Dr. Fleez

Many of you may already know that for the past two weeks I've been ill. I've suffered a trip to the v*t, been forced to take nasty pills, and have been generally cantankerous and miserable. (Something I'm rather good at, actually.) Well, this week is my self-proclaimed owner's turn. She's come up with something she calls a sinus infection. I suppose it's my vindictive side showing, but I call it comeuppance for making me go through all that rubbish she claimed would help me feel better.

Nevertheless, she is the one who feeds me, so in order to assure my food supply, I shall have to take care of her. I suppose the usual purrscription of rest, allowing her to read to me, purring, and shnuggling will do. I only hope she's not down too long because she's an absolute whiner when she's ill. Not at all a pleasant patient.

I guess the long and short of this message is that I'll be playing Doctor Fleez, trying to help my human overcome her illness, so this week will be short and sweet. In fact this is it.

Yours Purringly,
W.C. Humphries II (Dr. Fleez for short.)

Pure, Unadulterated Laziness.

Over the years, humans have made some dreadful decisions. Their outcomes vary; but I think it's safe to say that most have devastating consequences, and often these consequences could have been avoided with but a tiny measure of forethought. The trouble is, cats aren't much better. At least not when it comes to reaching a deadline, and this week, I've completely failed to plan a topic for discussion. It isn't that I don't have a million topics from which to choose, but picking something out of the air without preparation isn't how I typically operate.

Given the situation, it seems most logical to write about the hazards associated with laziness, which, ironically, is how I got myself into this situation. Well, laziness and enough cat mint to floor a lion. Nevertheless, there's got to be a million sources out there emphasizing the dangers of laziness, and I plan to quote approximately sixty-two percent of them as filler for the remainder of this article. Then, that would take a great deal of effort; and I'm just not feeling overly motivated, so, why don't I just make up a few things and call it a day? Better still, why don't I just quote some funny things that other writers have said about their personal ineptitude? It'll make my readers laugh, make me look like a brilliant, well-read moggy, and make me feel better about my lingering incompetence.

Sounds like a win/win situation to me. ::purrrrrrrr::

One of the authors most qualified to serve my purposes this evening is the ever procrastinating Mr. Douglas Adams, author of more than a few cross-genre science fiction novels. (If it's possible to be simultaneously classified as science fiction and cross-genre.) Mr. Adams was almost as famous for his novels as he was for his absolute lack of self-discipline while writing them. In fact, most people (himself included) were amazed that he actually completed enough publishable material to reach beyond a moderate level of distinction. Below is a list of Douglas Adams quotes, relevant to today's topic:

• "I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." (I'm not sure who originally quoted Adams as saying this, but it's hilarious and extremely relevant.)
• "For a moment, nothing happened. Then, after a second or so, nothing continued to happen." (This fairly well sums up my trying to write anything worth reading after a serious spot of illness.)
• "His study was a total mess, like the results of an explosion in a public library." (Rather like my self-proclaimed owner's office, the chaos of which has only deepened my lack of inspiration.)

Alas, though Mr. Adams may have been the king of procrastination, (so much so that he died procrastinating on his final novel,) there are plenty of noteworthy quotes on the topic, so below I've included yet another list:

• "Laziness is nothing more than the habit of resting before you get tired." – Jules Renard I think (1864-1910)
• "Anyone can do any amount of work providing it isn't the work he is supposed to be doing at that moment." - Robert Benchley
• "Never put off till tomorrow, what you can do the day after tomorrow." - Mark Twain

And now, since I can't be bothered to look up exclusively quotes on laziness, I've decided to quote just about anything as long as I think it funny:

• "A black cat crossing your path signifies that the animal is going somewhere." – Groucho Marx
• A true friend stabs you in the front. – Oscar Wilde
• We spend the first twelve months of our children's lives teaching them to walk and talk and the next twelve telling them to sit down and shut up. – Phyllis Diller
• "I'd kill you for money! Ha-ha-ha! Ah, no. You're my friend. I'd kill you for nothing." – Chico Marx
• "We are actors - we're the opposite of people." – Tom Stoppard
• "A fan club is a group of people who tell an actor he's not alone in the way he feels about himself." – Kenneth Williams
• "If life was fair, Elvis would be alive and all the impersonators would be dead." – Johnny Carson
• "When you've seen a nude infant doing a backward somersault you know why clothing exists." – Stephen Fry
• "Electricity is actually made up of extremely tiny particles called electrons, that you cannot see with the naked eye unless you have been drinking." – Dave Barry

Okay, now I'm tired. I think I'll off to my bed. I've not been well of late, and all this searching for quotes has worn me out. Perhaps next week I'll think of something worthwhile to write about. Nevertheless, I'd not hold my breath would I were you.

Yours Purringly,
W.C. Humphries II (Mr. Fleez for short.)

Veterinarians Are Evil!

I must admit there are days when I'm not myself. At nine years of age, that's to be expected. But when I feel absolutely wretched I don't care to do much of anything. Playing becomes cumbersome, hem-mangling my self-proclaimed owner is a chore, and even eating requires more effort than I care to exert. Unfortunately, rather than let me alone, this blasted human thinks the best thing to do is stuff me in a carrier, strap me to the truck seat, drive a million miles, and take me to a place no kitty should have to go: the V*t's.

I'm not one to complain when someone shows me affection, but as much as she claims it's because she loves me, I know better. It's only when I'm at my weakest that she decides to stuff me into that bag! On a better day I'd have taken her arm off, but for all of her negatives, I can never label her "stupid". In fact, I think she knows too much.

For those of you who've never been to the v*t's office, let me clue you in on a few things. Firstly, you should be grateful for all eternity that you haven't been, and the only thing close to as bad is the drive there. You only think you hate your carrier, but, I'll have you know, once you get onto that hideous table you can't wait to get back in it! There are other animals there, and they taunt you and tease you and say wickedly mean things. The worst are the cats who actually live there. They stare you down and make you feel as unwelcome as they can, calling you furball, fatty, and butter-buns. (So I gained a pound, so what? I've not been feeling well.)

Then there are the other so-called patients, some of which are d*gs. This time there was a particularly nasty wiener d*g who sneered evilly from the arms of his owner just outside the torture chamber known as "Exam Room 1". I'd have hissed at him had I not been trying to operate my collar-cam. Still, he was a total jerk. My self-proclaimed owner thinks he's cute, but if she'd have heard what he said about her, I'm convinced that she'd think he was a jerk, too.

The table upon which they examine you are cold, steely hard things that aren't at all pleasant and cushy. When do humans ever lay on cold steel tables with people looking in their mouths, poking thermometers where they don't belong, and jabbing them in their bladders with needles? When they're laying in the MORGUE, that's when! Let me tell you, if you've never had a cystocentesis, you should be doubly happy. Trust me, that is no pretty procedure! Just looking at that needle makes you have to pee! I tried to tell them I would pee willingly, but I swear humans don't understand Felus! They were determined to poke me anyway, so I peed just so they would have to clean it up. That's what they get for messing with me. (I must admit, I wasn't keen on the bath afterward, but it was worth it just to tick the doctor off.)

I suppose once it's all over with I'll feel better. At least that's what they say. But if you never have to go and get poked and prodded, if you never have to get stuffed, strapped and driven for torture, if you never have to hear a smack talking wiener d*g, you should be a thankful feline; because I did it all yesterday, and all I can think of is losing myself in a cat mint haze for two or three days to ease my stress. If you see me soon, all strung-out or in rehab, just remember, the marvels of modern medicine drove me to it!

Yours Purringly,
W.C. Humphries II (Mr. Fleez for short.)