Saturday, September 29, 2007
and my gracious and highly qualified opponents Cato,Cheysuli, and Skittles. I find my opponents to be honorable Feline-Americans who are truly interested in helping all Feline-Americans. I also feel they are without personal agenda or ambition and are truly great Feline-Americans. Human-Americans should be so lucky!
MY FULL DEBATE ANSWERS
1. What would you do to ensure the safety of our food supply?
First, I want to thank you for allowing me to participate in this debate. I think it is very important for Feline-Americans to discuss, in a logical, calm, and rational manner the things that are important to us and to our staff.
My beloved twin sister, GeorgieW died of liver failure due to Pet Food Poisoning. Then, a few months later, my beloved, and adorable little niece, Miss Piggy, who was less than six months old died of the same thing.
(wipes eye with paw)
(looks directly into camera)
Unfortunately, in this age of corporate greed and irresponsibility, it is impossible for Feline-Americans to patrol the entire food supply. We must accept our limitations and learn to live within them. My personal choice is not to outsource our food to countries where there is no oversight of product, manufacturing, and exportation. I don’t think this is just a Feline-American problem. I know of Canine-Americans who have the same issues. And just recently I saw a news report about contaminated toys for Children-Americans.
This is a problem for every American regardless if they have two or four legs. We must stand together and fight this injustice as a unified nation. One for all and all for one…
This said, I think it is important for each and every one of us both two and four legged to take personal responsibility for what we consume. Unfortunately, Human-Americans still control the status-quo. Therefore, it is up to our Human-American Staff to insure our safety.
It is up to our Human-American Staff to learn how to read (if they do not). They must take it upon themselves to police all food, even what they consume. They must read labels. They must listen to the news and insure the safety of everyone within their homes. When I see Human-American Staff purchasing food we all know is questionable and they have not paid attention to the latest warnings, it makes me want to slash out..
2. Should there be alternative temperature-taking methods instead of up your booty?
(growls, flexes claws)
It is terribly important for Feline-Americans to maintain our dignity at all times. One of the greatest affronts to that dignity is the way Feline-Americans must be subjected to the indignity of not only this method of temperature-taking, but other medical procedures.
Unfortunately, we must balance our demands with dignity
(looks into camera)
we must balance our need for dignity with health care that is effective. In this day and age of Pet Food Poisoning and the side effects, I currently do not know of any reasonable alternative.
I am afraid we must balance the need for constant dignity with that of life. If having one of those thermometer things shoved up my you know what will save my life, well like my Human-American’s sibling told her several days ago, “shut up already yet and deal with it like an adult.”
Of course, no one ever told our Human-American medical staff that this procedure must be painless for them.
3. Whut's yer pozishun on the vishus deer menniss, and whut do yoo plan to do abowt it?
Unfortunately my position on vicious deer will probably be unpopular with some of my Feline-American supporters. With the exception of Rumsfeld, who is the most annoying poodle in the world, I take a live and let live position when it comes to most Americans, including Deer-Americans.
I feel sorry for Deer-Americans. They are breeding faster than Rabbit-Americans and get less respect. In many ways they are treated like an unwanted minority, discriminated against, and subjected to such Human-American welfare and food-handouts that they cannot fend for themselves.
Let’s face it, Deer-Americans are dumb. They are constantly throwing themselves at Human-American vehicles. Why, I do not know. It appears to be some sort of Deer-American death wish or mass suicide.
No, Deer-Americans are not to be feared, they are to be pitied.
(looks at camera)
I want to thank the moderators of this debate for their insightful questions. Voting is a privilege. Behaving like good Americans is more than a privilege, it is our duty. If my actions here this evening and during this campaign can serve as an inspiration to other Feline-Americans to give of themselves for the good of this great nation of ours, then I am honored to serve. Good evening and may God Bless the United States!
Friday, September 28, 2007
Just a little housekeeping for today. Contrary to some poodle based rumors, I will be taking part in THE BIG FELINE-AMERICAN DEBATE this weekend. As soon as I have the final details you will be the first to know.
By now I am sure I am sure you have heard some of the nasty rumors circulated by the alleged organization that calls itself "Dogs for Doc". Rumsfeld says he has photos of me sleeping my campaign away, but I have news for that annoying little poodle, I have the dirt, literally on him. You should see the photos I have of the way he trashes our Human-American home. It is sickening. Face it, can you trust the word of anyone who eats cat-turds for a hobby? Talk about shit-face, Rumsfeld personifies it.
