Hello everyone. It's Jazzy here...
I actually prefer using my proper name - Jasmine - but for some ridiculous human-type reason, my mom uses "Jazzy", which sounds dumb as mice to me, but what can ya do? She feeds me, so I let her get away with a lot of things. It just makes it easier, if you know what I mean.
Now I wuz gonna tell ya something, but I'm still a bit groggy and woozy this morning, so bear with me okay?
Mom is still sleeping, which I think is pretty silly, since it was me who underwent the tortures of hell yesterday, not her.
Humans are such dogs when it comes to stuff, aren't they?
Yap, yap, yap all day long... Sheesh!
But then again, she was up and down all night, checking on me, patting me and kissing me and she even picked my ... ahem... up off the blanket when I missed the cat box and put it in the flushable drinking bowl.
She even gave me my favorite fresh tuna before she went to bed, but she sure as heck didn't give me enough.
You know how fish is brain food, right?
Well, I needed more than she gave me last night, because I think they scrambled my brains when I went in that awful, dog-pee smelling place.
Here I was... stumbling around like a demented dog... weaving around the room like I had been into the booze, falling over like one of those turtles you see on the magic box... and I just laid there like an idiot waving my legs around in the air, while they laughed at me.
How rude is that?
Oh yeah... Now I remember what I was going to tell you!
Do you know what they DID to me?
What my so-called mom who claims she loves me, let them do to me?
In fact, I vaguely heard that she even paid them money to do what they did, and I doubt if I will ever, ever, ever forgive her.
All that talk of "oh, this will make you feel so much better... this will extend your life... this will make you feel so much more comfortable"...
Holy Cheeses and Mice!
They PAID someone to cut my gorgeous little pink ears off!
Can you believe that???
I feel like crap, and I can't stand upright... they shaved the fur off my head so that I look like one of those stoopid French poodles.... and my ears hurt... so where's the benefit in what she put me through?
I think I'm gonna have to put on my oh-so-perfected disdainful look and do a lot of tail flicking and growling in the weeks to come, just to let her know how hissed off I am about the whole situation.
And this whole "mom and dad" thing? What a load of codswallop! (mmm... I love me some cod, don't you? With or without the wallop. Whatever that is.)
I want you to know that these people are NOT my parents.
I tolerate them, because I like the food they give me and the soft minky blankie they give me to sleep on, and it seems to make them happy to think that I'm their baby... but I think it's pitiful.
See, the truth must be told... my real parents are royalty.
Yes, you heard me right.
Well, at least on my dear mother's side of the family.
I remember my dear mother so well... (oh, I still miss that 2nd teat on the right hand side... curling up with my brothers and sisters and having my bottom washed by a rough tongue) but my dad took off before I was born, so I think he's off having his ears cut off or something.
I think my real mother couldn't afford to support us when dad took off, so here I am... living with humans.
It's so unfair, but it does have it's advantages.
I may be hissed off at the moment, but I do know when I'm onto a good thing, do you know what I mean?
All the fresh fish and meat I can eat... and the occasional bit of my favorite Gruyere cheese... and I'm not one to turn my delicate little pink nose up at that... I'm telling ya!
It seems that these people who call themselves my "mom and dad" have some sort of paper or something that says I come from a long line of Royalty, (it says I'm a pedigreed American Long-Hair) but I've seen my so-called dad reading the paper and there doesn't seem to be anything about me in there anywhere.
Just a lot of drivel, and I can't see the importance in that at all!
Now, if he were reading about me and my lineage, I could see the point of reading the paper, but if doesn't have me in it, it's just something to line my cat box with, as far as I'm concerned.
Anyway, I hear mom stirring in there, so I better go lay back on the couch and put on my disdainful, "hissed off" look again.
Don't tell her I was on here, okay?
Because if she finds that I was on her typing box, it won't be long before she learns that I've been on-line ordering catnip and a new minky blanket, when she was busy sleeping.
HA! She'll think it's her brains that have been scrambled, when the parcel-post man shows up with boxes of stuff for little ol' me!
And I'll bet you anything, when those boxes arrive, she'll go straight to the kitchen and check the level of her bottle of takillya, and scratch her head.
With the wrong foot!
HolyCodfish... she's dumb!