Wednesday, 30 December 2015


To Whom It May Concern,

As my previous letter has failed to elicit any solution to my situation, I now send photographic evidence of my terrible living conditions.

I was bathed, against my will.

And then, some of the mats were cut out of my hair.  Mum said she'd give me a rest and cut out more tomorrow.

Then I was brushed.

Image damp and bedraggled Percy.
After that, the servants went shopping and returned with "detangling shampoo".

There is a clear threat presented of further ignominious baths.

This situation is intolerable and must not be allowed to continue.

I demand that this situation be remedied immediately.

Yours Sincerely,
Sir Percival Yowling-Feline

Monday, 28 December 2015

Percy's Opinion

Image, Percy sitting on cat tower, next to aluminium bowl full of dry food.
"Oh, this food dish does
appear to be silver.  That's
all right, then."
To Whom It May Concern,

I have a number of complaints about my accommodation, the other residents and especially the servants.

To begin with the accommodation:  as you know, I had managed to get away from this place to live in a nice stormwater drain for some time.  I enjoyed the noble pursuits of hunting and fishing, and found my servants here had the decency to put food out for me. But eventually I was captured and imprisoned in this place.

I am not allowed out.  I keep hearing talk of ongoing work "catproofing" the yard so that even if I manage to get out of the actual house I will not be able to get further.

This is not a home, it is a prison.  I am being held against my will. While this food dish does appear to be silver, very little else is up to my high standards. Food is only served at certain times, and I am summoned to eat by a bell.  (Surely I should ring the bell and demand my food when I am ready.)

Now for my fellow residents: there are two. There is Fanta Dog and Bumpy Cat.

Fanta is overly friendly and fawns over me all the time.  She is also large and clumsy and accidentally sat on me. For the most part she is harmless, but such sycophants can be very draining. She is also incredibly enthusiastic about absolutely everything, so much so that I have come to believe that she may be a little mentally deficient. Of course noblesse oblige requires that I do treat her with some care, and I certainly do her no harm.

Bumpy is a completely different matter.  He is simply insane and dangerously so.  This plebeian believes himself to be master of the entire household, possibly the world.  He calls himself the Supreme Feline Overlord, and insists that everything must be done his way.  I can't imagine how anyone could become so deluded. He attacks both myself and Fanta for any imagined slight or simply because he has an inclination to do so.  I have warned him that I am younger, larger and stronger than him and that I am a master of both feline boxing and claw duelling.  I have told him that if he continues to try my patience I may find it necessary to defend myself.  So far most of his attacks have simply left him holding my shed hair as I have calmly walked away.

Now I must come to the worst of this entire situation: the servants.  One does have hopes for a far better class of servant than this. The two main servants are Mum and Mr D, although others do visit from time to time. Mum and Mr D manage the basics of food delivery and litter tray changes to an adequate fashion (although I have already mentioned the issue with food not being delivered whenever I request it.)

They have a constant fascination with my hair. Yes, I do have exquisite hair, but they seem more concerned with how much I shed. They continually brush my hair.  I understand that both Bumpy and Fanta enjoy being brushed, however I do not. I will not stay still for it, and I object most strongly. Worse, the servants have found mats in my hair they cannot brush out, and have cut my beautiful hair to remove them! I have heard their discussions on dealing with my mats and with my shedding.  Mr D has suggested using clippers to give me a "poodle cut".  Mum has suggested vacuuming me.

Worse, as I have a small spot of food on my head that brushing has failed to remove, and that I have not cleaned off for myself, they are now talking of bathing me again. (What kind of plebeian do they think I am?  Clean myself indeed!)

I was bathed when I came back from my adventures, and I did not like it. I did not want it. I did not cooperate with it in any way.  In fact, I managed to escape from the bath with my tail still partly dirty. My tail is still partly dirty, which is another reason Mum believes bathing me would be a good idea.

My humans are so poorly trained that one day Mum gave me an "unfood" item.  She was clearly cutting up food on the bench, so I stood up on my back legs and asked very politely if I might have some of that food.  She said, "It's tomato Percy, you don't want it."  I explained in no uncertain terms that I definitely did want it.  I absolutely wanted whatever food she was preparing.  I told her loud and long of how I had a right to be given whatever food I wanted whenever I wanted it.  Eventually, she gave me a piece.  I smelled it and licked it.  It was not food.  It was "unfood".  I demanded to know why Mum had given me an "unfood".  Her ridiculous response was: "I told you so."

So, as you can see, my living conditions are nowhere near appropriate for a member of the aristocracy, and I expect the matter to be addressed with all possible haste.

Yours sincerely,
Sir Percival Yowling-Feline

Sunday, 20 December 2015

Best Day Ever

Fanta met Santa.
Photo by Tina at Pawsnap.

Hello Everyone,

I had the absolute best day ever yesterday.

Mum and Mr D were getting ready to leave home, and I thought I was being left behind, until Mum got my lead off the hook.

That meant I was going too!  I was sooooo happy.

Then Mum opened the car and Mr D told me to get in.  A car ride! That's the absolute best thing ever!

