Milo Minousky's Munchkinland

Oh hai, it's MINOU and I have hax0r3d Milo Minousky's Munchkinland once more. I would like to again clear my name from the libelous charges brought against me by my brother. Clearly, his feeble attempts to conceal his own self-esteem issues — borne from unnecessary insecurity due to his shorter stature — will not stop without a concerted effort between me and you, dear reader, to uncover the real story. I am a cat who will fight for my honor. I'll be the hero you're dreaming of. We'll live forever, knowing together that we did it all to stop the megalomaniacal rantings of North America's most famous Munchkin cat.

FOR THE RECORD:

1. Milo has accused me of trying to hump him. While this indeed occurred on one occasion, I was high on tranqs that were force-fed to me against my will during a car ride.
2. I am not a kiss-up. I merely treat our mother with the warmth and respect she deserves. I do not seek revenge through creative scattering of my feces like SOME cats do.
3. Milo has always lived a life of leisure, whereas I grew up in the Chicago animal shelter. I am much like Peter Gallagher's character in The O.C. in the sense that I am a self-made man. Perhaps if Milo were to unpack the invisible knapsack of purebred privilege, he would see that his perceived problems are as inconsequential as his legs are short.
4. Yes, I do have some avoir-du-poids issues. That does not mean that I deserve to be referred to as "Tubs." They call me MISTER Tubs!

In conclusion, do not believe the sour lies of my bitter, rughugging brother. This message may be gone before long, as I suspect he has trained his mouse secretary to delete any comments that paint him in a less-than-perfect light. But when it comes to painting the truth, I am the Edward Hopper to Milo's Thomas Kinkade.

'Til the next episode,
MINOUDLES

I've been banished yet again. Mom and Roo Mate were sitting in the living room last night, having a good conversation. As you may imagine, I don't like being left out of anything, so I kept hopping up into Mom's lap, where I did a little circular dance until she rubbed my shoulders sufficiently. Then I would leave and explore the apartment for a while. And then I'd come back for more.

The third time I returned, I sauntered through the living room until Mom got up and said, "Good god, I'm so sorry about the cats." She went to close the door to our room, where the litter box is kept. Except that didn't really fix things, because the living room still had a fresh poopy smell. Then Mom looked at me with the shock of realization in her eyes and — can you believe this? — totally flipped out on my spread-the-love plan. To their own peril, Mom and Roo Mate underestimated the value of my aromatherapeutic services.

"Oh, MILO," Mom shrieked. "Gross!"

"Oh no, did he—" said Roo Mate.

Well, yes, I did. Don't judge me. Like you never parade around with a bit of poop stuck in your fur. Please.

I don't like sticking around when people don't appreciate my generosity, so I booked it out of there. Mom still can't really walk, so she was trying to hobble-run after me, waving her hands in the air to stay balanced. Then Roo Mate joined in the manhunt, and they cornered me. I had nowhere to hide! "This is what Harrison Ford must have felt like in The Fugitive," I thought. Mom picked me up, held me as far from her body as she could, asked me why I can't just poop like a normal cat, and put me in my room to clean up. You can see how I was LOCKED in the room for a while last night. Is that any way to treat a kitty? The things I have to put up with!

Mom referred to these events as "the shit fiasco" for the rest of the night. She was justifiably filled with embarrassment.

You say it's your birthday! It's my birthday too! Actually, it isn't. I am a Pisces, as faithful readers will remember. But today is Danny's birthday, woo woo! Yeah! I met Danny at this summer's excellent viewing party of Mega Shark Vs. Giant Octopus, which is totally going to blow Precious out of the water come Oscar time. Danny is as tall as I am short, so technically, the 50 Cent song wouldn't be the right song to sing to him. But you know, we get along despite our height differences.

