My turkey has arrived!

It's getting closer. Thanksgiving that is. I know this because my woman slave went to the store today and brought home a decapitated bird (not as great a job as I would have done..) and spent a good 45 minutes trying to figure out how to place it in the fridge. I supervised this whole chaotic experience for her from the inside of the Trader Joes insulated bag she pulled it from. I must make sure my bird will be pristine for my belly. After it was finally situated, I spent the next 45 minutes trying to open the fridge back up, to stare at all of it's glory, but alas, my 6th claw failed me. Damn them. The bird is slightly smaller than I am, and it weighs 8 pounds less. I was hoping it would be a 22 pound bird- SO I COULD LITERALLY EAT MY WEIGHT IN TURKEY. Maybe next year.

In addition to bringing home delights for the soon to be festivities, she also brought home a floral arrangement! They always make me so excited! From the rubberbands and hold them all together, to the sprigs of beargrass shooting out from the bouquet! It's all delicious! And I think the woman slave always forgets how appetizing I find them to be. And since she pissed me off by not letting me suck the juices from the turkey today, I ate her flowers. She was NOT impressed. I can't wait until the male slave cleans my litter box tomorrow- he will be finding a latex surprise from me in there: )

Anyways. Off to plot how to open the fridge.

Since I've been slacking...

Well, well, well.. It seems my slightly chaotic life has prevented me from clicking these black squares with my highly sharpened claws. Let's change that.

The slaves and I are still in NY. It's starting to get very cold. Arctic cold in fact. My woman slave does not like it. I'm confused as to why she complains about it, she has for the last 7 and a half months been adding a layer of blubber to her midsection (much like I have). She should be set for winter. I don't mind the cold. I would however prefer if these tree birds that don't have wings would suddenly transform into penguins. I think I would very much like to hunt penguins.

My woman slave left me for a WHOLE month with my man slave. It was terrible. I was left alone for way too long, not that I needed the company. You know, I just hated being in the dark. So to show how upset I was, I constantly ate everything I could find. This may have included a few feathers and carpet fibers from my claw sharpening device. I may have put on 7 pounds in that month... When the woman slave returned home, the instant she saw me she let out this terrible squawk about how fat I had gotten. I should have thrown up RIGHT ON HER LUGGAGE. As if she has room to talk. She came back a lot thicker in the middle than she should have... The slaves decided I needed to go on a diet. THEY ARE THE WORST SLAVES EVER. I SHOULD BE ABLE TO EAT WHAT I WANT, WHEN I WANT, AND ON DEMAND! To show them I win, I follow this little game of theirs, BUT REFUSE TO DROP ANY WEIGHT. Its been almost a month now and I have not shed a single pound! HA!

The slaves have started talking about and doing odd things lately. They've brought a lot of new furniture into my household, without my permission I might add... And have set it all up. There's a bed with jail rails, this tall thing with a cat bed on it, and a new dresser that is jam packed full of tiny clothes. I hide when the woman slave opens it because they are small enough to fit me, and I think we all know how much King Booger hates to be clothed. Last night another large box came and out of it the male slave and the neighbor pulled out this wonderful chair. It lays down flat and has a flippy contraption that comes out of its bottom. The female slave sat in it all evening. I like to sit on the arm of it and creepily stare into her eyes, letting her know I know that she is up to no good. I know something is not right, they keep sayin, "Soon Boogy (I know, embarrassing) you will be a big brother." IF THEY BRING HOME ANOTHER KITTEN I WILL EAT IT. I need a new topic, this one is starting to make me feel like throwing up.

Lastly, I'm assuming it is November. The slaves keep talking about things they are thankful for. I'm not thankful for anything. Everything is owed to me to begin with. I am very entitled. The only good thing that is coming out of November this year is that the slaves will be hosting Thanksgiving Dinner. I will be demanding I receive my own turkey.

Well, off I must go, I have a lot of napping to catch up on.
Booger

More on NY

I've officially lasted a month living here. It's interesting. I'm locked 24 hours indoors. I've actually begun to go mad. I consistantly "rocket" (as the slaves say) back and forth, from one end of our 940' one bedroom apartment to the other. I leap around fearlessly from counters to chairs in the kitchen and from the couch to the desk in the living room. I enjoy knocking off pictures frames, chewing through yarn balls and unravelling bobbin spools. The woman slave pretends not to be impressed, but I know she secretly enjoys it.

My sleep schedule is very disrupted. I make sure the slaves know. I wake them up by Cat Yodeling and serenade every morning at 3 until one of them gets up for good. They've bought another water squirter in hopes it will deter me. It doesn't. To show them how unintimidated I am by it, I broke a candlestick holder and creep up to the bastard squirter while the female slave is alseep and has left it ungaurded, and I SMACK THAT BASTARD AS HARD AS MY SIX CLAWS WILL ALLOW. Although it instantly makes a very loud noise when it hits the ground, causing the slaves to wake up, and then squirt at me with it, I feel that I'm slowly teaching it a lesson.

Lastly, I've been feeling lovey lately. During the daylight hours of course. I've found that I much like to cuddle against either slave. Don't tell anyone. Or I will do to you what I do to the squirter.


Peace

I'm trapped in NY

So as some of you darlings are aware, I was rudely abducted from my quaint town in WA and forcibly placed into a moving vehicle for 4, long, gruesome days by my slaves (to which I sat under the gas and brake pedal in hopes it would kill us all) as we moved to the state of NY.
I hate cars. I hate hotels. I hate my slaves. actually, as I write this, I am currently hiding in a closet from them. There is speak of a few more car rides. I am planning a protest. I'm sure it will involve Cat Howling; I found out the female slave is not happy about Cat Howling, thus I will use it to my advantage. I hope that she will be so tired from my Cat Howling ALL night, that we'll just crash and die on the other car trips so I no longer have to withstand ANY MORE.

I will say, on a less morbid note, the place they are holding me hostage is quite beautiful. I only see it at sunset and sunrise (because the herd of people that are here are quiet and asleep then), through the safety of a screened window. It's right on a large lake, there's birdies EVERYWHERE and lots of green grass. It's cat heaven. I wish we could stay here. I WILL make my slaves stay here.......


Until later,
Booger.

Moving.

Sucks.

To prove how mad I am, I threw up a massive hairball where the slaves were packing. HA.

Update on massacring.

So yesterday, after the vet. I murdered a bird. I think my woman slave was terrified; she looked like she was trembling a little but kept repeating "You're such a good boy! And so skilled at hunting!" in a retarded baby voice. So I hid under a chair and moved Beaky around when she wasn't looking. I think she was more disturbed when she saw the blood pools Beaky left. I bet she's terrified. Just what I want.

This is Beaky after I crumpled his body.

Vet visits.

Today marked the last day for my yearly shots this year. I'm stoked. I hate the vet. It smells like dog mouth and people always feel the need to stick me with needles or shove things up my ass, AND they always comment on how surprised they are to find out that I only weight 14.2 pounds. Wow. I didn't have a weight complex before, but everytime I have to get weighed, they expect me to weigh like 800 pounds.

I hate my woman slave. She forcibly makes me go there. Does she not know they make house calls?

Over the last 6 weeks I've had to go in 4 times. All for shots. Which I hate. A lot.
To show my woman slave how pissed I am at her, each night after I get home from the vet, I go capture a tiny mouse or a massive moth and I bring it to the door, yell for her and then slaughter it right infront of her so she can witness my killing skills first hand. If this doesn't strike fear into her heart, she should be admitted.

Anyways, I'm off to go fill my belly with food and think about what I'm going to massacure for her tonight! Ta-ta!