Q. Why, pray tell, is my 7lb kitten on a restricted portion diet?

A. Because left to his own stealth-like, food filching devices he does things like this:

It is Mommy’s great fear that if she doesn’t do a better job of hiding the kibble, she’ll find him one day, bloated, purple, dead on the toilet with a ham sammy clenched in his greedy, little fist.

Or, scenario #2 is that one morning I’ll walk into the kitchen and find that my darling kitten has turned into something like this:

But I digress.
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Oh Secrets. I tire so of keeping them. *Le sigh*.

If you haven’t figured this out yet, I’m a hippy who is obsessed with my two furry children, Bella Donna Bad Girl and Stinky Sphynxy.

Because I love my babes (and have an affinity for all things organic), I spend a lot of time at the natural pet food store. You’ll remember a few weeks back, when in a moment of sheer insanity I bought my naughty kittinks – its like “kitten” with a Russian accent –fancy schmancy $7/lb cat food? Well they loved it… and then… as cats do… they shat it out.

One night, they even went so far as to, inexplicably, expel their expensive vittles with great gusto in a maelstrom of diarrhea-type activity. Yeah, that kind of got my panties in a twist. A 20 minute curse-and-mopfest is not really my idea of a good time…

But I digress.

So yeah, as predicted, the cats enjoyed their high-dollar cuisine, and then thanked me by making some nice deposits into the bank of gritty kitty… Well, that’s not entirely accurate, because my cats don’t dig their tootsies in regular, gritty cat litter. I am a New Age Mama and accordingly, my cats poo in wheat. Yes, I’m serious. No, I am not retarded.

In any event, I’ve recently come to my senses. And by “come to my senses” I mean I’m still wackier than your av-er-age bear, but I’m currently feeling just mildly eccentric, rather than full-on, buy-the-caviar-of-kibble, wildly eccentric. As such, I’ve decided to purchase more inexpensive food, because let’s face it…

Ritzy-a$$ cat food is really, at the end of the day, just a precursor to poop.
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My secret got struck by lightning! It’s coming, just needs mending.

So I come home from work last night only to find an ungodly amount of what appears to be cat fur lying on the floor in the computer room.

Obviously this was distressing. But the cats seemed fine – they are jumping and leaping and licking and kicking just like always.

… In fact, Stinky Sphynxy is maybe a little more giddy than usual. I could hear him purping with wild abandon from the other room. I shit you not, when I walked into the kitchen to investigate, this is what I found:

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Oh and in case you forgot, I have a secret. It’s still coming.

Yesterday I wrote all about Sphynxy’s vet trip and forgot to mention what we did about his itchiness. He got a nice cortisol shot and a shiny, new germ-retardant food bowl.

And speaking of retardant – you know what’s really retardant in all this? During Dr. Fruitcake’s speech about animal nutrition, I’m thinking “This guy is a nut. My baby Sphynx only weighs 7lbs, and he’s overweight? My left buttcheek is probably more than 7lbs”. Then the indignation started in, and I thought “Who is this man to tell me how to raise my children?”

I went home and whipped up a 1/2 c of organic kibble for the kitties and steamer pot of veggies for me. The darling cats swooped into their bowl, ate reasonably and walked away. “Ah ha! Take that Dr. Frankenfurter, my cats know when to say ‘woah’”, I thought.

Just as I reached into the pot to pull out some steaming greens, a little gray furball went flying past. In one stealth move Sphynxy had targeted, and latched onto, a beautiful, plump greenbean. He promptly deposited the goods in his gullet. Belle, meanwhile, took the diversion as an opportunity to go dumpster diving in the sink and found a nice apple core for her snack.

And that’s why my cats are fat. *le sigh*.

In addition to being stinky, darling Sphynx is also extremely itchy. Day-and-night night-and-day he’s got his little sharpy claws out, scratching his ears, neck and chin. It’s constant – perpetual even. I don’t know that Sphynx could go 60 seconds without scratching. That’s bad, ’cause even God rested on the Sabbath.

This extreme, relentless Olympic-style scratch-fest is what landed darling Sphynx on the vet’s, (we’ll call him Dr. Fruitcake), stainless steel examination table this afternoon.

Dr. Fruitcake, bless his heart, provides free initial consultations to animals who’ve been adopted through the Superior Mutts program. Fit for an older fellow, Dr. Fruitcake was a nutritionist in his previous life, before becoming a feline physician. I found Fruitcake to be very engaging and pleasant. I think he got off on the wrong foot with Sphynx though. Apparently, cats don’t like getting thermometers shoved up their ass.

In any event, Fruitcake did a careful, thorough examination of the Sphynxinator, determining the quality of his fur, teeth, and tail. At the end of his examination, he tossed his head back in a dramatic fashion, fluttered his hand over his face, and sighed in a tragic, woe-is-me fashion.

“Uh oh”, I thought, “this is gonna be worse than the time I got that bean stuck up my nose and it fermented”.

Dr. F. wrung his hands, paced a bit, and then, as if spent, he quietly asked, “How do I say this?”

