Big Pinkie's Big Day Out... Part Two

Yesterday I told you all about Big Pinkie and The Lady's "vacation".  They are quite happy to tell everyone they meet about it.  What one must remember, however, is that there are two sides to every story.  There is also a tale to be told about what happened to us poor feline friends in their absence.  So hold tight, kittens, here comes a story I call... "The Terror of The Man Beast!!"


I watched with trepidation as the tail-lights of The Lady's van receded from view down the long driveway. Something didn't feel right at all.  I looked at Tiger, seeking some sign he felt it too.  He merely shrugged and buried his face in the kibble dish, gnashing and crunching as if he would never eat again.  That was when it struck me.  What if they didn't come back?  What if that really were the last bowl of kibble!?  I had to take action.

I gathered my little band of comrades in arms.  Tiger, the muscle.  Gracie, the stealthy one.  Anime, the devious one.  I, of course, was the brains of the operation.  The plan was to use Tiger's girth to force open the door where the kibble was kept.  Anime would then scale wall to reach the shelf and throw the bag over the side.  I would then tear open the bag, releasing enough food to keep us alive until another source could be found.  Gracie's part in the plan was to huddle under the bed and worry that we were going to be caught.  In hindsight, hers was the only part played to perfection.

Tiger had just bashed himself against the door for the millionth time when we heard a sound from outside.  It was a car.  Tiger's face lit up.  "See?  I told you they were coming right back."  He then trotted over to the door to greet them.  Anime and I shared a quick glance of doubt.  We both knew they had taken a lot of their things with them for a "quick" trip.  The door burst open and there, silhouetted in the doorway, was a hideous man-beast!  He roared and stomped into the living room, sending Tiger scuttling away, fearing for his very life.  Anime was already well on her way to the space under the bed to join Gracie.  That left only me.

I decided to face to this hairy man beast cat-to-man.  There might just be a chance I could scare him away.  He lumbered forward.  Against my will, my eyes closed and I began to tremble.  Moments passed and I had not yet been attacked.  With trepidation, I carefully opened one eye.  To my astonishment, the beast had filled the kibble dish and was pouring water.  What manner of trickery was this?  As I watched, he pulled out the special treat bag from the place that only Big Pinkie knew.  He tossed a few down to me.  I wasn't sure whether to trust this offering, but Tiger was ruled as ever by his hunger.  His stomach led him by the nose into the kitchen and he gleefully ate the treats.  I watched him carefully, but saw no sign of trickery.  Momentarily reassured, I ate from the next batch of treats offered up by the hairy creature.  At second glance, the beast was not so hideous.  Why, he was furry enough to be almost half-cat.

Moments later, Tiger was curled up in the beast's lap as he watched television.  I stalked quietly around the couch and hissed at Tiger, "What do you think you're doing?"
"It's OK," he replied.  "It's Brandon.  Don't you remember him?  He does this every year when the uprights go off on vacation.  He feeds us and hangs out on the couch.  He's actually pretty comfortable dude."

Brandon... Brandon.  It was fuzzy, but I could remember something about a big, hairy beast named Brandon that came around.  Every year?  I couldn't quite make out any memory from that long ago.  The big ball of fire in the sky had disappeared way too many times since then.  But if Tiger had chosen to trust the beast, then so would I.  I leapt into his lap and discovered that Tiger was right: he was pretty comfortable.

We spent the next several days lounging carefree and well-fed.  We were alone for stretches, but each time we were on the verge of worry, the hairy man-beast would arrive.  He was jolly and warm and slightly squishy.  We couldn't have asked for more.  Then, one day, it wasn't the beast that lumbered through the door.  It was Big Pinkie and the Lady, looking exhausted and sleep-deprived.  It looked very much like we had gotten the better end of the bargain.  Until next year Man Beast... until next year.

The Hairy Man-Beast.  He frightened us, but we miss him.

So that ends my tale.  Heart warming and horrifying at the same time.  Come back tomorrow gang.  Tomorrow is my take on the Fall TV schedule.  Don't miss it!

Neyland D. Catt

Big Pinkie's Big Day Out... Part One

Hello again, kids. Hope you had a fine weekend. I certainly did! I went almost 23 hours straight without waking up. That's what I call a weekend. So, last week, Big Pinkie and The Lady celebrated Labor Day by taking a vacation. This seems a bit contradictory to me. It would seem more appropriate to celebrate "Vacation Day" by taking a vacation and to celebrate "Labor Day" by getting off your lazy hindquarters and doing some hard manual labor. (Preferably cleaning my room and fetching me something to eat!)

