Saturday, September 6, 2008

Terror Level: ORANGE

I can't say I wasn't warned. Spooky...Goldie.....everyone gave us a head's up, but it all happened so fast....

After that weird stinky goodness episode things went right back normal for a day, then suddenly Bernie grabbed me, and Blondie was poking her fingers in my mouth.

Naturally I bit her.
It really is quite simple: Don't put anything of yours into my mouth that you don't want to have my teeth sink into.

There was blood everywhere.
After that, they opened a can of my favorite stinky goodness and the next thing I knew...

Hart and I were jammed into these things. I was loopy again; does the Food and Drug administration moderated what they are putting into those cans these days?

I'm a yellow cat Republican (not to be confused with a yellow dog Democrat) and I plan to investigate who is in charge of this organization once things get back to normal.

Anyway, the next thing that happened was we were taken outside and put into a car with some guy driving that I had never seen before. He spoke funny, and a song called "La Bamba" was playing. I thought maybe we were going to be smuggled into Mexico as part of a drug ring or something.

Hart and I were both feeling pretty weird so we figured we must have been drugged.

After a bit the car stopped, and Bernie picked up my carrier (with me in it) and Blondie took Hart. Hart was still sounding off; I figured I should just be quiet and try to think of what to do.

At one point Bernie reached inside the carrier and scooped me up, then walked really fast through a gate, then pushed me back inside the carrier, and zipped it up again.
All I saw was a huge, (and I mean HUGE) room with lots of people with rolling cases and stuff.

Bernie said we were in an airport, and that we were next going to something called a "President's Club."
I was glad to hear that; I wanted OUT, and at this point I was ready to take my complaint up to the Supreme Court if necessary.

It turned out the President's Club was just another big room with people sitting around typing on the their laptops and drinking stuff and eating cheese and crackers. Hart and I decided we would just start being really quiet; mostly because we were feeling so scared and sleepy too.

Just when I had finally nodded off Bernie reach down and picked up the case again and started to walk down some stairs.

Whoa...ugh...please just let me go home....let me sleep....

The next thing I knew, Blondie had me in the case on her lap. She kept stroking my fur through the little window thing, and was telling a man sitting next to her all about me. I thought maybe things would settle down, but then suddenly she stood up and lifted me again, and went walking down a narrow path between a lot of people who were sitting in rows.

Everyone tried to look at me; I had never seen so many faces all in one place in all my life.

Once Blondie sat down again I could see Bernie across the way holding Hart. Bernie and Blondie said I was lucky; that I got "upgraded" and was flying first class.

Then I was shoved under the seat.

First class. Heh.

At least it was dark and quiet under there, and after a whole lot of funny noises and vibrations, it just was dark and quiet and I slept.

Then there was more noises, and more funny feelings (my ears felt really weird until I yawned) and then Blondie hefted me up again and I was being paraded through another HUGE building.

Bernie said we had to wait for the luggage to come, and that he was going to go get a Smarte Carte, whatever the heck that was. Hart and I were put on the ground were we just saw lots of feet and luggage being rolled by. Every so often a kid would stop and look, and I could hear people asking about us.

NO one lifted a finger to get us out.
NO one reported what was happening to us.
Fellow this election year we must pay close attention to what is being said about how we cats are being treated. Clearly we need change in America for cat freedom.

Clearly we need to outlaw this drugging and catnapping.

(Oh wait, we still want to take cat naps, we just don't want to be catnapped. I mean... we don't want people to put us places where we don't want to be, and take us places where we don't want to go. You know what I mean don't you? Maybe we should hire a lobbyist to represent ourselves.)

It was dark outside and JEFF showed up!
We had met Jeff before; he had hung out with us on the sofa at home lots of time.
What was HE doing here?

Another car ride, this time without music, and Bernie drove while Blondie kept looking over the seat at us and telling us that everything was going to be OK.

I want to go on the record about that.
She lies.

We got hauled up some more steps (steps are the worst, all balanced funny and wobbly and all...)
Then we were let out of the black carriers.
There was a nice soft puffy bed to walk around on.

And Bernie feed us. We hadn't eaten in about six hours and so both of us chowed down really good.

There was a litter box too....

I snoopervised the room, then Bernie and Blondie climbed in the bed. I decided I would sleep where I could keep a good eye on them.

This gray chair totally worked for my perch.
I could watch everything from here.
I did a lot of thinking there, trying to figure what this was all about until I finally fell asleep.
The next morning I got to check out our new abode.

It was pretty nice actually. Nice color choices!
The tile floor and the green furniture worked with my orangeness.

Then I saw THIS.
A HUGE fluffy gray cat.
My ears went flat and I hunched down.

The cat just kept right on coming to me.