“Uh oh”, I thought, “this really is worse than the bean thing. And maybe worse than the time I hit myself in the eye in the tragic bouncy ball incident of 1998″.

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to come out”, said Dr. F. “Your cat is too fat – it’s a classic case of overeating. You see, when he was feral he didn’t know when his next meal was coming, so each meal was – blah blah blah.

Dr. F. continued to lecture on the fitness and fatness of my cat, his other client’s cats, his other client’s dogs, rats, mice and even guinea pigs. Truly, by the end of his literally 20-minute missive, I think I had gotten the point. Sphynx stinks cause he poos to much. He poos too much cause he eats like a piggy.

But I can’t blame my little babe. As far as food goes, I think we’re all a little guilty of excess every once in a while. Why then, if not for this very reason, did God make prune juice and pinto beans?

Regardless, Sphynx and Belle are going on the FAK (Fit-Ass Kitty) diet starting tonight. Here’s hoping we survive through the morning…. Adieu!

The hännihaus family is growing, as Angel and I have just added another feisty feline to the fold. Sphynx is our new kitty, so named because of his striking resemblance to his Egyptian namesake. (Big ears, huge feet, that sort of thing).

As predicted, Belle is entirely upset. The other day when I told her, “Mommy is going to new PetSmart today. Maybe she’ll come home with a new little brother for you”, well her initial response was to lower her eyelids and hiss.

As I was walking out the door she told me, “If you bring another kitten in this house, I will set it on fire and dance on its bones.” And then she purrrrrped all cute-like, ran into the bedroom, and started chewing the drawstring off my favorite hoody sweatshirt.

Despite Bella Bad Girl’s threats, we plucked Sphynxy from his petstore plexiglass cage, and brought him to the hacienda. It’s been three days and Belle is still beyond pissed.

I’m starting to get nervous. I think I’ve got two Bebe’s kids on my hands. There’s constant running, hissing, smacking, and all other manner of naughty misbehavior going on. Why just yesterday, after being stared down by a steely-eyed Belle, Sphynx lodged his ass in Bella’s face and told her to kiss it!

And let me tell you, Sphynx’s ass is something to take seriously. He is extremely gassy. You pick him up, and he lets one fly. You scratch his neck, and he releases the green wind. You look at him and smile, and he gleefully rips one.

It’s really quite amazing, the power of his flatulence.

So it’s Monday.

As if to bring the day in with grand style, my darling purebred GAB (Great American Bad Ass), Bella Donna Bad Girl woke me up with a rousing ceremony that included, first cuddling so close I got fur lodged in my right nostril. As most who’ve had this experience can attest, it is fairly unpleasant. It rather reminded me of being 5 when I put that navy bean up my nose. It fermented for a few days before Maaa discovered what I had done.

In any event – back to my wakeup. Bella’s next bout of theatrics included noisily knocking my books off my nightstand, then chewing on them, and pulling pages out. I tossed a pillow, hoping for a cessation of the theatrics. And there was – for about five seconds.

Next Belle decided to play wrestle-with-the-curtains and bang-on-the-blinds. But this is not unusual – she does this at least once a day.

Eventually, bored from roughing up the window treatments, Bella hopped back into bed, making a glorious “purrp” as she leapt. She then proceeded to play cat-and-mouse with my toes. With claws out she started poking, poking, poking my blanket-covered tootsies. With each thrust of her knitting needle-like claws, I would jerk and twitch. Jerking and twitching of course only fueled her fire.

Eventually, not satisfied from attacking above, Belle started burrowing under the blankets. And it was the direct hit with her claws into the outside of my ankle that finally got me out of bed this morning.

I like waking up and going “yoooowch!” I really do. What an excellent day to warm up your vocal cords! I only wish my darling Angelface could also share in this joy – the joy of being woken an hour early by a mischevious, relentless kitty-with-claws-out. He has the magical ability to tune out Belle and sleep soundly. He is immune to her early morning antics. I am jealous.

In other news, I ran 3 miles yesterday. Am hoping my legs will not freeze up in agony by this afternoon. Last Sunday I ran and everything was fine until about 1pm Monday when my legs violently seized up. My aching muscles just kind of constricted, and I was forced to walk all constipated-like (sort of hobbling slowly with stickly straight legs) for the next three days.

Will keep you posting should wonky walking ensue.

Adieu!

Because Belle got an iPOD!

She has requested that I catalog all my favorite albums in itunes post haste, so I have been forced to spend every free moment making sure the likes of Bjork, Lisa Loeb, Fugees, Coheed and Cambria, and of course, Bright Eyes are o’ hastily entered.

She has also requested that I buy darling accessories for the beloved – the iPOD that is. She particularly liked the girly purple ruffle on this snuggly, cuddly iPOD sock.

So dear readers, because Belle doesn’t have opposable thumbs for putting CDs into the disc drive, you can understand my dilemna, and know why I have been required to focus my energies outside blogging during this most musical/magical of times. For your consideration, Belle and I say thanks… well actually she says meow.