Oh Christmas tree, oh christmas tree!

Well we have a Christmas tree now!

Get a load of the size of this thing. They've got to be kidding, right? It's a midget tree.


Oops. Knocked it over.

This is more like it. A big tree that I can hide under, climb, and attack presents.




I believe Mum and Dad are going to take the midget tree with them for Christmas, and leave me with the big tree. They better leave some presents under it for me. Or I'll leave them a big present for when they get home. I'm really good at shredding!

Please! No Flash Photography!

Well, I suppose you can take one photo. Just one okay!

I said one photo, okay. I'm trying to sleep!

Will you just get out of here with that damn flash!!

Where's my turkey?

I love Christmas. I love unwrapping everyone's presents so that Mum only has to wrap them all over again. Sometimes she leaves the opened wrapping with all my bite marks and scratch marks underneath the replacement wrapping so she can show all her friends what a clever cat I am.

But something odd is going on here. Yes, there are presents but they're not under a tree where I can poke and prod and investigate. They are sitting in the entertainment unit out of my reach. Well, I suppose if I tried, I could get to them.

And where's the tree? It's December guys! And it's still not up!

Today I heard a startling conversation between mum and dad. It seems that they're going to visit someone else for Christmas, and I'll be left to make do while the nice neighbour lady comes to feed me. But it doesn't sound like I'll be getting any turkey roast for dinner.

You can see in this picture that I wasn't particularly impressed about appearing in the family Christmas card!

I'm even less impressed this year. Looks like I'll have to invite all the local moggies over for our own Christmas luncheon.

Your friend, Dorkus

Feed me, mum!

Oh- oh! I'm in trouble.

Yesterday, mum was sitting at the computer. Minding her own business. Bare calves.

And I had this sudden urge. I lunged at her and sunk my teeth into her calf. Drew blood and she yelled at me.

She was not happy. But damn it! I was hungry and she wasn't feeding me.
She tells me that I'm not supposed to have three meals a day. But SHE does. So I don't see why I can't.

I suppose we'll just get onto that overweight conversation again. But she's never really impressed when I miaow to her, 'Right back at you, tubby!'

The Tale of No Tail

This is the'before' picture. I'm a strapping young kitten of less than a year old, with a beautiful long tail.

Mum always used to get cranky with me when I went outside. Said I was going to get myself in trouble. Said I didn't know what a big bad world it was out there. But I wanted excitement. I wanted adventure. I wanted to explore.

I got more than I bargained for. And the first of my nine lives was gone.

I can't really explain what happened. I guess I didn't see it coming. But I freak out now whenever I hear the sound of a big mean old nasty garbage truck approaching. Mum found me hours later. Hiding under the house next door. She didn't think it was me because I was a pale fascimile of my usual self. I was shaking, I was numb, I was in shock. I couldn't move my tail and I my paw hurt as well. I didn't even answer her when she talked to me.

She took me down to the elephant hospital. Well there weren't really any elephants there but that's what they had on the sign. And I had to stay there for days. They kept saying not today, you can't go home today. I'd cry when mum came in to visit me but they wouldn't let her take me home. And then they said that my beautiful tail had to come off. Because I couldn't move it, they said it would be too dangerous for me to keep it - I could get it stuck somewhere and injure myself more.

When I got back from hospital, Mum's flatmate started calling me stumpy bum. Bloody rude!

I kept looking for my tail, going to clean it as I was used to, but it was gone. It took a while to adapt to not having a tail. But now, I hardly even remember having one.

Some people think I'm a manx when they first meet me, but I'm more special than that. Because I lived to tell the tail!

Curiosity almost killed the kitty!

You know the saying Curiosity killed the Cat!

Well, curiosity certainly nearly killed a kitty called Hal.

You can check out the full story here -

Family Finds Cat Built Into Wall Of Their New House

We cats like a lot of sunbaking and snoozing in the sun, and if a house is being built around us - well, that's just an inconvenience and one we can quite happily ignore to catch some rays. But I need to warn the little fella - if you're going to snooze, make it a cat nap, with your ears still open and ready to wake up quickly if needed. Hope Hal finds a nice new home - already built!



