Winston: Invasion of the EMT

Beware when humans start speaking to themselves for it usually signals upcoming drama. Mom was muttering over her papers the other day. I don’t know exactly what papers they are, something about “bills” or whatever. But she was grousing about “rising costs” and “ridiculous rip-offs” and “why am I paying for that’s?” for quite some time, after which she utilized the talking device to arrange some sort of change to this mighty triumvirate called “Telephone, Internet service, and Television.”

Now, I don’t care a whit about Telephone. I’ve tried that talking device, but my paw pads proved too large for the keys and I kept ringing through to Namibia, which makes Mom a bit cranky. Television is only good for Bert & Ernie in their featured performances on Sesame Street, and those come far too infrequently. However, we kitties are wise to the ways of the Internetz, and we appreciate that Mom has been considering an upgrade. (After all, faster connectivity aids our ability to more quickly order our 40 pounds of turkey breast through Albertsons.com. Using her plastic money, of course.)

This afternoon, a human showed up to make the installation of these technological improvements, and I knew right away we were not going to hit it off. When I sauntered up to him and tried to make nice, he ignored me. When I politely offered the Kitty Sniffing Human Pants Cuff™ greeting, I was rebuffed. So when he went outside, I hoped to have seen the last of him.

Alas, such was not the case. Within a few minutes, this person was back inside the house, complaining about a wasp string, breathing heavily, and carrying on as only humans can do. Several verbal interchanges ensued, with an eventual call to an entity called Nine One One as the gasping human stretched out on the floor of my domicile!

The house was soon filled with a hubbub of arriving humans toting large carriers, talking boxes, and a plethora of other items. These folks checked out the CableModemTelevisionTelephone Human and pronounced him to not be in a life threatening state. After that, even more humans arrived to transport the sick human to the veterinarian. Or the medical center. I didn’t catch which.

I was so distressed by all the commotion (and so caught up in the drama) I slammed myself against the door of the room in which my brother and I had been imprisoned, then, as the door was opened, sprang to the top of the door and landed on the head of the human who was offering my release. Ooopsie!

In the end, Mom learned that CableModemTelevisionTelephone Human ended up being just fine. Life around the homestead has returned to normal. I must say, though,l that I couldn't help but notice those folks in the official suits arrived in a positively splendid vehicle: shiny, with flashing lights and an impressive yowl that surely can be heard for miles around!

Be still my pounding heart! I have found my new calling: EMT Winston!

Franklin: Winston's on a Roll... literally

I was minding my own business a few days ago, when I heard some sort of commotion coming from the stairway landing. The sounds of ripping, tearing, snarling, and some heavy clunking against the heating vent and the circulating fan met my ears.

I investigated.

What is that racket?

Peeking below, I spied something pretty alarming: a massive pile of the remains of not just one, but TWO rolls of Costco's best, littering the floor. I proceeded to check out the situation at closer range.

Hmmmm... I suspect Hurricane Winston

Winston sauntered in, polishing his claws against his chest fur. “Guess I told them who was boss, eh?” he asked proudly, as he flopped down amongst the dregs of his earlier activities. I calmly explained that I thought he was going to be in BIG trouble.

This is srsly bad, bro.

“You’re not planning on telling, are you?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Well, no,” I said, "but if it comes to ‘Who was involved in this Bad Kitty Behavior™?' I am not going to take the fall!”

Upon that, Win launched at me in a fit of fury, tail bushed, ears back.

You would tell? Prepare to die!

Now, my sibling outweighs me by 50%, and on a normal day, you might expect me to emerge the non-victor in any sort of mano a mano confrontation. However, exercising exceptional battle strategy -- greatly enhanced by the fact that my assailant was exhausted from his earlier shredding exercises -- I soon pinned Win to the floor. Taking pity on the silly fellow, I told him I’d try to help cover up the whole thing.

Hold still, will you? I have a plan!

When next our humans found us, we were innocently napping in the kitty tree. When asked about the incident, neither of us had a word to say!

Say what?
We've been sleeping here all afternoon!

Moral of Story: Deny outright, and count on your cute face and innocent blue eye to get you out of nearly any fix.

Win: Abandoned yet again

Frank and I have been less than amused. The human entity has been sparse around here these last two weeks, as certain people headed to some place called Europe, leaving us in the care of other family members who engage in what my brother and I call "drive-by feedings."

Sure these humans love us, and they gave us a pet or a chuck under the chin when they stop by. But due to their own busy lives, they must skedaddle out promptly after filling the food bowls, which leaves us looking at the closed door in bemusement. We’ve spent more than a few forlorn hours gazing out the front windows, waiting for the return of our caregivers.

Last night, the house was filled with noise and the hustle and bustle of many humans, toting in those strange-looking cat carriers without airholes ("suitcases," we told?), bags of foodstuffs of complete disinterest to felines (I heard enough rapturous comments about "European chocolates and baked goods" to last several lifetimes), human trinkets and baubles, and so forth.

They have returned.

Frank and I, having scoured the Internet during their absence, had built up some expectations about this trip and what we might be offered as homage upon the return of the wandering humans: a bit of weinerschnitzel from Austria? A dab of rare Danube salmon? Perhaps a supply of catnip harvested from the sunny slopes of a 13^th Century monastery?

No.

She brought us a small stuffed bear in a red sweater, cooing, “Oh, look, boys, it’s Trudi Bear from Vienna!” (We find it amusing, but somewhat pathetic, when humans make fools of themselves.)

Frank and I exchanged knowing looks and a silent pledge: That blooming bear will be earless by tomorrow, and a mere shadow of his stuffed self by week’s end.

Denial

Or perhaps not…

Buddies?