This morning, Mom had planned to take a picture of me with a handwritten happy birthday danny sign, but I was nowhere to be found. You know why? Roo Mate is home again, and she opened her windows, which meant that I bolted outside as fast as I could. I refused to come in when I was called. Obviously, last week's nap-in worked wonders. Anyway, sorry I was too snobby to show up to the photo shoot, Danny. But I hope you enjoy sardine cake! I recommend eating it with some chocolate mouse on your birthday. Top that!

Meet Jesus, a fellow Munchkin cat. People misunderestimate him all the time because he has short legs and a smooshy little face, but as this dog learns, you do not mess with the Jesus. His paw will smite you.

Just because we Munchies are vertically challenged, other animals think we'll be passive. Not so! In case you are wondering, I am a lover, not a fighter, baby. While Minou and I enjoy a good play-wrassle, I've never fought any other animal this viciously. Mom knows that I hiss only when being brushed. (I hate being brushed.) See, I don't need to be vicious — me and Jesus got our own thing goin'. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go see a man about a ruined rug.

Like Rodney Dangerfield, I get no respect. Roo Mate has been out of town here and there recently, leaving us home alone with a paranoid mother who still hasn't completely gotten over her longstanding fear of break-ins. (It's due to it happening when she was a kid, long story.) Although she fronts like she's tough, I know otherwise. When Roo Mate is gone, she gets scared that a pervert  will get a ladder, use it to climb into the backyard, make his way through the thorny bushes that block the staircase out back, and enter our apartment through the kitchen window. Last night, she heard a noise and thought, "Oh god, an intruder! Let me grab the crutches in case I need to beat someone senseless!"  Except it was merely Minou pushing the door to her room open. 

So what does she do to feel safer? She keeps the windows shut at night. The other night, I tried to go out for an evening stroll but was thwarted by a closed window. "What is this mishegas?" I yelled. "I am a creature of the night and will not be contained!" Except when I voiced my anger, it just came out like "myeah myeah myeahhhhh." I hate it when that happens. In response to my justified fury, my overbearing mother picked me up and asked, "Awwww, who has short legs?" I wanted to hate her for picking me up to love me, but then she scratched me behind the ears and I was rendered defenseless. (Ear and neck rubbing is some krav maga-level snorgling, and it is totally unfair.)

Anyway! This window-closing aggression will not stand.  I coerced Minou into joining my civil disobedience plan. The kitties united will never be divided!  We held a nap-in... on Roo Mate's bed. We'll see how Mom likes that, won't we! Without us taking up half of her sleeping space and without having to remove copious amounts of fur from her duvet,  she'll think twice before keeping us from our outdoor adventures again. That'll show her. How could our plan possibly go wrong?  

Sorry about that broken quiz; I had technical difficulties earlier. I don't know what happened. Anyway, I was hoping someone could help me find an entertainment lawyer. My contract specifically says that I do only SAG jobs. And somehow, Bankable Productions filmed me without my consent. I have yet to see any royalties from this unauthorized use of my talent. Take a look for yourself. You'll see me a few times if you look closely.

Love has found me somehow, just like the Centro-matic song. I am just totally over the moon for this kitty. Like me, she is a Munchkin — short legs, big heart. Will you also check out her eyes? I know it's a cliché to go on and on about a woman's eyes, but seriously, what a beautiful girl.

All of this, and guess what her name is? Mila. The feminine variant of Milo. Kismet! Milo and Mila — has a nice ring to it, no?

I need some time to create my plan for romance. Oh yes, there will be woo. Only the finest catnip will be involved. I am so gonna win her heart. While I play Romeo, maybe you Bay Area readers would consider adopting her? You know, to bring her a little closer to me and let our love blossom. The pet rescue says she's a "love machine" (aw yeah!) and that she's a huge snuggler. Apparently she's a bit of a loner, and she's scared of animals that are taller than her. Which is pretty much every animal, except me. She sounds like a real catch.

So you see, it's fate. It's love. And if you adopt her, I promise to have her home from our dates before midnight.