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BRAND NEW UPDATE AS OF AUGUST 30, 2022

I’m sorry to say that Buster died on March 11, 2020 of a series of seizures caused by ongoing diabetes (8 years).  It’s taken me this long to publish this due to the difficulties of logging onto this blog.  Buster lived an unusual life for a cat, traveling to the lower 48 states as well as Ontario, Canada.  He saw much and remained playful for all but the last two years of his estimated two decades on this earth.  He is sorely missed, and irreplaceable 

Here's an update…

Not the greatest exposure for me, but recently after my latest operation.

Since posting last whenever, I had two annoying moles appear on my left and right temples.  The one on my left, which you would see were it not for the fact it was removed, was raised while the other was newer and still flat.  To be cautious, prudent, scrupulous, surreptitious, and all that, Matt had them removed.

For a couple of weeks I had to wear that damned elizabethan collar, or "cone of shame."  And for two weeks more my stitches, which should've come undone and dissolved after several days, finally fell off.

I fear I have become a financial burden to Matt who threatens to sell me to a tennis racket factory which will harvest my organs for string, if I continue to be a "pain in the ass."

But he hasn't done so yet, as you can see from this latest posting.

I turned 13 years old (at least) in March.  The shelter in Easton, PA estimated my age at between 3 and 4 years, though every vet I've been to suggested that was a conservative estimate, including the very first one who estimated 4 to 6 years of age.  So in March I turned at least 13, though I could've turned 15 and a half.  Not bad for someone in my medical situation.

Matt's employer has once again allowed new pets to be brought into their trucks.  Yeah, that's great until the change their minds again 3 or 4 years down the road and everyone has to find new homes for their new pets.  Matt says I'll be the last pet he has in the truck, as he seems to think my poor health and truck life are related.  He might be right as far as it being rather drafty at times.  But I know I brought many of my issues with me through poor handling and heridity or herdidity or something.

By the way, those few of you who still follow my saga should know that when I finally scratch the bucket, Matt will post an R.I.P update on the blog.  So if you don't hear from me for a while it's NOT bad news.  It simply means we're busy, or Matt forgot the password again.

Starting My Tenth Year On The Road

Hello again!  It's still me.  Sorry my blogging has lapsed so badly, but Matt just doesn't find the time to post anymore what with all the driving he's doing all the time it seems.

Just had my annual physical in which I got all my shots and certificates- this makes Matt's employer happy with their newest pet policy.  Oh, did I fail to mention?  Now Matt's employer allows new pets again!  That is, until they change their minds…again.  I've been bouncing up and down on the dashboard and bunk bed since October 1st of 2005, with the occasional earned time off or vacation.  Just a way of life for me.  

Soon I'll hopefully get Matt to post some icky photos of where I licked off a skin tag from below my neck, or those ugly moles he had removed last year from my temple.  He might even allow me to write a review on the different kitty litters I've endured over the years.  Who knows?  But I'm sure anyone who still has an interest or the slightest curiosity about me…still….will love to see a recent photo.  I really don't look that different.  The brown is gone as I've gone back to pill form prednisolone, rather than the liquid.  I was starting to be mistaken for a chocolate bunny.  Not good.  But I'm beautifully black again…mostly….except for the white mittens on my feet, white throat, and white whiskers.  Also my white Hitler mustache, too.

I know I've been very lucky to have a servant like Matt to take care of me.  He's willing to spend all kinds of dough on my issues, no matter what they are, it seems.

Hope my readers, whose loyalty I've challenged by my continued absence, are doing well.

Stayin' Alive, Stayin' Alive, Ah Ah Ah

Mea Culpa and all that Latino stuff!  Matt and I have been preoccupied with staying alive and well, or mostly well, which we mostly are.  Comments have been updated thus far and I'm posting anew.

Life is strange and unpredictable.  Vets are even funnier sometimes.  After nearly dying back in August Dr. Ladyvet gave me a wunderschotzen to my hinterland with a long needle and syringe full of purple fluid.  It worked.  I got better.

Months later around December while the Baytril OTIC was working its magic on my ears by keeping me uninfected, the upper respiratory infection roared back.  So in January we returned and Dr. Ladyvet gave another antibiotic sticking to my rumpus with .... clear fluid???... which did absolutely nothing.  WTF???  Matt paid her just the same.  WTF???  Anyway today is a better day.  We're home...for now. Tomorrow we shove off down the road again where I'll get stuffed up a lot.  But I have energy and a reasonably bright future ahead of me.  Perhaps even more blogging now that things are looking up.  Who knows?  Better get better pictures than this one, MATT!!!