Contradictory naming aside, the notion of "vacation" is a hideously frightening thing for felines. Everyone packs up and leaves for an indeterminate period of time and we are left to fend for ourselves with the help of some stranger. Tomorrow I shall regale you with a horrifying tale of what happened to us while the nearly-furless uprights were away. Today, however, I merely wish to embarrass them by showing pictures from their little trip and mocking their goof-ocity (Yeah, it's a word. I use it all the time.)

Apparently, they travel to a faraway city called Catlanta to attend a "convention" for nerds. This geekfest is known as DragonCon. This fanciful title calls forth imagery of perilous battles against fire-breathing reptiles, but in fact there is not a single dragon to found in their photos. Instead, there are people dressed like doofs and not a single cat in sight. The reason for the lack of felines is this: we have no problem with science fiction or comic books, but we are violently allergic to fanboys. Below are some photos of Big Pinkie and The Lady's big weekend out. Mock away. I know I did.

Neyland D. Catt

Big Pinkie and The Lady on the left.  What a pair of punks.

Big Pinkie and a comic book author.  Even comic book authors look cool next to Pinkie.

Where the heck is the Cheshire Cat??

See you cats and cat wanna-be's tomorrow.  I'm on geek overload.

Letters from the edge

Good day old chums!

Neyland D. Catt back for a rare Saturday post! Big Pinkie and I have decided that in the spirit of catching up after our long absence, we should go through some of my old fan mail that I never got to answer. This obviously is not all of it. We might be forced to hire support personnel just to wade through the voluminous mountains of mail. We have, however, selected a few tasty morsels... damn. Now I've gone and made myself hungry for a big bowl of Tender Vittles!

Letter 1:

Dear Neyland,

Why did you have to be so mean to Tiger? There is no reason to call anyone fat and verbally abuse them in public! This was in poor taste and shows flawed judgement on your part. Tiger seems like a perfectly pleasant cat. I think you should apologize.

Susie P.


Well Susie, I very nearly fell for your little ploy! I almost felt genuine remorse for comments on the fatty. Then I remembered that the name of the person who sells the jumbo bags of kibble at the local CattCo just happened to be Susie! That's right! You have no moral objection to Tiger being verbally abused! You are just afraid that you will lose sale commissions if he decides to go on a diet! Shame on you Susie, you selfish, selfish little girl. Thanks for your letter!

Letter 2:

To whom it may concern,

I am getting sick and tired of that orange cat prowling around in my field! I live next door and have the farm that stretches all the way to the next road. That cat howls all night and drives me crazy! He has also left little paw-prints all over my truck and pooped in my old lady's flower bed! Next time I see him around here, I'm getting my shotgun!

Farmer Joe


Ah, Farmer Joe. The angry little man who thinks he owns the earth. My ancestors were roaming those fields for centuries before your kind showed up pal! I have as much right, if not more, to that land. Howling all night long? You mean bellowing out war cries while I protect your home from trolls? You're welcome. Paw-prints on your truck? That's a free autograph buddy. Most people have to pay for it. Poopin' in your old lady's flower bed? Those dandelions weren't going to make it without additional fertilizer. Tell you what Joe, you bring the shotgun and I'll bring just my bare paws and I'll show you just how ninja I can be. Thanks for the letter!

Letter 3:

DEer Nay-Land,

TiGEr iz KoOl!!!

anonymous


Anonymous letter eh? I know it's you Tiger. Even your words look fat. Plus, there was beef gravy on the letter. I hope Pinkie at least actually made you take the letter to the mailbox. You need the exercise.

OK. that's all the time we have for today. What? Not enough for you? It's the weekend! What do you expect? I have a long afternoon of sleeping in a sunbeam, eating, and pooping. (And not necessarily in that order!) You guys will have to wait for Monday. Oh yeah! Monday... I will tell you all about Big Pinkie and The Lady on their little vacation!

See you cats and cat-wannabe's Monday!
Neyland D. Catt

P.S. Here are some links from today's Blog Hop! This is my first blog hop and I hope Neyland doesn't ruin it! ---Big Pinkie