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.

Sunday, November 13, 2011


Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!

Rohan is just the best, isn't he? He's the darlingest, bestest Rohan ever! Do you know what he did? He went through all the trouble today to go out and get me a box!

Isn't it beautiful?

I conquered it immediately of course, subduing it under my mighty bulk. It's the most awesome box in the whole world, black and orange, just like me!

Anne Elisabeth was wretched about it, of course. She said, "Actually, Minerva, he bought it to get the blower inside so that he can work on the yard. You're not really the center of the universe, you know?"

She's just jealous. Rohan didn't bring home a box for her.

Of course, the others didn't quite understand that this was a box meant for me.

Minion: "What ch'ou got there, Minerva?"

Me: "Mine!"

Minion: "Can a play wich'ou?"

Me: "I shall not grace that with an answer."

Minion: "I'll be reeeeeal careful. Honest."

Me: "Get that fluff out of my face!"

Minion: "Moooom! Minerva won't let me play with the box!!!"

Me: "Tattletale."

Marmaduke, of course, had to get all dramatic and feral about it. He thinks he's something. A cougar or something. I think he's a dope.

And Molly had to go and make it all about her!
"Um. I think this is my new home? I think? I'm a little confused . . ."

She's such a blonde.

Why couldn't any of them understand that Rohan had brought the box home for me?

"Um, hello in there? I'M the favorite, remember?"

But at long last, they remembered their worthlessness and skeedaddled. The box was mine! As it was always intended to be!

"Best. Lair. EVAH!"

Thank you, Rohan! I love you! *Purrrrr purrrr purrrr purrr*

Take that, Anne Elisabeth.


Thursday, November 10, 2011

Computer Hog

It is becoming increasingly difficult to find a moment when Anne Elisabeth isn't hogging the computer. She says she's "working" and cannot be disturbed.

Oh, she can't, can't she?

We'll just see about that . . .

In the meanwhile, devoted swains, I am having to be extra sly and sneaky to find even a moment to share my brilliant and ever-so-witty perspective of life with all of you. If Rohan were home, he would let me on the computer. I know he would, because he is beautiful and never wretched. But since it is Thursday, Anne Elisabeth kicked him out again (she says she's kissing him good-bye, but if that were true, why would he leave? Wretched Anne Elisabeth).

Oh, blast! Here she comes!

"Minerva, darling, I'm sorry, I need to work," she says.

Uh huh. Whatever.

I suppose I'll go take a nap on my favorite chair for a while. Dream up some vengeance.

Me, angry-napping.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

At Last!

For years now, it has offended me.

I do not appreciate things that make Anne Elisabeth exclaim, "Oh, how pretty!" that aren't me.

She had (do, please, note the past tense) this flower. A blown glass, blue and green flower, made by her professional glass-blower uncle. It offended my eyes. From the moment I first saw it, I knew that it must die.

But wretched Anne Elisabeth never could see eye-to-eye with me on that subject.

She first put it on her glass coffee table. I did not like it there. Pretty things that are not me should not be on such prominent display. So I knocked it off.

Alas! We lived in an apartment with carpet. The Offensive Object survived.

She moved it then to a bookshelf. I found it. It survived once more. She put it on a windowsill. I found it. Yet again, my plans for destruction were foiled.

I began to wonder if I should ever succeed in ridding the world of its offensive, sparkly, artistic beauty? I mean, it's just redundant to have more than one pretty thing in the same house, am I right? I make it a point to knock down any pretty things Anne Elisabeth insists on putting around, bringing the house into a place of perfect simplistic purity focused on . . . me!

It's all for the sake of art, I tell you.

Anyway, she married dearest, darlingest, beautifulest Rohan, and we were packed off to Rooglewood. And she hid the blue flower away from me, putting it in The Bedroom.

The Bedroom, which is off-limits to kitties. Which, of course, makes it so very alluring.

Rarely do any of us find an opportunity to slip through the Mystical Portal into that Forbidden Otherworld of Bedroom. But yesterday . . . Ah! Yesterday! Anne Elisabeth was vacuuming (see how wretched she is? I mean, who does that? On purpose?), and she left the door to The Bedroom open while vacuuming in there. Naturally, Marmaduke, the Minion and I all took the opportunity to duck in under the bed, hiding beneath the bed skirt.

Well, she caught Marmaduke. And she caught the Minion. But I am ever-so sly and ever-so slinky! She didn't even realize I was in there.

She left, shutting the door behind her, and continued on her way down the hall.