We went to Best Friends, I started to walk toward the vet's door. (Our vet is really nice and going to see him is the best thing ever!) But Mr D told me no, we weren't going that way.  That meant the beauty parlour!  I was getting my nails trimmed!  That's the absolute best thing ever!

The nice lady took me through and did my nails while Mum and Mr D went looking at the shops.  I heard them saying something about Christmas presents for animals.

Well, my nails were done really quickly, and when Mum went to pay, the lady at the counter asked if I wanted my photo taken with Santa.  She took us to the middle of the shop where another lady put pretty clothes on me.  (And you know that I think dress-ups are the best thing ever!)

The lady said I was being very good for dress-ups and Mum explained that my best friend is a toddler, and that I also like tea parties. I got to wear a tutu, an elf hat and a big red ruff.  I looked so good the people who worked there were taking photos of me, as well as Mum and Mr D.

The Santa photos were to raise money for rescue dogs.  Mr D told the nice ladies working there that I was a rescue dog, too.  They all made a big fuss of me.  Being the centre of attention is the best thing ever!

Then I got to sit up on Santa's couch.  Being invited up on the couch is the best thing ever!

And Santa gave me cuddles and let me lick him.  Santa's the best thing ever!

And we got our photos taken together.  You know I love getting my photo taken.  It's the best thing ever!

When we got home,  Mum and Mr D put a new collar on me.  It was pink, with lots of sparkles. (I think the sparkles just look like white dots in the photo, but in real life they look like diamonds. Miss C said I looked very "Marilyn Monroe".)  A pretty new collar is the best thing ever!
Then Fanta had a lie down on the couch.

And then, and then, do you know what happened next!

My best friend Joey came to visit!  She really did!  Playing with my best friend is the best thing ever!

And then I was really, really tired, because I had been having the best day ever.

I had a lie down on the couch.

Having a nice relax after enjoying a really, really good day, is the best thing ever.

I hope you're all having really good days too, and that you get to see Santa, he's very nice and shares his couch with good dogs.

Lots of licks and tail wags,
Miss Fantasia Dog,
(Call me Fanta.)

Monday, 23 November 2015

My Funny Family

Image, Fanta in the base of the cat tree.
I made sure it was in just the
right place.
Hello Everyone,

I know I'm only a young dog and I'm not supposed to know everything yet, but there are some things about my family that I really wonder about.

I'll tell you about my catty brothers first.

When my new brother Percy arrived, he wanted to use the cat things that were already here, but Bumpy said "No."

He said he wouldn't share anything with Percy, not his litter tray, not his dishes, not his cat tree, not his brush, not anything.

Mum and Mr D had to get all new things, because Bumpy got angry every time Percy used any of the cat things.

Because I'm  a very good, helpful, girl, I helped assemble Percy's cat tree, and made sure it was in just the right place beside Bumpy's tree.  They could both look out the same window and get exactly the same view of the street.

I thought that would solve the problem!

Do you know what happened?

Bumpy decided to use Percy's stuff as well as his own!

At least Bumpy didn't get mad at Percy using Percy's stuff.

Still, it seems wrong, if only Bumpy can use Bumpy's things, but they both get to use Percy's things.

Percy says he doesn't mind, as long as he can eat and use a litter tray and just generally live in the house without being attacked all the time.

That makes some sense, I think.  Although Bumpy still launches the occasional sneak attack on, well, everyone.

I mentioned litter trays when I was talking about my catty brothers, didn't I?  That brings me to the thing that makes me wonder about my humans.

My humans have a strange obsession with, well, um, poop. (Am I allowed to say "poop" on the internet?  Please excuse my manners, but I don't know a more polite way to say it.)

They forever seem to be collecting it and saving it in bags or round plastic boxes.

They collect it from the cats' litter trays and put it in big plastic bags, then Mr D takes the bags out of the house to some special secret place I've never seen.

When I go out to the back yard to, you know,  Mum uses a big scoop thing to collect up the poop and puts it in a big round plastic container she keeps in the back yard.  After a while Mr D takes that away to empty it in that special secret place as well.

Even Joey's poops get saved.  The big humans collect that in a thing they wrap around her bottom.  Then they put that thing in a bag or a round plastic container - and then the bag or the stuff from the container goes out to that special secret place.

Somewhere outside our house, and it's not far because Mr D comes back very quickly after he takes out the cat litter, there's a mountain of poop.  What the humans are collecting it for, I just can't imagine.

Every day, somewhere in our house or yard, some human collects poop to put into a bag or a container to go to the special secret place I've never seen. I've tried to explain to Mum when she's been doing "Poo Patrol"  that it really isn't something you want to collect, but she does anyway.

So those are the things I wonder about my catty brothers and about my humans.

If you know why they act the way they do, could you please explain it to me?

Lots of licks and tail wags,
Miss Fantasia Dog,
(Call me Fanta.)

Tuesday, 17 November 2015

Political Paw-er

Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

You might have thought I gave up my political ambitions when I dropped out of the Federal Election a while back.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I've just gone back to controlling things behind the scenes.