A Ray of Hope?

Finally made it back home last night.  Matt had phoned the vet to move up my appointment time to last night at 6pm.  Made it just in time.

Dr. Ladyvet looked deep into my ears and saw pus in the right and a red, flat spot (perhaps not so polypy after all) in my left.  Then she stuck this Qtip thing in my right to clean out the glop, which was rather painful at times, and said she would taste it or something to see what it was.  Matt insists this was not so, but she'd look at it very closely to identify the bacteria.  She said it smelled like bacteria and not yeast, and that helped, I guess.

Then the lesser ladyvet came in and stuck my rump with a needle.  Matt says it's a Covenia injection and would help.  So back home with more pills (Clindamycin) and more ear drops (Baytril Otic) which actually felt comparatively soothing.  Then something strange happened....

I took a short nap when Matt went to bed, but then woke up and started roaming the apartment with a renewed energy.  There was a spring in my step.  A spring I hadn't felt in quite a while.  I wanted to explore places and open forbidden things.  Matt woke up and laughed, saying I might be getting better already.  Somewhere along the line I got sleepy again and found a place to flop.

This morning Matt noticed that I had less congestion in my sinuses that usual (I hardly expelled any snot when I sneezed from the nose spray), and that my right ear was a little improved:  some discharge but very little.

We're not proclaiming victory or anything like that yet.  But it would appear that I'm rallying at least.

The End Is Near...

No, I'm not on my deathbed or anything like that.  Or maybe something not so far off....  Sorry, but my health has turned for the worse.  Allow me to explain...

Dr. Ladyvet found a polyp in my left ear and said THAT might be the reason behind my snot-slinging because the ears are connected to the nasal stuff.  So she wrote up an estimate of cheapest to not so cheapest and came up with $1,075 to $1,465 for the procedure.  AND with no guarantee that it would fix the nasal problem OR if it did, that the problem wouldn't return.  This was 3 weeks ago.  We've been on the road since then.

Today Matt noticed I had a creamy off-white discharge coming out of both ears.  He cleaned them well, but a few hours later my right ear is getting creamy again.

We had made an appointment to see a different vet for a second opinion once we return to town, but with this new development Matt is very sad and is saying somewhat tearfully that we'll be parting company soon.  We've been through a lot of challenges as I've mentioned on this blog.  My health or Matt's employer throwing us curveballs with the threat of my being booted out of the truck or me dying or something.  I may not make it to our eight year anniversary.  But Matt insists he won't allow me to suffer much.  He'll put off the end as long as possible, but if I can't be made reasonably comfortable he'll release me from active duty.

Happy Birthday. I'm Eleven Years Old Now.

I only have a moment or two....  

Just wanted to let all of my wonderful readers to know that although I am dealing with new medical issues, I am still alive and relatively well.  I just turned 11 years old on the 17th of March, sharing birthday celebrations with Matt, my manservant.

Things have gotten better with the Prednisolone treated Inflammatory Bowel disease, in that I am now receiving Gormeds which are like little treats only they're actually medicine.  I can't wait to be medicated now and look forward to receiving them twice daily.  And they really work.  I don't vomit much at all these days.

Also, I am eating DD formula by Hill's Prescription Science Diet.  The ZD is out the window at high speed since my nose started swelling for no apparent reason.  Flavors include duck with split pea and venison with split pea or something.  They had rabbit flavored for a while but discontinued when they found out I loved it.  And so it goes.

Seven Years Ago... Adoption Day!

We have been so BUSY!!!  So busy we haven't posted on this blog since June!  So darned busy that we didn't post on September 30th which was my SEVEN YEAR ADOPTION DAY!!!

Yes, seven years ago that day Matt wandered into the Northampton County SPCA (known now as Center For Animal Health And Welfare) looking for someone to take with him on the open road he could routinely boss around to keep him company on those long journeys.

Sadly I am now 10.5 years old with health problems that keep brewing.  My physical is scheduled for Thursday afternoon when Matt will tell Dr. Ladyvet that I've been urinating huge amounts.  In fact my litter clumps have grown from smaller-than-tangerine size to tangelo or even green bell pepper size, which you can picture if you know your fruits and veggies.  I've been drinking a LOT of water, which isn't usually a good thing for older cats.  Could be kidney disease or diabetes.  In every other way I'm okay.  Will know more after the physical.