This wrangling back and forth is not dignified and we all know I am extremely dignified. So I will return to the story at hand. In the photo you will see that I am busy working on the blog the Human-American claims for her own. She calls it The Pink Flamingo. But - in this X-clusive photo, you can tell that I, Doc Holiday, Purrfect for America, do most of the actual work.
How do you like that cute contraption above my computer? The Human Grandmother-American purchased it for my Human-American parent as a gift. It is an 18th Century candle or herb dryer. We Feline-Americans have adapted it for a more practical use and it is now the purrfect Feline-American amusement center.
Purrfect for America!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Today I am pleased to report that work is progressing on our Doc Holiday Purrfect for America Campaign Headquarters! As you can see, I am busy booking appearences using the trusty Filofax and cross listing them on the Mac so I won't miss a moment of this busy season. If you pay close attention, I am supervising the instillation of the new HP wireless printer. It will make things much easier for my Human-American staff.
Later today I will be attending a Feline-American rally to promote the problems the condo-Feline-Americans have during the winter months. I don't know if Skunk-Americans will be attending but we are planning a rally for them in the near future.
I am also going to begin accepting campaign donations, or rather, instead of donations to my Purrfect for America campaign, please consider feeding the homeless Feline-Americans in your neighborhood.
Until later...gotta run...yawn..actually
IT'S NAP TIME (yawn)
Purrfect for America
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Sparky's campaign web-site tells the whole sad story.
WAS SPARKY A TARGET?
"...Sparky began his campaign last summer and it was rolling along strong. His website at www.sparkyformayor.com was getting tremendous hits on a daily basis. Everyone knew that he wasn’t going to be on the November ballot but no one cared. They loved Sparky and his ideas and were anxious to write in Sparky. And like I said before, the politicians were getting worried.
And then the food from China scare came out and people were throwing away possibly tainted food by the can-fulls. Good food gone bad. But some of that food didn’t make it to the landfills safely protected by the cans surrounding it. Some of that bad food made its way into the hands of some very bad people. And they were politicians.
Sparky never wanted to push away any gift from any person but he should have. Weeks ago, while under the guise of a discussion over the issues that plague his constituents, Sparky accepted a pat on the head and a mouthful of oer’doeuves from a possible voter. That person told Sparky that he supported his ideas and was going to write in his name. But the next day Sparky was obviously sick. He didn’t know it at the time, but he was poisoned with some bad food from China. And he was poisoned by a politician!
Sparky lingered and finally pooped out. A very sad day for all the voters and businesses in the City of Schenectady, and a very sad day for his Mom. A good candidate for Mayor was dead. Black sashes were gently placed around the Sparky signs. Animals of all varieties sang their sadness at the sinking moon. Even the homeless stopped their hunting and foraging to offer a moment of silence for the fallen hero.
They say that politics makes strange bedfellows and here in Schenectady we’ve got all the politicians in bed with each other. That’s why a write in candidate is so scary to them. Sparky would have been a Mayor for all of us. Not just for the guys who pay into their campaigns. Sparky didn’t have a campaign account. He was the accountable one and he was accountable to everyone...."
NOW I AM MAD
WHEN I AM PRESIDENT
I swear, as God as my witness, when I am elected POTUS I will end corporate greed and will prevent bad people from making food for those of us who are the most innocent of beings.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
POSITION PAPER #3
Today something rather unsettling occurred. First though, I must apologize for my absence. I’ve been busy reconsidering my consideration to run for President of the United States. I have still not come to a concrete conclusion.
Something rather unsettling occurred. My Human-American parent was running an errand for her parent when she was confronted by the lady who runs our condos. Some horrible Human-American was complaining about the Skunk-Americans who come into our carport in the evenings to dine with Grand-Mommy-Cat and the little ones. This Human-American person had the audacity to demand my Human-American parent stop feeding Grand-Mommy-Cat and the little ones in the evening, AS If my Human-American parent were that STUPID!
This demand made my fur fluff. Naturally I wanted to take it out on Rumsfeld, the Canine-American who bounced up and down like an idiot and thinks he is cute, but I did not. As I am now a Purr-fect National Figure and role model for other Feline-Americans I have realized I simply cannot indulge myself in my favorite sport of Rumsfeld-baiting.
I am still Purr-fectly furious.
Human-Americans who put their purr-fectly demanding creature comforts above the nutritional needs of those less fortunate are above and beyond contempt. Do they not comprehend that there are those among us who are not fortunate enough to have been rescued and taken into the absolutely Purrfectly Purrfect home? There are good, decent, law-abiding Feline-Americans who are forced to live outside. I will admit that some, like Grand-Mommy-Cat appear to enjoy living outside, but really….
