Monday, 26 January 2015

The War on Cane Toads

Go, brave humans, we're right behind you.
Who am I kidding?
We'll sit this one out.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

Miss 22 came in with some terrible news yesterday. (Actually, let's start calling her by her initial, she's getting a bit old to be referred to by age.) Miss C came down with terrible news yesterday.  She had seen five cane toads in our back yard!

Mum and Mr 20. Er, Mum and Mr D were horrified by the news. Actually, Fanta and I had known about the problem, but kept it quiet in case it meant we would be confined to quarters.

Cane toads (for those of you overseas who have never met one of these hideous creatures) are among the most evil creatures on the planet.  Their skin is poisonous, and can kill any household or native animal that dares to have a taste. They can spray poison from a great distance, and can kill you with their evil stare.  They poison water holes, and intimidate innocent animals. Fences don't keep them out, because they turn themselves into toxic ooze and pour through the tiniest gaps.

Toads were introduced to eat the cane beetles in Queensland sugar cane farms.  The toads weren't interested in cane beetles, or in staying on the cane farms, and have spread all over the state and started encroaching on other states, in a terrible invasion.

Well, my humans were willing to let someone else deal with the toads encroaching on the rest of Australia.  But our yard is meant to be a safe place for us, and for baby Joey, to play. Toads invading our yard means only one thing: war!

Mum and Mr D began to plan strategy.

They discussed all the "traditional" toad eradication methods: golf clubs, spraying Dettol on them, driving the car over them.  When Mr D suggested the whipper snipper, Mum turned a shade of green I've never seen on any human before.

Then Mum checked the RSPCA's website. Yes, cane toads are so evil that even the RSPCA wants them exterminated. The RSPCA used to recommend catching cane toads, putting them in plastic bags and putting them in the freezer.  They stopped recommending that when they discovered that hypothermia wasn't a painless death after all, but rather a kind of toad torture.  Mum says she'd never put toads in the freezer with her food, anyway.

The website recommended three styles of toad execution.

One was to stun and decapitate them.  Mum turned green again.

Another was prolonged exposure to carbon dioxide - that didn't seem practical.

So, it has to be the third method, a product called "Hopstop", to be sprayed on each individual toad.

Today is Australia Day, and Mum and Mr D plan to celebrate with that most Australian of all traditions - killing cane toads.  The plan is to buy some "Hopstop" and go and spray cane toads. Then, with a bucket and the pooper scooper, to do the corpse retrieval and the doggy poo clean up all at once.

Of course, like the invasion of Afghanistan or the Gulf War, the war on cane toads won't be over in a day.  All they need is water and a single female toad can lay something like a million eggs. (Oh, 30,000 eggs, well that's close to a million.)  That means almost a million more toads the next day.  This war could go on for the entire wet season.

Go, valiant humans, fight the good fight, for glory, for the love of your family and animals, for the knowledge that you are protecting Australia! Fanta and I are right behind you.  Who am I kidding? We'll sit this one out. Let us know when the yard's safe again.

Enjoy your Australia Day.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Sunday, 25 January 2015

No Corpses in the House

My doggy sister, Fanta.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

As you know, I really didn't need a doggy sister, and Fanta is surplus to requirements.

However, I do have to admit she did something quite awesome the other evening.

If the humans had sensible rules, of course, I wouldn't encourage anyone to break them. However, my humans have the most stupid rules.

One of the ones that makes the least possible sense is the "no corpses in the house" rule.

This rule is just hypocritical.  The humans go to the shops and come back with bits of corpses they cook, or put in the freezer to cook later.

When I kill some fresh meat, Mum freaks out and all of a sudden I'm a "bad cat".  I'm an especially "bad cat" if I bring my fresh meat into the house.

So I was, reluctantly, impressed with what Fanta did the other evening.  Not long before night time lock up, Mum walked into her bedroom to find Fanta sitting quietly beside a pair of her shoes.  Inside a shoe was a headless possum.  Fanta was very proud.

Mum threw out the shoes, and Fanta was called a "bad dog".  It was just fantastic.

Fanta was unhappy about being called "bad", when she'd got such a great present especially for Mum. That of course, made it all the more awesome.  Mum went nuts, Fanta was upset, and a stupid rule was broken all in one go.

What a night!

I wonder if I can convince Fanta that "bad dog" actually means Mum loves what she did?  That would be so great. It could give me all kinds of entertainment.

I can just imagine it now.  Yes, Fanta, go and chew up Mum's special teddy bears, if she says "bad dog" it just shows how grateful she is. Do you think she would fall for it?  She's just a dog, so she's not very bright.

Excuse me, I have to go....

Oh Fanta!  Fanta! Miss Fantasia Dog my beloved doggy sister! Here doggy, doggy doggy....

