Katherine is my Bane.

For some unknown reason, Katherine still lives in the palace. I've done everything I could to have her banished from the kingdom, but she's just always there, eating my food, being nearby, eating more of my food . . . I am convinced that the One could probably save so much money that she could quit that stupid job that she claims is so important if it weren't for Katherine and her appetite. The creature eats everything! She eats her food, and then she harasses my stupid brother Nick until he gives her the rest of his food, and then she eats the rest of my special, royal food when I'm finished. She goes out on the deck and eats leaves. She licks the One's food whenever she can get near it. She has fits if she thinks the One is going to forget our bedtime treats. It's incredibly unbecoming. I hate her.

Status Quo at the Palace - Everyone Is Lazy but Me

The One Who Types keeps promising she'll keep up with my blog, but she's so lazy! People like to claim cats are lazy because we sleep a lot, but at least we're doing interesting things when we're awake! The One doesn't do anything that should interfere with her ability to type my blog for me - she doesn't even have to come up with the words on her own! I dictate the content - all she has to do is type. How hard is that? Honestly!

The status quo continues here in the palace. The bathroom nobody consulted me about is finished. It doesn't seem any better to me, other than the fact that my toys skitter quite satisfactorily across the new tile floor. And I do rather like the new closet, with it's little cat-sized cubbies for me to sit in. The new counter is higher than the old one, so Clara the Cow has to jump with a lot more effort to reach it when she wants to drink out of the faucet. It's fun to listen to her complain about that. She's obsessed with that faucet. She'd probably drink enough water to drown if the One didn't turn it off occasionally. Hmmm. Perhaps I can figure out how to turn the water on . . .

Unauthorized construction - beheadings to follow

Someone got it into her head that my palace needed a new bathroom. I was not consulted regarding this decision; I was just napping peacefully one day, and a team of strangers came into the palace and started tearing up the bathroom without my permission. Fairbanks tried to stop them by peeing on one of the new walls they put up, but they just told the One Who Types to clean it up and continued with their destruction.

See what I have to put up with?

It's been a week now since the process began, and it shows no sign of ending anytime soon. I expressed my displeasure and ordered a number of beheadings, but so far, nobody has paid any attention to me.

Fairbanks also made a valiant effort to
scare the workmen away by allowing a demon
to possess him, but it didn't work. 

On a brighter note, Katherine has to go to the doctor on Monday for shots. I hope they give her the one that makes her go to sleep . . . forever.

The rodent rebellion has been quashed.

I am pleased to announce that efforts to overthrow my reign by a contingent of rebels have been suppressed. Recently, it came to my attention that a group of neighborhood rodents - primarily mice and rabbits - had organized and developed a plan to oust me from my palace and bestow the kingdom upon some ridiculous little dog with bows in her hair. I have seen this dog out prancing about on a leash, which clearly demonstrates that she is an idiot; I can only assume the rodents intended to place this slobbering figurehead in power and rule from behind the scenes.

Fortunately for you, my loyal subjects, the rodent rebellion did not get very far. Fairbanks found one of their spies, a young rabbit whom they obviously thought we would overlook due to his age, and brought him into the palace for interrogation. We learned of their plan from this terrified bunny, who didn't even bother to try to resist long enough for any real torture to begin. The One Who Types insisted we release him unharmed.

Armed with the valuable information we extracted from the baby bunny spy, we managed to remain safe as the leaders of the rebellion were eliminated. Although my brother Nick is usually pretty useless, he proved his worth by beheading the leader of the mouse army and leaving his body in front of the palace to serve as warning to all the other rodents. It was actually pretty cool, although I wouldn't make a big deal out of it - we can't have Nick getting too full of himself.

Headless rodent rebellion leader

Anyway, the palace is secure, the rebels have been defeated and my sovereignty is stronger than ever. Unfortunately, Katherine was not killed during the fighting, but we can always hope a ceiling fan will fall on her or something.

A poem I wrote

Once upon a midnight dreary
As I pondered, weak and weary.
Waiting patiently for my treat
(I never get enough to eat)
I sat still, with nary a twitch
And in pranced Katherine,
That skinny bitch.
She jumped ahead and stole my snack
So I gave her a (mostly) gentle whack.
She toppled off the bed so fast
And landed on her scrawny ass.
She hissed and growled and then she spit
And Clara leaned over to watch her fit.
Gravity took over (or perhaps a light shove?)
And we watched the cow fall from above.
And then, oh no, oh dear! What's that?!
Clara landed on Katherine--SPLAT!
(I told you, you dumb cow, to lose some weight
But as a Kat-squisher, Clara--you're great.)
(Too bad you're a killer, so you're moving away.
All's well that ends well, I always say.)

It didn't work for Harold either.

Although I was quite pleased that the One Who Types finally acknowledged that I am special and, thus, deserve my own fancy food, I must admit that I am highly disappointed in the lack of variety I am given. While my minions are presented with various flavors each day, I receive the same meal day in and day out.

In addition, the One Who Types frequently informs me that she is too busy to take dictation for my blog. I've seen other blogs, and their composers manage to get their minions to type their entries regularly - sometimes even daily. This leads me to the conclusion that the One Who Types is obviously pretending to be busy solely to vex me.

In protest to these deplorable conditions, I spent much of the evening yesterday sprawled out on the living room floor, motionless as if dead.

I expected the One Who Types to see me and fly into a panic at the thought of her beloved sovereign expiring from neglect. Instead, she took pictures of me.

Also, Clara and Nick are giggling about something upstairs, and I am certain they are up to no good.

New vocabulary

I learned a new word today.

Defenestration: the act of throwing someone or something out a window.

I have threatened the One Who Types with defenestration if she continues to ignore my orders to type my blog. She responded with a diatribe about stuff to do and papers to grade and some other equally irrelevant stuff. Basically it all amounted to, "I have other things I'd rather do than type your blog." Honestly, if I didn't rely on her to open my food, I would not put up with such blatant disrespect.

Nick just pointed out that I also like it when she brushes me. Which is true. I do like to be brushed. But if it weren't for the food dispensing and the brushing, she'd be utterly worthless as a minion.