Blondie said this was my nephew Meowsie.
I had a picture of him on my blogside bar.
Um...that picture...small.
Meowsie is NOT small.
I am not sure how we are related actually. He sure doesn't look like anyone in my family. Maybe a bit like Hart's family....but all that fur...totally weird.

Blondie said Meowsie was adopted; and that he was a Persian cat. mean like from Iraq?
I'm living with an Iraqi???

Holy smokes...this problem is much bigger than I had imagined.

As a Faithful Texas Orange Cat, I am sworn to protect my country against all enemies. I will fight to the death to keep Iraqi terrorists from invading our country.

Blondie was cuddling up with him, and calling him her grandcat for crying out loud.
That's exactly what I had heard terrorist do. They settle in as a regular type person, and then, when you least expect it, wham, all kinds of horrible things happen.

I looked Meowsie right in the eye and told him I knew what he was up to.
Blondie said he used to be called Sebastian...see what I mean? The dude is covert!

Meowsie may be big, but I am a Texan, and we Texans never forget.
Remember the Alamo!
Remember the Maine!
Remember 9/11!
It clearly is up to me to lead the charge in eradicate this Iraqi threat in MY new homeland.

He knew what I knew....I knew what he was only a matter of time before we would engage in battle.
I got busy and snoopervised my perimeters.

Assured access to water.
Staked a few look out points.
Prepared to dig in for battle.

I got to meet some of the indigenous people.
They seemed quite nice, and totally unaware of the threat they were living under.

I did my best to make friends with them.
I figured I would need all the local help I could get when the war broke out.
Hart worked his charm too.
The weird part about all is is that Jeff was all ready saying he didn't like me.
Meowsie clearly had recruited him to the enemy camp.

I prepared a beach head a strategic location.

By this point I had already had several skirmishes with the Iraqi terrorist.
I had crept into his area before dawn, and launched an pre-dawn attack on him while he slept.

(The Iraqi sleeps in the same bed as Jeff. Oh Jeff, how could you have betrayed your country and gotten in bed the enemy?)

It was a loud and fierce battle.
Fur flew, we were both in full battle cry, screaming in the dark, paw to paw combat it was.

It really was a fervent effort, and Meowsie was wearing some kind of deep fur device that deflected claws and fangs. I had heard that our enemy had secret weapons; now I know first hand about it.

I felt pretty good about my surprise attack.
Jeff told Bernie and Blondie that being woken up by two cats duking it out on top of him at four in the morning was the worst.

Jeff doesn't know anything about the worst.
Iraqi terrorist living in your home, now that's the worst.
It was now my job, and Hart's, to wage all out war on Meowsie.

We took turns sleeping and monitoring Meowsie. I discovered that laundry works well as camouflage.

Bernie and Blondie totally did not understand the severity of the situation. They took to locking Hart and me up at night, letting Meowsie have total freedom to wander through out the house, and even to go outside, where clearly he could send messages to his fellow Iraqi hidden through out the area.

(I personally never saw the other Iraqi cats...but I am sure they are out there. I did research, and apparently there are Persian cats in many American homes. Why is the press so silent about this situation? Where is homeland security when you need them????)

It was nothing but battle after battle for days.
Then Meowsie decided to play dirty...really dirty.
He pooped and peed on Jeff's bed.
And told Jeff that I had done it.

I would NEVER stoop so low.

I got locked up day and night for several day, and just about scratched my paws raw trying to get out. Scritch-scritch-scritch on the bedroom door, day and night.

Finally Bernie said Hart and I could take a walk around the house for an hour each morning, during which time Meowsie would be locked up (where I couldn't get at him...why don't they UNDERSTAND what is going on ???)

So while Hart and I were just hanging out in the living room, dumb old locked up Meowsie took another dump on Jeff's bed.

Ha! I told you it wasn't me!

I was really suspicious of why Blondie started packing up our toys and food and stuff all of the sudden after that.
Then, in a flash, Hart and I were shoved back into those carriers, and were in the back seat of another car.

This time we weren't drugged. Hart and I sounded off as best we could about what was going on, but Blondie just kept looking back at us and saying again that everything was going to be OK.

We had been betrayed by the ones we fought to defend.

Hart and I have now been taken to a POW camp. Unbeliveable. Bernie is just sitting there grinning away, totally unaware of how our homeland is under terrorist threat.

I immediately surveyed our new location.

Hart guarded in one direction while I watched in the other direction.

We would go without sleep or rest, watching and guarding, looking out for each other.

We live in perilous times.
We were introduced to our barracks.

It has a secret passage way.

And a hidden room.

I call it our summit room.
Hart and I hole up in it to make plans for when we get out.

We take pains to exercise daily; we need to stay fit for when we can rejoin the battle.

