Category Archives: Big Mean Kitty
We missed our dogs, Wonderbutt and Mrs. Pain in the Butt, while we were visiting our Houston cousins. But, one of the many perks of visiting our relatives, the Globetrotters, is that they also have two dogs. It helps us to not miss our own two Butts quite as much. The canine Globetrotters always keep us amused with their antics. And they seem to have a special affection for Dimples.
Lola, the Boxer, waits forlornly outside any room into which Dimples might temporarily disappear. She then covers Dimples with kisses upon her return.
Monté, the Jack Russell, tirelessly delivers his toy to Dimples as she sits on the couch playing Mario Kart. After each delivery he waits, patiently poised, for Dimples to fling the toy across the room.
Monté, the oldest of the two dogs, enjoys watching T.V. He was particularly entranced with Dimples’ choice of movie one night – Puss in Boots. He spent most of the movie standing in front of the television stand, staring intently at the screen. If Monté felt that any of the characters were crossing the line of good behavior, he would grab whatever toy happened to be the nearest, and ferociously growl while he whipped the toy back and forth in his mouth.
I am pretty certain that Puss would not have prevailed if Monté had not been so vigilant throughout the film.
Poor Monté has suffered from allergies since his move to Houston a year ago, resulting in an attempt by the Globetrotters to curtail his incessant licking of his paws by putting socks on him.
Despite the ultra masculine skull and crossbones on these socks, Monté does not allow them to stay on his feet.
I think that he is afraid that this restriction of his paws will not allow him to be fully aware of the constant threats from which he must protect the Globetrotter residence.
Unfortunately, the Dynamic Duo could do nothing to protect us from the return of my nemesis:
I think it’s time to get back to San Antonio.
My fifth grade students were discussing the question, “Which is more powerful – hope or fear?” I had found an NPR interview with a finalist in the Kids Philosophy Slam that posed this question a few years ago, and played it for the class. I wanted them to hear the high school student explain why he thought fear was more powerful. Apparently, when I listened to it the first time, I didn’t notice one of his statements. Basically, he surmised that the only animals that feel hope are humans.
Now, if you have a dog or two in your family I think you will agree with me that the thought of humans having sole claim to hope is preposterous . And, if you aren’t familiar with the canine species, I would like to submit the following photos. You be the judge as to whether or not humans are the only animals with the capacity for hope:
Sorry. Don’t know how the Big Mean Kitty one got in there.
I miss Big Mean Kitty. Yes I know it has seemed in my last few BMK posts that I felt a slight antipathy toward this psycho dog toy with homicidal tendencies. But I guess I might have had a soft spot for him after all.
We shipped Big Mean Kitty off to the Great Landfill in the Sky this week. We think. He didn’t go without a fight. As Cap’n Firepants lugged the garbage bag out to the trash, a series of squeaks emanated from the bottom. The whole Firepants household stopped what we were doing and stared at that bag. The Cap’n raised an eyebrow at me as if to say, “Are you sure you want to do this?” I gulped. “Keep going,” I bravely squawked, sealing the fate of Big Mean Kitty. “And make sure you put a really good knot in that bag.
When I returned home later that day, the garbage can was in the middle of our driveway. I had to wheel it out of the way to pull my car in. As I did that, and Dimples checked the mail, I surreptitiously took a peek inside. Empty. Phew. No, I really mean phew. It stunk in there. If the garbage piled on top of him didn’t do him in, Big Mean Kitty surely would have suffocated from the fumes.
So, now we have the replacement Big Mean Kitty, which was kindly bestowed upon us by our cousins, the Globetrotters. Seemingly unaware of the change in their leadership, the dogs welcomed the new potential troublemaker with a serious game of Tug of War.
But, almost from the beginning I sensed there was something different about this Big Mean Kitty. Maybe, it was finding him trying to escape, not long after the above episode occurred, through our kitchen cabinets.
