Cat Monologue 6: The New Dog

It's been a long couple of months, my readers. I shall do my best to recount these events as if they have only just happened and are still fresh in my mind.
I took your advice, my readership, and the course of history has been unalterably changed accordingly.
To recap upon the last episode I published: along with Max the golden retriever, my daft owners planned to get a new dog, thus at least doubling the annoyance level in the house.
You advised me to stay and find a way to get rid of the new arrival to the house. Well, the beast arrived, the beast arrived!
A giant wobbling, idiotic, stupid, pea-brained, oafish, worthless, lump of puppy came through the door one afternoon, and I knew my golden days were over.
You see, Max and I have always somewhat had a truce. We ignored each other for the past four years, ever since they brought the big bumbling dolt through that front door, and went our separate ways. He didn't bother me; I didn't bother him. I sat typing up my memoirs in peace and tranquility while he--well, he did whatever it is that dogs do: bark, drool, vomit, defecate, dig.
But when Trixie walked through the door, everything changed. And I mean everything.
She's a freaking menace! She's chewed up everything in the house, pooped and peed all over my study, and nearly eaten me on various occasions! And I haven't been able to do anything to convince my owners that having the second dog is a bad idea.
And if you thought that was bad, just imagine my horror when Max forgot our long years of trusting truce, and instead helped little Trixie heckle me, hunt me, and chase me all over the place.
I've had to relocate my study. Now, I climb up into the attic through the top window when no one's paying attention, and I type my memoirs up here. It's stuffy, but it has its perks: namely, mice. They leave droppings everywhere and they're so easy to track. It's a great hunting ground. I can't believe I didn't think of this earlier.
Anyway, back to the narrative.
When they brought Trixie to the house that fateful afternoon, I got to work. I arranged traps of all sorts to make it look like she's been getting into tons of trouble, ripping things up, tracking in dirt, peeing and pooping everywhere.
My plans backfired. I'm about to hang myself out of desperation, my readers. I just don't know if I can take it.
You see, my strategies would only work if Trixie was generally well-behaved. As it is, she's done three times worse than I would have framed her for.
But the humans apparently don't give a flying hoop of CENSORED CENSORED CENSORED! They suffer through the torment of having this menace around to this day! I'm getting really sick and tired of this. They turn a blind eye to everything Trixie does, whereas if I step one foot into her kennel, they put me on the chopping block!
It appears that I cannot use any powers of persuasion upon my human owners. My subtle strategies aren't working, which leaves me with two options:
a) stick it out and suffer.
b) get rid of the dog myself, the old-fashioned way.
c) run away from home.

I contemplate these options every time I see that monstrous horror they call an animal.

-Signing off,
Chester Felix (the cat)

Cat Monologue 5 - Curses!

Curses! My owners have succumbed to the vile force of idiocy that so many of the canine race presume! AAAAAAAAAARGH!!!!!!!!! There is no worse thing that could be happening right now; my kibble supplies are running low from paying off Lenny; Max the dog is as stupid as ever; and now, the household is out to buy ANOTHER DOG!!!

Feline Fridays - Cat Monologue #4

Welcome to Inkweb! Here is the newest cat monologue, featuring Chester Felix. Any suggestions for Mad Monday? Comment below and let me know. I hope you enjoy this monologue, in which things get a little interesting around the house.
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Curses! How daft could my human owners possibly be? I've arranged a deal, and I've walked away worse than when I started out!
Sorry. I should probably fill you in, big wide world. So, you remember my plan, right? I was going to give Lenny an email account for his network of feline informants, and in return he'd get rid of Max for me?
Well, it didn't work out so well, after all. What a surprise. I should have known. Never hire someone to do a job that you can pull off yourself with a little effort.
Anyway, I made a deal with Lenny. I showed him how to create an email account, and I threw in some free kibble on the side, and he agreed to put a bounty on Max's head.
So, yeah. This was where it began to go wrong, you might say. Every other hour of the day, some puffed up kitten was jumping off a fence post trying to pounce on Max.

Feline Fridays: Cat Monologue #3

Welcome to Inkweb! Have fun reading, comment with your thoughts, and stay tuned tomorrow for my short story "The Gravestone."

This is Cat Monologue #3. It's the third installment of a series of diary entries made by a housecat, Chester Felix.

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I jumped off the roof yesterday.

Nothing particularly eventful in itself; the landing is what mattered. I stood atop the roof in blazing glory, silhouetted against the sunset, my muscles primed for the leap, and I jumped.

Right down onto Little Timmy’s head.

Needless to say, the chaos that ensued was quite substantial, and during the course of events I was nearly killed by a flailing boy, a terrified mother, and a defensive dad.

But besides all that, and the obvious bruises it entailed, I had a relatively relaxing week.

Cat Monologue 2 - Unaware of My Impending Doom...

Unaware of my impending doom, I decided to eat the tuna. Woe to me! For I have taken part in the worst act of my entire nine lives, and have exposed myself to food poisoning. Ugh.

I haven't been working on my manifesto, because I've had such a bad stomachache that I can't even play with Mr. Annoying Fish Toy, for crying out loud. I am a miserable wreck. When I look in the mirror, my fur is green, my tongue is green, my eyes are green. I cannot stomach food of any kind: not kibble, not tuna (oh no! I've taken a vow never to touch any more of that stuff), not...wait, what's that smell?

Cat Monologue 1 - In the Way of Things...

In the way of things, I guess I cannot complain for what happened. It was only a matter of time until Stupidface managed to get past the fence and crash my writing capabilities. But honestly, can't a dog just lie down and go to sleep? Now I have to write on this infuriating device they call a "computer" instead of my ergonomic typewriter. I was in the middle of my greatest masterpiece, my manifesto, when that idiotic pug smashed into my office and ripped everything to shreds! Ooh, what's this? A delete button! I never had one of those on my typewriter...

Anyway, I've had to start my extremely epic masterpiece all over again, and no longer do I have a hard copy continually on hand...at least until I can figure out this "printer." I mean, honestly! Using two devices to do what the typewriter by itself can accomplish? That sounds like a waste of resources to me.