Bad Cat and the Change of Life

Somebody got neutered Friday.
Bad Cat, formerly known as the Biggest Balled Housecat in the Waaaaay down Soufth, is trying to figger out how to swagger without the extra weights. 

He could already jump about five feet straight up.  Once he's healed completely, and has you-know-what off his mind, he might even make it to the Cat-Olympics, if they exist.

I'm torn between feeling sorry for him and feeling optimistic about a subsequent transformation into, if not a GOOD cat, at least a REGULAR cat! 

And then the dreaded Cloud of Dread rears her ugly head.  As usual, in her role as the Oracle of NOT, she reminds us that we really aren't in control. 

She suggests that Bad Cat might instead become an evil villain, bent on destroying those he holds accountable for his brand-new, unnatural, anatomical arrangement.

You know you're in for a rough week when having a sore throat is already your favorite part.*

*Because you get to eat as many Luden's Sore Throat candies as you want (which is a LOT!). 

Bad Cat Gets a Newish Toy

Surprise!  I made Bad Cat a toy last night.  Because (1) I feel kinda bad about getting his b****s surgically removed next week and (2) I believe you should always keep the enemy guessing.  No way was he expecting a gift.  From ME!  (3) Also, there was this two and a half foot long light brown braid made of yarn that was lying around constantly reminding me of another incomplete project. 
I started on it last summer.  It was SUPPOSED to end up as a pretty Hair Thingie Holder for all of Sweet Baby's hair thingies.  But the face was made of a nude bra cup, and looked like Arthur's sister D.W. from the cartoon on PBS, making it very distracting and a bit disturbing to work on.
So, I cut up a paper towel cardboard and slipped the braid through it.  And I was able to use up a piece of that stuff that looks like ribbon that you can use when sewing to reinforce seams.  But the rings slipped off because there was nothing on them to block their path.
So I had to tie the ends of the fat braid to each other, which wasn't easy. 
I approached Bad Cat and we eyed each other warily.  I tried to give it to him, but he wouldn't take it.  Understandable, considering our history and ongoing feud.  So, I GENTLY placed it around his head like he had just stepped off the boat in Hawaii and I was a beautiful Native girl presenting him with an official, and completely innocent "Aloha, Kitty!" lei.
Bad Cat was either unsure of my intentions, or maybe he'd never heard about getting lei'd in Hawaii, because he immediately started trying to step OUT of his new toy/ fashion accessory, head first.  It was going smoothly until somehow one leg ended up encased in a piece of cardboard for just a moment.
A moment that was just long enough to change his life forever because I realized in a flash how easy and fun it would be to make cat boots out of empty paper tubes!
Then he left the room to collect his thoughts and contemplate life (just kidding- he was probably going to make sweet cat love to the giant stuffed frog!), and also I had asked him to think about what color boots he wants. I think he's gonna LOVE his new camo cat boots.  My first Pinterest PROJECT! (OH, yeah!)

Do any of y'all know if somebody is currently plotting to kill me?

I received an unexpected package in the mail this week.  It was addressed to me, but merely bore the name and address of a retailer I had never heard of in the SENDER area of the padded envelope.
Instead of being delighted by what may yet prove to be no more than a well-intended GIFT, I was immediately suspicious.
I was first concerned that I had not received any instructions whatsoever regarding my expected role in getting the contents of this package to the rightful recipient at the intended destination, and by the appropriate deadline.
Also, no matter how beige and unexciting some of us (Me!) may appear on the surface, we have all cultivated some enemies along the way, am I right?  You don't have to answer- it's rhetorical.  We live in an exciting age of information and communication, as well as an age of fear and violence.  It is wise to take some basic precautions prior to breaking the seal on potentially dangerous packages.  Remember the Anthrax panics?  It doesn't matter, because the lethality of Anthrax, like the lethality of most other weapons of various degrees of destructive capacity, does NOT rely one bit on the memory skills or mental abilities of its target.
I handled the package gingerly, and studied it visually.  I broadened my search and went electronic, but no clues were to be found in any of my email accounts.  I had no memory of being involved in, or informed of, any current missions.  Just what kind of person am I anyway that suddenly finding myself on the receiving end of an assassination attempt, OR the "middleman" in an extremely complicated delivery scheme seems more normal than being the kind of person who might receive an unexpected gift in the mail?  Do I think I'm James (used to be, kind of) Blonde, or something?
After deciding that the contents were most likely benign, I opened the padded envelope and let its contents slide slowly out onto the sturdy wooden table.  I eyed the slick paperback book lying on the table, as I picked up the single sheet of paper by the corner, carefully searching for an explanation.  The only additional information that appeared on the (I guess I would have to call it this) invoice was the amount book's purchase and shipping cost.  I was listed as the customer.  My name was spelled correctly, a feat that even lifelong friends sometimes find difficult.  My mailing address was exact, slightly MORE unusual, considering we've had three different addresses in thirteen months, and complicated by the fact that the moron who was allowed to decide how to spell the name of this street lacked knowledge, respect, or both, towards the civility of American English Phonics.
I didn't appear to OWE any amount for the book, though payment method was not listed anywhere on the lone paper.  I questioned everybody at my house, fearing a young mind had discovered how easy it is to purchase items online with only a few numbers.  My interrogations were met with vehement denials all around, and it was even suggested that perhaps I had ordered this book myownself, IN MY SLEEP.
It also occurred to me that maybe I had been singled out as a reviewer of sorts, because of multiple blog entries regarding the youngest, and black-hearted-est, occupant in our home, a yellow boy cat named Jagger, whose primary agenda seems to be organizing a mutiny, usurping my power and replacing ME as the captain of our family ship.
Thinking about Jagger and his black-black heart led me to thinking about the depths of evil he was capable of.  Was it no longer enough for him to wait for me on the back of the sofa and haul off and PUNCH me as I walk by?   People never believe me when I tell them that this CAT punches me.  Could it be that Jagger himself ordered this book for me as a THREAT?  I mean, he HAS certainly overheard my appraisal of his complete lack of character more than once.
We have another four-legged occupant in our home.  In fact, I was the one pressing to get a cat in the first place, because I suspected the dog was bored and lonely.  I am reminded of my culpability whenever I suggest letting the cat "play outside" for a while. 
Scooter has become GOOD BOY, though I think it is our perception of his behavior that has changed, and not the behavior itself.  I must consider that Good Boy may be responsible for presenting me with the book.  In his relative innocence, he may not realize that I am already of the danger posed to me by Bad Cat.
Thank you, Good Boy.  I will carefully study the book: How to tell if your cat is plotting to kill you.