Yes, humans reading this, if you share a cat's home, take a good look at the cat.  Do you really think he or she works for you?  No, your local Feline Overlord reports to me, the Supreme Feline Overlord. We're far more organised than you understand.

If you doubt that,  watch as three of my minions take the stage of the G20, before any of the human "World Leaders" get their turn.

That's right, Catbama, Mewtin, and Purrnbull had the stage before any of the humans did.

And don't think we'll stop at the G20.  Keep looking out for cats at the United Nations.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Best Friends

Hello Everyone,

Well, you know I have two catty brothers, but do you know who my absolute best friend in the whole wide world is?

She's another little girl just like me and lives upstairs.  Her name's Joey.

Sometimes she visits me and we hang out on the couch or do art.  (I'm not very good at art, but she shows me what she's doing, and tells me all about it.)

Fanta and Joey on the couch.

Sometimes I visit her and we play tea parties and dress ups.

Joey puts a ring of flowers on Fanta's head

Joey puts a headband with a big pink bow on Fanta.

I love having  a very best friend who loves doing the same things as I love.  (Those catty brothers of mine really don't understand little girl games.)

Sometimes we play outside in the back yard.  She rides on the swings, but I seem to be the wrong shape to do that.  We still have lots of fun.

Anyway,  I'm off for my nap now.  I wonder if Joey can come and play after that?  I should ask Mum, so she can ask Joey's Mum.

Bye for now,
Licks and tail wags,
Miss Fantasia Dog
(You can call me Fanta).

Tuesday, 27 October 2015

The Name Game


If Bumpy were driving on a rough road, it would be a Bumpy ride.
If Bumpy went to a pub for a beer, he'd be in a Bumper bar.
If Bumpy were a fairy tale character, he'd be Bumplestiltskin.
If Bumpy were an apiarist, he would keep Bumplebees.
If Bumpy ran headfirst into the wall, his head would be Bumpy. (Actually, change "if" to "when" and "would be" to "was".)


If Fanta played fetch with a stick it would be Fantastick.
If Fanta went to the beach, that would be a Fantasea.
If Fanta had a pet bird, it would be a Fantail.
If Fanta were obsessive, she would be Fantanatical.
If blog readers wrote letters to Fanta, she would have Fantamail.


It took a long time to get Percy home, but Mum had to Percyvere.
If you know beforehand when Percy will come into the room you have extra-sensory Percyption.
If Percy were teased for the way he looked, he would be Percycuted.
If Percy ate fruit, he might like Percymmon.
If Percy knew a lot about a subject, he would have exPercyce.
Percy doesn't always understand what humans say to him,  he can't always Percyve their meaning.
If Percy were trying to convince you of something, he would use Percyuasion.

Add your own plays on the animals' names in the comments.

Monday, 26 October 2015

Better Than A Poke In The Eye With A Sharp Stick

Percy and Bumpy looking indignant in cat boxes, Fanta looking ridiculously happy.
At the vets.  What is wrong with that dog?
Why is she so happy?
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

When something happens that's bad, but not really, really bad, Mum says, "well, it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick."

Mum's going to think seriously about that after our check-up at the vet.

We all went in.  Fanta and I were supposed to both get our needles - but I haven't recovered enough from my injuries, so I have to go back.

Fanta, strangely, loved going to the vet. She loved the car ride, while Percy and I both complained.  She loved waiting for the vet, while Percy and I both just glared around us. She didn't like the thermometer, but allowed it while Mum gave her a hug.

I have to go back for my needle next week, but the vet still tried (and failed) to get that thermometer in my nether regions.

Then we came to Percy.  Percy already had his needle this year, but Mum wanted him to have a check-up.  He is on antibiotics the same as me, after coming home with an owie on his head.

But what Mum really wanted the vet to look at was Percy's eye.

Percy came to us with something that looked like a cataract in one eye.

It turns out it's not a cataract.  The vet said it was something much, much worse.

Percy has had a poke in the eye with a sharp something, at some time before we met him.  There's adhesions, sticking different parts of his eye together.    The vet's given him some eye ointment, and is going to have a look again to see if it's staying the same or getting better or worse.

What happens from there, we don't know. How Percy came to have something sharp stabbing his eye we don't know.  All we know is that Percy's part of our family now, so we have to do whatever we can to look after him. (So now doesn't everyone know it would have been better to have me as an only cat?)

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

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Friday, 23 October 2015


Percy cat sitting beside a cat door that won't let him out.

Percy:  Food had been left outside for me every night after I moved out.  Then it got moved inside , with the garage door open a little bit for me.  That was all good.  Then this cat door appeared.  I thought that was great.  I know all about cat doors.

The door let me in, but there's something wrong with it, and it just won't let me out again.

Meowt! Let meowt!  Meeeeeeeooooowwwwwwttttttttt!

Mr Bumpy cat, with shaved bits and sores.

Mr Bumpy:  I'm still bumped and bruised.  I look strange with all the shaved-off bits.  I still have to take pills.  Now Mum says I have to go back to the vet again!

And to top it all off the new guy's back, and I'm not allowed to go outside.

Meowt!  Let meowt!  Meeeeeeooooowwwwwtttttt!

