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I am a short-legged cat. I live with my big brother Minou and an overly attentive human. This is my story. Today is Friday, May 26, 2017

Munchkin welcoming committee


Sorry I've been a little short on blogging these days. Lots of stuff going on. There were a few months when Mom wasn't home for more than a week at a time. This time without her allowed me and Special Gentleman Friend to bond, bro-style. Now I'm a lap cat, but only for him. I've also started hissing at Mom occasionally. I imagine she might feel like a cat-mom failure or something like that.

ANYWAY, I also have a new bro buddy. Special Gentleman Friend's brother (we'll call him SGFB for short) has returned from faraway and romantic Tajikistan. He's crashing with us while he gets his own bachelor pad. He sleeps in the second bedroom, where I greatly enjoy napping in the laundry hamper and getting my fur all over Mom's clothing. (I never do this to SGF's clothing.) To welcome SGFB, I knocked over his air mattress and proceeded to deflate it with my tiny claws. It made him feel at home, I'm certain of it.

In unrelated news, Mom and SGF have started to call me Bad Cat. That's my new nickname. I'm sure they mean bad as in the Michael Jackson sense of the term, because if anyone's a thriller, it's me. Also, I wear white gloves.

Bad Cat

Bros before... well, you know


After living with Mom for more than six years, I've come to the conclusion that DUDES RULE and MOM DROOLS. To demonstrate my new machismo, I've decided to become a lap cat — but only for Special Gentleman Friend. I just love him so very much.

In the morning, he wakes up and makes coffee. Then he reads a book on the leather chair that Minou loves to scratch. I join him, either snuggling on his lap or perching behind him.

When he comes home, he sits in the same chair and occasionally has a beer. Like him, I follow my morning pattern.

Tonight, Mom called me over to the couch. "Milo," she sang. "Milo, come here for a picture!"

I refused. Minou, too, preferred to hang out with SGF. You know why?

I got a man! (What's your man got to do with me? — ed.)


Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun
Minou and I love the morning light, just like that Girls song. We are neutral on Girls the band and not interested at all in that Girls tv show, in case you were curious.

It'll take a lot more than this to get rid of me, I'll tell you that!


Lots of celebrations chez moi these days. Special Gentleman Friend turned old this weekend, and the day afterward, I marked my sixth year with Mom. There was cake for the humans, and though I deserved something more than usual cat food, Mom withheld canned tuna from me. "They never do anything but smell it and walk away," she reasoned. Well, for all she knows, this was the time I was planning to actually eat it.

Mom is still on Japan time, or maybe it's New York time, but the gist is this: she's generally up at 5am these days. So for SGF's birthday, she went to 24-hour Safeway like the baller she is, and she bought a bunch of balloons. (Apparently, she thought SGF was turning five years old.) Anyway, the balloons scared the hell out of me. Something about the sound of them bumping each other was truly terrifying. After being soothed, though, I returned — mostly because Minou and I really wanted to chomp on those ribbons.

Let it be known: I am mildly concerned that the humans are plotting against me in some misguided attempt to re-create Up with cats.

Movin' on up


Well, I've been a very busy little munch-man. Along with coming up with new, innovative ways to surprise Mom with hairballs, I've relocated. No more Mission for me, which is great, because I really hate convenient shops and restaurants, and you know how I detest sunny weather. Ahem.

As of this weekend, I'm in a foggier part of town. Yep. I decided to move in with Special Gentleman Friend, and Minou and Mom were allowed to join. I really, really, REALLY love SGF. A couple of months ago, I started following him around the apartment. If he sat on the couch, I sat on the couch. If he walked into the kitchen, I was hot on his trail. We are soulmates, aside from the fact that he's incredibly tall and I'm, well, incredibly short. Otherwise, though: kismet!

My new place has no kitty condo — that was unfairly razed! — but it does have a dishwasher. Frankly, I see no value in that trade-off. (Does trade-off have a hyphen? Remember when Mom used to be a "young, promising writer" and knew these things?) Anyway, you can't climb a dishwasher, so I have retaliated by climbing all over Mom and SGF while they sleep. Boy, do they love it! Especially at four in the morning when I loudly meow and pounce on them. "It's like we have a baby," Mom told SGF as he stumbled toward coffee this morning.

Housewarming gifts of catnip are welcome, by the way.

I'll stretch anywhere I please, thank you very much


I've been a busy kitty lately. No time to write! Mom came home early from work because she wasn't feeling well, and while she typed on the couch, I stretched next to her. Right on top of her jacket. She can now feel the healing powers of my fur. Lucky her.

It's the worst time of the year, says Minou


Ed. note: The costume was just lying on the freebie table! How could I not?

I disavow all ownership of this kitchen!

What the hell is this Milo's Kitchen shit, Del Monte?!
No, seriously, I would like to know!
Everyone knows that Mom has been hatching plans for MILO MINOUSKY'S TASTY VITTLES (or treats, we were still ironing that out) for YEARS. Crap.

Corporate pet food still sucks.

I'm a dancing machine!


Mom has been gone quite a bit recently. Something about puffins. Anyway, when she came back, I was so excited to see her that I pretty much stalked her for an entire weekend. If she sat down, I hopped into her lap. If she went to sleep, I curled up on the foot of the bed. And when she and SGF sat down to eat, I not only stood up on my hind legs FIVE TIMES but also showed off my happy dance. (Look for it when I make biscuits while standing up.) Sure, within a week I was back to leaving poop nuggets as surprises for her to discover, but — as long as you promise you won't mention this to anybody else — I was pretty happy to have her home.

(PS) Sorry about Minou's ass display.

Milo Minousky

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