Had snot problem all Summer long which has subsided in part to the saline nose drops by Little Remedies (for human children, can also be used for cats) which helped keep my nose clear of dried crust.

I'm not too frightened for the future, though.  It's pretty clear that I've been living on borrowed time for a while what with all the meds I've taken over the years.  And the prednisolone I continue to take along with the DD formula by Hills I eat daily have kept me alive and thriving for quite a while.  It's been an exciting life looking at the world from the dashboard of a semi truck.  I've seen much, though it hasn't always made sense to me.  

If things go from iffy to bad and I can't travel anymore, Matt will try to find something local.  If that fails he will likely find me another home.  And if you look back at posts we've written the past few years, the threat of being parted from Matt has always loomed.  If it wasn't my health or trying to find an apartment that allowed pets, it was his employer changing their pet policy.  But we are still together...seven years. 

Trashy Trucker Pigs Invade Walmart At Ottawa, IL

I know the headline is provocative, but I'm kinda angry at the other truckers I see here in this parking lot.  

Today I told Matt I needed supplies, like kitty litter and toys.  He agreed and asked me if he could buy stuff for himself, too.  I said okay.  When we got to Wally World we were shocked to find SIX shopping carts full of trucker trash.  Sometimes we see one with junk in it, but SIX???

This is the Walmart in Ottawa, IL at exit 90 on I-80, a favorite for truckers because Walmart doesn't enforce the "no semi" rule regarding parking in their lots.  It's good for us because things cost half as much at Walmart as opposed to truck stops that seem out to gouge us.

Many Walmarts throughout the country have banned truck parking for all trucks not owned by Walmart because of behavior like this by truckers.  They have security cameras in the lot, so why not ban individual companies caught littering?  That's a mystery.  Guess it's easier to ban everyone.  And that's just what they'll do if these rookies don't clean up their act.

Shooting Snot Means Shot In The Rump!

For the past 3 months or so I've been doing a lot of sneezing and....  Yeah, another health issue, okay?  I know, it's all I talk about.  But I'm almost 11 years old now so that's all I think about.  Sorry if I'm boring you or grossing you out..... 

Where was I?  Sneezing, that's right.  Okay, I was doing a lot of sneezing.  And sometimes when I do that the fluid that goes shooting from my nose gets all creamy and snotty.  And it goes everywhere because I shake my head when I sneeze.  Sometimes I wind  up with it on my whiskers, sometimes on my legs, my back, or even on top of my head.  It's really disgusting, so Matt gives me a pill twice a day for a week or two to get rid of it:  Clavamix or something like that.  

But with two tries with that drug that's suppose to kill the germs making me sneeze, nothing was happening.  Matt says I built up a resistance to it.  So he kept wrapping me in a towel and not using the A/C so much.  But even that didn't help.  So I got to go to the ...VET... today.

Now I don't get this, but considering the snot was coming out my nose, she didn't spend a lot of time up front.  No, she had to fiddle with the back end.  First I was held down for unspeakable crimes against my ...well, where I got my temperature checked.  Then I was held down again and a big ol' needle was stuck in my hip, like that's where the snot came from.  It's all a mystery to me.  I think I put up quite a fight as to make all furry creatures proud, because it was very painful getting stuck with that thing.  But tonight I'm supposed to feel better and the snot disappears.  In the meantime I'm walking with a slight limp.  Try not to stare.

My Spring Vacation

According to Matt, these are the "Horseshoe Falls" at Niagara Falls in upstate New York. I was busy waiting in the car with the windows open a crack with nasty cold air blowing in the windows while Matt was gazing upon the wonders of nature. And when I asked if I could see the Falls he asked me if I wanted to take a dip! Naturally I was offended as I never get into the water, but he offered nonetheless.

Now he's making me post this to MY blog. And he wants a video to follow.

Our trip included a visit to his friends in Chicago, where I had to remain in the car for 3 days parked in the garage with my scratch post and litter box. Fun fun fun for me, yup. But Matt insisted it was better than putting me in a cage at a pet motel. I suppose I did have more room to bounce around in the car, plus with all my toys and stuff. Two nights we stayed in a motel with no bugs or roaches to crunch on, but it was nice to get out of the car. Then we drove back with a week to spare of his vacation. So I get to lounge about in my crow's nest and the couch and his bed and his chair and the floor and the closet and the sink and...