Fanta dog playing with squeaky pig toy.

Fanta:  Percy's back and Bumpy's almost better.  Mum and I can sleep at night without jumping up every time we hear a yowl or a cat bell.  Both my cats are home and safe, and well, or getting well. Now I can relax and play.

Piggy, piggy.  Who want to throw my squeaky piggy for me to chase?

Sunday, 18 October 2015

Owie Meowie

Hey Minions.

The vet gave me some stuff, so I'm not quite "with it".

I got an owie.  That's what Joey calls it "an owie."

Owwwwiiiieeeee  meeeeoooowwwwiiiieeee!!!!!!!

Oh hey, is that my paw there?

What was I?

Oh yeah, the owie.

I went out the other night.  Mum was putting out food for Percy and I got out while she was doing it.

I didn't come home until about 3am.

That was a great night.  I got in a bit of a fight, but, hey, it's all in a good night out.

This morning, Mr D looked at my face and said I looked like a Na'vi from Avatar.  My face was swollen up, and my nose didn't have a shape any more.

By the time Mum got home from church, my whole face was swollen, so it was off to the vet.

I complained in the cat box, of course. But the vet was OK, except for the thermometer, you-know-where.  I pulled my tail tightly around my rump, and both Mum and Mr D held on to me so the vet could lift my tail up.

It's undignified and uncomfortable.  Vets should not be able to put cold thermometers up cats'  ahhhh where was I?

Oh yeah.  Then the vet gave me a needle.

I don't know much more after that, except somehow I got this bucket thing on my head.  I've tried to back out of it, but no matter how much I back up, it's still all around my head.

The vet nurse told Mum I was a really good cat and I was purring while they were working on my face. Nothing at the vet is ever as bad as the thermometer.

Anyway, I am just soooooo tired, I can't keep my head up.

I think I'll just lie down here.  Thunk!

So until, you know.

I'm Bumps, the Supreme Feelfine Over-pawed err, I'm the Boss Cat.

I am cat, hear me snore.

Update:  We're having to take the cone off Mr Bumpy.  He may be the only cat in the world that could achieve this, but he's further injured himself trying to take the thing off.  - Mum.

Friday, 16 October 2015

Schrodinger's Percy

Percy - before his great escape.
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

After Percy ran away a while back,  he came home safely that same night.

But then he ran away again.

You see, he and I both charged at Mum while she was trying to sneak out the door to check something for the fencing contractor (the one who is helping to make our yard cat-proof.) We took her by surprise and got away.

Of course I came back for dinner.  Percy didn't.

In fact Percy hasn't come home and it's been over a week.

It's not that he's completely lost.  We know where he is.

Mr D delivered leaflets asking for information about Percy to every house for a kilometre radius.  So we've had information.

We know that Percy is spending his days in a stormwater drain, in front of number 14.

We know that Percy ate the goldfish out of next door's pond.  (Mum was very embarrassed when the man from next door told her about that,  apparently not eating the neighbours is now one of  those rules she expects us to obey.)

Mum and Mr D and Miss C have all seen Percy, and chased him, but he was far too fast and no human could possibly catch him. (I really didn't think the furball had it in him.  He's got more cat skills than I gave him credit for.)

But when I say Percy left, he didn't completely leave.

Mum's put out food to keep him from leaving the area.  So he eats out in front of our house each night.

She put food in a cat trap, and Percy showed he could take the food without springing the trap.

One night, Percy didn't find the food in exactly the same place and yowled like a banshee.  It was really something, but of course, when Mum went out to see what was wrong, he ran away.

So, we still feed Percy, but he's not really living here, even though he should do.

Mum and Mr D were talking about him today, and Mr D said he was like Schrodinger's cat.

In Schrodinger's experiment you had a cat in a box that could be either dead or alive, but you didn't know unless you opened the box, so until you opened the box, Shcrodinger said the cat was both dead and alive.

Mr D said we both have and don't have a Percy.

We have him because he's registered to Mum, and we feed him, and he comes back to eat.  We don't have him because he's not here, no-one can come near him, and mostly the only time anyone knows he is around is when they hear the bell from his collar during the night.

It's been a week and a half.

Mum and Fanta are both getting a bit tired and ragged.  You see they both jump out of bed at night whenever they hear Percy's bell.

I keep telling everyone that I'm all the cat anyone could need, but the humans still keep trying to find ways to get Percy to come home.

Now Mum's opening up the garage door (that leads to the studio, not  a garage at all, because that's what our house is like) and moving Percy's food further and further inside each night.  She hopes he's going to decide that inside a house is nicer than in a stormwater drain and just stay home after dinner.

Of course, that hasn't worked so far.  But Percy is still eating his food, and the humans still get to see his fluffy fat rump as he runs away across the road whenever they try to get him.

The other day when I escaped (again), and didn't come back until about 2am, Mum said she could hear Sesame Street's The Count in her head saying: "Two cats take away one cat is one cat.  One cat take away one cat is no cats. Ah ha ha ha!"