Hal, my pal, it's better to sleep ON the window sill, than in the wall cavity!

Cats in sinks

Now you've probably seen my gorgeous pic already, where I'm catching some sunlight in my glorious sunlounge.


But did you know it's a cat phenomenon? We just have this natural attraction to sinks and basins and baths. And Cats in Sinks has the evidence. Now I'm not going to tell you why it's a feline phenomenon -- that one you've got to work out for yourselves.

Capture this!

We had a house full of filmmakers the other day.

Every where I looked there was a filmmaker. Sitting on the couch. Lying on the floor. Looking at the computer. Running up the stairs.

So I decided it was time to do something cinematic. Maybe I could get myself a starring role.

So I started doing my best psycho 'Look at Moi' behaviour. This involves tearing from my bed on one side of the house, into the kitchen, opening the cupboard door with my paw, diving into the cupboard....waiting...waiting...waiting...and then diving back out again, and charging across the room.

It's one of my favourite games. Almost as good as playing cat-in-a-box.

But you know what? Not one of those filmmaker even bothered capturing it on film.

It's so hard to find good help!!

I got very excited. Mum told me she was getting me a personal assistant. And sure enough, Traciee turned up. But mate, getting her to actually update my blog was a totally different matter. She can type fast enough when she's on MSN but when it comes my very important diary, she'd rather tease me with my toys. And I thought I was going to have my own secretary. She should try typing with furry paws.

At least, it's easy to get her out of bed in the morning and get her to feed me. But some mornings she would jump straight on the computer and ignore my cries for food.

Anyway, she's going home in a couple of days. I'll no longer have my own personal slave. I'll have to go back to wacking dad in the back to get him out of bed and feed me.

But at least she was a pushover to give me extra food. Then again, look at my eyes - wouldn't you do what I wanted?

Pink Flamingos

Mum bought me this pink flamingo thingie. I hope she didn't expect it to stay in one piece. The thingie has feathers -- how can I resist tearing it apart? Don't tease me and expect me to keep my claws in and my mouth closed. These teeth are made for tearing, baby! These claws are made for scratching. The pink flamingo thingie ended up in several pieces all over the house. I wonder when I'll get a new one?

She reckons I'd run away if I saw a real flamingo. It's worth a try, I reckon.

your mate, dorkus.

The problem with fame

It's one of the drawbacks of fame. Those pesky paparazzi....bugging my house, stalking me for my picture, surrounding my house.

There are more and more of them every day. Obviously as a result of my blog.

Trying to catch me in a compromising position, waiting for that 'fat' photo or a pic of me being less than my normal cool self.

You can see in this particular photo...I lost the plot. Yeah, I let one of the little ferrets have it! Right in the camera lenses. Bet he won't be back in a hurry. But they took delight in publishing the photo.

Your famous furry friend, Dorkus.

Wanna be in the movies?

Mum did a internet quiz to find out who would direct a movie about her life:

Sofia Coppola Your film will be 76% romantic, 30% comedy, 35% complex plot, and a $ 31 million budget.

Relatively inexperienced (The Virgin Suicides, Lost In Translation) as a director, but already highly respected and connected -- her dad, Francis, directed all The Godfather movies, Apocolypse Now. Also, at last word she's dating Quentin Tarantino, so I'm sure he'll have some input into the substance of your film. Sofia's good at making the romantic drama that is your life. Who didn't have at least a lump in the throat at the end of Lost In Translation? She's already won one Academy Award for her writing, now she'll be the first woman to receive one for directing -- YOUR FILM!

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 94% on action-romance You scored higher than 28% on humor You scored higher than 25% on complexity You scored higher than 37% on budget

Link: The Director Who Films Your Life Test written by bingomosquito on Ok Cupid

Well, fair enough - but it didn't answer the most important question: Who would play me? And have I signed a release anyway? I'm not sure I'm going to give permission, and any movie about mum would have to have me in it....and Dad I suppose. Well, okay, I'll sign...but only if I get the merchandise rights....

Oh my poor paws!

Aaaaaaawwwwwwwwwww!