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

Mr Bumpy,
Evil  Mastermind,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Monday, 12 January 2015

Mr Bumpy Requires Breakfast

Mr Bumpy: Prrrrrrrrrrrrr prrrrrrrrrrrr BITE!

Mum: Ow!

Mr Bumpy: Come on Mum, get up.  You've got work to do.  Bite.  Meow....

Mum:  What is your problem?

Mr Bumpy: Follow me, I'll show you.  Look see my Friskies dish? It's, oh, it's got plenty in it.  Munch munch munch.

Mum: You woke me up to watch you eat? Will there be anything else, Your Highness?

Mr Bumpy: Are you still here?  No, no Minion, go about your business.   Munch munch munch....

Mum: You're a real jerk, Bumpy.

Friday, 9 January 2015

How much is that doggy in the window?

Mr Bumpy sings:

Please buy my doggy in the window,
I want her to go right away,
I don't want a doggy little sister,
Please buy my doggy for sale.

Miss Fantasia sings:

I'm watching for Mum through the window,
I wish she'd come home right now,
That cat is plotting something evil,
Please Mum save me, I howl.

Monday, 22 December 2014

Christmas Greetings

To the tune of Jingle Bells:

Mr Bumpy sings:

Christmas time is near,
I have climbed the tree,
I'm looking forward to presents,
so give them all to me. Oh!

Jingle balls, jingle balls,
stinky fish and cream,
Give me all I want or else,
I can make you scream.

Miss Fantasia sings:

Mum's been baking lots,
I've stolen quite a bit,
From the cooling racks,
I'm very good at it! Oh!

Squeaky toys, squeaky toys,
can I have some ham?
I'll steal some cake and biscuits,
if you look away, I can.

Duck and Goose Budgerigar sing:

Here in Budgie Towers,
Right in the front room,
We see the gifts arriving,
For Christmas Day real soon! Oh!

Seed block treats, seed block treats,
Maybe a little fruit?
We're Australian natives
and think Christmas time is "beut"!

Merry Christmas to all our readers
from the

Thursday, 18 December 2014

Mum's Perspective: What I've Learned From Living With Animals

See point 4.

  1. An anxious dog is the most destructive force in nature.
  2. When an animal walks on a human, the paw standing on the most sensitive part will hold the entire animal's weight plus thirty percent.
  3. Animals may nap for most of the day, but they do not believe in allowing a human to nap.
  4. The instant a human vacates a seat, an animal will take it, before the human returns.
  5. It is impossible to move a bull terrier who decides she doesn't want to go.
  6. When you lie down with animals, you get woken early.
  7. When you die, your cat will eat you to avoid starvation.  In fact, if you haven't died, but his stinky fish is 5 minutes late, your cat will try to eat you to avoid starvation.
  8. Grocery bags must be sniffed, to identify the ones with treats in them.
  9. Animals are always only one snack away from starvation.
  10. An animal alarm clock has no snooze button.
  11. A cat grooming a human is never a comfortable experience.
  12. Animals can make you feel guilty for leaving them to buy animal food.
  13. You may think you've seen every possible place for an animal to puke - there's always another, more creative, one.
  14. Animals do not think they are human. They think they are superior to humans.
  15. Animals will leave their toys in places you are certain the animals could not actually get into. 
  16. Your big brave guard dog, will always feel prefer to guard you from safely behind you.
  17. A 16kg bull terrier who believes she is a lap dog, is very awkward to handle.
  18. Animals do not know when they are full. If allowed to do so, they will eat double their own bodyweight in a day and still believe they are hungry.
  19. Animals always want to be on the other side of any  closed door.
  20. Animals are like children, they will frustrate you, annoy you, surprise you, entertain you, teach you and learn from you, and enrich your life in ways you never expected. They will become a vital part of your life.

Monday, 15 December 2014

The Indignity Of It!

Being sprayed is just undignified.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

I know it's paralysis tick season.

I know that it's absolutely necessary to protect Fanta and me from ticks.  I've had a tick before, and I couldn't move my back legs.  I only just got to the vet in time, while I could still move my lungs and things to stay alive.

On the other hand, I think the whole business of being sprayed with horrible poisonous spray is just undignified.  I'm all wet, just about everywhere.  And cleaning myself up is horrible, because this stuff is so yukky.

I think this is just the wrong way around.

I shouldn't be punished for not wanting ticks.  Ticks should be punished for being evil, criminal, terrorist insects.

We should get the air force involved, and bomb their homes, or the police tact-tick-al response team to go in and arrest them, or send in the SAS to do what the SAS does to Australia's enemies.  Something should be done, to prevent ticks from existing, and from biting innocent cats.

Then it would be possible for respectable feline citizens to go about our business without fear of unexpected attacks, and without having to be sprayed with horrible toxic material.