Mum says she has two goals in life now: to get Percy home, and get the cat proof fencing finished.  I don't really think she needs to do either. A much better goal would be to give Bumpy everything he wants whenever he wants it and just adore him constantly and forget about the furball.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Tuesday, 22 September 2015


Image: Percy cat, relaxing on the couch, in a patch of sunlight.
It's all Percy's fault!
Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

I'm going to complain to the United Nations or the RSPCA or whoever it is you complain to when cats' rights are violated.

It's all Percy's fault.  I'm being punished unjustly because of him.

As you know, Percy was absent without leave for several hours yesterday.

Because of that, Mum has ordered cat-proofing to go on the fences for our yard, and has decreed that no cat can go outside until it's installed.

That means I had to stay in all day.

To make sure we did as we were told, she put the lock on our door.  And that lock works.  I know, I tried running head first into it full speed several times today. It wouldn't move.  But my head feels strange.  I think I can smell colours.

Mum took Fanta out to the yard lots of times, for bathroom breaks and just to play and relax in the sun, and roll around in the dirt.

I said, "Hey, Mum, innocent cat here who likes to play and relax in the sun and roll around in the dirt."

You know what she said?  She said: "You stay inside and get to know Percy."

Really. Who says I want to know Percy?

Most of the day, I've been napping on the spare bed.  Percy spent some of the morning on the couch, then moved to the nappy change table in the bathroom.  We've done quite a good job of avoiding each other.

A couple of times, Percy's tried to say hello to me, but I've told him in no uncertain terms that I don't want him here.

Fanta keeps wanting to make friends with the furball, but she's so big and clumsy Percy is afraid Fanta will hurt him.

Mum says everyone spending time inside together will be good for us, because we will have to learn to get on.  She says I learned to get on with Fanta, didn't I?

I say, open the door and let me go climb a tree.  I'm a cat, not a cuddly toy, I need to be out doing normal, natural, cat things.

So, for all of this cruel and unfeline punishment, I'm going to complain.

Until next time we meet in the Bloggosphere
I remain,

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord,
and Political Prisoner.

Monday, 21 September 2015

Why Blame Me?

Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

The humans are all worried tonight, and they seem to think it's my fault.  Even Mum's Facebook friends seem to think it's my fault.

Last night Percy settled in nicely.  He even got over his initial fear of Fanta to sleep on Mum's bed with both Mum and Fanta.

I slept on the couch. Alone.  Nobody came out to comfort me.

Well, Mum got up a couple of times through the night to check on me, but Fanta and Percy came with her each time, and I didn't want to be friends with Percy, and I told Fanta I didn't want to be friends with her if she was with Percy, either.

This morning, when Mum opened the pet door, Percy went out to the yard, but he came back after sunning himself for a while, and had brushies and watched TV for a while, before wandering out again.

Mum was pretty sure he knew to come back.

It's past dinnertime and he's not back yet.

Now the humans are worrying.

Of course, Percy doesn't know when dinner time is, or when lock-up time is, so he's just staying out as late as he feels like.

But the humans are afraid that he's lost or run away, or that I have chased him away.

One of Mum's Facebook friends asked if I'd been seen with a very small shovel, in case they should be looking for a shallow grave.

Mum's already posting his picture on lost animal pages of Facebook.

I think it's all a big over-reaction.  He can't really be gone.  I wouldn't be that lucky.

I'm sure he's going to saunter in, in his own good time, and steal my place on the bed, boss my doggy sister around, and get attention from my humans.

Of course, he's going to stay out really late first, just to make the humans think I might have done something to him, just so they act suspiciously towards me.  I can already tell he's that kind of a cat.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Totally Innocent, but Not Believed,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Half past midnight the prodigal cat returned.
Mum killed the fatted wet food sachet for him to have a feast.
His resentful big brother (Bumpy) grumbled and complained.
Mum told the big brother to "build a bridge and get over it."

Percy is now contentedly proving his name should be "Purrrcy".

Sunday, 20 September 2015


Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

You might remember that when I ran for Federal Parliament, one of my policies was that there should be no feline homelessness.

Well, I'm revising my opinion.

You see, Mum decided to save a feline from homelessness - by bringing him to our home!

Yes, you read that right.  I have a new little brother, Percy.  Miss C says he's Sir Percival.

He's some sort of high class Persian. (Well, that's what the rescue people said, but he looks more like a rag doll.)  But my humans got him from a group who rescue cats from death row.

So, one has to ask, is this new "brother" a criminal who deserved execution?

Mum told me not to be silly, but Percy's already committed a major crime here.  He brought fleas when he came from the foster carer.  And Mum didn't just flea treat him, she gave Fanta and me extra flea treatments as well!

Apart from that, he apparently supposed to share my stuff - dishes, litter tray, even humans.

Well, I don't like him.  I don't like the smell of him.

If anyone wants me, I'll be behind the tv. No I'm not sulking.  I'm just not welcoming this pile of hair into my house.

Fanta's already fawning over him.  The humans all seem to adore him too.  It's just not right.

I'm the Feline Overlord here, and everyone just better remember that.

Whats that Mum? Treats?  Why yes, I'll have a couple.

