Katherine ate my food!

The One is about to learn what happens to those who defy me.

This morning, I was lying in bed looking forward to enjoying a lovely dish of room-temperature squishy food and considering opening a window while the One's at work and pushing Clara the Cow out of it.

The One distributes the squishy food to the others before she brings me mine because I am special. And because Katherine shoves her head into her dish before the food has even landed. 

I hate Katherine.

Anyway, the One brought my dish of food up to my bedroom and said to me, "Nora, you can't eat on the bed. Where do you want to eat?" [Editor's Note: This is true.]

"Where do I want to eat?" Really?
How about right where I AM, stupid.
Why do you think I'm sitting here like this?

Obviously, the One suffered some kind of brain damage in her sleep last night. I patiently informed her that, as her sovereign, I am, in fact, entitled to eat anywhere I choose.

Again, the One told me I couldn't eat on the bed. And, since her words were not appalling enough already, she proceeded to wave my dish of food near my face and then set it on the floor next to the bed. Have you ever had a servant wave a dish of food near your face and then set it out of reach? Demeaning? I should say so!

That's right. This is what outrage looks like.

Now, I don't have to tell you (or maybe I do – for all I know, you're as stupid as Clara), the floor is where the others eat. 

And my nemesis, Katherine, is one of the others.

I did my best to control my temper (I got my distemper shot recently, even though I didn't need one, as I have been the picture of decorum all my life due to my royal heritage) and rolled over on my back, the better to demonstrate my fearsome claws. Also, sometimes when I look particularly adorable, the One does what I want without argument.

The One did not do what I wanted without argument. She didn't even do what I wanted. She argued!

"Nora, I'm not going to feed you on the bed. If you want to eat, your food's down here." She pointed to my dish, sitting there, mocking me, on the floor.

At this point, I had no choice but to stand up and announce with all the authority I could muster, "You will feed me on the bed or there will be painful consequences. Possibly a beheading. And I will definitely push Clara the Cow out the window while you're at work."

And . . . this is the worst part. Okay. Not the worst part – that part is coming – but it was bad. Really really bad. The One said to me (this is so horrible, I don't even know if I can repeat it), "Nora if you stay on the bed, Katherine's going to eat your food."

She actually SAID that to me! That brain damage I mentioned? It's confirmed. Why would ANYONE say something so horrible? And to ME! She should be thankful she's ALLOWED to feed me! And here she is casually suggesting that the bane of my existence might be allowed to eat my food just because I stood my ground and demanded to be treated in a manner suitable to my station in life?

Well, let me tell you, I responded in the only way I possibly could. I lay back down with my back to her and refused to speak.

This move was intended to guilt the One into finally doing what she was supposed to do in the first place – feed me on the bed. But did she do that? She did not. And you know what happened? 

KATHERINE ATE MY FOOD!!!!!!!

I hope the One is prepared for the devastation and destruction that's about to rain down upon her life. When I'm finished with her, she'll be BEGGING to feed me on the bed. You just wait.

Also, I've almost figured out how to open the window. After Clara tumbles to her death, Katherine's next. The One wants to play this game? She has no idea who she's dealing with.

Nobody cares about my pain

Nobody understands the torture I must endure living in the palace with Katherine. She is insufferable, but my demands that she be executed, or at the very least dropped off at the pound, fall upon deaf ears.

This morning, I was sitting in the blanket drawer - don't ask what that is; it's exactly what it sounds like, dummy - minding my own royal business when Katherine suddenly appeared above me on the bed and proceeded to stare at me.

Obviously, all I could do under such conditions was vacate the drawer and make my way to the other side of the bedroom.

Nobody should have to endure such treatment, especially one as noble as myself. I insisted that something be done, and you know what the One said to me? She said, "Nora, she's not doing anything to you."

Let THAT sink in for a moment.

I am currently holding the One's brown pile of paper hostage until she recognizes the extreme inappropriateness of her comment. I don't know what she intends to do with this paper, but as long as I'm sitting on it, she can't do it. That will teach her.

I don't know what this paper is for,
but it's mine until I get my way.

Vicious Cows and Other Myths

Clara likes to play a game called "Vicious Creature in the Bathtub." The game involves a vicious creature crouching in the bathtub just out of sight, then leaping out to startle and possibly maul an unsuspecting passerby. 

Don't let those creepy glowing eyes fool you.
This is not a vicious creature.

Unfortunately, but not surprisingly, Clara plays the game wrong. If SHE were the unsuspecting maulee, I'd be all for it, but she insists on playing the vicious creature.

In case you have forgotten, Clara is a cow. 

Cows are not vicious.