Well, that's my opinion.  And my opinion's always right.

Excuse me while I go and finish repairing my hairstyle.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Slightly uncomfortable and dishevelled,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Friday, 12 December 2014

Why My Naps are Most Important

My naps are sacrosanct.
Never disturb a sleeping cat.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

Mum complained today, because I woke her up from a nap, asking for my stinky fish.  She said, "You animals won't let me sleep at night, you should at least let me have my nap during the day. After all, you get to nap all day."

I admit that Fanta does wake Mum up a lot at night.  She has nightmares and things, which are very annoying.  One night, she got up and started growling at the bedroom door, and wouldn't settle down until Mum took her around the house, turning on all the lights, to prove it was safe. So Fanta is the kind of nuisance dog who messes up Mum's night-time sleep.

Of course, I walk over Mum from time to time while she's sleeping, or meow in her ear, or scratch her, or knock things off the dressing table. But I always have exceptionally good reasons to do so. Besides which, I am the cat, and no-one can object to anything the cat does, ever.

Fanta's not bad at napping, either.
As for daytime naps, well, yes, I am very good at them.  You must know that I have at least 437 naps per day, and every single one of them is incredibly important. That's why the Feline Code says: "Never disturb a sleeping cat."

I do have to admit, however, Fanta's quite good at napping, too. She may have a hundred or so fewer naps than me, but she seems to be able to nap anywhere and in any conditions. She can also snore far more impressively than me. Maybe she naps so well because her nightmares keep her awake at night. She may not be as good a napper as me, but at least she's in the competition.

Mum usually only has one or two naps per day.  With her lupus, and being woken up at night by someone-or-other, she seems to get tired during the day.  She's nowhere near as good at napping as we are.  That's why I think it's fine to wake her up from her nap.  If we let her think she's competing with us, she's going to be disappointed when she finds out she's lost.  So when you think about it, I'm actually doing her a favour when I wake her up from her afternoon nap and tell her to give me stinky fish.

So I was doing her a favour today, but she didn't say:  "Thank you, oh lovely Mr Bumpy, I am forever indebted to you, and will always do everything and anything you want." Oh, no. Instead she complained!

Humans!  No matter what you do for them, they also seem to complain!  Sometimes I wonder why I bother keeping them as pets. When they invent a can opener that cats can operate, I'm going to send them to the shelter Fanta came from. I might send Fanta back as well, because I don't really need a doggy sister, either.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord,
Champion Napper.

Related post: The Feline Code

Thursday, 11 December 2014


Mine is a pirate skull and
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

Whenever the humans go out to the shops, they usually get things for Fanta and me.  In fact, Fanta's been known to stick her nose in the shopping bags looking or her present.  She usually gets a new squeaky toy.  I prefer to get jingle balls or treats.

Well, yesterday, Mum and Mr 20 brought us back a different type of present.  We got jewelry.

I have a new, very masculine collar tag.  It's a Jolly Roger - a skull and crossbones.  It's black and white like me, and very stylish.

Fanta's is far more girly.  She has a sparkly red paw print, with a red heart as part of the paw print.

I'm quite proud of mine, but Fanta was really excited about hers.  When Mr 20 took her collar to put the tag on it, she stayed right beside him, staring at the collar and the sparkly, and after he put it on her, she stayed cuddled up to him for hours and hours.

Our tags aren't just jewelry, however.  Even though they quite stylish,they also have a practical purpose.  They have our names and phone numbers engraved on the back.

Fanta's is a sparkly red paw print,
with a heart in it.
We already had our council tags and our microchips to say who we are, but Mum says she likes to have all her bases covered.

She had just read about a friend  of hers on Facebook whose Staffordshire Bull Terrier went missing, and a Staffy Mum owned years ago had disappeared, as well. She said she doesn't want either of us to go missing, ever.  But just in case we did get lost for some reason, she wants to make sure there's every chance of getting us home safely.   So now we have microchips, council tags and identity jewelry.  Maybe it's a bit overboard, but I guess it does show that our humans really do care about us.

I've been thinking about this since yesterday, and I've realized something.  None of the humans have microchips.  None of them have council tags. And none of them have any identity jewelry. Their pretty things are just pretty things. So if any of our humans ever went missing, no-one would be able to find them and send them home to us.

I mentioned this to Fanta, and of course, being the scaredy dog she is, she has been constantly checking on the humans, and panicking if they are out of sight for even a little while.

I can see why I need all those things, when the humans don't, because I'm the most important member of the family.  It would be a disaster if I ever went missing.  I don't know why Fanta needs them all, though.  She's just a dog. If she went missing, it wouldn't bother me at all.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Very, very important,
Supreme Feline Overlord.