No, crunch, crunch, I don't want to come talk to my new brother. But I'll have some more of those Temptations if you're offering.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Very disgruntled,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Wednesday, 26 August 2015

Mr Bumpy Demonstrates: How to ignore humans

Mr Bumpy launches his own YouTube Channel, with a demonstration of how to ignore a human, while ensuring the human can't ignore you.

Tuesday, 25 August 2015

Mr Bumpy, Feline Detective

Image: Miss Fantasia Dog and Mr Bumpy Cat on Mum's bed.
Inspecting the scene of the crime.
Fanta: What are you doing, Bumpy?

Bumpy:  I'm investigating a serious crime.

Fanta: Are you a detective, Bumpy?

Bumpy:  Why yes, I am.  This isn't the first crime I've investigated.

Fanta: Can I help?

Bumpy: Yes. You can be my dumb sidekick.

Fanta: What's a dumb sidekick?

Bumpy: Every great detective has one.  Holmes has Watson.  Pirot has Hastings.

Fanta: What does a dumb sidekick do?

Bumpy: Has everything explained to him so the people watching the tv show know how clever the detective is.

Fanta: Oh.  So what are we investigating?

Bumpy:  Mum was seriously assaulted last night, while she was asleep.

Fanta:  What?  I didn't know that!

Bumpy:  Didn't you hear her squeal?

Fanta: Yes, but I thought she was having a bad dream.  I sometimes have bad dreams, you know.

Bumpy:  No.  She woke up to find she was soaking wet, and so was the bed.

Fanta: No! How did that happen?

Bumpy:  It was the work of a criminal mastermind I call Megadrool Dog.  I've been trying to catch Megadrool Dog for months now.

Fanta: You mean this isn't the first time it's happened?

Bumpy: Far from it.

Fanta: I didn't know.

Bumpy:  Well, you're only young, and you're a dog, and you're a dumb sidekick.  You don't know much.  But Megadrool Dog (whoever that really is) has been sneaking in here and drooling all over Mum while she sleeps.

Fanta: Oh, that's awful.  Poor Mum. How is Megadrool Dog getting in?

Bumpy:  Through our door.  I know that because, this never happened before you came here and there was only a tiny door for me.  But now there's a door big enough for a dog your size, well, Megadrool Dog is getting in that way.

Fanta:  But Mum and Mr D lock our door during the night!

Bumpy:  Did I mention that Megadrool Dog is a criminal mastermind. He, or even she, has a way of breaking in through our door.

Fanta:  And how does Megadrool Dog get into our back yard to come through our door?  The fence is so high.  You can get over it because you're a cat, but a dog can't jump that high.

Bumpy:  We are dealing with a very clever criminal mastermind here.  Megadrool Dog seems to be able to get our locked gate open the same way as he or she gets our locked door open.  Either that, or,  (whispers) he or she has a collaborator on the inside.

Fanta: An inside job!

Bumpy: Shhhhh!!!!!

Fanta: Surely not!  I couldn't believe that.

Bumpy: I don't want to believe it of our humans either.  And I know it couldn't be Mr D because he's the best human in the world.

Fanta: How do you know Megadrool Dog is a dog anyway?

Bumpy: Elementary, my dear Fantasia.  The amount of drool was way too much for anyone my size.  It had to be someone at least as big as you to produce that amount of saliva.  Hence, Megadrool Dog is definitely a dog.

Fanta: So how do we catch this evil criminal mastermind?

Bumpy:  Well he or she got away this time, but I have a plan.

Fanta: Is it a very clever plan?

Bumpy:  It's better than clever.  It's a cunning plan.

Fanta: What is this cunning plan?

Bumpy: From now on we, by which I mean, you, will sleep right on top of Mum of a night time.  That way when Megadrool Dog comes in to drool over her, you will get drooled on instead.  You will wake up immediately and subdue the villain, and call me in time for me to get credit.  I would do it myself, but you know, dog drool would ruin my hairstyle.

Fanta:  OK.  I'll sleep on Mum and keep her completely safe from Megadrool Dog.  Great plan, Bumpy.  You really are a fantastic detective.

Monday, 24 August 2015

Mr Bumpy's List of Potential Uses for a Dog

Image: Mr Bumpy Cat sleeping on top of Miss Fanta Dog.
1. A warm cat bed.

  1. A warm cat bed.
  2. To reach food left on cabinets, and knock it down for the cat.
  3. To force open the food cupboard door.
  4. To distract humans while the cat steals treats.
  5. To entertain humans when the cat can't be bothered.
  6. A mobile scratching post.
  7. Food bowl cleaner.
  8. Someone to blame.
  9. To chase off the mean neighbour cat when it sneaks into my yard.
  10. For pouncing practice.
  11. The tail makes a great chasing toy.

Sunday, 9 August 2015

Bad Human!

Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,
And this doggy sister went wee
wee wee wee, in Mum's

I've told you before that Mum is a Bad Human.

This time, even she thinks she is. She even went mad at herself.

You see, sometimes her lupus makes her have a thing called "brain fog".  It means she doesn't think properly.  Sometimes, Fanta and I can use that to our advantage and trick her into thinking she hasn't given us our dinner, and make her give us another one.  (Although now Mr D does most of our feeding, and he never forgets if he's fed us.)

