Wednesday, December 21, 2011

This is How Christmas Works

I know all about Christmas. This year is my third Christmas, so I am something of an expert by now. I know all about taking good care of the Christmas tree. First, I help Anne Elisabeth to decorate:

 I show her which balls to put on the tree.
 Then I tell her where I want her to put them. This year, the Minion helped. I had to teach him the right way, after all.

Once everything is where it should be, I have Anne Elisabeth hold me up so I can give it all a proper inspection.
She did okay! Not great, but okay. You take what you can get from these humans after all.

Then, when that chore is complete, Marmaduke and I go through all the boxes to be certain nothing was missed.
 It's only Marmaduke's second Christmas, so you can't expect him to handle all of this on his own.

At last, when everything is in place, we have to give it a test-drive.

This is a good Christmas tree.

But, you know, a kitty must be careful and take good care of a Christmas tree. Make sure those branches are carefully chewed every so often, etc.

It's hard work, but someone's got to do it!

Do take a moment to admire the elegant sweep of my incomparable tail. Thank you.

My favorite part of Christmas, however, is the presents! I know all about how presents work! It's like this: Anne Elisabeth puts a bunch of packages with interesting ribbons and tags under the tree. I inspect them all:

And then I pick the one I like best. I pick . . . this one!

This is now my present.

It is beautiful, and it has a red bow, and it is mine. Isn't it the most best of all the presents you have ever seen?

Wait a minute.

What did you just say, Anne Elisabeth?


Label? What label?

Oh, that label. Who cares about labels anyway? They are purely subjective!

You just want all the Christmas presents to yourself, don't you Anne Elisabeth?

Bad, bad human. No.

She is so selfish sometimes. And at Christmas, too! What happened to peace and goodwill toward men, I'd like to know?

"All right, Minion, on the count of three, ATTACK. And remember, go for the throat."

Saturday, December 17, 2011

The Bad Time

Today is the two-year anniversary of the Bad Time.

It makes me sad to think of it. And Anne Elisabeth always gets a little bit weepy too. I just don't have the heart to continue my bid for world-domination on this day.

Two years ago, we had all moved into an apartment together, just Anne Elisabeth, Marilla, Molly and me. It was a bit snug.

I, being the youngest, was given the smallest room. Naturally. And Marilla, as the oldest, got the best, most spacious room above the rest of us!

But, you know, we were happy! We had windows to look out of, lots of love from our servant, Anne Elisabeth, food and comfort. A kitty couldn't ask for more! Not even a reigning monarch like Marilla.

And then, one day, Marilla stopped eating.

She had been sick ever since I knew her, taking daily doses of three different medicines (that Anne Elisabeth really couldn't afford but bought anyway). Nevertheless, she always had a good appetite! And she was always very dignified and very busy. When Anne Elisabeth put up my first ever Christmas tree, Marilla was the one who taught me how to swipe sparkly balls off its branches and bat them across the living room and into the kitchen.

But one day, she stopped eating. And she stopped stealing Christmas balls.

Anne Elisabeth pretended not to notice. Or rather, she noticed, but pretended nothing was wrong. She said, "Marilla, don't be such a picky eater!" and pulled out all the fanciest wet foods, putting it on her finger and holding it up so that Marilla would lick it. Molly and I weren't allowed any of it! It was all for Marilla.

And Marilla purred, and she licked. But she couldn't eat anything.

Finally, two days later, Anne Elisabeth showered and put on her makeup as usual. As usual, Marilla helped her, sitting on the counter and offering advice as she had done (or so I am told) since Anne Elisabeth was twelve years old. Then, Anne Elisabeth got out the cat carrier, told Marilla, "Say good bye to your sisters! You'll see them again later today, okay?"

"Bye, Marilla!" I said with a flick of my tail.

But she was too weak to speak.

They left. Molly and I sat in the window and watched. Anne Elisabeth came home soon after and sat with her cell-phone by her all day. She didn't work on her silly computer, writing her silly stories. She didn't do much of anything but wait by the phone.

And then the phone rang. Anne Elisabeth answered. Then she started crying.