Back From Hell, Thank You.

I guess you all have noticed the macabre nature of my last few posts...like I was obsessed with death or something. And I suppose you might be wondering (if you haven't written me off by now) why I'm wearing an elizabethan collar in the picture on the left. Well, I've got a bit of an update on that...

First,...I'm fine, I guess. No imminent dying to be expected at any moment. But for a couple of months Matt and I weren't sure.

About 6 months ago the corner of my nose turned white. It was my left nostril and it looked...odd. So we watched it for a while until my right nostril did the same thing. Then my nose began to swell a bit and I was rubbing it until it went from black to pink and then cracked and scabby. It even bled at times. So went to the new vet we love so much. Dr. Humanlady looked at it and suggested a biopsy which cost Matt over $600 and made him say angry things in the car on the way home. But I was brought back and gassed. An eraser-sized hunk of flesh was taken from the right side of my nose and the opening stitched up. It sprayed a little after I was brought home but then dried. There are still blood stains on Matt's bed, but he took it well enough. The results of the biopsy were negative. The possibilities had been cancerous tumors, allergies, or a really nasty fungus. It was decided to be allergies built up due to too many meds and products.

Matt has not given me any more products than I should have. But I've been getting prednisone for around 4 years now. But he did stop giving me that Revolution stuff on the back of my neck a while ago. Now my diet has changed from Hill's prescription ZD low allergen formula to the DD formula (rabbit). I've found that the DD rabbit has agreed with me very much over the past 2 months, resulting in the reduction of swelling, itching, and best of all bleeding. Some of the healthy black color is starting to come back in small dots and patches. Hopefully I will have a beautiful black nose again soon. Pink is not my color. And maybe I'll be posting more happy posts again, not having to worry about my own death and all. Please pray and wish me good fortune. Thanks for reading. Later.

Proof That Cats Have Feelings, Too.

I'd like to wish all a Happy New Year....

That rang kind of hollow, considering the video above. It's a cat trying to revive his friend shortly after it was hit by a car. And I felt the need to post that because of what I've heard some say about cats. It is the considered opinion of some that cats cannot feel love... that cats see humans only as a source of food and shelter, but nothing more... that cats are evil and have love for nothing or no one. As you can see above, that's not true.

Sure, we don't fetch newspapers or slippers like dogs do. But that's only because we are so impressed with human ingenuity that we don't think people need us to do that. Humans need to be touched and brushed up against. They need to touch us and stroke our fur and put scotch tape on our feet and slide us across a tile floor and then laugh. Hey, wait!

The point is...CATS HAVE FEELINGS, TOO!!!

Svengali Vet

Earlier this week Matt took me to the......VET.... for my annual check-up, shots, documentation, and....wow...much smaller bill. Hmmm. It's a different vet than usual, and the trip was shorter (only 7 minutes by car, rather than 2 hours). Sometimes you just gotta try something new, I guess.

One reason it was cheaper is that there was no gas induction. I didn't have to be "put under" in order to be examined. You see, usually I get so riled up when I hear the dogs barking in the waiting area, and I smell their doggy stink, that I emit a long, low growl that gets everyone's attention, and when I'm taken into the examination room I refuse to leave my kennel. So Matt has to pick it up and gently dump me out of it, and I run to the corner of the room and hiss a lot. So the other vets had to give me a shot or put me in a small, clear box and gas me so I lay still while they poke, grope, insert (yeeooooww), and stick me with needles.

But this new Dr. was very patient and gentle and calmed me down with some kinda Svengali-like petting and talking to where I didn't feel threatened. She somehow checked my eyes, ears, throat, thyroid, back and belly, and even.... back there... without me scratching anyone. And she did all this in front of Matt. No taking me to the back room for unspeakable crimes and torture, everything was in plain view. Matt says she's our new vet from now on. Not that the last vet was so horrible. He wasn't. He was actually quite thorough, but too expensive for today's budget. So in spite of the fact he did me some good, it was time for a change. We even got a new pharmacist that compounded a bacon flavored prednisone at a third of the price of the old one. All in all it was a very successful trip, and I am quite happy. So is Matt.

Now if work would only start to pick up again....

Cats Who Look Like Hitler

Okay, back to humor...