Anyway, tonight, Mum was about to go to bed, when she found a puddle in her room.  Fanta had weed in there.  Mum got mad at Fanta, and said Fanta was supposed to say when she needed to go out.

Of course Fanta cried because she got into trouble.

Then Mum remembered Fanta had tried to tell her something earlier.

Fanta was climbing on her and I was biting her earlier.  Mum had thought we were trying to trick her into giving us a second dinner, and she told us to go away.  (I really wanted a second dinner, too.)

She didn't stop to think Fanta might be trying to tell her something else. She didn't think "the back door's locked for the night and Fanta can't get out the doggy door if she needs to go."

She didn't stop to think, "Fanta's a great big dog with a fat behind who couldn't get into a litter tray, even if she was smart enough to know how to use one."

Oh no, she just thought if we were both jumping on her at the same time, we both wanted the same thing.

So when Mum realised that she was mad at herself. Then she was upset because she got mad at herself.

Now Mum and Fanta are both upset and trying to comfort each other and clean up, and no-one's paying any attention to anything I might be attempting, which is just great.

Now, I can see why this animal food cupboard door is childproof, and even why it might be dogproof.  But why is it catproof? I've seen both Mum and Mr D do this, so I know it can be done.  I just can't seem to get a grip.  Maybe it's one of those opposable thumb things.  There must be another way.  

Oh, are you still here?  Well, move along, then. Nothing to see here.  (Unless you go laugh at Mum and Fanta.)  It's just an innocent cat in the kitchen, innocently minding his own business. All perfectly innocent.  Did I say "innocent"?  Innocent.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord,
Owner of a Very Bad Human.

Sunday, 28 June 2015

Big Brother is Watching You

Hello Everyone,

Zorro's Mum (from Switzerland) and my Mum
(from Australia) met in England.
I've been looking back through the old posts on, and discovered Mr Woof's Awesome Animals interviews.

I think they were such a good idea, I will do some.

My first is with Zorro from The Swiss Cats. Zorro's family is a bit like mine, there is a big brother (Zorro) and a little sister (Pixie).

Oh, and Zorro's Mum knows my Mum. They met in England last year.

So this is my first ever Awesome Animal interview, all about being a big brother.  I hope you like it.

Licks and tail wags,
Miss Fantasia Dog.
(You can call me Fanta.)

Fanta: I don't think my big brother liked me at first.  Did you like Pixie when you first met her?

Zorro: Well, she was so tiny! First, I wonder what was that little ball of fur. Then I smell her while she was sleeping, and she smelled good. The day after she went to pee in my litter box. Mum was afraid of a kind of possible nuclear war.., but I felt overwhelmed by her cuteness and I rather gave her a good bath.

Fanta: So you decided very quickly that you liked her?

Zorro: Yes. She was irresistible, and I wanted so much someone to play with me!

Fanta: What is the best thing about being a big brother?

Zorro: First, you're the boss. At least the first six months.Then, you can teach what you know: how to catch a bird, where to barf, ...

Fanta: Is there anything you don't like about being a big brother?
Zorro still bathes his little sister Pixie,
even though she's all grown up now.

Zorro: When Pixie made some mischief under my supervision, I was often told it was my fault, which is totally unfair. And then my sweet little sister is grown up and I wonder if I'm still the boss.

Fanta: So she sometimes gets you into trouble?  Are there times you get into mischief together as well?

Zorro: When she was four months old, I gave her an almost dead birdie. She brought it inside, and I got the blame! But now, we love to drive our humans nuts at bedtime.We have to go inside so that they can shut the cat flap. But when I come in, Pixie goes out it's so much fun!

Fanta: That sounds like lots of fun.  My last question might be the most important.  Do you have any advice for other big brothers, for example my catty big brother Mr Bumpy?

Zorro: Don't forget to educate your young sisfur or brofur how to train humans: it's the most important. And how to make them feel guilty if you're not their first priority. Give your young sisfur or brofur one or two wacky paws : if you don't know why, they sure do.

Fanta: Thank you Zorro, you are truly a wise and caring big brother.  (And we've got the guilt thing well and truly covered here.)

Zorro: Well done !

Sunday, 21 June 2015

Bad Bumpy

"I'm a good girl." - Miss Fantasia Dog.
Oh hello,

I'm not sure if you realise this, but I'm a very good girl.

I'm always good.

Oh, unless there's cupcakes involved, or cupboard doors I can open. (I wonder why Mum and Mr D put that childproof catch on the animal food cupboard?)

Mr Bumpy, on the other hand, is very, very bad.

Today, Mum and I were playing "chase the squeaky piggy".  Well, I was chasing.  Mum doesn't chase very well, she just throws. But, even allowing for Mum's lack of chasing ability, we were having quite a bit of innocent fun chasing the piggy down the hall and back.  I put in a few spectacular high leaps, as well.

(Oh, the picture, that's not the piggy.  That was my cuddly bunny.  I loved that cuddly bunny very much. Then it suddenly spontaneously exploded and there was bunny stuffing everywhere.  I don't know how it happened.  It happens to all my soft toys, eventually, no matter how much I love them.)

