven’t been back, though some mornings we’re awakened by one of ’em making some racket – dunno it it’s to get in or out of the house. Various places on the island have become a sort of “cat sanctuary” where humans leave food and water out for them. The folks that do this go on about the island not having a rodent problem as a result so I stay out of it.
January 12, 2020 at 4:27 pm |
A bunch of cats acting out sounds like someone lifted the lid on Hell. But we gotta be nice to ’em because they invented the Internet.
January 13, 2020 at 1:05 am |
They say cats were worshiped in ancient Egypt and they’ve never forgotten. Italians are like ancient Egyptians in this way it seems. Someone was telling me awhile back there are actual designations for “cat sanctuaries” here with the guests enjoying special protection, though I guess it’s OK to neuter ’em. My only real beef (other than the yowling) is the mess made when folks give ’em food out of cans and such. Seems the freeloaders ought to be happy with the dry stuff right outta the box, no? Perhaps the cats watch those TV spots for the gourmet “Tuscan” cat food and are spoiled? Did cats in Tuscany spread the word? Do you put rosemary and basil in the Field Marshal’s dish?
January 13, 2020 at 4:50 am |
A little oregano, some Parmigiano Reggiano. …
Actually, as I understand it, cats are better off getting wet food, because that’s where they also get most of their water. Mimics the act of acquiring and devouring prey, I guess. This is one of the reasons we switched El Turko to a prescription wet food from dry kibble. He’s not big on drinking water and developed that stones problem, along with the occasional bout of constipation.
January 12, 2020 at 3:03 pm |
Glad to hear the health difficulties are behind the Field Marshal. It sounds like he’s the kind of guy to pursue a scorched earth policy during a vet visit. Our Oscar NoHuevos (author of “The Meowbo Cats Sing Songs of Love”) threatens and blusters and fights and bites until the vet techs take him out of the box, and then he’s a sweetie for them. Bastard.
January 12, 2020 at 4:24 pm |
Yeah, on their first meeting vets like to diagnose El Turko from across the room.
“Hm, yeah, giant white tiger, don’t get many of those in here. I wish we didn’t get any. That’ll be $150.”
January 12, 2020 at 9:27 pm |
Then they call Siegfried and Roy to ask if they’re missing anything.
January 13, 2020 at 4:42 am |
They decided to release this one to the wild. “Be free,” they said, knowing that a free cat is the most expensive kind.
January 12, 2020 at 7:45 pm |
Turk just says “Shut up and pay them.”
Anywho, glad he is feeling better. Duffy gets an upset stomach every now and then, and I worry my head off. He is turning 10 years old next April. We are both thinking he is our last pet. When they leave the building, it is way too hard to accept. I know I am preaching to the choir here, especially you and Khal.
January 12, 2020 at 8:13 pm |
Yeah, I sweat these periodic bouts of gut-rumble, big-time. El Turko is my boy, if only because we’re both assholes.
The Duffinator is a little fella, and you should get a lot of mileage out of him. Like Miss Mia, who is the same age as Turk but goes six pounds lighter and is a bundle of energy.
These big fellas don’t go the distance.
January 12, 2020 at 11:38 pm |
Know that feeling, I’ve buried far too many pets in the back yard. Get emotional when the roses that I planted over their graves bloom
January 13, 2020 at 4:45 am |
It breaks our hearts too. Herself still mourns The Boo. We keep his ashes in an urn by the fireplace. Chairman Meow is buried in Bibleburg, her sister Tina rests outside Weirdcliffe; we’ve left a lot of friends behind over the years.
January 13, 2020 at 4:17 am |
Good day ladies and gents! Duffy is doing just fine and has no major health problems. He is going to the vet today for the annual check and vaccinations. Patrick, I’ll send you a current pic of the boy. You can show it to Herself when you get in a jam. Can’t be mad for long looking at the Duffinator. By the way, he is the ultimate mouser which is how he got his moniker.
January 13, 2020 at 4:50 am |
Long live the Duffinator, Reaper of the Rodents. Send that pic, Hoss, and we’ll let everyone have a peek at your handsome lad.