And then to deny Purrfectly decent Skunk-Americans a square meal is just downright mean.
Frankly, I am glad, Purrfectly pleased I will admit, to say that the very rude Human-Americans who were not able to make all that noise, drink all that beer, and drive those nasty motor-cycles on Friday evening deserved every Skunk-American retaliatory action my good Skunk-American friends and neighbors aimed at them. Unfortunately it was not enough. By Saturday evening they were once again on the balcony, making all sorts of annoying sounds, causing Rumsfeld to run around like the idiot Canine-American that he is.
The Skunk-Americans who were forced to defend themselves on Friday evening have my full and unwavering support. Not only were their actions appropriate, but absolutely necessary. Further-more, my Human-American parent swears she will not stop feeding Grand-Mommy-Cat in the carport. She informs me she has been feeding Feline-Americans in her carport for nearly ten years and will not stop.
Purr-fect for America
Monday, September 10, 2007
from: DOC HOLIDAY
Purrfect for America
SUBJECT: Cabinet Nominations
"Today my Democratic opposition has been busy making promises that they will make announcements about their Cabinet level appointments once they are nominated. That's a bunch of doggie do!"
Doc Holiday, the Purrfect liberally moderate conservative Republican candidate for President of the United states spoke candidly to her Press Secretary during a brief luncheon to discuss her campaign swing through the Cat-astrophically small state of New Hampshire, if she can raise the money to do so.
So far, donations have been slow to materialize. Doc Holiday has vowed, though, to push onward during her quest to decide if she wants to consider a run for the most powerful position in the world.
During today's luncheon, Doc Holiday announced that Bat Masterson would be named the new Secretary of Space for what will be the new Cabinet level Department of Space Exploration. Plans are already underway to sent Ronald Reagan Rumsfeld Reidhead "TO THE MOON" if Doc is elected POTUS.
Masterson is an avid astronomical buff and fan of NASA and space exploration as shown in this photograph.
For more information contact: Doc Holiday, Purrfect for America
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Seven years ago this evening, September 8, 2000, my birth mother abandoned me. I was born 9 days earlier, on August 31. I don’t know where. My eyes were just starting to open, but all I could see was darkness. It was night-time. She was carrying me, and suddenly I was on very cold cement. I waited for a minute, but she did not come back. I cried and cried, but she never ever came back.
There I was just a little baby, all alone in the dark, crying, screaming for a mommy who never ever came back. I was terrified.
I was screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming, but mommy never came back to rescue me.
My “real” mommy had opened the door to the balcony on her condo. She heard me crying. In case you don’t know it, my mommy is a ‘sucker’ for lost kittens. She put on a jacket and got in her big, red, Durango and drove around looking for me.
She found me all alone on the cold cement floor in a deserted carport. My birth mommy was no where in sight. She picked me up and held me close. I was still crying and trembling. She held me to keep me warm as she drove back to what became my home. She wrapped me in a warm cloth and held me as she called Dr. Franklin. I was crying, very loud. He told mommy what to get to feed me. She took me with her in the big red Durango as she drove to the store, and carried me inside with her, as she bought powdered baby milk.
After we went back home, Clancy, a very nice miniature poodle who died a couple of years ago wanted to play with me. Siggy and Brunhilda were curious. My new mommy was very upset. She found a little tiny Igloo cooler and put warm towels in it. She taped a pencil on the top of the cooler so the lid would not completely close. That way I would be warm and have plenty of good air to breathe.
I was still crying.
She mixed the powdered kitty milk and fed me with a dropper. It didn’t taste good, but she forced me to drink a whole dropper of it. Dr. Franklin said if I did not eat it I would die. Just a little while ago she told me Dr. Franklin said he did not think I was going to live through the night.
After she fed me she put me in the warm ‘incubator’ where I still cried, but not as loud. Finally I fell asleep. But, she woke me up again and made me eat again. Then she woke me up again and made me eat again.
The next time she woke me up one of my eyes opened. The light was strange. She made me eat, then she put me back in the incubator and we went in the big red Durango again. This time we went to see Dr. Franklin. He told mommy most of the time when birth mothers run off and leave babies like me, it is because there is something wrong with us. He told her he did not think I was going to live. I did not want to drink out of a bottle.