This little kitty has high aspirations of invading Poland someday. Perhaps he'll merely saunter past the border guards with his tail in the air... without inflicting any casualties or collateral damage. But what a great Hitler-look-alike! This one and others are known as "Kitlers," and have their own website (see link below). Some have called ME a kitler, too, but I don't think I qualify with a white mustache which is off-centered, anyway.

For this and other "kitlers," click HERE. Bring your sense of humor, and leave your righteous indignation at the door, please!

Time To Get Serious For A Moment... Pile Of Dead Cats

I got this from a Facebook friend. This needs to be reposted so people realize what's happening out there. Most animal shelters are not "no-kill" shelters like mine was, and this pile-up of beautiful cats is typical. Why anyone would not adopt a cat from a shelter, if they wanted a cat, is beyond my little kitty brain to fathom... And why anyone would dump a cat at a shelter when we cats have such great uses is also a mystery. I was at my shelter for over 11 months before I was adopted by Matt. Most other shelters would have killed me long before then. And if you haven't figured it out, the cats in this photo are not sleeping. They only look that way.

A Letter from a Shelter Manager - anonymous in North Carolina

I think our society needs a huge "Wake-up" call. As a shelter manager, I am going to share a little insight with you all...a view from the inside if you will.

First off, all of you breeders/sellers should be made to work in the "back" of an animal shelter for just one day. Maybe if you saw the life drain from a few sad, lost, confused eyes, you would change your mind about breeding and selling to people you don't even know.

That puppy you just sold will most likely end up in my shelter when it's not a cute little puppy anymore. So how would you feel if you knew that there's about a 90% chance that dog will never walk out of the shelter it is going to be dumped at? Purebred or not! About 50% of all of the dogs that are "owner surrenders" or "strays", that come into my shelter are purebred dogs.

The most common excuses I hear are; "We are moving and we can't take our dog (or cat)." Really? Where are you moving too that doesn't allow pets? Or they say "The dog got bigger than we thought it would". How big did you think a German Shepherd would get? "We don't have time for her". Really? I work a 10-12 hour day and still have time for my 6 dogs! "She's tearing up our yard". How about making her a part of your family? They always tell me "We just don't want to have to stress about finding a place for her we know she'll get adopted, she's a good dog".

Odds are your pet won't get adopted & how stressful do you think being in a shelter is? Well, let me tell you, your pet has 72 hours to find a new family from the moment you drop it off. Sometimes a little longer if the shelter isn't full and your dog manages to stay completely healthy. If it sniffles, it dies. Your pet will be confined to a small run/kennel in a room with about 25 other barking or crying animals. It will have to relieve itself where it eats and sleeps. It will be depressed and it will cry constantly for the family that abandoned it. If your pet is lucky, I will have enough volunteers in that day to take him/her for a walk. If I don't, your pet won't get any attention besides having a bowl of food slid under the kennel door and the waste sprayed out of its pen with a high-powered hose. If your dog is big, black or any of the "Bully" breeds (pit bull, rottie, mastiff, etc) it was pretty much dead when you walked it through the front door.

Those dogs just don't get adopted. It doesn't matter how 'sweet' or 'well behaved' they are.

If your dog doesn't get adopted within its 72 hours and the shelter is full, it will be destroyed. If the shelter isn't full and your dog is good enough, and of a desirable enough breed it may get a stay of execution, but not for long . Most dogs get very kennel protective after about a week and are destroyed for showing aggression. Even the sweetest dogs will turn in this environment. If your pet makes it over all of those hurdles chances are it will get kennel cough or an upper respiratory infection and will be destroyed because shelters just don't have the funds to pay for even a $100 treatment.

Here's a little euthanasia 101 for those of you that have never witnessed a perfectly healthy, scared animal being "put-down".

First, your pet will be taken from its kennel on a leash. They always look like they think they are going for a walk happy, wagging their tails. Until they get to "The Room", every one of them freaks out and puts on the brakes when we get to the door. It must smell like death or they can feel the sad souls that are left in there, it's strange, but it happens with every one of them. Your dog or cat will be restrained, held down by 1 or 2 vet techs depending on the size and how freaked out they are. Then a euthanasia tech or a vet will start the process. They will find a vein in the front leg and inject a lethal dose of the "pink stuff". Hopefully your pet doesn't panic from being restrained and jerk. I've seen the needles tear out of a leg and been covered with the resulting blood and been deafened by the yelps and screams. They all don't just "go to sleep", sometimes they spasm for a while, gasp for air and defecate on themselves.

