Wednesday, 25 May 2016

All Your Cat Questions Answered

It's come to my attention that there are humans
 reading my blog. - Mr Bumpy.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

It's come to my attention that there are humans reading my blog, and that they have some questions about feline behaviour.

Of course, it's really no surprise that the inferior species would wonder about us.

So, for the sake of the human readers, here are the answers to all the questions asked about cats.

Q. Why do I throw everything off the dressing table?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I bring dead things inside?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do you cuddle up to the dog when it's cold and then attack me at other times? - Fanta.

A. Because I'm a cat.  And I'm answering the questions humans might ask, not your questions.

Q. Would I really eat you if you died?

A. Yes, I would.  In fact, I'll practice by having a little bite or two now. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I demand to be fed when I already have a bowl three-quarters full of food?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I bolt down too much food too fast when I know I'll just puke it up when I do that?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why did you pee in all the litter trays as soon as they were changed, again? - Percy.

A.  Because I'm a cat, and I'm not supposed to be answering your questions, furball.

Q. Why do I always want to be on the other side of any door?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I wake you up in the middle of the night, and demand that you stroke me?

A. Because I'm a cat.

Q. Why do I smooch you and smooch you, and then suddenly stick my claws in and bite?

A. Because I'm a cat.  Cats are total jerks.

Wait, I'm not a total jerk! - Percy.

What about clawing the furniture when there's perfectly serviceable scratching posts provided? Not even I do that.

Oh, that. - Percy.

As I was saying. Cats are total jerks.  Except the furball, he's just a partial jerk. He's also not much of a cat.

Until next time we meet in the Blogosphere,
I remain,


Mr Bumpy,
Bloggercat,
Supreme Feline Overlord,
And Proudly a Total Jerk.

Thursday, 12 May 2016

A Frayed Percy

Image: Percy and Fanta lying on the bed. Text: Percy and I were lying on the bed together - FantaHello Everybody,

I've noticed that when Mum sews, she goes around all the cut out pieces with the overlocker before she starts sewing them together. She says it stops the fabric coming apart (she calls that "fraying"), and she also says it helps make the whole garment look neat and professional.

Well something happened that's made me worry about Percy.  Percy and I were lying on the bed together, but when I got up, I had fluffy bits of Percy stuck on me.  Percy's coming apart!

I told Mum, Percy's fraying, and he doesn't look neat and professional. You need to put him in the overlocker quickly!

Mum said Percy was OK, and that he was just changing from his summer coat to his winter coat because the weather's starting to cool down.  Then she said I do the same, but it's not as noticeable because my hair's much shorter.

I hadn't realised I was changing my hair coat! I have nice warm jackets when I get cold, and I get under blankets,  I didn't know my actual hair coat changed too.

Anyway, it's really good to know Percy's not actually fraying.  I was very worried about him.

Thinking about sewing things, Mum and Miss C were talking about a dress Mum's making for Miss C, and Joey said, "And me too?"

Mum said, "Yes, I'll make a dress for you to."

Then Joey said (because she's my very best friend in the whole world), "And Fanta?"

Mum said, "I don't think Fanta would feel comfortable in a dress, I'll make her a new scarf."

Really! That's what happened!  I'm getting a new scarf!  I'm so excited!  Of course, when I pulled all of my scarves out of the shelf the other day, Mum said I had to choose just one, because I can only wear one at a time,  and it was really hard to decide. So when I get my new one, it's going to be even harder to choose. Of course, if Joey's wearing a dress that matches one of my scarves, I'll know exactly which one to choose, because we're very best friends.

So Percy's not broken, and I'm getting a new scarf.  It's all good news.

Licks and tail wags,
Miss Fantasia Dog
(Call me Fanta).

Friday, 6 May 2016

Litter Wars: Feeling Sorry for the Aggressor

"Ah Mum, the animal door's shut again. Why can't
I go out?" - Mr Bumpy. 
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

Well, I've won the litter wars.  But, given that the prize turned out to be a visit to the vet, a needle, and medicine,  I'm starting to think Percy should have won.