"What's wrong?" I asked Molly, confused. It wasn't like Anne Elisabeth to act this way.

Molly looked at me very seriously. And it is difficult for Molly to be very serious, so I took her seriously when she did so. "I don't think Marilla is coming home," Molly said.

A few hours later, a friend came and picked up Anne Elisabeth. I think she went to the vet to say good bye to Marilla for the last time. She had been refusing and refusing to believe that anything was really wrong with our Queen Cat, so I think she was more surprised than she maybe should have been.

She stayed with her friend (Allison. I like Allison! And I like her husband, Chris, who always asks me when he sees, 'Hey, Minerva, do you want to come home with me and be my kitty?' I don't, but I appreciate the sentiment). Anyway, Anne Elisabeth stayed overnight with Allison and didn't come home until early the next morning. She cried all day and didn't sleep much that night.

And that was the Bad Time. When Marilla left us. Molly and I did our best to comfort Anne Elisabeth, and Molly even took over the duties of sleeping on Anne Elisabeth's bed with her at night so that she wouldn't be lonely or cold. I think our girl was glad to have us. I think we did make a difference.

But we couldn't make up for Marilla's going. Anne Elisabeth still cries for her now and then. It's a bit distressing to know what to do! But all the purrs and furriness in the world can't make up for the loss of a childhood best friend, I guess.

I miss you too, Marilla. Even two years later. You were a great queen, a powerful ruler, and a mighty inspiration to aspiring dictators everywhere.



The security of Rooglewood has been compromised! Immediate action must be taken! Stations, everyone, get to your stations!

It's cuddle time.

Okay. All better.

Being the smallest kitty in the house, one does feel a tiny bit overshadowed by enormous, clod-hopper Things upon occasion. I keep pretty much to myself these days. Oh, don't think that I've given up on my plans for Rooglewood domination! Anne Elisabeth won't thwart me that easy!

I just maybe need a little bit of cuddling these days. It's not that I'm insecure, mind you. No, no, I am never insecure. Not me. I'm far too beautiful to be insecure.

This is to make them feel secure. Absolutely.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Blue Rat

I got my blue rat back.

Isn't it a perfect blue rat? Rohan brought it home for me one day, and it is beautiful.

But then that Thing came and stole it and tossed it around by its tail until I didn't know what to do. I mean, who takes people's blue rats from people? Seriously?

Anne Elisabeth, as we all know, can be pretty wretched sometimes. Like when she brought that Thing into the house. And when she refused to get rid of it. You know, those times. But once in a while, she does things that remind me why I keep her around at all.

Such as the other day, when that Thing was playing with my blue rat, and Anne Elisabeth used the "MINERVA LOUISE!" voice at it. Except this time, rather than saying "MINERVA LOUISE!" she said:

"Millicent Noel! Drop it!"

And that Thing actually obeyed her.

Proving that it isn't normal.

Still, she fetched my rat and gave it back to me, and it is very beautiful.

But don't start to think, Anne Elisabeth, that one good deed puts you in the clear! I am watching you. Always watching you . . .

I'm watching that Thing too. Look at it. Sleeping around. Like it hasn't got anything better to do.

It makes me so mad! I think I need a nap.

But I love my blue rat!

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

The Thing

If I have to hear Anne Elisabeth call me "Minervous" one more time . . . well, I don't like to contemplate the potential repercussions.

Anne Elisabeth: "Oh, is my wittle kitty-cat Minervous? Does that great big doggy scare you?"

Uh huh. Sure. It was funny. ONCE. Not sixteen million times every day. And those are only on the days when she even remembers that I am around, mind. You want to know why? THIS is why!

She went and got herself one of . . . one of . . . one of those things! One of those huge non-kitties that bark and smell and stomp all around with big feet, and chew on bones, and STEAL MY BLUE RAT like they have a complete right to it, and wag their tails when they're happy (who does that?), and basically shove all their great weight all over the place until a kitty doesn't know WHAT to do!

Do you think I gave my O.K. to this plan? Who is supreme dictator around here anyway?