All day Dr. Franklin and his friends forced me to drink. The powdered kitty milk made me very sick and I nearly died, again. But, by late in the afternoon I was ready to go back to my new home.
Mommy was having a big party. She picked me up in the big red Durango and made sure that Clancy did not bother me. We drove to Grandmother’s house for the party. Later that night, my god-mother Lisa came home with mommy because mommy was upset about her friend who ruined the party. Lisa fed me a couple of times that night, then left. I think I met her maybe once or twice again, but that was it.
And so we fell into a routine. Mommy would feed me every three hours at first. I did not know that mommy cats would like the bottoms of babies because we did not potty. Even as a tiny baby the process we used to potty was humiliating. Mommy would take warm q-tips and dampen them and make me potty. It was not fun. As I got bigger she would stick my tushie under the water. I would scream and scratch her. It is a wonder I do not have a phobia about water.
Finally, one day she let me come out of the incubator to play. I wasn’t very big. Siggy and Brunhilda were curious about me, but not all that interested. Mommy would hold me and feed me with a bottle. Then she would let me go to sleep on her arm while she typed on her computer. I still like doing this, but mommy says now that I weigh nearly 20 pounds I am too heavy to hold for very long. I still help her type. It is my favorite place, my mommy time.
One day mommy’s friend came to visit. They had an argument and I wanted to play with him. He threw me on the floor. Mommy got mad and told him he and to leave and never to come back. If he could not be nice to a baby kitten then she did not want …well, I think there was more to it than that, but you know how little kids are. We blame ourselves for everything.
When I was about 5 weeks old, mommy discovered that my birth mommy was now living in our carport with three of my siblings. She was able to catch my brother who found a nice family. It took her three days to catch GeorgieW. My other sister got away, but would come back to live in the carport. Grand-mommy-cat, Mommy Cat’s mommy is her descendent, so everyone here is related.
GeorgieW did not want to live. She was going to die. Siggy adopted her and she started getting beautiful and strong, but she was never as big and strong as me. I still miss her very much.
When I was a baby, mommy first named me Beverly Sills because of my loud voice. But Dr. Franklin said I was a little boy. Mommy decided I needed a name that would make people be afraid of me because I was so little and fragile so she named me Doc Holiday. Dr. Franklin was wrong. I am a girl.
And so life went on, happily. Then in February 2005 Clancy suddenly died. A few weeks later Siggy died of old age. Our family started to change, for the worst. A few days after Clancy died cat-astrophe struck my happy home. Mommy adopted Ronald Rumsfeld Reagan Reidhead. Life has never been the same. I do admit I stay up sometimes thinking of ways to get rid of the little monster.
Later, in August, mommy rescued two more kittens. It became my responsibility to care for Mommy Cat (we had no name for her then) and Demon Cat. I will admit Demon Cat was my favorite. He and I were buddies, but he had some very bad habits. He also wasn’t a nice kitty. He now lives in San Patricio in a barn where he catches pigeons and has a very good life. Mommy Cat had babies. Then Brunhilda died. Our family now consists of Mommy Cat, Little Joe Cartwright, Bat Masterson, monster dog, and moi.
Now I am a mature adult. I am running for President of the United States. I am a well adjusted person, but there are many times when I stop and wonder why my birth mommy abandoned me. Did she really leave me there to die or did something scare her? I always tell myself it was the latter, but at night, when even Rumsfeld is quite, thoughts that I was not good enough come back to haunt me.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Tomorrow Doc will treat everyone with the story of her life!
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
(P. S. Ronald Rumsfeld Reagan Reidhead thinks he is hot stuff today because he found out we're related to Ronald Reagan. Mommy said it's cool because we're also related to Lucille Ball and that's where she gets her read hair - outta a bottle!)
Mitt Romney has more hair on his head than I do. He reminds me of Rumsfeld, all bouncy up and down and all that hair - pant, pant, no brain!
John McCain is cool. I like his wife. She is an animal lover. So, he gets five paws!
Mommy likes Rudy Giuliani. (Sigh) She might get mad if I beat him.
Governor Huckabee isn't bad, but I'm not sure about his pet situation. Same thing with Senator Brownback. As far as Congressman Tancredo - hiss, spit, where's Rumsfeld. Go lift your leg on his ankle!
As for Fred Thompson, well, I like Law and Order. I'm gonna miss him on it. He and I have lots in common. I'm still not sure if I'm running and I'm still not sure about him running.
So, my take on the debate this evening? If I can't be a part of it, I'm pulling for John McCain. They have cats, dogs, fish, birds, turtles, and Mrs. McCain believes in helping animals and little babies who are hurting.
