The Psychokitty Speaks Out: Something Of Yours Will Meet a Toothy Death

By Max Thompson

Look. I'm funny. You like me. And if you buy my book, I earn cash towards fresh cat nip and crunchy treats. It's as simple as that... But if you need more: This is the diary of Max Thompson, blogger extraordinaire. Thousands of people (maybe hundreds) flock to his blog every day to be amused an enlightened by his feline wisdom. Plus, it's the follow up to "The Psychokitty Speaks Out: Diary of a Mad Housecat" so you know it's good. Some people even though it was FUNNIER. But you don't have to read that one first. Oh, and I have a potty mouth. So you're warned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Max Thompson
• Release date: Mar 29, 2009
• ISBN: 9781932461121

Max Thompson

Max Thompson is a writer living in Northern California with The Woman, The Man, and Buddah Pest. He’s also a Feline Life Coach for Mousebreath Magazine, and writes the hugely popular blog The Psychokitty Speaks Out. He’s 14 pounds of sleek black and white feline glory, and his favorite snacks are real live fresh dead steak, shrimp, and lots of cheese. He also appreciates that you’ve read this far, and would give you a cookie if he could.

Book preview

January 2005

January 1, 2005

Wow. 2005.

This is going to be a great year!

January 2, 2005

Man...It’s like 45 minutes until dinner time—I know this because every time I open my mouth the Woman tells me how much longer—but I’m hungry NOW. Not just a little bit hungry but REALLY hungry. So hungry I think my tummy is turning inside out. Really really really hungry. Well, not hungry enough to munch on that dry crap. Just hungry enough to feel like I have to let the Woman know every 2.75 seconds that I am very close to dying right here in the middle of her office. Really. I think I am. If I don’t get my Stinky Goodness soon, I am going to drop to the floor in a pile of black and white emaciation. Don’t think I won’t...

––––––––

January 3, 2005

I was nice this morning. I announced when the Man left to pass gas, but only for a moment, and after that I curled up on the bed and waited for the Woman to wake up. She was half an hour late with my Stinky Goodness this morning, but so grateful that I let her sleep that she fed me before doing anything else. It totally screwed her up, I think, because she forgot to make the bed after she got dressed. Normally that would upset me, but there was a nice flat place right in the middle for me to nap on today, and I could even get under the blankets. So now when she goes to bed tonight, there will be a nice layer of fur on the sheets to help keep her warm.

She’ll complain that it’s getting up her nose and in her mouth, but deep down I know she’ll be happy because it will just mean more warmth.

Today she’s been saying bad words to the computer, but I don’t think she’s mad at me at all, because I got some crunchy treats this afternoon. But I tell you what, whoever Uncle Sam is, he better watch out because she’s mightily pissed off at him. I think she dislikes him as much as she seems to hate this guy Bill who sends her a lot of snail mail.

January 4, 2005

Wow, being nice to the Woman really pays off. Today she came home with this big pillow and said it was for me, a new cushion for my bed. She seemed quite proud of it because it was only five dollars (like I needed to know that...make me feel special why don’t you and say it was very, very expensive?) and said it would be more comfy than the old cushion.

Well now. Let me tell you...the outside of the pillow feels like the inside of a soft sweatshirt. She put it in the bed basket and then put my special fuzzy pad on top like always, but I had to see how it felt so I climbed right under that pad and curled up. It’s like clothes out of the dryer, and no one will get mad if I get my fur all over it!

If I’m nice to her every day, I could wind up with a house full of fun stuff, just for me!

––––––––

January 6 2005

While most of the time being me is awesome, sometimes it bites. Like this morning, the people upstairs made a loud noise that woke the Woman up, and you know what she said? Do you??? Oh Max, what did you do now? Well.

It wasn’t me. And as soon as I meowed at her from the same freaking bed, she realized that. And she decided someone was breaking into the house. So while she got up, I crawled under the blankets to keep the mattress warm for her. Because I’m nice that way. Besides, I didn’t want to see the possible end result of her stupidity. I mean, come on.

Someone’s maybe breaking into the house and she stumbles out there in pajama pants and a t-shirt, half asleep with her boobs flopping all over the place, to defend her turf. Yeah.

That’ll have a good outcome.

She finally realized it was the people upstairs. Then she decided to go back to bed. Well, by then I was hungry. But would she get up and feed me? No! She didn’t go back to sleep—she turned the TV on instead—but she still made me wait!