You may have heard my blood curdling scream from here to the moon. Mum certainly heard it, but dad - dear old dumb dad - he with the clodhopper feet that had just trodden on me, thought he'd stepped on a mouse!

Hello? You should know the spot in front of the sliding door is just my favourite position in the morning to catch some rays. So why walk through the door carrying a backpack so you can't see what's under your great big elephant hoofers!!! This is my spot, and you don't need to treat me like a doormat.

Mum gave me a kiss and cuddle later and rubbed my poor paws, but now I think I'm going to go off and sleep under the desk - still a little bit of sun there, but at least the great clodhopper won't be able to find me.

BTW, if your'e wondering what that furry thing is to the right of the pic - well, that's Prince the Dead Cat. Dad's idea of a joke I think. Mum bought if years ago for her granddad - because well, he had a sick sort of humour. Liked that kind of thing. I figure, if I ignore it long enough, maybe it will go away.

Party Animals

Now I don't reveal too much about my parties. Swank affairs they are -- with gorgeous felines and fancy tidbits. But I don't want mum to know or she might never leave me in the house alone again -- especially at night.

Last night, I was surfing the net, and I found this bunch of Party Animals! Sure looks like they're having a great time. I expect my invite will arrive shortly.

Dorkus

Looks like I've got a fan...

...or maybe this youngster is starting his own blog.

Dad caught me this morning, in much the same position at the computer. But I can't write when someone's watching me.





So I acted disdainful and curled up

and went to sleep.

(Have I mentioned that he HATES it

when I sit on HIS chair?)

Hey look! Someone's written a book about me!

Some chap named Derek Hansen has written a book called Psycho Cat. As many of you know, I've had that nickname for many years. That's probably why mum's friend Leane gave her the book.

Anyway, I've got some reading to do. I'll return at some point with a book review.

Dorkus

I'm a-huntin' meeces

Mum went away for the weekend. She must've been feeling guilty because when she got back she got me a present.

Damn if I can figure out. I catch the mouse, and then it goes spinning around again. I reckon it must be Speedy Gonzales or a close relative. And every time I think I've got the little rascal, I can't pull it out of its plastic house. I'd go stark raving mad if I was stuck in that little plastic house too - no wonder it's running around in circles.


Anyway, you know where to find me now! Trying to solve the problem of getting that mouse out of there! Yes, I have a new addiction. I'll leave mum to her ebay addiction and I'll go meece-hunting.

I know I've just got to be patient. Sooner or later, it's going to have to come out for food.

Your frustrated feline friend, Dorkus.

PETA

Now, I've never really thought much of a dogs! Smelly critters with little self control, and no respect for their own bodies. Seriously, they'll roll in anything and they're literally anybody's. Pay them a kind word and a bit of attention, and it's tail wagging and jumping around - unless they're one of those nasty pieces - that just want to bite everything in their path.

I've always thought that CATS are the superior beast - after all, we have sophistication and decorum.

So much as I have little time for dogs, I have even less time for humans that don't know the meaning of humane!

Check out the following:


The following story is from This is True dated 17 July 2005. It is
Copyright 2005 Randy Cassingham, all rights reserved, and reprinted here
with
permission:

"Ethical" Defined

After more than 100 dead dogs were dumped in a trash dumpster over
four weeks, police in Ahoskie, N.C., kept an eye on the trash receptacle
behind a supermarket. Sure enough, a van drove up and officers watched
the occupants throw in heavy plastic bags. They detained the two people
in the van and found 18 dead dogs in plastic bags in the dumpster,
including puppies; 13 more dead dogs were still in the van. Police say
the van is registered to the headquarters of People for the Ethical
Treatment of Animals, and the two occupants, Andrew B. Cook, 24, and
Adria Joy Hinkle, 27, identified themselves as PETA employees. An autopsy
performed on one of the dogs found it was healthy before it was killed.
Police say PETA has been picking up the animals -- alive -- from North
Carolina animal shelters, promising to find them good homes. Cook and
Hinkle have been charged with 62 felony counts of animal cruelty. In
response to the arrests PETA President Ingrid Newkirk said it's against
the group's policy for employees to dump animals in the trash, but "that
for some animals in North Carolina, there is no kinder option than
euthanasia." (Roanoke-Chowan News-Herald) ...Oops, my mistake: that's
"Playing God" Defined.

