The Water-Wake-Up Incident

I was sure Clara was going to be steaked this morning, but so far her only punishment has been having her name loudly shrieked. Which, frankly, is the lamest punishment ever invented. I mean, it’s never happened to me, but I seriously doubt that, if it were, it would have any impact whatsoever.

After Clara successfully got the One to get out of bed on Saturday by spilling a water glass on her head, she has attempted this maneuver several more times. 

Each time (prior to this morning), the One heard her scooting the glass across the headboard and put her hand up to stop the imminent shower before it happened. Clara assumed the hand was there to rub her cow-face and forgot about the water glass, so nothing exciting happened at all.

Look at her trying to look all innocent.
She is not innocent. She's a menace.
A bovine menace.

But this morning at about 5:30, the One must have been in a deep sleep because Clara managed to push the water glass all the way across the headboard and tip it over. Cold water cascaded across the pillows, the bed, and the One’s head and body. Fortunately, I was sleeping at the end of the bed; if any of that water had reached me, I would have sliced Clara’s throat open with my razor-sharp claws . . . or at least punched her in the face.

I have never seen the One move that fast. Ever. 

This was when the shriek occurred. 

Nick was excited because he thought she was going to get up and take all the sheets and blankets off the bed and then put new ones on – he loves helping her make the bed – but instead she just scooted over to the very edge of the mattress and tried to go back to sleep.

It didn’t work. The alarm went off soon after, and she got up and got ready to go to the job that she claims is important, even though I’ve never seen her smile when talking about it. Not once.

Fortunately, I did not have to get up and get ready to go anywhere, because I am royal.

Perhaps she will execute Clara when she gets back to the palace tonight. A queen can dream.

Clara still can't have half my food.

This morning, the One did not get up and pay attention to me at her usual time. Something about a "Saturday," which is apparently a euphemism for "day Nora doesn't get fed at her usual time." Not that this was the first Saturday we've encountered. It happens routinely. But a queen is only born with so much patience, and mine has run out.

This is what it looks like when a queen dies
of boredom. Or starvation. I haven't decided which.

Fortunately, I have several minions at my disposal. Plus Katherine, but she's not useful in any way. I announced that I would give half my squishy food to anyone (other than Katherine, obviously) who convinced the One to get up.

I hate Katherine.

Usually, when faced with a challenge, Fairbanks is ready to jump up and pee on something, which pretty much guarantees action on the part of the One. But he just opened one eye and muttered something about waking him when it was time to go outside and patrol his territory (he was clearly half asleep or he would have noticed his error - there is no territory that belongs to him; duh). It didn't seem wise to bother him again; he's ferocious when he wants to be.

Do not disturb.

To my surprise, Clara the Cow took action! Apparently she believed me when I offered half my squishy food to the victor (I told you she's stupid)!

Clara summarily jumped onto the headboard of the bed and knocked the One's half-full water glass onto the bed with her front paw! [Editor's note: True story.] It was magnificent! The One got out of bed immediately. I had no idea Clara had it in her.

It seems Clara may be more of an ally than I thought.

Then again . . . I've heard there's a cow disease that's highly contagious. I better keep my distance.

Steer clear - could be catching.

Outbursts from foreigners disturb sleep in the palace

A strange cat came to the door last night, yelled "Death to the revolutionaries!" and wandered off again.

I can only assume he was referring to the rodents, who stage uprisings occasionally when they forget what formidable foes Fairbanks and my stupid brother Nick can be. Perhaps he is aware of an upcoming plot on their part. Or perhaps he is simply a loyal subject who wished to gain my favor.

He was a striped cat. It is also possible he was a girl. I couldn't tell. I told the One to take a picture of him, but she said it was too dark outside. Also, she said it was too cold. I said if it was dark and cold out there, perhaps we should invite the visitor in for a nice treat or a nap, but she said he probably already has a home, and besides Fairbanks wouldn't approve.

As if Fairbanks's opinion is somehow more important than mine.

For the record, Fairbanks insists that what the strange cat actually yelled was, "Your territory has been breached!" He became quite agitated and may have peed on something - I can't be sure.

Clara thought the strange cat yelled, "Let's all go out for pancakes," which is just stupid. Everyone knows cows don't eat pancakes.

Nick told me later that he thought the strange cat yelled, "When barn swallows unite, the marbles will be upon us!" which doesn't even make any sense. Thank goodness he kept that to himself. People already look at him funny because . . . well, you know . . . the tail . . .

And I honestly don't care what Katherine thought he said because I hate Katherine.

If I am able to find out more about either the strange cat or a possible rodent uprising, I shall inform you immediately.

The Queen has spoken

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.