When it all ends, your pets corpse will be stacked like firewood in a large freezer in the back with all of the other animals that were killed waiting to be picked up like garbage. What happens next? Cremated? Taken to the dump? Rendered into pet food? You'll never know and it probably won't even cross your mind. It was just an animal and you can always buy another one, right?

I hope that those of you that have read this are bawling your eyes out and can't get the pictures out of your head I deal with everyday on the way home from work.

I hate my job, I hate that it exists & I hate that it will always be there unless you people make some changes and realize that the lives you are affecting go much farther than the pets you dump at a shelter.

Between 9 and 11 MILLION animals die every year in shelters and only you can stop it. I do my best to save every life I can but rescues are always full, and there are more animals coming in everyday than there are homes.

My point to all of this DON'T BREED OR BUY WHILE SHELTER PETS DIE!

Hate me if you want to. The truth hurts and reality is what it is. I just hope I maybe changed one persons mind about breeding their dog, taking their loving pet to a shelter, or buying a dog. I hope that someone will walk into my shelter and say "I saw this and it made me want to adopt". THAT WOULD MAKE IT WORTH IT.

— with Jeff Hartman, Michele Sawyer Credle, aura nomz, Jerry Hartman, Tony N Budda, Perez Pillo and Joel Darby.

From Nevada To California To Washington State

Matt took a couple of pictures on our load (trip) out West. One is a burning mountain in Nevada, where the grass is very dry and catches fire quickly these days. The other is a rather ominous Mt. Shasta (?) or some mountain very near Mt. Shasta. Matt told me about a soda drink called Shasta from years ago. He said they had these commercials on TV where people blew the foam off their drinks into each other's faces, and that it was supposed to be funny. I'd scratch anyone who did that to me.

6 Years On The Road And We're Gonna Make It Home...In 3 Weeks Or So

It has been 6 years since I was adopted from the Northampton SPCA by Matt, as of yesterday. We were too busy to post on it then, and don't have much time now. We are on a load to Northern California, which is a place we don't often go to these days. But just so you know, we both celebrated briefly this milestone.

So, gotta run!!!

DENVER!

Matt and I went to Denver, CO today and saw lots of mountains and tall buildings. But since Matt and I have been there so many times, he didn't bother to take any pictures of them. He did take a picture of me trying to play with the buttons on the radio. He keeps playing Bach organ music over and over again. It sounds kinda scary to me, but he loves it so I gotta listen, too. I think he called it Tobacco and Fudge in D Minor or something. I'm partial to the Fudge, myself. See below!

It was very hot today once the sun came out, and Matt found it welcome news that we were picking up a load at Coors in Golden, CO. Unfortunately it wasn't beer, but bottle caps we picked up....thousands and thousands of bottle caps -- about 44,000 pounds of them. Well, those will make someone happy, I guess.

Not much else to report, I guess--- except that I savaged a couple of flies today who foolishly flew into the truck through the window. They're slightly crunchy and chewy at the same time, and the blood, oh the blood, from many an unfortunate host. Hey, I'm starting to love this Bach. It's very intense!

Hot Days and Cool Treats

Well, here you have it. NO! These aren't pictures of anything Matt did. Just something he and I saw a few VERY HOT days ago in Sanger, TX at a Walmart Distribution Center.

Apparently, some OTHER truck driver forgot how important it was to line up the trailer's landing gear with the cement landing PAD provided, especially when it's nearly 102 degrees outside and the trailer is loaded with heavy freight. It sank into the asphalt like a hot knife through butter.

It is known as a career ender, because some very heavy machinery will be required to lift the lowered end and put some sort of support under the gear so a bobtail truck can get under it and pull it on out of there. Also, now no one will hire the driver because he is uninsurable. How awful.

In other news,... the weeks following our vacation have been very productive indeed, as Matt and I have averaged over 2,900 miles each week. Unfortunately Matt has also gained 5 lbs during this same time frame.

Also, at a local vet Matt discovered several bags of Hill's prescription diet Hypoallergenic treats for sale, which he promptly purchased. They taste really great and not like diet or skim or anything like that. I look forward to them everyday, and best of all.... they don't make me puke!

A Much Needed Update On A Few Things...

It would appear that I have not been blogging in a while. It's NOT MY FAULT! Blame Matt!