Well, as I said, there we were, innocently chasing a squeaky piggy down the hall, when I heard and smelled something odd.  I stood still, looking towards the back door.

Mum was squeaking the piggy, saying, "Fanta, Fanta, ready to catch the piggy?"

But I wasn't looking at Mum.  I was looking the other way.

"What's wrong? Had enough playing?" Mum said, just as Bumpy sauntered in, dragging a bird.

He watched to make sure Mum had seen what he was doing and started to run (well, Mum can't really run, but it was a fast limp.)  And he darted into her room and under the bed.

Bumpy planned this out really well.  He did it just as Mr D had left to go to Brisbane.  He knows Mum can't get under the bed.

I really don't understand Mr Bumpy.  I certainly would never think to kill another animal and bring it into the house. I'm just in shock.

Really, Mr Bumpy is a very, very bad cat.

On the other hand.  I am a perfectly good doggy.

Now, I think I'll get under the bed... just to tell Bumpy what a bad cat he is, not to make the problem worse in any way.

Good-bye for now,
Miss Fantasia Dog.
(Call me Fanta.)

Friday, 10 April 2015


Image Mr Bumpy in cat tower, baby Joey starting to climb tower.

Humans are fine in their place.

Image: Baby Joey has climbed a bit further up the tower.

I did say in their place. Not in my place.

Image: Baby Joey has reached Bumpy.

MUM!  MUM!  HELP! My home's being invaded!

Monday, 9 March 2015

Achieving a Life-long Goal

Image: Mr Bumpy Cat eating FriskiesHello out there in the Bloggosphere,

Today, I achieved a lifelong dream.

I have always wanted to be able to get my own Friskies, in whatever amount I feel like, without having to wait for a human.

While Mum and Mr D were out today, Fanta and I set about making my dream come true.

Fanta's size and strength can come in handy at times.

My deviousness helps a lot, too.

We got our food cupboard open.

Mum suspects the cupboard may not have been properly closed.

We're neither confirming nor denying that.

In fact, we're not saying anything they couldn't see for themselves.

So what they could see, was the cupboard open, the Friskies pack torn open, and all of the treat packs open. We didn't open Fanta's food bag, because that's really big and heavy and we had quite a feast without it anyway.

The entire kitchen floor was covered in food and treats, and bits of boxes and bags.

We knew just how awesome what we'd achieved was when the humans both started ranting about "bad animals".  Whenever a human says "bad", I know what I've done is incredibly awesome.

Anyway, now Mum is talking about "babyproofing" the kitchen cupboards.  I think that's a great idea.  We wouldn't want baby Joey getting into our food, now, would we? There's really not enough to share.

Just as long as Fanta and I can work out how to get the cupboard open again when the humans aren't looking.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Slightly over-full,
Supreme Feline Overlord.

Sunday, 1 March 2015

In a Shady Part Of The Garden

 Oh, hi.  You want the cubby house? That's fine, I'll go lie over there.  Have fun.

 I do like baby Joey, but, a Feline Overlord also needs his space.

It's quite a nice day out here in the garden, under the trees.

I wonder how long it is until stinky fish time?

Ah, well, hello again.

You can have the cubby house now if you want. Really, I'm fine out here.

Oh, you wanted to see me?  Well, of course, I am quite a fascinating cat.

All right, I'll give you a little smooch, if that's what you want.

Woa! Hey, I said a little smooch!  Don't leave baby drool on the hair, OK.  Look I love you and all, but this is a bit much.

My fans, they're just all over me.  That's what happens when you're really attractive, and in the public eye. Ah the cost of being Supreme Feline Overlord!

Thanks to our special guest photographer Arttu Elomaa.

Thursday, 19 February 2015

Hello Tabs

Hello out there in the Bloggosphere,

Remember Curtis?  Yes, the little guy did look a little insecure in his photo.  He's found a home now.

Tabs is a slightly more mature
lady, but she's a very attractive cat.
He sends his thanks to everyone who shared his story.

So now, it's back to the RSPCA, to see who else I can be a buddy to.

Well... hello Tabs.

Here's her basic information:

Well hello, my name is Tabs. I am 8 years old, single lady, looking to meet the family of my dreams. I do have a lot of love and life left in me. I love to have cuddles and will curl up on a ball on your lap. If you have a lap and room for me in your heart. Please come visit me at Wacol RSPCA. Adoption Price $120


Breed: Domestic Short Hair
Gender: Female
Age: 8 years 3 weeks 
Desexed: Yes
My ID: 842240
Adopt me from: RSPCA Brisbane

If you follow the address to the RSPCA, you could make Tabs your very own forever cat.

Remember, if you don't have cat hair on your furniture, you're just not living life to the full.

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

Mr Bumpy,
Supreme Feline Overlord,
RSPCA Challenge Buddy

Oh, and if you're on the Gold Coast, at the moment, the Animal Welfare League on the Gold Coast has reduced the cost of adopting a cat to $50. (Not sure I like special deals on animals at the shelters - that's how we got Fanta.)