Then. Then! She put this music on and she tried to sing with it! Oh holy Pope gnawing on a Popsicle stick...she should never do this! First, she doesn’t know all the words so she makes things up. Second, she can’t hold a freaking tune anyway. But still she sings!

I jumped in her lap and put my paw over her mouth, but she thought that was funny and sang even more.

=sigh=

Later on, when I was curled up in the office chair, she decided if she didn’t get online right then she was going to die, so she moved me from the chair to my bed. What the heck? She has a laptop, she could have used that elsewhere.

I swear, she doesn’t appreciate me.

I think I’m going to bite her later.

If she starts singing again, I really will.

January 6 2005

It’s cold.

The Woman agrees: it’s cold.

She can keep adding clothes until she’s not cold anymore. But does she stop to think that all I have is the one coat? And that it’s not an especially thick one?

No.

In order for her to stop and think she’d actually have to start, and, well...I may be asking too much.

Really, though.

She could turn up the thing that makes warm air come out of the air blowing thingy. Then she wouldn’t have to wear so much that she looks like a mutant Michelin Man, and my useless nipples would stop inverting. That doesn’t tickle, you know.

January 7 2005

It is not fair to open a can of Stinky Goodness when the kitty is using his litterbox.

––––––––

January 8 2005

Look.

Last week the Man moved my Supreme Commander Kitty Tower from the Woman’s office (where it was just no fun, even with the bookcases to walk on) to the living room, where it’s a lot more fun. I can get a running start and zoom around it, and the People are more apt to play with me now that it’s in there.

But look closer.

Above my head.

It’s one of those warm air blowing things! At the old place they were on the floor, so when it was cold I spent a lot of time sleeping by them. But here, they do a kitty no good because they were up so high, and that made me mightily upset.

But now I can reach one! So if the Woman doesn’t turn on that thing that looks like a fan but really isn’t (let’s face it, People can be selfish about that sort of thing,) I can go stand on my Supreme Commander Kitty Tower and warm up.

January 9 2005

I absolutely was not talking to myself at 4 a.m. You must have been dreaming.

Really. I wasn’t. Nope.

––––––––

January 10 2005

The Woman is trying to figure out what got into me this morning, but the real issue is what got into her?

I fully intended to let her sleep in this morning, but as I sat there on the bed, waiting patiently (even though my tummy was growling awfully hard) I smelled something. It was that wonderful odor of something deeply disgusting. Something I have to investigate.

So yeah, I did it again.

Only this time, I really did it.

I jammed my nose up one of her nostrils as far as I could, and sniffed hard.

It was wonderful, really, but the Woman was not impressed at all. She shared no thrill in my aromatic wanderings. Her eyes snapped open and she muttered something about Jesus and my copulatory lack of sanity, but I don’t think she was really mad.

But judging from that smell, whatever it is, it definitely got into her, not me.

Whatever it is, I think it died in there.

––––––––

January 11 2005

If I’m standing outside the bathroom door being very vocal, I am not crying because I want my litterbox cleaned.

I am yelling at you, demanding to know why you let it get to the point where I don’t care to use it. Scooping is not enough. I want fresh clean litter at least twice a week.

But I’m not crying.

I am not a wuss.

I’m just particular.

––––––––

January 12 2005

I did it.

I killed the squirt bottle thingy this morning.

The Woman didn’t want to get up and give me my Stinky Goodness, so she picked up the squirt bottle and pointed it at me so I’d run away. And I did, I jumped off the bed and ran. But while she was feeling smug and superior I circled the bed and jumped up quietly, then stalked the bottle sneakily, and before she could turn it and aim, I pounced and knocked it to the floor.

It was dead, I’m sure of it.

It must have been dead, because she finally got up and gave me my Stinky Goodness. She grumbled and I think she said some bad words, but up she got, and dead the bottle remains on the bedroom floor.

If I could get it into the bathroom, I’d bury it in my box.

––––––––

January 13 2005

I did not see this one coming.

The Man did not get up at 4:30 this morning as he usually does. When that happens it is my JOB to make sure he wakes up in time to go out into the world to pass gas. And I have to let the Woman know, too, so that she can wake up and be sure that he’s up. I do it nicely; I sing at the top of my little lungs, hitting notes that only dogs and pissed off humans can hear.

Since the Man was banished to the Other Room last night for Multiple Snoring Violations, I had to do my singing while walking up and down the hall, so that both the People could hear. And I know they both heard because the Man got up for 6.2 seconds, and then the Woman got up.

You know what she did?

