I am UNIQUE

That's U-N-I-Q-U-E. According to my Peem, I'm a "Special Guy." That's right. I am special. Yeah. I am. Meem keeps saying that she's glad there's only one of me. Please. This world would be a much better place if populated by Special Cat Men. All Cat Men are Special, but I'm Super-Special. Do you want to know how Super-Special I am? Of course you do. So I'll provide some photographic evidence. Just in case you have any questions. But of course you won't. Why argue with me?

I am a work of art. My handsomeness cannot be defined in a few words, so I'll leave it to your imagination. Gaze upon my handsomeness and let poetry enter your soul:

I am super handsome.

I can't be boxed in. I will not be a slave to boundaries. I make my own rules. And this picture shows how 20 pound Healthy and Strong Cat Men can fit into my Meem's size 7 shoe box. Don't let boundaries win.

Boundaries? What boundaries?

I am the soul of kindness. Need I say more? Rainbows and butterflies soar through my veins. From my eyes all of the joy of the world shines. (*Editor's note: Um, what? You can't be serious. No, really. You can't). Shut up! This is my blog! I'm a prince, no, KING among cats. When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it.

Kindness is me. I am kindness.

I am an artistic genius. I am one of the greatest feline opera singers in the world. The power of my voice rattles the walls of our apartment. I should be one of the Three Tenors. I don't know why I'm not. Probably because my Peem and Meem are lazy. Someone should tell them to get me an agent. Now. I said NOW!

I have a velvety singing voice.

My Eye rival Sauron's. No further comment required. Just be careful, I'm watching you. (Editor's note: Run Frodo, run.)

"I see you."

I have kingly dignity and therefore wear a crown (on my collar). I'm still waiting for Meem to pick up my royal purple and gold fleur-de-lis collar. But I don't need a collar to prove my Kinglyness. I am King of the family. King of the food bowl. King of the world. King of the universe. King. Period.

Don't argue with the King.

And finally, I glow. I am a Super-Special Cat Man who is a King, an all-knowing Eye, an Artistic Genius whose Kindness and Handsomeness knows no Boundaries. Now you know exactly how UNIQUE I am.

Have you ever seen such perfection?

(Editor's note: Well, I guess this makes up for not posting for so long. The Wrath of Smeege is horrifying to endure. Of course, typing all of this modesty does make one want to vomit).

Yet again, my staff is Bullshit.

Complete and utter Bullshit. I've given my staff an ultimatum - post something about me this weekend or face my Wrath. My Wrath is something to be feared. It has a face, and its face is this:

Do as I say or face the consequences!

They have until this weekend. Or my Wrath will be unleashed. If you don't hear from them, that means they have suffered the Wrath.

(**Editor's note: Oh dear. Not the Wrath. Not again. We quiver before the mightiness of the Smeege. Or something).

Let's get something straight.

My favorite time of the day.

I keep hearing all of these comments about my "weight." Things like "fatboy," "moose," "chunk," "chubby-bubby," "tank," and "go-rilla." I don't just hear it from my Peem and Meem, but from total strangers. Like they have the right to comment on ME.

So, last week, I was sitting in the computer room window, enjoying the breeze and watching all of the human slaves driving by in their cars (in their daily drive-by parade in honor of me).

I love the daily honor parade. For ME.

Just then this old couple walked by and noticed me. Of course they noticed me, I'm very impressive and worthy of notice. Just when I thought they were going to discuss my regal demeanor, instead this is what I hear:


Old Lady: "Look at the size of him!"

Old Man: "Oh, he's a BIG one!!"

"Excuse ME??"

Peem, who witnessed this travesty, began to laugh, because he's insensitive. Still laughing, he ran into the living room to tell Meem, who also began to laugh. Instead of laughing at this insult to my dignity, they should have ran outside and told those rude jerks that I'm not "BIG" but Strong. And Healthy. But they didn't. Because they suck.

The next day, when Meem was unlocking the front door after she got home from work, she was stopped by two neighbor girls. The girls told Meem that they liked her cats. Meem asked which cat was their favorite (as if she had to ask, of course it's me), and both girls replied:

"We like the BIG, FAT one!!"

This. Is. Bullshit. Let's get something straight. There is a difference between "fat" and "Strong and Healthy." I am not fat. Cat men are never fat. We are all strong boys. We eat all the time so that we can defend our human families. Why don't you get this?!? Since humans seem to have difficulties with this concept, I will provide you with some visual representations of "Strong and Healthy" cat men:

STRONG.

HEALTHY.

HEALTHY and STRONG.

Of course, the most handsome of the "Strong and Healthy" cat men is last. The best always comes last:

And that's me.