What makes it worse . . . Anne Elisabeth has the gall to say this is my sweet, darling, adorable, beautiful Rohan's Christmas present!

I know it's a lie. My beautiful Rohan would never actually want a creature so heinous dwelling within the regal confines of Rooglewood! It's all a plot, a ploy, a dastardly plan on Anne Elisabeth's part, trying to steal him away from me, luring him with bigger, furrier things. I can see right through her. I know the workings of her mind!

And by the way, I am not nervous.

Marmaduke was nervous:

The Minion was nervous:

And Molly nearly exploded with nerves and has spent the last few days living on top of bookshelves and china hutches!

I however, with my usual poise, remained perfectly calm in a crisis:

I mean, I'm not going anywhere near that ghastly thing. But I'm not all collapsing on myself with spittings and hissings and snarlings either. One has one's dignity to maintain. And one must keep a cool head when plotting repercussions for this show of rebellion on Anne Elisabeth's part!

The boys, after some close observation, decided that they didn't think she was really all that terrifying. Just big. And a bit slobbery over that bone of hers.

I don't care. She may pose no threat to our lives, but she STEALS MY BLUE RAT. And she takes attention away from me, which is not right. She has even tried to eat my kitty treats! I mean, how could she? It's not like any of us are trying to pillage her wretched dog food or something!

Whatever. The Minion doesn't count. The point is, the beast must be done away with. And Anne Elisabeth as well, for that matter, after this power-play!

I had an opportunity on Monday, the first day Rohan went back to work after they brought the Thing home. Anne Elisabeth, for the first time, had to take the Thing out to do its business in the yard (It's so stupid, it doesn't even know about litterboxes! Can you believe it?). The moment she stepped out the door, I saw my opportunity.

And I slipped up behind her and locked it!

Teehee. It was really funny listening to her trying to come back in! And then watching her as she went around to all the doors, seeing if any of them were open. They weren't. I saw that! For a brief, beautiful moment, I thought my plan had worked, and victory was mine!

But, alas, she had her phone her. And she called my Rohan, and he came and let the Thing back inside. Blast.

But it was funny hearing her talk. "Oh, Rohan, I don't know how that happened! I could have sworn I hadn't locked it behind me, I never do such things, I'm so confused etc." It was several hours before she finally looked over at me.

"Did you do that, Minervous?"


"Heheh, you're right. How silly of me to think so!"

How silly indeed, Anne Elisabeth. How silly indeed.

But in the meanwhile, the Thing is still here. I shall keep you updated on my plans to oust it from Rooglewood.

The Minion: "It doesn't seem too dangerous . . ."

Don't be deceived, my Minion. Don't be taken in.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Updates Various

I tell you what, readers mine, it has been insane trying to swipe a moment on the computer lately! Anne Elisabeth spends all day every day pouring over it, typing up her silly stories (which aren't half so interesting as mine, so why does she bother?), and when she is through, she closes it all up and refuses to let me get on it.

She's very selfish like that.

But today, I finally have an opportunity to update you on some of the events happening around Rooglewood from the four-footed perspective.

First item of note . . . the Minion was found to be with fleas.

Or at least, flea.

Didn't matter. One was enough to send Anne Elisabeth into a silly tizzy of tizziness. The Minion was tossed into solitary in the studio (Heheheh. He sat at the door and mewled his little heart out, quite pathetic! I would never do such a thing.) Then Anne Elisabeth subjected the rest of us each to a flea-inspection, which, if you have never had one, is a completely undignified procedure.

I tried to explain to her that a flea would not be caught dead on my glorious personage. Being wretched, Anne Elisabeth didn't pay any attention. Of course, she couldn't find one, not on me or Marmaduke or Molly. So Minion remained in solitary overnight, and today, Anne Elisabeth sallied forth to fetch home flea medication.


It's all gooey on the back of my neck even now as I type. And I don't even have any fleas! To make things worse, Anne Elisabeth has gone on a vacuuming spree. She vacuumed last night, she vacuumed this morning, and she's threatening to vacuum again this evening, just to be safe. I mean, isn't one vacuuming bad enough? Ugh!

