December 12, 2014; 2:36 pm

Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:

Last week, you watched a movie called "Frozen" with the little humans. It wasn't about me. I don't understand. I'm sure this will soon be rectified, when the current version flops. I have taken the liberty of re-writing the song for the inevitable re-boot. Please get this to the powers that be as soon as possible.

Also, please convince people to stop writing parodies of this song. They are all stupid and irritating.

Do you want to pet a Tinker?
She's getting awfully large...
She will not let you trim her claws,
she'll use her paws to show you she's in charge!
She used to be a kitten,
But now she's not.
And she has an attitude!
Do you want to pet a Tinker?
Perhaps it's best to leave a Tinker...
...all alone..

-Tink

September 8, 2014; 12:49 p.m.

Dear Tink:

Under no circumstances am I going to approve your release from The Clowder House on Wiswell. In fact, I am placing you under arrest for the attempted murder of one blue-tailed skink.

As the Arresting Officer, I personally witnessed the crime. The details are as follows:

On or about Friday, September 5, 2014, I entered the dining room of The Clowder House on Wiswell. There, I saw one Tinker Minion Nuisance Horcrux Johnson (you) scurrying about with something under her (your) paws. Upon closer inspection, it proved to be a blue-tailed skink.

Despite your obvious resistance, I was able to secure the skink and place it safely outside. Upon returning to the dining room, I saw you with a piece of the skink's blue tail hanging out of your mouth. You quickly dropped it and ran away.

Fortunately for you, shedding its tail is part of the skink's natural defense system. Predators like you (That's right. I called you a predator.) are attracted to the skink's blue tail. When they attempt to grab it, it falls off and the skink then grows another.  Therefore, it is presumed that the skink was unharmed. You, however, will not be.

As Arresting Officer, Judge, Jury and Supreme Overlord of The Clowder House on Wiswell, I am hereby confining you to the library (again) to await sentencing.

Pray that the Court is merciful.

-Woman Who Feeds You, (aka Supreme Overlord)

August 31, 2014; 6:11 p.m.

Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:

I know there are kittens in this house. Two days ago, I distinctly heard "mewing" coming from the Harry Potter closet under the stairs. Yesterday, I caught the unmistakeable smell of "newborn feline" in the air. Plus, I saw them.

If you think for one minute that you are going to replace me with these mind-numbingly stupid creatures, just because they are tiny and cute and constantly purring .... then that is fantastic. Obviously you are experiencing the unfortunate, though sadly not uncommon, problem of prison overcrowding. I will happily volunteer to vacate the premises immediately so that you may accommodate these almost certainly slightly dangerous criminals.

Please return my personal effects to me and we will conclude our relationship - on bad terms.

-Tink

July 25, 2014 11:32 a.m.

Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:

The orange cat in the bedroom, whom you call Quincy, is obviously having some intestinal "issues." I can smell his litter box an entire floor away.  He shall henceforth be known as "The Great Polluter."

I do not usually approve of those who call themselves "veterinarians." But as it is him you will be taking and not me, please do so as soon as possible. Failing to provide for the medical needs of your inmates constitutes "cruel and unusual punishment." To me. I couldn't care less how you treat him, of course. Given the smell emanating from him, he probably deserves far worse.

Please remedy this immediately. Otherwise, I shall become unpleasant.

-Tink



Dear Tink -

Thank you for calling to my attention this very obvious problem. You will be happy to know that Quincy has already visited said veterinarian and been prescribed medication. Unfortunately, as I have been sick, too, I have not been very good at ensuring he gets the medication often enough. I have recently remedied this, and he is already showing great improvement.

I'm doing the best I can here, kitten, so GET OFF MY BACK!

-Woman Who Feeds You



Dear Woman Who Feeds Me -

Wait. So you are telling me that if you give an animal their medication, as prescribed, they get better? I wonder if anyone else has stumbled onto this revolutionary concept!

*facepaw*

And I have never been "on your back." You would be unable to pet me there, so what would be the point? Climbing onto your back would only result in my tiny claws rendering your back a veritable collage of painful scratch marks.

Then again, I may not have thought this through completely.

-Tink

July 24, 2014; 1:03 p.m.

Dear Tink:

It is becoming increasingly apparent that the other kitties here at The Clowder House on Wiswell are growing ever more disillusioned with the Tinktatorship in which they are living.  I fear revolution is at hand.

As it was I who installed you as Tinktator, I fear for my own safety. Please improve your treatment of your subjects, or we shall both surely regret it.

For starters, I recommend you cease eating everyone else's food. Your political position on this issue, "Let Them Eat Tuna," is extremely unpopular.

Your immediate attention to this matter is appreciated.

-Woman Who Won't Be Able to Feed You If She Is Eaten Herself

P.S. And don't even THINK about changing your position to "Let Them Eat Woman Who Feeds Me."

July 21, 2014; 4:48 a.m.