Or maybe it’s his attempts to scoot under the sofa out of sight.
But I think it’s the fetal position I keep finding him in that is the real clue.
This Big Mean Kitty is a Big Purple Pussy.
At least I don’t have to worry about him murdering us in our beds.
Since I kind of gave everything I had yesterday, and my Writer’s Block shows little signs of subsiding, I am going to resort to the handy blogger trick of making a list. I’ve decided that I will update you on some of the previous posts, cleverly trying to get you to read other parts of my blog if you happen to be a new visitor.
First update – I’ve decided that I will definitely not do porn. Anytime soon. I have gotten more information on the Adult Spelling Bee to be held in December, and it seems that I will not have to do any stripping if I miss a word. My contact tells me that they will be selecting a book from which to obtain a word list, which should be fine – as long as it is from the Dr. Seuss series. If the words are more than one syllable, I may be in trouble. According to the organizers, there is no registration necessary, which worries me due to my problem with staying committed to activities in which I have no monetary investment.
Update Deuce – Wonderbutt’s Weight Loss Challenge. We have reduced Wonderbutt’s chow intake, and increased his two minute workout to three point five. Here are the before and after pics. The difference is astounding.
C. Big Mean Kitty – is on his way to the Great Landfill in the Sky. More about that tomorrow if my Brain Barricade is lifted by then.
4. Cap’n Firepants has not taken exception to any of the posts including him other than the fact that he still can’t understand why he is called Cap’n Firepants.
Next – Dimples is still torturing me with her homework and her questions from the backseat of the car. My answers apparently bear no weight though. I pointed out an excellent example of a skank yesterday when we chanced upon a Halloween costume site, and she asked me, “Now what was that again?”
*I still don’t do Facebook, even though there are lots of people I like.
Also – Every week I capture in my blogging web at least one person who apparently was trying to find out if John Denver really suffered from depression, according to my site stats. I’m not sure what would be more depressing – if it is the same person, or that there are multiple people with this concern.
Lastly – I’m also somewhat worried about the person who landed on my site when they Googled, “I want my pants back.” Was he or she hoping for specific results when typing that in? How disappointing it must have been to click on the link that directed them here. And so, I felt obligated to title my post today in such a manner that this person’s search will provide an answer to the somewhat demanding statement, “I want my pants back.” They might find it more satisfying than reading about the exploits of Cap’n Firepants, who I am not willing to surrender at any price.
Incident Type – Damage to Property
Incident Date – 9/29/11
Address – Somewhere in the middle of San Antonio, TX
Victim(s) – Female, age 8 and Female, age It’s-None-of-Your-Business
Details – The two females entered their home at approximately 4:30 PM, and discovered the following destruction:
The two suspects, AKA Wonderbutt and Mrs. Pain in the Butt, have past criminal histories of Destruction of Property (particularly when the tall, blonde one senses the approach of a thunderstorm). It is believed that Mrs. P.I.B. actually does the breaking and entering, while the short over-weight one with an underbite does the destroying. Both suspects should be considered toothed and dangerous. Detectives are also investigating the whereabouts of the possible Mastermind behind these nefarious acts – a suspect also known as Big Mean Kitty.
Anyone with information that will lead to the termination of these activities should contact The Wonderbutt Hotline at 555-0000.
Released 09/30/2011 at 5:00 PM
Since Wonderbutt dismantled our house the last time we tried a house sitter, we decided it would be more prudent to try boarding him and Mrs. Pain in the Butt for the two nights we would be visiting our cousins in Houston.
We had never boarded the dogs before, so we had no idea how this was going to pan out. After much research (okay a few phone calls), I finally settled on the perfect spot for the dogs’ Staycation.
Keep in mind that it had only been a couple of days since Wonderbutt’s Revenge in my car. So I had some trepidation about the trip to their doggy hotel. No need to worry, though. They were anxious in the car, but we arrived at our destination with no New Car de Poop scent added to my car’s interior.