Since my last post, I upped the ante a bit.  Yes, I know, you're amazed.  Where could I go from weeing in Mum's handbag?

I started spraying.  Yes, I'm a desexed, adult cat, who has never done that before.  But I sprayed everything and everyone; furniture, Mum, Fanta, furniture, walls, clothes, Mum again.

Mr D suggested maybe I needed kitty prozac.  (Purrzac?)

Mum not only let me go outside, she threw me out a couple of times. (I win, I win, I win!)

Mum tried to compete.  She got a spray bottle and filled it with disinfectant and odour stopper stuff, and sprayed the whole house, but I sprayed more than she did.

Then I sprayed a cupboard door and Mr D noticed that the wee was red.

That's when the trip to the vet happened.  The vet did the thermometer you-know-where, felt my tummy, listened to my chest, and told Mum and Mr D I had cystitis.

Mum and Mr D were both very sorry for calling me bad, gross, disgusting, and a total jerk.

The vet gave me a needle of antibiotic - one that's supposed to last two weeks from one needle.  Then she gave Mum pain medicine to give me before dinner every  night.

I don't like needles.  I don't like taking medicine.

But I do rather like feeling better.  I stopped spraying.  Well, not quite.  I gave Mum one really good last spray. She was suitably horrified, and ran to stand under the water sprayer thing in the bathroom. (I win, I win, I win!)

I'm back to weeing only in the litter trays.  But I'm still using all three as soon as they're changed, just so Percy knows who's boss.

For some reason, Mum's stopped letting me out again. (I....lose...? But...how...? Why...?)

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,



Mr Bumpy,
Bloggercat,
Supreme Feline Overlord,
Stuck Inside Again.







PS.  I know I don't often acknowledge the other mrbumpycat.com animals for doing anything awesome, because, well, they usually don't.  But this is just too good to not tell you.  Are you ready for this?

Mum's been sewing, and of course we always help.  Well Mum went to add the sleeves to the outfit she was making, and found that someone had chewed through half of one of the sleeves she'd cut out.  (I'll leave you to guess who, she's grinning and wagging her tail.)  There wasn't enough fabric to cut out another sleeve, so Mum had to change them from long sleeves to short sleeves.

So high five to my doggy sister.  I wish I'd thought to do that.

Tuesday, 26 April 2016

Litter Wars: Things Get Messy

"I'll win this war.  Because I don't believe in
fighting fair." - Mr Bumpy.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

You may have heard we've been having some issues with competition over litter trays here lately.

The vet told Mum the way to avoid litter tray aversion (ie weeing in places other than the litter tray) was to have one more litter tray than the number of cats.

Mum thought about this and decided there was absolutely no room in the bathroom for a third litter tray.

She kept saying that as she washed Fanta's bed.

She kept saying that as she threw things out, and soaked and disinfected other things.

Then I weed in her handbag.

She bought a third litter tray.

If the vet was right, that would have been the end of the issue.

Well, hello, have you met me? I'm Mr Bumpy, the Supreme Feline Overlord.  I'm not going to allow a human to be right.

This latest litter tray doesn't have a cover - Mum was right there was no room for another big tray.  A tray without a cover means I can spread litter all over the bathroom.  So not only do the humans have to make their way around three litter trays, but they also have to avoid standing in the increasing spread of cat litter.  There's always a certain proportion that makes its way out of the bathroom and on to the hall carpet, no matter how many times a day Mum sweeps it up.

Sometimes I get in the tray even when I don't have to use it, just to kick litter everywhere.  It's fun, and I haven't been able to do that with the other type of tray.

This morning, when Mum changed the litter, I rushed in to be first and weed a little in each tray.  That's right, all three of them.  Now when Percy comes in, he'll find they all smell like me.  I've claimed them.  He'll just have to hold on all day.

I just know I've done something completely awesome when Mum says, "Bumpy, you are a complete and total jerk."

I believe this round goes to me.  In fact the whole litter tray war will go to me. Why? Because I cheat. I don't believe in fighting fair.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,



Mr Bumpy,
Bloggercat,
Extremely self-satisfied and smug,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Friday, 8 April 2016

Walking Mum

I've had such a tiring morning - Fanta. 
Hello Everyone!