Okay, now that's settled. Time to update on a few things:

First, I finished Matt's taxes just in the nick of time and figured a refund of about $87,798,909.59. Matt asked me to do them again, thinking I made some sort of error. So I did and calculated a refund of $97,798,909.59. So Matt allowed me to send it in to the IRS, in spite of the fact that this figure is almost twice Matt's annual income. So far we've not heard from the IRS, but Matt is ever hopeful of receiving a check soon.

On Matt's birthday, which he graciously shares with me (just not the cake),...he got a cake. And I got a tin of albacore tuna. I guess we were both happy with that.

Today, Matt and I are on vacation in an undisclosed location in the Chicago area where I am held up in a car in the shade, and Matt is touring various churches downtown. He'll have pictures on his own blog as the days progress.

Sorry it's been so long since anyone has heard from me. Matt and I will try to do better...

Buster The Bean-Counter

I love driving down to Texas in the winter. The further south, the better. It gets warmer, so I don't sneeze as much. And my fur stops looking all clumpy from something Matt calls sta...staticl...uh...something lectircity or something. Makes my fur stand up and things cling to me, like my kitty litter, lint, and small strips of paper.

So I have something to be happy about. This is good, because Matt says I have to do our taxes this year. I've never done them before because I don't have thumbs and can't add and stuff. I can subtract okay, like when I eat and the pieces of cereal disappear. Sometimes I count them. Anyway Matt says I better do them right or the IRS will take me away and turn me into dog food. Does anyone know if they can really do that? Even under Obama it seems a bit extreme. I can't find the calculator either. Maybe someone can help me with this. Matt started doing them and then got mad when I wouldn't stop meowing because I was hungry, and told me to do them myself.

Anyway, Matt and I are in Waco, TX sitting leisurely for the day because freight is slow. He's in the Flying Hook playing with the computer and I'm in the truck enjoying ME-time, laying about on the dashboard and dreaming of fish.

End Of Year Rant and Whine

Since we are close to the end of the year, I figured I should do a year-end post for Matt, since I've posted nothing since October. So I suppose I should recap what happened to us this year. Well, nothing much, really, except whatever I posted already.

Christmas kinda sucked here, in that Matt and I were both sick. Matt spent time in bed with mucus lungs and I slept an awful lot with my own upper respiratory infection, for which Matt has given me Clavamox or something. It's a pill that he forces into my mouth twice daily immediately followed by drowning with water. Yeah, really fun times here.

It's the first winter in our new truck that was slammed into VERY shortly after we acquired it. And that might explain why it's so drafty, and why Matt and I are both sick, in spite of the weather-stripping he did on the side box door.

Matt missed Confession and Mass Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (today) due to illness. I learned how to get into the garbage under the sink, making a couple of messes that got Matt really angry. Now he has something heavy propped in front of the garbage door. I need to eat much more in order to move it.

On the brighter side, the tree sure looks nice. The car still runs okay, the booklice are hibernating or dead, Matt still has a job, my litter box was cleaned today, and the heat works here.

We are praying that next year is better than this past one.

My Anniversary Cake...That I Can't Eat

Now that Matt is over his blood pressure test hysteria, he has purchased an anniversary cake...uh...wtf? It says "5 years outa the... KLINK???" C'mon Matt, it was just a shelter for cats and dogs. No prison at all. They were good to me there.

Matt says it was a tasty cake, but whoever wrote on it has bad handwriting. And who put those fake flowers there? Matt didn't order those. It's made out of chocolate fudge frosting, black cherry filling, and chocolate cake inside. And Matt drove all the way to Lancaster, PA to THIS PLACE. I can't even pronounce it.

As usual I am not allowed to partake in the eating of this poo-colored treat. And why would I want to? Matt got me some moist, canned yummy food for me to celebrate...and a new toy that lights up and flashes. That was good for about 10 minutes.

New Video From Simon's Cat: The Box

Here's another cartoon from Simon's Cat, who I don't find the least bit amusing. Matt, of course, DOES, and that's why I'm posting it. I would never destroy property of another like this foolish feline, tearing and ripping apart a toy like that... unless it had catnip inside. Then I might... ooorrrrrrrr if it was used in transporting leaking cans of sausage meat, or sardines, or fish heads, or....

Happy Fifth Anniversary!!!

It has been 5 years as of today! Five years out of the insane asylum with all those abused, lonely strays all clamoring to get the attention of anyone remotely interested in adopting a friend.