Wonderbutt entered the building cautiously, sniffing the floor hesitantly at the entrance. Once the receptionist offered a few treats (I gave up the weight loss goals for him as soon as she pulled out the biscuits) he was more than happy to leave my side. Mrs. Pain in the butt, however, was not fooled by such blatant attempts to bribe her. She dug in her heels as soon as I turned over the leash to the attendant, and skiied into the kennel area while looking back at me pitifully.
Laden with guilt, Dimples and I returned to our dogless house to pack our bags for our Houston weekend. We tried not to miss Wonderbutt’s shenanigans and Mrs. P.I.B.’s relentless attempts to force her muzzle into our hands that weren’t doing anything anyway. It was a relief when we finally hit the road, leaving a far-too-quiet and much less gaseous house behind.
If you’ve read the last couple of posts, you know that we actually got to spend our weekend with two more dogs, so all was not lost. As our time to return home loomed, however, I started to wonder how our own dogs were going to greet us when we picked them up from their Rover Resort.
I was eager to try to assuage any vengeful feelings on Wonderbutt’s part by offering the new Purple Kitty gifted by our cousins, the Globetrotters. But first he would have to make it through the car ride home without Incident.
When we swung by to pick up the dogs on Sunday afternoon, Cap’n Firepants volunteered to chauffeur while Dimples and I sat in the back seat with Wonderbutt and Mrs. P.I.B. panted and drooled from her customary spot in the rear. Wonderbutt studiously ignored our attempts at affection as he stared at the car’s a.c. vent, tongue hanging down to his knees.
When we got home, instead of heading for any of his fave toys, Wonderbutt immediately went to the water bowl and tanked up. Then he flattened himself on the kitchen tile. The only things he moved for the next twenty minutes were his eyebrows as he watched us move back and forth.
He reluctantly rose to eat his dinner. And, for the first time since we’ve known him, Wonderbutt left food in his bowl. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone as Mrs. P.I.B. actually walked over to his bowl to snarf down the leftovers instead of the other way around.
Ignoring the encroachment on his bowl, Wonderbutt wandered out to the living room, and was soon asleep again.
His coma lasted another twelve hours at least. When I left for work Monday morning, he lifted his head less than inch, and opened one eyelid before crashing his face back down into the pillow.
Wonderbutt’s Revenge was postponed for now. And so was his introduction to the Purple Kitty. I’m keeping my fingers and eyes crossed that Wonderbutt and Big Mean Kitty don’t decide to conspire together during this brief respite from animal hijinks.
Our family is being stalked by Big Mean Kitty. He apparently took a much-needed shower and hopped on a plane to Houston so he could greet us at our cousins’ apartment this weekend upon our arrival. He arranged himself strategically in the entry hall with his rear end up in the air–the better to freak me out.
Our cousins, The Globetrotters (the most well-traveled couple I’ve ever met), tried to convince me that they had just purchased this Big Mean Kitty at their local grocery store, and that I shouldn’t take its pristine appearance and precise positioning personally.
In her attempts to persuade me that this Big Mean Kitty was a harmless imitation of the homicidal one we had left (I thought) at home in San Antonio, Mrs. Globetrotter went out the next morning to find one for us to take home. The last one at the store was purple instead of orange, only somewhat alleviating my suspicion. Just because the Houston grocery store near our cousins is the only one on God’s green earth that still sells those dog toys doesn’t prove our own Big Mean Kitty hadn’t kidnapped and gagged their new one so he could continue his quest to make me appear mentally unhealthy.
It did help the Globetrotters’ case, though, that they have two dogs of their own. I mean, it would have been really weird if they had a Big Mean Kitty and no dogs, don’t you think?
Lola, their Boxer, was quite fond of Big Mean Kitty #2. She pranced around with it in her mouth, basking in our compliments about her amazing predatory skills. I think, however, that her obvious pride had less to do with any affection for the toy than with her desire to flaunt it in front of her little brother, Monté, the Terrier.