I've had such a tiring morning.

I took Mum for a walk.  That's very hard work.

To start with, Mum is very slow.  Then, whenever the lead gets tight, she stops all together and says, "Stop pulling, Fanta."

Well, if she could walk faster, I wouldn't be pulling, but I do have to remember that she's walking on just two legs, and she doesn't do that as well as Mr D or Miss C does. (And definitely not as fast as my best friend Miss Joey who can zoom around the yard.)

Then after we walked a little while, two naughty dogs on the other side of the road barked at us.  I cried.  I jumped up and down.  I whined.  Mum told me it was all right, just ignore them.

Let me tell you, I may not bark very often, but I understand the language perfectly.  The only reason Mum could be so calm about the situation is that she did not understand what those big meanies were saying. I told Mum we should run away home before the other dogs could get out of their yards, but Mum insisted we keep walking and ignore them.  That was very scary.  Mum is so naive that she didn't even know what terrible danger we were in.

Then, of course, we had to turn around and come home, and of course the big mean doggies said all the same horrible things to us again.  Again I tried to tell Mum we had to hurry home where it was safe, but she still walked just as slowly as she always does.  I kept telling her to get down on all four legs so she could be faster, but she didn't.

Just two houses from home, I saw Bumpy sitting in someone else's front yard. I grrred and told him to go home and stop being a naughty cat.  Do you know what Mum said? "That's not Bumpy, that's Pseudo-Bumpy."

Pseudo-Bumpy is what my humans call another cat in our neighbourhood who looks remarkably like Bumpy.  I never knew he was real.  I just thought it was Bumpy refusing to answer when he was being called, then running around the corner and sauntering back from another direction saying "Who me? No I wasn't here just a moment ago."  But it turns out Pseudo-Bumpy is real and while he was in that yard he stayed still long enough so Mum could tell it really wasn't Bumpy, even though I wasn't sure.

(Before the cats were confined to the house, Bumpy was forever doing mean things to me and then saying, "It wasn't me, it was the other guy."  Now, I don't know if he was telling the truth.)

All walks, no matter how adventurous, and no matter how slow the human, eventually come to an end, and when we got home my human was exhausted, so we went and had a nap.

Whatever you're doing with your human today, I hope you have fun, but remember, a human is a big responsibility.

Licks and tail wags
Miss Fantasia Dog
(call me Fanta)




Thursday, 7 April 2016

Mr Bumpy's Version of Certain Events

I am such an industrious cat.  I am even
 helping Mum to file some really old
papers for the church. - Mr Bumpy
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

Today, I am outraged!  Who has done this terrible thing? Not the government, not big corporations, not even the dog.  It was Mum!

On her blog today, Mum wrote a post that made out I was old, and that I had tripped her over twice.  It also made out that I was a bad cat, but we all know that's what makes me awesome. All and all it was a terrible post, and you really should not ever read The Cat, the Mat, and the Lupie.

Don't read her nonsense.  Let me tell you my side of the story.

Firstly, ever since Percy did his disappearing act, the humans have been treating me most cruelly.  They have been keeping me shut inside the house.  I understand why they keep Percy in, but that's no excuse to punish me.

I wasn't the one who decided to live in a stormwater drain across the road instead of in our house.

So they don't just keep the door to outside shut, they also keep the door to the door outside shut.

On Wednesday, Mum didn't shut the door behind her when she went to the laundry. So I simply followed her.  When she went outside to hang out the washing, I simply continued to follow her.  I wasn't "escaping" there'd been no barrier stopping me.  The doors were both open.

When she tried to catch me, I wasn't running away. I was just running, enjoying the space in our back yard. (The yard, I might add, that she keeps promising to "catproof" so that Percy and I can go out there without being able to get on to the road or other dangerous places.)

Mum called Mr D, who came out. I was happy to have my favourite human come out to play.  I darted up a tree and invited him to follow.  He didn't.  He went back inside.