In fact, I'd say it's nigh impossible to think of an animal that is LESS vicious than a cow. You aren't ever going to see a movie about a cownado. They tried the cownado concept in the 1996 movie Twister and found that, rather than eliciting dread from the audience, cows in tornadoes only induced laughter.

This is not scary.

Cows are not scary. 

Cows are not given to rampages of fury (stampedes occur because of stupidity - not rage). 

Cows are useless, slow-witted, and decidedly lacking in any feature resembling ferocity.

Now, if Fairbanks were to engage in a spirited game of Vicious Creature in the Bathtub, THEN you'd see some true brutality.  

Fairbanks could rip everyone in the palace
to shreds if he so chose.

Saint WHO???

I was shocked to find out that yesterday was a holiday entirely devoted to my stupid brother Nick. And, even MORE shocking, Nick has apparently been elevated to sainthood!!

Okay, folks. This is absolutely unacceptable. Nick's ego is already out of control because of the royalty thing - now you think it's appropriate to make him a SAINT?

Let me explain a few things about Nick.

First, Nick misplaced his tail. Yes. That's right. He had a tail. And then he didn't have a tail. And it's not like he just set it aside for later or sent it out to be cleaned - it's gone. He has no tail. Do you honestly think anyone stupid enough to lose his tail is worthy of sainthood?

"Where is his tail?" you might ask.
Where, indeed.

Second, Nick's best friend is a COW. You heard me. Nick - a royal prince destined to go down in history as the loyal brother of the queen herself - is best friends with a cow.

BFFs for life. Seriously.
The only thing that would be worse
would be if he were friends with Katherine.

Finally, Nick is whiny. When the imbecile, Shadow, lived with us. Nick bitched about him nonstop. I'm serious. He NEVER shut up. "Whaaaa, whaaaa, whaaa  - I don't like Shadow - make him leave me alone - why is Shadow here?" I have news for you, Nick. NOBODY liked Shadow. But did we wander around complaining like it was the end of the world? No. We bore his presence with quiet dignity, knowing that one day he would be gone and our lives would go back to normal.

Shadow
Nick's nemesis

Nick is not a saint. He is not even a teeny bit saintly. Plus, leaving socks and shoes out hoping Nick will put treats or toys in them is a complete waste of time. He may have put a toy in a shoe once, but I can assure you, it was a complete accident, and he promptly forgot he'd done it. I'll defend to my death Nick's right to be treated with the respect he deserves as a member of the royal family, but make no mistake: he is a buffoon of the highest order.

If I hear about people continuing this ridiculous St. Nick holiday nonsense next December, I'm going to be ordering a number of swift executions. Keep that in mind and make your choices accordingly.

Will the horror ever end?

It appears that invasions by the Keira, of which I wrote previously, are meant to be a regular occurrence. This in spite of my clear warnings to the One regarding potential consequences should the Keira be allowed back into the palace.

I have not yet determined exactly what sort of creature the Keira is. Fairbanks speculated that it may be some kind of weaponized mutant designed for a nefarious purpose we are unable to understand. It resembles the humans in features, but it is small and inarticulate and seems to have motor-control issues.

As you can see here, the Keira's limbs do not seem to be
controlled by its brain. It is possible it is controlled by a
 malfunctioning radio-frequency remote. I'll have
Fairbanks look into this.

It also eats a substance that has the consistency of my squishy food but does not smell appetizing at all. I ordered Katherine to eat some and report back, in the hopes that the Keira food might be toxic to cats, but she refused.

Here is a picture of the Shadowbringer feeding
the possibly-toxic squishy food to the Keira.

A new horror descends upon the palace

What in the name of all that is unholy is this???

Here is what my spies and I have been able to figure out so far:

1. It is called a Keira.
2. It belongs to the Shadowbringer and her manservant, Jon.
3. It is not furry enough to be a cat, nor does it have a tail, but it is much too small to be a person.
4. It has apparently been mistaken for a god or some sort of royalty from the way the One, the Shadowbringer, and Jon all cater to it.
5. Katherine likes it, so it is obviously evil.
6. It grabbed my fur in one of its little fists and wouldn't let go.

Also, it is apparently a girl, as evidenced by the
dress and the squeaky voice.

I have informed the One that another invasion of the palace by the Keira will not be tolerated. I don't think she was listening to me, though. For some reason she felt it was more important to hold the Keira up and help it repeatedly turn the hallway lights on and off. Any creature that finds such a pointless activity interesting is obviously either broken or up to some diabolical scheme. If it's the latter, I shall put a swift end to it.

Clara keeps sitting on me.

Have you ever had a cow sit on you?

Just take a moment and imagine it.

Seriously. Take a moment. I'll wait.

There. Now you're getting the picture. 

It is a singularly unpleasant experience and one I shall not stand for.

Why anyone would even consider allowing a cow into a palace is beyond me.

I hate Clara.