When I saw Matt coming I leapt to the front of the crowd of cats, pushing them out of the way, and furiously brushing up against his leg (actually, I did no such thing. I ran and hid from him --he's very, very tall, you see). He reached down and picked up Cookie, a cat looking much like me, and she growled. So he quickly put her down again and just stood there. Then the ladies that ran the joint grabbed other cats to show him, but he wasn't interested in them.

He walked about here and there, finally making his way to the back of the room where I was. I looked up at him and meowed. He ignored me. Then one of the ladies brought me over to the shelf and Matt came over and checked me out. I purred and meowed and brushed against his hand, and then I jumped over to him on his shoulders. I've no idea what possessed me to do that, but I guess I wanted to be tall, too.

"We have a percher!" One of the ladies shouted and giggled. So Matt had the lady take me out for a test drive since I would be going with Matt on the road. He wanted to see how I reacted to riding in a machine. I didn't like it, but I didn't puke or cry, or even scratch anyone. I just laid low and waited for it to end. Then they brought me back and I ran and hid under the table.

Next thing I know I'm being selected and put in a box with little holes for the tall fellow to take home. Finally,...after 11 months of living in a cage most of the time, I had a home. But I had no idea what was going to come next...

I got used to the stop and go, sway to the right and left, and close quarters with a human full time, after only a day or two. The first day I hid my head under Matt's pillow on his bed. But after that I road on the dashboard mostly, feeling awestruck by the ever changing view. Then after a while it didn't seem to change all that much. Same stuff each day. But after 5 years of this I wish Matt would get another job. I like being home with all my toys and want to stay here.

Things Could Be Worse...

We're sitting in New Stanton, PA, waiting for the lumpers to unload our trailer load full of Clorox products, and pondering the meaning of life. For me, it's being able to flop my gloriously lazy, furry body on Matt's pillows and laptop computer case and have no care what-so-ever in the world.

For Matt, it's to pass his blood pressure test tomorrow morning. He's fretting. He almost always passes it, but he frets anyway. It must be the "almost" part that gets him fretting.

But I don't have to worry about such things, only that Matt doesn't abandon me like my last owner. This would mean that I would starve and slowly wither away and die. I would have no predisone administered to me to reduce my inner inflammation, allowing me to eliminate waste matter (poo) properly. In laycats terms, I'd get bound up with a thousand fur balls. It wouldn't matter what someone fed me, or what wonderful dumpster I'd eat out of. Oh, I miss dumpsters...like a grande buffet: dead rats, fish heads, and thousands of other surprises just waiting for me to sample them.

So I lay there....and wait for the next bout of excitement...or the next meal...or the next fly to buzz by me...and I just live.

iPhone Submerged And I'm In The Doghouse

Sorry for being away again for so long, but I was being punished for misbehaving a couple of weeks ago....

All I did was lay on the bed. That was all. I do it all the time when Matt's driving because the bumps are softer on me when I'm on the mattress. But this one time,...just this one time, Matt left something on the bed near my feet. It was located near the edge of the bed, so being a wee bit OCD, I beat it with my tail for a while...but it wouldn't move. So after a bit I started to nudge it with my back feet. It was small and black and kinda rubbery, like it had a skin of rubber or something. Then I realized Matt had left his iPhone there. So I kicked it harder until it fell off the edge.

I wasn't certain, but it seemed like I heard a small splash after it fell off the edge of the bed. "Oh no," I thought, "not my water dish!"

But sure enough, after about 86 miles of driving, Matt wondered aloud where his "&%$#" phone was, and pulled into the next rest area to find out. This was on I-77 just north of the North Carolina line, inside Virginia. He looked and looked for it while I stayed stationary on the bed, flopping my tail repeatedly as I do when I'm feeling anxious.

Finally he saw it laying face down in my water dish, half submerged in now undrinkable water. He got really angry, though I should have been the one who was angry since my water was now foul. He took it out, looked at me, then at the phone, then at me again, then he got angry. "No more blogging for a month!!!" he shouted.

So then he took the phone, dried it off on the outside, complained there was water underneath the glass front, tried to shake the water out, then toweled it dry again, then shut it off and put it away.

Two days later it worked as good as new, but I was still in the doghouse. But now I am allowed to blog once again because I apologized, and I caught two flies that were buzzing Matt.

Boy, those iPhones were built pretty good.