P. S. I'm Purrfect for America!
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
You have reached personal blog of Doc Holiday
Currently I am busy anticipating the possibility of considering a consideration for the possibility of running for President of the United States.
I am not available today.
Okay, I'm napping.
Do you think I can keep up this frantic pace all the time?
I'm a cat. We nap. The thing cats do best is nap. Deal with it.
When I am President of the United States of America I swear by all that is purrfectly holy that no Feline - Americans will be forced to go napless. I also promise a that all Feline - Americans will have 20 hour nap days, no exceptions.
Gotta go .... yawn...
Monday, September 03, 2007
Nothing is more tragic than the loss of our parents and staff. Not only do we no longer have a loving environment, but our life-style is drastically changed. While Trouble Helmsley has $12 million to assist her in her later years, most of us won’t even have $12, let alone a guardian who is legally bound to care for us. Perhaps it is time for Cats and Dogs to unite and require a philosophical and legal change in how we are cared for in the event of a cat-astrophe.
It’s easier for dogs. All they want is to be loved. Take Barney Bush for instance. I don’t think any of us believe Barney cares if he lives in the White House or in Crawford, Texas. All Barney wants is to be with his Dad. Then there are poodles like Rumsfeld. Rums is such a little sociopath he doesn’t care where he lives as long as he has a party, hot and cold running girl doggies, and treats. Oh, sure, he acts like he can’t let our mommy out of his site. It is embarrassing. But, does he really care? I don’t think so. I have heard though, that other doggies are more loyal.
It has been my personal experience with doggies that the old sad poem about a dog not caring about his/her master’s status is a pile of doggie do. My mommy’s previous doggie, Clancy would rather live with her grand-parents than mommy. Between you and me I think dogs have this scam running just to keep people thinking they are loyal. Bull! The problem with dogs is they are so demanding and require constant approval and affirmation.
If a doggie’s parents have not made final arrangements, and they go before the tragic doggie, who is going to provide this constant affirmation?
If a cat loses her purrfect home and staff, who is going to step in and micro-mange the situation for her. We aren’t detail oriented. Cats look at the big picture. We are more interested in our own purrfect creature comforts and the fact that our devoted staff is always there to make sure this purrfection is ongoing and constant.
If something happens to our staff and the humans for whom we have allowed into our hearts (mommy for instance) what is going to happen to us. I for one am not capable of living outside, begging for scraps. I have too much dignity. Bat Masterson has no claws! Mommy Cat has not been spayed. She would be a baby making machine. As repulsive as that idea is, consider the plight of Little Joe. The poor thing is such an emotional wreck she doesn’t even know if she is coming or going. If she were outside or left without staff who understands her, she would never survive!
Sure, Hondo Kitty, a relative, thinks he is hot stuff and can live outdoors, but let one little skunk wave a tail and he’s hanging on the door screen trying to get back into the house. And, if you’ve been de-clawed it’s hard to hold onto a screen, so I am told.
That’s the point.
We, as Feline-Americans and Canine-Americans need to take steps to insure the continuity of our purrfect domestic situations in the cat-astropic event of a termination of care-giving staff. Frankly I don’t know if legislation is needed or simply a change of culture.
WE NEED TO CHANGE THE CULTURE
1. A good place to start is by demanding your care-giving staff, i.e. (family) have a frequently updated will with “pet” (that’s such a demeaning word) guardianship fully highlighted and notarized.
2. Our care-giving staff MUST, and I repeat, MUST seek our input when choosing said guardians. What good is life if we don’t approve of our proposed guardian staff?
3. Encourage your care-giving staff to allocate a trust fund. What good is having guarding staff if they can’t afford fresh, primo, organic C-Nip?
If I am elected President of the United States of America I will propose legislation that requires all care giving staff be required to establish trust funds and approved guardian in notarized documents to be updated yearly or at our request. No dog, cat, nor parrot or any other individual dependent upon human care giving staff should be placed in a position where they fear a loss of purrfect living conditions. It is our inalienable right!
"...The wealthy pooch - possibly the richest K-9 in the world - has been sentenced to eternity next to her often feared owner. Helmsley ordered in her will that her beloved eight-year-old Maltese terrier Trouble be buried with her when she passes. However, according to New York state law, animals cannot be placed in human cemeteries. Helmsley stated in her will, "I direct that when my dog, Trouble, dies, her remains shall be buried next to my remains in the Helmsley mausoleum." While the 'queen of mean' is now gone, her dog is causing just as much controversy. The terrier has been outed as quite the little bitch by employees who have been caring for her. According to Helmsley's housecleaner, the pampered pooch, now worth $12 million, ate steamed vegetables cooked by a chef and was never referred to as a dog. Instead, staff were ordered to call her 'princess.'"
