Posted in Dogs, Humor, Kasey, Penny, tagged Cats, Cats and Dogs, Dogs, Humor, Kasey, Penny, The Penny Chronicles on May 2, 2013 |
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My name is Penny.
During the day, when the Leader is gone, I look out the window so I can run to the door when the Leader gets back. Sometimes, though, looking out the window makes me mad.
It happens when this cat comes into our yard. Oh, I hate that cat! It comes prancing into our yard like it owns the place. Kasey and I bark and bark, but the cat keeps coming. It will walk right up, look at me, and stretch out and show its claws. I bark even louder when the cat does that, but I can’t get outside to chase it.
I bet that cat smells bad. I bet it smells really bad. Ha, ha! Hey, cat, you stink!
Boy, I really hate that cat.
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Posted in Environment, Humor, tagged birds, Brown Snakes, Cats, Doggerel, Environment, Guam, Hawaii, Humor, Poetry, Scorpions, Spider, Tourism on February 24, 2013 |
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Brown snakes are overrunning Guam. They came to the island aboard U.S. ships after World War II. Now they are multiplying like crazy, have killed off virtually every native species of bird, and are biting humans and wrecking power lines. As a result, Guam’s jungle areas are coated with spider webs, because the birds that normally would eat the spiders aren’t there to keep the spiders in check.
Guam’s snake infestation is giving Hawaii the heebie-jeebies. If a pregnant brown snake, or a mating pair of snakes, hitched a ride on a boat and landed in the snakeless Hawaiian Islands, Hawaii’s beautiful bird population — which has no fear of snakes — could be decimated.
Guam officials are concerned that the brown snake problem could hurt Guam’s reputation as a tourist destination. No kidding! Guam sounds like a nightmare. If your small island is infested with biting snakes and spiders, you’ve already managed to creep out the vast majority of humans. All Guam needs to do to complete the hair-raising, creepy-crawlie trifecta is to throw some scorpions into the mix.
The U.S. government has come up with a drastic solution to Guam’s brown snake problem. It will drop dead mice laced with painkillers over the island’s jungles. The theory is that the brown snakes will eat the mice and die by the score. Presumably, the government has some reason to believe that other mice-eating creatures won’t gobble down the tainted mice.
I’m not so sure — and I therefore composed this bit of doggerel:
Brown snakes hitched a ride to Guam, hoping to find some lebensraum
They bred and grew to levels absurd, ’til little Guam had not a bird
And as the bird population ebbed, the isle became more spider-webbed
Then Uncle Sam said it’d help poor Guam, by inventing a toxic mice bomb
So, cats of Guam! Good cats, beware! Toxic mice are in the air!
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I don’t like cats. I don’t like their skulking, their diffidence, their prissiness, their meowing, their fur — in fact, I don’t like any characteristic or quality of cats. Give me slobbering, blundering, shallow, happy-to-see-you dogs any day.
Still, although I despise cats, I don’t wish them or their misguided owners ill. So I was sorry to read that studies are indicating a link between cat ownership and serious mental illness. The causal chain goes something like this. Cat feces contains a parasite called Toxoplasma gondii. Cat owners come into contact with the parasite in the feces when they clean litter boxes. The parasite then can cause an infection that may produce schizophrenia and lead to suicide.
It’s bad enough that cat lovers are cursed with wanting to have haughty, secretive, unappreciative creatures living in their homes and having to tend to smelly kitty droppings as a result. It seems grossly unfair that feline fanciers also have to run the risk of going off their rocker, too.
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I have to admit it: I don’t like cats. We had one once. It was a calico cat that Kish and the boys named “Baby,” which is an embarrassing name for any full-grown creature. It pretty much ignored us when it wasn’t annoying us, and ran away when we moved to New Albany. Good riddance!
So, I wasn’t really moved to tears when I saw this piece about cats disappearing in Lakewood, Colorado. No one wants to see their neighbors’ pets ripped to bloody shreds by wild animals, of course. (Although I confess seeing the finicky Morris get his just desserts wouldn’t trouble me.) But I did take some satisfaction in the fact that the article really exposes cats as pretenders. Often you hear about cats being such “natural hunters” because they occasionally bring home a mouse or a dead bird. It’s a sham, of course, as this article demonstrates. It turns out that cats not only can’t hold their own against animals like foxes and raccoons, these soft, tubby felines apparently are actually used as harmless training prey for the babies of foxes and raccoons. How embarrassing for the haughty, untamed predators of the suburbs!
Of course, clueless, shambling dogs like Penny probably also would get creamed by the wild animals hunting the streets and backyards of Lakewood, but at least they don’t have have a ‘tude about it, or hold themselves out as anything other than a happy, panting, Iams munching, sleeping in the sunlight member of the family.
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According to newspaper accounts, residents of Moorooka, a suburb of Brisbane, Australia, are being terrorized by a gang of feral cats “the size of dogs.” Members of the cat gang are attacking pedestrians after darkness falls, clawing small, prissy dogs, hissing at passersby, and generally intimidating the beleaguered Aussies. And they are doing so with shocking impunity.
It sounds like a far-fetched scene from The Stand or some other Stephen King novel, but it isn’t — it is just a return to the natural order of things. It is not surprising, really, that delinquent cats would form thuggish, bullying gangs. Everyone knows that, deep down, cats despise humans. When cats resort to their feral state, and are no longer dependent upon humans for Purina cat chow or canned salmon, they are bound to act out the superiority they clearly feel. Right now, they are probably treating Moorooka like one vast litter box and scratching post, yowling at the moon, strutting in their leather jackets and riding their cat motorcycles into saloons.
I am sure that other citizens of Australia are deeply concerned that the cat gangs of Moorooka might spread throughout the Land Down Under — and then across the face of the globe. And before you know it, every haughty, diffident Tabby, Morris and Whiskers is feeling that feral urge, ready to pounce on their human companions as they slumber and scratch their eyes out. This menace must be stopped before it is too late!
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