In his author's notes section, Cassingham had more to say about this
story:

The more I learn about PETA, the less I think of
them. The story of them killing animals isn't even unusual. According to
PETA's own filings, in 2004 PETA killed 86.3 percent of the
animals entrusted to its care -- a number that's rising, not falling.
Meanwhile, the SPCA in PETA's home town (Norfolk, Va.) was able to find
loving homes for 73 percent of the animals put in its care. A shortage of
funds? Nope: last year PETA took in $29 million in tax-exempt donations.
It simply has other priorities for the funds, like funding terrorism
(yes, really). But don't take my word for it: I got my figures from
http://www.PETAkillsAnimals.com
-- and they have copies of PETA's state and federal filings to back it
up. The bottom line: if you donate money to PETA because you think they
care for and about animals, you need to think some more. PETA literally
yells and screams about how others "kill animals" but this is how
they operate? Pathetic.

And you know what I wonder? PETA's official count of animals
they kill is 86.3 percent. But if they're going around picking up
animals, killing them while they drive around and not even giving them a
chance to be adopted, and then destroying the evidence by dumping
the bodies in the trash, are those deaths being reported? My
guess: no. While 86.3 percent is awful, the actual number is probably
much, much higher. How dare they lecture anyone
about the "ethical" treatment of animals!

(This is True is a weekly column featuring
weird-but-true news
stories from around the world, and has been published since 1994. Click
the link for info about free subscriptions.)

Catching up with the news

Mum doesn't believe that I can read the newspaper. She just thinks I'm trying to look intellectual. As if, I even have to try. In the words of a famous bear....I'm smarter than your average cat...

If I can write a blog, of course, I can read the news.

Mum gets upset when I come and sit on the top of the newspaper as she's reading. I'm just trying to read Column 8 http://www.smh.com.au/column8/index.html

Other times, she comes home and the newspaper is shredded all over the floor. My whiskers, does she get grumpy! And dad's worse - he half chucks a wobbly. They should try turning the page with furry mittens and claws. It's not as easy as it looks and I'm afraid, I end up with little bits of paper all over the floor. I'm just trying to stay on top of current affairs.






Then again, I can't really give the same excuse for the bits I've gnawed off the boxes. There's no news on the boxes. Maybe I can say I'm teething????

Sleeping Arrangements

I've been having a dispute with dad about sleeping arrangements ever since he arrived on the scene. You see, it hasn't always been the three of us. At one time -- a very long time ago - actually I'm a bit hesitant to say exactly when because I don't want to reveal my age. A cat has to maintain some mystique. Suffice to say, I look darn good for my age, and that's without Plastic Surgery. These whiskers are all my own! No feline implants for this cat.

- Now where was I? Oh yes -- sleeping arrangements. I used to have mum all to myself. I didn't have a dad then. Well, I did sort of -- Mum's flatmate, Michael - he was the one who found me, and he would feed me and stuff, but it was mum I would snuggle up to every night. Then Michael moved out and HE moved in.

Everything was okay at first. I got used to having this new person around the house, and he'd pat me and fed me, so he was kind of cool, and he stayed in his own room a lot and went out a lot at night. So it was usually just me and mum and that's the way I liked it.

But then everything changed. And I mean really changed. Suddenly he started sleeping in mum's bedroom and I was banished! What was going on??? And then mum said I had a new daddy. Well, I didn't like this very much and I started to ambush him every time he came down the stairs.

Years later (as I've already said, I'm not revealing how many) -- we've grown accustomed to each other. I've realised he's here to stay, and I think he realises that I might try to run away but I'll always be back before dinner time. In fact, he's a bit of a pushover really - I can usually get an extra feed out of him at lunchtime, and he's easier to prod out of bed than mum.
And the sleeping arrangements are well and truly sorted. I've got a day bed under the desk downstairs, and at night, I curl up on the end of the bed. Everything's right with the world -- we all know which side of the bed to sleep on.


Dorkus

I know there's food on that plate! 

Where did everyone go?

