Good help is so hard to find

It has been brought to my attention that I am to be deprived of the services of the Man and the Woman for a time. Instead, my needs will be seen to by the Melodious Freckled Lady and Fabio's Doorman. Well, you can't beat that with a stick, can you? Finally, some decent service around here.

I'm sure things will run smoothly under the new management, and if this trial goes as well as I imagine it just might, well, we might just have to look into making some of these changes permanent, might we not?

Do that again

Go on... touch my tail again. Go ahead. Grab it. It's pretty damn funny, isn't it? “Look at the cat with the bent tail!” It's so damn funny, why don't you just touch it again? Go on. I'm beggin' ya, I want you to grab it just one more time. Please. Do it. Do it now.

You barkin' at ME?

Hey Big Rodent: Congratulations on finding your voice. I commend your dedication when it comes to protecting our fortress, and with a little work you'll make a fine sentry one day. But it requires a little finesse, son. You don't bark at every leaf that quivers, nor every bird that flies over. And you sure as hell don't bark at me.

I can see how my stealthy movements would rattle you. It must seem like darkness itself has come alive with a terrible and sinister presence, and I'm sure even a careless ignoramus like you can sense the cold claws of sudden death lingering within the shadows. It must chill you to the bone.

But you've got to pull yourself together, boy. When you bark at me, you give away my position to every marmot in a ten-block radius. It's getting embarrassing, and my patience is wearing thin. If you persist in being The Boy Who Cried Shmool, I may have to give you something worth barking over.

And then the butt-sniffing. Is that supposed be some kind of apology? 'Cause let me tell you, that don't get it done.

You snooze you lose, buddy

The Man came THIS CLOSE to a bad end yesterday. During one of my routine patrols, I discovered an unattended sandwich. My finely honed senses immediately identified the central ingredient -- fowl.

The Man was clear across the room, well out of range. And so, by every law in the jungle, this baby was mine. I settled in to enjoy a well-earned repast of birdflesh.

Now, I am not Fabio. I don't honk down my meals like a demented aardvark. I have a refined palate, and I savor. I taste. I balance each bite with an appropriate sip of a complementary beverage.

And so, first, a small lick. Ah... salty, moist, tender. A nibble. Mmmm... it's been too long since I've enjoyed fowl. This is excellent. A little taste of the cheese... a bit sharp, it tends to overwhelm the subtleties of the meat. But no matter. The flesh is excellent. Oh... yes... by... god...

This is TURKEY. Ohhh... mother. I sink my teeth in for a substantial bite. The flesh tears easily, it is so tender. Mmmmmm... purrrrrrrrrr... (lick lick lick) purrrrrrrrrr...

And suddenly, the Man is upon me, bellowing unintelligible oaths, shoving me away from the kill--rather, the sandwich--stamping his feet and waving his arms like a lunatic. I stand my ground, swallow that last bite, and give the bastard a hiss that should clarify the situation to him in no uncertain terms.

But he's irrational, mindless, crazed... still flailing his arms and spitting invective. I activate the claws and give him a good look at the fangs. YOU DO NOT WANT TO USE THAT TONE WITH ME.

The coward goes for his squirt-ray-weapon in the next room. I have only a moment to consider... can I get that whole sandwich in my mouth and make it to the escape hatch before he brings his dastardly weapon to bear? I've seen the Rodent try it, with only mixed (and messy) success. But I can still taste that meat and it is calling me back...

My faculties take hold, and alas, my lust for fowl cannot defeat my battle-proven instinct to not turn my back on an armed enemy. I swing around, holding my ground and maintaining a perfect defensive posture, but make no further move to capture the prize. The man returns, and for a moment there is a standoff. But he wisely lowers his weapon, and moves carefully around my Circle Of Death to insinuate himself between me and the bird.

You win this round, my friend, but I know where you sleep...