When Mum tells the story she mentions that I'm fast despite getting old.  I am not old.  I am a cat in the prime of my life.  I am also very fast, to fast for any human getting around on only two legs to catch me.

Later I came to the front door and waited patiently for a human to let me in.

This is where the story gets weird.  Mum opened the door and bent down calling to me.  I started to walk in and stopped, wondering what would happen if that giant lump of human were to fall on me.  I was not, as Mum claims, planning to turn around and run away.

The next thing I knew I was tackled, and that giant lump of a human did fall on me.  The human, the doormat and I were all tangled up, and Mum was hanging on, not letting me go and straighten up my hair which had been messed up.

Eventually, Mum got the door shut, and let me go, so I could start to rearrange my beautiful hair.  (Oh, do you know the secret to beautiful, soft, shiny hair?  It's cat saliva.  Only product I ever use.)

Then Mum did the first sensible thing I'd seen her do.  She got up on four legs. But one of her paws was on the mat and it slid and she went splat.  No wonder humans are so ungainly.  They can't even manage standing on four feet, and they keep trying to get around on two.

After a bit she did get back up on four feet, then quite foolishly went further and got up on two feet.

When she finally opened the door to the lounge room, of course I darted past her to get to my food.  Of course, she was only standing on two feet, and humans fall very easily.

So whatever terrible, defamatory, things Mum said about me in her blog, don't believe her.

I am still the most awesome cat in the world, and she should know it.  I help her out all the time.  I've supervised her sewing, and just lately I've been helping her sort and file some really old bits of paper for the church.  (Why humans need bits of paper, I don't know. It's another one of their quirks.)

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,



Mr Bumpy Cat,
Unfairly maligned, but totally decent,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

The Tale of the Headless Tiger

Getting a tummy scratch, while
lying back on the couch with
my tiger.  Life is good:  Fanta.
Hello Everybody,

I want to tell you about my tiger.

I went to the beauty parlour to have my nails done the other day.

You might not know this, but every time I'm a good girl for the beautician working on my nails, I get a new toy.

Well, Mum and Mr D took me to look at the toys.  Mr D wasn't sure I deserved a new toy, because while I was very good for having my nails done, there had been a little incident with the rubbish bin earlier in the day.  (Honestly, I don't know how it happened.  One minute I was wondering what was in the bin, the next there was rubbish all down the hall and the humans were a tad annoyed.)

I looked at all the toys.  Mum took lots off the hooks to show me, but I really didn't want any she picked up.

Then I saw Tiger!  I very carefully lifted Tiger off the hook all by myself.

Mum and Mr D are sometimes slow to understand what I'm telling them, well they are only human.  But they did understand I wanted Tiger.

Mr D said something about how all my soft toys spontaneously explode.  Mum pointed out that Tiger's body was braided instead of being stuffed, and said maybe it would be stronger.

Mum was right. Tiger's body is strong.

Tiger's head (which was stuffed) spontaneously exploded a day or so after I got it.  (In the picture, Tiger still has a head.)  So I just had a body, four legs and a tail.  That was OK.  I could still carry Tiger around and play with it.

The other day some humans came to visit.  Mum hugged them, so I think she might already have known them.  There was a regular sized human and two half-sized ones.  The half-sized humans wanted to play with me.  I love playing.

Somehow, in one of our games, Tiger lost two legs.  So now Tiger is just a body, two legs and a tail.

That's OK, I can still carry it around and play with it.  It's a great toy, and I love it a lot.

Mum was right.  Tiger's braided body is much tougher than the other soft toys I've had.

Tiger and I are off to play again now.

Licks and Tail Wags,

Miss Fantasia Dog
(Call me Fanta, all my friends do.)

Friday, 18 March 2016

Training

I'm in train-ing.  Here,
I'm making a great
train with Percy.
Hello Everybody,

I've decided to be an athlete.

I got the idea in the back yard the other day.

Joey was playing out there with me.  She yelled, "Can't catch me!" and ran full-speed down the hill.