She picked me up, took me into the bedroom and shut the door. I was locked in there, the Man had gone back to bed and was surely already asleep, and she was going to let him!

Well. I showed them.

I curled up on the bed with the Woman and went to sleep. If they don’t appreciate the lengths to which I go to make sure the Man gets out the door in the morning, then I’ll just snooze. Let’s see how they like that.

––––––––

January 14 2005

Conversation with The Woman:

Me: May I have some crunchy treats, please?

Her: It’s not time for dinner, Max.

Me: I didn’t ask for dinner.

Her: You still have an hour and a half.

Me: A few crunchy treats will tide me over.

Her: That’s 90 minutes.

Me: Please?

Her: You won’t starve before then.

Me: I said please...

Her: Well, do you want some treats? That might help your tummy not growl until dinner time.

I swear, it’s like we’re speaking two different languages.

––––––––

January 15 2005

Why was I thumping my tail so hard when I was sitting next to your head while you were still in bed?

I was hoping to whack you across the face a few times. Hey, you asked...

––––––––

January 16 2005

I hate to admit it, but I miss the Sticky Little People. I keep looking out the windows, hoping one of them will be out there in the yard, but they’re never there.

Maybe it’s because there’s nothing there for them to dig in anymore. It’s nothing but bushes that block my view, grass, and other really ugly buildings.

There’s no place for the Sticky People to do what Sticky People do.

When I think about it, I get a little ticked off. Why would the People bring me to a place that not only has zilch to see out the windows, but a place where I can’t watch my Sticky People play?

Now I’ll never know if the newest of the Sticky Little People ever learn to say my name.

I think I want to go back to the other place.

But without the four day car ride.

I am not a dog; I do not enjoy riding in the car.

I don’t like Sticky People, either, but I sure wouldn’t mind being able to watch them again.

––––––––

January 17 2005

I own them.

I totally own them.

Early this morning (the Woman said it was the middle of the night, but that’s because she’s just lazy) I really missed my water fountain thingy because it’s not being a fountain it’s just being a bowl, so I sat there and called out for someone to come fix it. And later on, when it was time to get the Woman up, I kept asking again and again, Will you fix my water thingy? Will you? Please?

And I sat there and stared at it.

She said it was broken, there was no fixing it. I was mighty upset, let me tell you, so I kept insisting. The Man can fix it. Tell the Man to fix it. Well now. You know what they did?

They went out and got me a brand new water thingy!

Oh yeah.

We know who’s in charge around here. Some days, it’s so good to be me.

––––––––

January 18 2005

I am not anti-dog.

We used to have a dog, and as far as the somewhat smelly furbags go, he was all right. Once in a while I even miss him.

But in general, I do not like dogs.

If I were a people, I would not be a dog-people.

So knowing that... DO NOT compare me to a dog! Just because I ran to see you when you came home (face it, I was hungry, my food is in a can, and you’re the one with the opposable thumbs) and just because I brought the toy mouse back to you after you threw it down the hall (I thought you wanted it back, and frankly, you’re too lazy to go get it yourself ) that does not mean I am anything like a dog!

If you suggest it again, something of yours will surely meet a toothy death.

––––––––

January 19 2005

While I sat and waited patiently for the use of the Woman’s thumbs, she stretched, yawned, and then said, I just can’t think today! And this is different from every other day, how...?

Really, how much brain power does it take to do the things that people do? Get up, feed the kitty, get dressed, pet the kitty, read the comics and not much else in the paper, provide a lap for the kitty, turn on the computer, pet the kitty, eat, share with the kitty... You get the idea.

What they do doesn’t require the firing of too many neurons. They can do pretty much everything they need to do without much effort.

Heck, even the Man has people that pay him to pass gas.

Read that again.

They pay him to pass gas.

I do that for free.

And I don’t have to think about it.

So in the grand scheme of things, I don’t see why not being able to think bothers the Woman so much. She’s done fine all along without it.

––––––––

January

Reviews for The Psychokitty Speaks Out

[wearylibrarian · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I often look at my cats and wonder what they are thinking. Thanks to Max's diary, I now know.....and it is scary! Funny, sharp, and at times quite a bit irreverent and sarcastic, Max gives his opinion on life and the people around him as he see's it. Any cat/animal lover will fall in love wit Max and his at times acidic wit.

[ddracer7040 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Loved this. Very funny. Written from Max's view point.

[gerleliz · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Just like the blog - hilarious

[maryintexas39 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Hysterical. I haven't laughed so hard in a long, long time!