I hate the vacuum monster. Whenever it comes out, Molly flees (Hehehe, or fleas! Get it? I am very funny today.) for the highest bookshelf top, Marmaduke skulks under something low, and the Minion disappears to who knows where. I am not so cowardly. I follow the vacuum all through the house and bat it on the nose now and then, just so it knows who is Ruling Despot around here. When it stops its grumbling roar, and Anne Elisabeth puts it away again, I scold her looooooudly.

But she never listens.

Hmmm, let me see, what else have we been up to of which you should be informed? Rohan is still quite perfectly wonderful. Want to see proof?

He grew a mustache recently. Anne Elisabeth laughed at him, but I thought it was beautiful.

Our souls are so in-tune, we even make the same faces!

And here he is without a mustache.

Ours is a Love for the Ages. It's a bond that few can understand (certainly not Anne Elisabeth). He is my darling, and I am his sweetie, and this is how the world should be.

Okay, moving on.

So yesterday, Anne Elisabeth and Rohan disappeared for a mysterious forty minutes in the evening. When they came home, Anne Elisabeth reached out to me and . . .

and . . .

Phew! There was a very strange smell on her hands. Marmaduke and the Minion noticed it too, and we sat, the three of us, for a long while, sniffing, sniffing, sniffing. It wasn't a smell I recognized, but it was strong and, I thought, perhaps animal?

"What do you think, Minerva?" Anne Elisabeth asked me. "Are you ready for a new sister?"

A new . . . what?

"And this one isn't a kitty, either. You're going to have a BIG new sister!"

A new sister. A big new sister. Not a kitty.

Could it be? Dare I say the word?

Is it a . . .

But no. I won't even think it. Rohan would never let Anne Elisabeth do such a thing! Not to me! Not to his sweetie!

"What is it?" the Minion asked me afterwards (this was after he was confined to the studio, and we were chatting under the door). "What was that weird smell on Mommy's hand, Minerva?"

But I hadn't the heart to tell him my suspicions. We will wait. We will see . . .

Wednesday, November 30, 2011


Some of you may remember from a recent post how, not very long ago, I won a great victory in my ongoing struggle for supremacy against that wretched Anne Elisabeth who, for some unknown reason, insists that she is the boss of me. She persisted in keeping a certain glass flower made by her glass-blower uncle on prominent display, despite countless recommendations on my part to smash it to pieces.

I don't like glass flowers. I made this very clear. One must be firm with one's humans, you understand. Firm and consistent, otherwise they will walk all over you.

So I broke the glass flower. Yes, Anne Elisabeth inflicted the dire punishment of spankings and solitary confinement. But it was worth it. My point was made.

At least, so I thought.

Thanksgiving day came around, and a mysterious package arrived for my stiff-necked human. At first, I was much too distracted by the fascination that is a New Box, to notice what she had pulled from it. I heard her say something like, "Oh, my goodness!" She's very exclamatory like that. And then, "This one is going into the china hutch where it will be safe."

Whatevs. Not interested. There was a box, and a box full of packing material at that, so what did I care?

It wasn't until today, while sitting on my favorite chair in the dining room, that I noticed.

Wait a minute.

Wait. One. Minute.

Is that what I think it is?


Uncle Art took sides with my human, of all things, and sent her a new glass flower!

Foiled again.

Listen up, readers. And listen very careful. I am earnest in this message I give you, and I hope that all of you will take it to heart and apply it in your homes.

If you give a human every pretty little thing she wants, she will be spoiled. Spoiled, I say! She will start to think she is queen of the household, and it will take EVERYTHING in any self-respecting Ruling Despot's power to get her back in line.

Why, Uncle Art? I cry you mercy, WHY?

It will have to be destroyed before any semblance of order may be restored to Rooglewood.

Oh, no. No! NO!

Curse you, Force Field!!!

Dear readers, forget not my sorry tale. And never spoil your humans.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

Lairs and Lurking

Lurking is one of my very favorite pass times. I'm a very good lurker. But of course, it is nigh unto impossible to lurk without a lair. Here are some of my all-time favorite lairs!