Hart keeps watch from the barracks look out.
A female guard comes by every hour, and lets us POWs out for exercise in the common area under close watch.

We are adjusting. Who knows how long this incarceration will last?

We are making good use of our time stratigizing with our fellow detainees.
Here's another fine orange cat who goes by the handle "Cheetah Pants."

Kenya kept her stripes neat and was ready for action!

Halee was trained in special services: Whenever someone comes into the camp, she drops a load into the litter box. POWERFUL STUFF she makes too.

Then there is "Bob." We have never seen Bob. He stays deeply undercover so no one can ever identify him once he gets out.

I was able to smuggle one picture of where we are being held.
We hear we are being detained in a place called "Draper."
If you happen to know where that is, this is the building we are in.

I trust that rescue efforts are being arranged.
We will stay strong.
We will not give in.
As a POW, I now know this better than ever.

The Iraqi threat must be contained.

Our homeland security must never be compromised!


Sara at Come Away With Me said...

Woah Nellie! I knew something was up, and that it would all start with that smelly goodness you were being seduced with....but I never guessed all this was going to be happening!

You and Hart are very brave....

I'm keeping my eye on the situation. There are no Persian cats anywhere in my neighborhood...not yet anyway.

That female guard looks like a very kind and understanding human...start working on her sympathies and perhaps you can convince her to release you.

I'll be checking back for more updates. In the meantime, soldier on!

Miss Kitty

Sara at Come Away With Me said...

PS: I was in SUCH a hurry to send you an encouraging message that I told The Red Headed One to just type it from her own blog, no time to go log into mine. So, now she's typing this explanation too.

This is an emergency!

Spooky said...

Omigosh, Tiggie! When I warned you, I didn't realize it would be this bad! I cannot believe it...drugged, catnapped (the bad kind), plunged into battle with an Iraqi cat, and now you're a POW! This is serious business, dude. I think the cats of the Catblogosphere need to be alerted to this secretive invasion and upcoming battle. We need to sharpen our teeth and our pointy little razors. When Blondie and Bernie come to visit, you need to give serious biteys to let them know that things are really bad!

Hang in there, bud...I'm hearing rumors that things will soon improve.

Anonymous said...

Now that I know where you are held POW, I will send a platoon of Siamese fighters in from La Jolla to rescue you.

Captain Rufus (your Uncle)

The Cat Realm said...

By the way guys. Persians are from Iran. Not Iraq.

Thoughts on Life and Millinery. said...

Cat Realm: Thank you for including Tigs in your side bar!

Actually, both Iran and Iraq have Persian heritage. But poor old Tigs frequently mixes up cultural groups. Awhile ago he studied Japanese so he could read Adan's blog in Chinese for instance.

What can I say...he's a Texan and he is orange.

For a more scholarly level of discussion about this here's what The Cat Fancier Association has to say about this issue:

The Persian is a widely recognized and popular breed and formed the basis of the early hybridizations that resulted in the development of the Himalayan cat. The early evolution of the Persian most likely occurred on the high, cold plateaus of Persia (now Iran and Iraq).

The LA Times also did an article about the Persian roots of Iraq:

All in all, I personally think my Persian grand kitty is very cute even if he was a complete sissy and wet the bed 'cuz he was nervous. We didn't want him to start doing that all the time so we moved "the boys" who we hope will be more resiliant.

Janitha said...

Tiggs, hang in there. Turbo and Spookie sends their best wishes and says they know what a pain it is to move...

Lovella ♥ said...

I love Sara's comment. . made me laugh even harder. . .

Oh Tiggie. . .I'm so sorry you have such a rough life. . .
I'm sorry I'm laughing so hard. .. truly I am.

Goldie, Shade and Banshee said...

Holy CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!

I am starting a boot camp as I write this. I will get in top shape and come to your aid. That was such a frightening post, Tiggie that I may have peed a little bit. Not that I am yella, I will fight if I have to.

I knew bad things were coming for you but I could not have imagined a situation THIS horrific!

Purring for you and Hart!

Doing one paw push ups as I sign off.


Angel Junior, Orion and Sammy said...

You are being held in Draper? I think we are near there! Meowm thought she recognized what she calls an airport in one of the pictures. Are you here for a short time or on a permanent basis? Let us know...we might be able top organize a break out!

Junior and Orion in Salt Lake.

Anonymous said...

Wow, that sounds like you're having quite an adventure! POWs? We cannot wait to see how it ends! Will you be rescued? Will you escape? It's very exciting! We have never heard of Draper, or we would try to rescue you ourselves.

The Crew said...

Oh my Bast...what an adventure!! You've both been so brave throughout this terrible ordeal. Keep us posted.