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.


  1. I must be quick as my human doesn't realize I have figured out how to use her computer. But I just wanted to tell you that you are my hero. Keep up the good work. With the help of my kitty roommates, we've almost destroyed all of her decorative cookie jars she had sitting up on top of the cabinets. Thankfully, she has no strange force field box. I feel for you, that just isn't right. Purrs!

  2. ROFLOL!!! Gasp, gasp!

    Say what you will, Evil One, but your human takes the best photos EVER—the PURRRRRRFECT accompaniment to your fine journal entries! I started laughing at the first one and they only got more hysterical!

    (Speaking of which, I'm impressed with your typing abilities with those fuzzy paws...)

    Good luck with that domination thing... ;)

  3. Well, I have grown up watching Anne Elisabeth typing up her silly novels (and chasing the awesome little movie arrow thing across the computer screen). It's hard not to pick up a thing or two, and I am ever-so agile and intelligent, being me.

    I will endeavor to continue being an inspiration to all kitty cats and doggies of the world who understand the struggle for household rule.