I knew something was going on, on Thursday night. Mum didn't come home. Dad fed me, and well, he was the only one in the bed, so I had to cuddle up next to his feet. All night, I wondered where my mum was.
Doesn't she love me anymore? But in the morning, dad fed me so everything was alright.

Now I remember -- there's some really strange things happening around here! On Thursday morning, Mum went out really early and came back with this smelly creature who barked and growled at me. Then she went out again. I'm worried - because she hasn't come home - maybe the smelly creature ate her. Oh no, my mum has been kidnapped by a dog.

Friday morning, Dad left. I'm quite used to them coming and going, and the garage door going up and down - as if they can't make up their minds what they want to do. But he hasn't come home either! And it's now SATURDAY!

This morning when I wandered up the stairs to wake them up, and discovered that they hadn't snuck back in during the night, I had half a mind to call the RSPCA! But then the nice lady came in from next door and gave me some food. Of course, with a full belly, I went back to sleep. And she came back in the afternoon and fed me again. So, I guess that's that!

Mum's been dognapped and dad's gone off where-ever he goes.

Looks like I've got the place to myself!

Hey groovers....

.......it's PARTY-TIME!!

Escape route --- photo taken in Adelaide - do I know my way around sliding doors? 

Show me a door....

There aren't many doors that I haven't mastered. Especially if mum and dad leave them ajar - well, then, they may as well give me an open invitation.

You see, I have a cupboard fetish. An obsession with those dark little spaces that hold items of...well, I have to check them out, don't I? There might be some food in there... Open biscuit packets...even mice...what's a cat going to do? Got to have a sniff around.

I love those sliding doors. They're the best. Just slip a paw in between the door and the frame. Little bit of a push and it's open. But the game's up. Mum and dad busted me today, opening the door from the house into the garage. Now they're talking about locking it. Spoil all my fun. They'll really have to worry the day I work out how to use the remote on the garage door. Because wishful thinking sure doesn't open it!

Dorkus.

Inspection time. 

Patiently waiting for breakfast!!! 

My parents need a new alarm clock!!!

I tell you what -- it took ages to get mum and dad out of bed this morning. It was like trying to raise the dead! My stomach starts rumbling at about 6am. I want food! And I can't open those silly little packets myself. Believe me, I've tried! I've mastered opening the cupboards, and getting into the Jatz bickies if dad is silly enough to leave the packet out, but those little catfood packets, they've certainly made them cat-proof!

So for the past two weeks, mum's been on holidays...so I've given her a bit of a break and let her sleep in. And I've tapped dad on the head instead...usually he gets up and feeds me and goes back to bed. And once my tummy's full, I can do the same.

This morning...well, I realised pretty quickly that mum had to go to work because her alarm went off and she hit the snooze button, looked at me, and turned over and went back to sleep. Tap, tap, tap. Well, a cat's only got so much patience, especially when his stomach's growling! Tap, tap, tap. TAP, TAP, TAP.

Okay, I'll try dad's side....WACK! Oh crap, probably shouldn't have had the claws out that time!

'DORKUS!!!'

Better run down the stairs...but at least they're out of bed now!!!

Your furry friend, Dorkus

I could always try World Federation Wrestling for my 15 minutes of fame. 

Why wasn't I in the film?

So what's going on, hey? Mum and dad tell me they made a film today with a bunch of high school kids.

What about me? It isn't fair...I've had enough now I want my share...

Now I know that I didn't want to get out of bed this morning because it was really chilly when they left....but that's no reason to leave me out of the film. I'm the only star in this family. Really! They just don't give me the opportunity to prove it...so I'm left here blogging.

But...(snigger, smirk)...mum tells me dad kept stuffing up all his lines in the film. They had to do take after take for him to get it right. Guess that will make one hell of a bloopers tape!
Moi...I'm a professional. I would've got it right on the first take. But of course, if I didn't like the script, I wouldn't do it. Unless they persuaded me with some goodies.

Oh, well, looks like I'll have to send in an audition tape to Big Brother after all.

Looks like I'm not going to be starring in Cool Bananas anytime soon....

It's a bit chilly this morning. Think I'll stay right here for now!