Hi, I'm Wendell. And You Are Not

So. . . my mom decided she didn't want to blog so much anymore.

But wait--DIS blog isn't about her. It's about me. Da cat. My name is Wendell and I'm 8 years old I don't need a governess. (We watch The Sound of Music a lot, which is weird 'cause I thought you were supposda hear sound, not watch it.) Let's get the stinky outta the way first:

I have cat asthma and two years ago I hadda have a piece of plastic taken outta me and it cost thousands and thousands of dollars. I also hadda have all my fangs removed 'cause I was born with some weird gum disease. You might say I'm a kitty nerd.

Now, da good stuff:
I live in NJ and I don't like it when people make funna New Jersey. Shure, we gots our problems, but it's really not that bad a state.

I was borned probably in Jersey City, but all they told Mom was that I came from a house with too many kitties. (Is there such a thing?)

I was borned a few weeks before nineeleven which made Mom really sad and scared and she decided it was time for a cat in her life. That's really good, 'cause I had just decided it was time for a chubby, curly-headed trivia, movie and musical theater loving crazy woman in my life.

We live in an apartment and my food dish is maybe 25 kitty steps from the bedroom to the kittychen but I still wake up mom in the middle of the night to walk me to the dish.

We already follow a coupla cat blogs like Buddha and Max and Victor and Nina.

I'm a lover, not a biter. I hate cat treats but I love corn. I am a catnip snob. When mom comes home I cry till she picks me up. The cat sitter says I'm needy. He's right. I accept that my nickname is Stinky Pete, especially 'cause I don't answer to anything I'm called. I live by the philosophy that you can't judge a package by its box, because who really cares what's in the box, just give me the freaking empty box.

Okay that's it for now. Welcome to my blog. Try not to get it messy.