Believe it or not Rumsfeld and I do agree on a few things. Take the story of poor Trouble Helmsley. Don't you feel sorry for her? She may be the richest doggie in the world, but her mommy is not there to protect her. It is every cat and dog's worst nightmare. What will happen to us if something happens to our parents?
Just think how parrots must feel. They can live for many many years. How sad.
Not everyone is fortunate enough to be rich like Trouble. She can afford to buy happiness. People like me can't. What would happen to me if something happened to my mommy? Granted I am so wonderful I am sure my cousin Charlotte will just love having me, but what about Bat Masterson, Mommy Cat, and Little Joe? And what about Rumsfeld. He's so bad no one will want him except his Aunt Alicia. And then he will have a drastic change in lifestyle.
I think this is a problem that haunts us all. Maybe we need to remind our parents or staff to make sure they have something written down to insure for our continued lifestyle and adoration. This will probably be the subject of our next position paper.
Have a happy Labor Day. Make sure your staff is working to make your life comfortable and happy. I wish you a good day with plenty of treats and C-Nip. Remember, just don't C-Nip and drive!
Sunday, September 02, 2007
Much has been made of my bad attitude when it comes to dealing with Rumsfeld. Put it this way, try living with a combination of Tigger, Odie, Nermil, and Don Juan. He drives me crazy. I know you think it is all one sided on my part, but it isn't. He yaps. He jumps, then he lunges at me like he's going to beat me up. I can only take so much. Then I must put up with THIS! All the time, constantly. I thought I raised her better!
I suppose this is one of the reasons I am only considering the possibility of considering a run. If I made this much of a mess raising Mommy Cat, what would I do with the country? Am I a fit candidate?
Saturday, September 01, 2007
ONLY OUTLAWS WILL HAVE CATNIP!
This afternoon, while browsing everyone's favorite cat site (Cat Blogsphere) I saw an ad for Catnipetc.com. Naturally I needed to check it out. Wow! What excitement. Did you see all the C-Nip? Let's face facts here. The Cat Blogsphere is one of the, if not THE most respect feline community on the web. If C-Nip is advertised there, do we assume it is not an addictive substance?
I have a question for all of my loyal supporters:
Do we, as a community, have a problem with the abuse of C-Nip?
Is C-Nip an addictive substance?
Is this a question we need to discuss as a community?
Is the over-use of C-Nip a problem for all of us, or just some?
As an occasional user of C-Nip, I find I can take it or leave it. I'd rather take it, to be honest, but it is not the most important thing in my life. The best part about fresh C-Nip is watching the dummy Rumsfeld make a little fool of himself rolling around in it. He then starts eating the stuff. Then, the younger cats go and jump on him and roll around the floor with him.
Now, is this a personality conflict with with Rumsfeld and I or is it a C-Nip based problem? Is C-Nip responsible for the break-up of our purrfect families or am I just over-reacting? Is it possible C-Nip, and the infrequent overindulgence of, makes a purrfectly normal feline a little paranoid?
Should C-Nip be a plank in my campaign platform? If so, how do you suggest I handle it?
The bottom line, if you think you need a hit of C-Nip you have an addiction problem. If so, there is a blog, Catnip Anonymous, that maybe you should visit it and check out the issues. Do you have issues? I think I am okay. My mommy (the person who saved my life when I was only 8 days old) has left C-Nip out on the floor for us for three days. We are ignoring it. I think that's a very good sign. I don't think I'm a "Niphead".
Are you a "Niphead"?
Learn the stages of addiction.
If you are an addict - please get help.
If you need help and don't know where to go, leave a comment here and I will make sure you find the correct resources.
If we do not handle C-Net abuse now, hot-heads will think it should be outlawed. Remember, if C-Nip is outlawed, only outlaws will have C-Nip.
Today Doc Holiday did some light-hearted photo booth poses for her adoring supporters. Please feel free to use them when necessary. She has concluded her birthday celebrations and is ready to hit the campaign trail. She agrees with the recent comments that she is too hard on Rumsfeld, but there are times when he gets on her nerves, which are never the best.
Next week Doc celebrates her 'real' birthday - the day she was rescued and adopted. Watch for her heart-warming story on September 8.