Monté saw his chance when Mrs. Globetrotter brought the purple kitty home. He was quite certain this new toy would be for him, and was very disappointed when I put it in my suitcase, and carefully zipped it most of the way, assuring myself that Purple Kitty would not be able to make his way out and learn bad ideas from Big Mean Kitty.
Five minutes later, out into the living room pranced Monté with the new Purple Kitty. The zipper may have deterred Purple Kitty from escaping, but did not keep Monté from working his way into suitcase. According to Monté, zipping your suitcase most of the way only works when you have boring stuff like underwear in your suitcase.
After Purple Kitty was safely zipped all of the way into my suitcase, poor Monté was again toyless. Well, actually, he had tons of toys, but being shut out of two Big Mean Kitties seemed to destroy his interest in anything else.
To console him, Mrs. Globetrotter brought out a new toy, a kind of miniature version of Big Mean Kitty stuffed for some obscure reason into an ice cream cone.
Both dogs immediately lost interest in Big Mean Kitty and began to fight over the new one. Cruelly tossed to the side without a backward glance, Big Mean Kitty watched from the floor as Monté and Lola played their game of Brains vs. Brawn over the mildly disturbing Kitty in a Cone toy.
Monté knows he cannot win against Lola’s viselike teeth, so he has (with Mr. Globetrotter’s coaching) perfected the sneak attack, lulling her into complacency until she begins to lose attention. As soon as her focus breaks, he sweeps in to swipe the toy away. Only to drop it immediately when Lola leaps up and towers over him.
And so, the game continued. Monté and Lola played their parts tirelessly while Big Mean Kitty sat there and plotted his next move. The introduction of Kitty in a Cone was but a small prelude to the fate that awaited him when we returned to San Antonio. Purple Kitty was about to usurp BMK’s control of the Wonderbutt household. Intimidation was no longer enough. It was time for a new plan…
Allow me to introduce you to Big Mean Kitty, Mrs. P.I.B.’s favorite toy.
Big Mean Kitty has withstood a lot of abuse over the years, and he’s beginning to look a little like a candidate for the dumpster. However, I can’t seem to bring myself to throw him out. And it’s not just because Mrs. P.I.B. loves him.
Quite frankly, I am scared of him.
You see, that pose in the picture – no human in our house positioned him that way. We just came home one day, and there he was, chillin’ by the back door.
That time we took a picture. But there have been many other times that, for purposes of evidence, we should have and didn’t.
Like the time he was doing the splits.
Or the time he was doing a perfect bridge in the hallway in front of Dimples’, the gymnast’s, bedroom.
It’s a little disturbing to turn the corner in the house and see this:
Now, I was never one to be afraid of clowns, and I thought the main character in the Chucky movies looked far too ridiculous to be even remotely scary.
But Big Mean Kitty is freakin’ me out.
I think he might be a little miffed at the arrival of Wonderbutt into the household. Wonderbutt doesn’t treat him as mildly as Mrs. P.I.B. , and the stuffing has started to come out of his joints (Big Mean Kitty’s – not Wonderbutt’s) as a result. The abuse may have propelled Big Mean Kitty over to the Dark Side. What used to seem to be amusing quirks of fate now seem to be his own menacing interpretations of “I’m going to murder you in your bed.”
I was in the middle of composing this little tribute when we took a break for dinner. When I finished dinner, I got up to take my plate to the kitchen, and there was Big Mean Kitty, who had been in the living room when we sat down. Wonderbutt, who usually likes to take toys and whack me in the leg with them while I’m eating, was sitting about a foot away, looking up at me like he was saying, “Did you just see that? He walked right over here and plopped himself down next to your foot.”
No wonder the dogs weren’t intimidated by a snake in the house the other day. They’ve seen worse things creeping around.