I slipped out from under the bed, hopped up onto the dresser, and what do you think I saw?

"At last! We meet again, Glass Flower!"

I knew it would not escape me forever.

I'm afraid I made a bit of a tactical error, however. I lingered too long, basking in the moment of supreme victory (as foretold by the hard wooden floor waiting down below). Just as I was batting the Offensive Object on its way to doom . . . Anne Elisabeth turned off the vacuum.


Oops. She probably heard that.

The next few moments were a bit of a blur. There were storming footsteps. There was a door slamming open. I saw a glimpse of wretched fury in my human's face.


It's not often that I manage to rile Anne Elisabeth up to a point of such ire. It's a bit of an awesome sight. She scruffed me and demanded a contrite apology (As if!), spanked me on my tail (Indignity!), and tossed me into the studio, slamming the door behind.

There I was left in solitary confinement.

It's a bit lonely.

I mewed piteously for hours, but Anne Elisabeth has a heart of stone.

But I listened to the sounds of sweeping and vacuuming as she gathered the shattered remains of the Offensive Object. Imprisonment was a worthy price for so sweet a victory.

Take that, Glass Flower.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

The Story of My Life: A Queen

Have you ever met a queen? I mean in person.

I didn't think so.

I have.

As you may recall from my previously related accounts (to be read here and here), the saga of my life had brought me to Anne Elisabeth's house and care, where I was collapsed upon a pink ploof, undergoing cold medications, and feeling a little bleh. But I was beginning to believe that I had at last landed on my feet and found a permanent abode.

That's when the scratching at the door began.

"Anne Elisabeth? Meeeerrowl? What do you have in there?"

Anne Elisabeth went to the door and cracked it open. I heard her say, "No, Molly. You can't come in."

Someone outside said: "Why not?"

"You'd only be scared. Marilla can come in if she likes."

"Step aside, Molly," said yet another strange voice. This voice was the last word in culture.  Smooth, sophisticated, confident . . . I had never head anything like it. "Make way for royalty, thank you."

"But, Anne Elisabeeeeeeeth!"

"No, Molly," Anne Elisabeth said firmly. Then she knelt down, picked someone up from outside, and backed into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. She turned around, walked to the bed, and put down her burden.

And that was when I first beheld the Queen.

And the Queen first beheld me.

Let me take a moment to interject something here. For all I am now Ruling Despot of Rooglewood, I would never make claims to queenship. Queens are born royal, as was this queen. Ruling Despots usually must rise from humbler beginnings, as is the case with yours truly. Ultimately, the rule of law is the same.

But this queen was a direct descendant of the royal and deified households of Egyptian goddesses from ancient times. An Abyssinian, pure of blood from tip to tail. She was an awesome sight!

There was absolutely no doubt among the members of the household who was supreme ruler.

See? She has supreme ruler written all over her face!

At first I was a bit too drugged, and she was a bit too surprised to do much about it. Queens, you see are not pleased to have new subjects foisted on them without notice (and Anne Elisabeth, being wretched, had neglected to ask permission). When she hopped down from the bed and came over to my pink ploof, I began to tremble. Afraid that she was going to smack me across the ears, I hastily leaped down myself and prepared to defend myself.

But the Queen was merely curious.

"Greetings, commoner," she said.

"Hullo?" I mewed.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Um . . ." I said.

"That was not meant to be a difficult question," she said.

I gulped. I knew Anne Elisabeth had given me a name, but I'd only heard it once or twice, and the cold medications were making it difficult to remember.

The Queen did not wait for me to come up with the answer: "I am Seacloud Marilla Fiona Von Altencat, Sovereign Majesty of the Household of Stengl from the remote reaches of Northern Wisconsin to this, my most recent annex in the grand city of Raleigh. Anne Elisabeth, my favored human, calls me Rilla. You, however, may call me Your Highness."

"Yes, Your Highness," I said. And gulped again.

Anne Elisabeth knelt down to pet me. "See?" she said. "We're all going to be great friends, aren't we Minnie?"

"Go away."

"Aren't we, Rilla?"

"That remains to be seen."

And then the outsider cried at the door again.

"Anne Elisabeth! Anne Elisabeth!"

Queen Marilla growled. "That creature wants in."

"Who's that creature?" I asked, trembling.

Marilla's tail lashed back and forth with the completeness of her revulsion. When she spoke, her words dripped venom. "Molly Boots," she hissed.

My eyes widened. What new horrors awaited just beyond the door?