This is my favorite lair. Underneath the sink, tucked away so far that Anne Elisabeth cannot reach me!

I am quite dangerous and feral when I lurk under the sink.

Sometimes I like to lurk in the recycling box. I can only do this right after Rohan has emptied, though, so it's kind of a treat:

Another great spot I have found is Rohan's desk, right on top of the computer.

This works out well because I can always get Rohan to pet me while he works. And if he won't, I can chew the cords and make certain he pays attention!

I really like boxes:
Especially when they're full of crackly paper. Those make the best lairs!

When I was little, I liked to lurk under chairs just out of Anne Elisabeth's reach. Especially if I'd been a little wicked and she was using her "MINERVA LOUISE!" voice at me.
She'll never find me!

I used to like lurking in Anne Elisabeth's doll house. Some of those rooms made for excellent lairs!

But after we moved to Rooglewood, the doll house was sent to the basement, so I don't get to lurk there anymore. Too bad! But I have other good spots. Rohan, being wonderful, often brings home a good box:

I live here now.

And at Christmas time, I get a really wonderful lair! No one ever finds me lurking there!

Most Evil Christmas Present.

But of course, there's not much good in lairs or lurking if you don't once in a while surprise someone! My best surprise ever was when I sneaked up into the coffee-cup cabinet and lurked:

Gottcha! With my phaser eyes!

Teehee! Rohan is so much more fun than Anne Elisabeth.

So there you have all my favorite spots. But right now, I can't lurk. There's a spot of afternoon sunshine calling my name, and who ever heard of lurking in sunshine?

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The Story of My Life: Molly Boots

After the dire warning given me by The Queen (as recounted here), I was a little nervous, as you well may imagine, as to what new horrors lurked within this new abode of mine. When one is little, fluffy, and sickish, the world can be a frightening place. Not that I was frightened, mind! Not really.

Nevertheless, as the clawing and pawing without the door continued, I thought it best if I returned to my pink ploof. Just as a precaution, you understand.

And it was well that I did! For the next time my new servant, Anne Elisabeth, opened the door, intending to step out and fetch me something, in slipped . . . Molly Boots!

"What's in here? I know there's something here! Isn't there? I'm confused!"

At first she did not see me. I stayed very quiet in my ploof, wondering if I should escape unharmed.

"What'd you find, Marilla? What's up? I'm so confused! Is there something exciting? What's going on?"

At last, I deemed it time to make my presence known. I sat up.


The next moment, she was out the door, dashing for cover. I did not see her again for several days.

"Is it gone?"

Anne Elisabeth deemed it best to keep me separate from the other household kitties for a couple of days after that. They were a little spooked by my presence.

"Wasn't it scary, Marilla?"
"You know what's really scary, Molly? YOUR FACE!"

The Queen never liked Molly very much . . .

Anyway, because I had to stay away from the other kitties, Anne Elisabeth let me sleep with Nelson Teddy so that I wouldn't be lonely.

Nelson Teddy is my favorite teddy bear.

I found him very comforting.

He is still my favorite, to this day!

"Yes, Nelson. Someday, I will rule the world!"

So it was a little while before I interacted with Molly and the Queen again. Molly was just so terrified! I can't say that I blame her. I was awfully intimidating, wasn't I?


Finally, Anne Elisabeth let them in to sniff around my territory.

"Hello? HELLO! She is standing on MY litter box!"

Molly, having finally gotten over her fright thought she'd try to establish her dominance. Marilla was Queen of the House, but Molly thought she'd make me her minion.

Molly: "Um. So. I'm bigger than you."

"Do I look like I care?"

It didn't work. 

For a little while, it didn't look as though Molly and I would ever make friends. But if there is one thing that can bond two kitties, it's a good box!

Let's shake and be friends, shall we?

The Queen, of course, being much older and far superior in birth and breeding to the two us, generally kept to herself. But Molly and I had great games!

"I'm going to EAT you!" "No, I'm going to eat YOU!"

So that's my blonde sister. She's a little silly, but she's okay.