It looked like fun, so I said, "Can't catch me!" I zoomed at super-sonic speeds down the hill, around the mulberry tree, back up the hill through the gazebo (under the table and chairs) out, around the swings, around the cubby house and back to the clothesline.

By then Mum had caught Joey.  (Joey had to stop and wait for Mum to catch her.  Mum's really slow.)  And they had come back up the hill as well.

Then Joey yelled, "Can't catch me!" and started off down the hill again.

So I yelled, "Can't catch me!" and I did my big zoom around again.

Mum and Joey were both very impressed with my super-sonic zooming.

Mum said, "Who knew a dog so tubby could be such an athlete"

I'm an athlete!

I found out what athletes do.  They train.  So I got Percy to help me and we made a train.  Percy asked what we were supposed to do once we were in a train.  I didn't know.  So we had a nap.

That was a pretty good training session, but I could have an even longer one if I could persuade Bumpy to help too. Bumpy's not a very helpful cat, though, so my training sessions might just have to stay at two animals long.

I think being an athlete is fun.

See you later.
Licks and tail wags,
Miss Fantasia Dog
(call me Fanta.)


Friday, 4 March 2016

Help!!!

Mandy, one of the cats looking for a home.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

I need your help.

Well actually the cats staying with the Animal Welfare League, Queensland need your help.

But I need your help, too.

It was in the Brisbane Times today, that the AWLQ has far too many cats.  They've got so many, they're giving them away free.

So please, please, please, all minions, send your humans to go to the AWLQ to get a free cat, before Mum reads the news.

You know what will happen if Mum sees this.

When she saw the AWLQ had too many dogs, she went there and got Fanta.

When she saw Percy needed a home, she went and got him.

What do you think she'll do if she sees that heaps and heaps of cats need homes, and they're all free?

My home's full.

If yours isn't, go and get a cat.

Cats are good.  Sometimes we even pretend to like you.

Just go now. Get a cat.  Don't stop to think.  Don't ask your family members.  Don't think about food and vet bills.  Just get a cat.

Oh, Fanta and Percy just said do ask your family and think about food and vet bills, because the shelter doesn't want you to take the cat back when you've thought about it.

OK, ask your family. Think about the cost.  Then think about the love.  Think about the cat hair on your clothes reminding you all day that there's a wonderful cat waiting for you at home.

Then get the cat, fast. Before Mum reads the news.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere,
I remain,


Mr Bumpy,
Bloggercat,
Supreme Feline Overlord.





PS You need a cat.  Get a cat.



Thursday, 18 February 2016

Sad Fanta

Image.  Miss Fanta Dog looking sad.
"I'm very sad today." - Fanta.
Hello Everyone,

I'm a very sad doggy today. (Big sigh.)

It's kind of a long story.

You see, the day before yesterday, Mum discovered that someone had weed on my bed. (Not the big bed I sleep on with Mum, but my little one I keep all my toys on.)

We don't know who did it,  but I suspect it might have been one of my catty brothers.

So my bed went to the washing machine with lots and lots of disinfectant, and then it went through two more times.

While that was happening, Mum got the steam cleaner out of the cupboard and and cleaned the carpet where my bed usually sits, again and again.

Then Mr D put my bed through the dryer. It was still damp when it finished, so Mum put it in the dryer again.

image: very lumpy, out-of-shape dog bed
"It was the wrong shape and all lumpy." - Fanta.
So today, I finally got my bed back.

But, it just wasn't right.  It was all lumpy and the wrong shape.

Mum said don't worry, since I don't sleep on it any way.  But I'm still sad.  My toys will be uncomfortable if they sleep on that.

It's not a bed any more.  It's just a big, lumpy, lump.

No-one seems to understand just how terrible this is.  My catty brothers don't seem to care.  Mum thinks that because I sleep on the big bed and on the couches, it shouldn't be a problem.  Not even Mr D seems to understand just how devastating this really is.

I really don't know if I'll ever get over this trauma.

(Sigh.)  I hope I can persuade Mum to get me a new bed.  And I hope she can cat-proof it, like she's trying to do to our yard.

Licks, but no tail wags today.
Miss Fantasia Dog,
You can call me Fanta.