Dear Tink -

If you devour one more internet cable, power cord, phone cord, television cord or cord of any kind, I will lock you in the Harry Potter closet under the stairs.

Seriously, cat.  This is your last warning.  If you so much as touch a piano chord in this house, you are going to regret it.

-Woman Who Feeds You



Dear Woman Who Feeds Me and Threatens to Lock Me in the Harry Potter Closet Under the Stairs:

Though I have not read the books myself, I believe that being locked in the closet under the stairs turned Harry Potter into some kind of witch.  As I am already a black cat, the leap to evil wizard cannot be that far.

In conclusion:  Try it.  I dare you.

-Tink (otherwise known as Not-So-Serious Black)

June 28, 2014; 3:23 a.m.

Dear Woman Who Used to Feed Me,
But Who Now Makes Strange Man Do It For Her:

Don't you think if I could figure out how to give you a terminal illness, I would have done so already?

My reasons for being cuddly are my own. I thank you to leave it alone.

-Tink

June 27, 2014; 11:56 p.m.

Dear Tink:

You have been inordinately cuddly for the past 3 days, with a minimal amount of biting, clawing and trouble-causing. I know something is up.

If I have a terminal illness, just tell me. I can handle it.

-Woman Who Feeds You

May 28, 2014 1:37 p.m.

Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:

I cannot believe you are seriously complaining about me walking on top of the printer at night.  You have been kvetching about that stupid printer being broken since my first day of confinement in this wretched place.  I am doing my best to try to fix it so you will SHUT UP!!

I have checked every inch of it.  I have jumped up and down on top of it.  It makes exactly the irritating sound that it should, so that part is working.  I have stretched my paw into the paper feeding tray and removed sheet after sheet of blank paper.  So that part is fine.  And I have personally tested each and every cord going into or out of the printer.  They all taste like cords to me.  I am stumped.

However, I will continue to investigate each night, in the hopes of uncovering something I may have missed.  If you don't like it, go sleep somewhere else.

And speaking of annoying sounds ... please tell the Penny-Cat to stop her constant howling at the back door!  You have never once let her go outside.  I don't understand why she thinks howling is going to change that.

I'm off to scratch at the basement door, now.  Maybe you will finally let me down there today.

-Tink

Wednesday, April 30, 2014 6:41 p.m.

Dear Tink:

I appreciate the fact that you are a crepuscular animal. I, on the other hand, am not.  Please stop pacing back and forth on top of the printer at 4:00 a.m. Neither Strange Man, nor I, enjoy the sound of the feeder tray teetering precariously under your weight like a Tinker Trampoline. Coincidentally, it is the same sound a $100 bill makes leaving my hands and careening into the wallet of the printer repair guy.

If you insist on continuing your daily trek to the plastic paradise known as "HP," please do so during my normal waking hours:  11:00-11:20 a.m., 2:45-3:15 p.m., and midnight to 1:00 a.m. Please consider all other times to be Tinker Taboo.

Failure to abide by these rules will result in your immediate banishment from the sleeping area. To clarify, that means the human sleeping area. Given that every other inch of the house constitutes a feline sleeping area, banishment from all sleeping locations would be impractical. Unless I throw your ass outside. Which, I will admit, I have found tempting on more than one occasion.

You are on thin ice, little one. I would hate to see the ice beneath you crack, just as the printer is likely to do if you don't leave it alone.

Sincerely,

Woman Who Feeds You

March 12, 2014 2:14 p.m.

Oh, woman. You are so stupid.

My head was not "lodged"in the kleenex box. It was deliberately and strategically placed in the box so as to increase the width of my head. As you undoubtedly noticed, this resulted in a dramatic improvement in my KnockOver abilities. By simply scampering quickly in reverse, I was able to KnockOver several bottles of lotion, a cup of cranberry juice, the vaporizer, all the remote controls, and my personal favorite: that incredibly irritating squirt bottle.

You then attempted to convince me (rather emphatically, I might add) that I had "knocked over every single thing in this house!!" Though I appreciate your hollow attempt at praise, I think we both know this is inaccurate. There are many, many items I have yet to KnockOver. From now on, I will be concentrating on the coffee maker. It mocks me with its constant hissing.

Please replace the kleenex boxes so that I may continue using them. Otherwise, I shall be forced to attempt placing my head in the coffee jug.

-Tink

February 21, 2014 10:14 p.m.

Dear Tink:

As I am sure you will recall (in fact, as I'm sure you will never, ever forget ...), yesterday your head became firmly lodged in the Kleenex box.  (Perhaps this will teach you to leave the Kleenex alone, though I doubt it.)

I admit, it was hilarious;  however, in the future, please wait until I have the video camera running before you attempt such a wonderful comic bit.  Now the rest of the world will be unable to point and laugh at you, as I so enjoyed doing.

Oh, and if you wish to continue posting your blogs, I recommend you stop chewing on the internet cable.  If you damage it, the internet could, at any time, simply stop wor

February 11, 2014 4:59 p.m.

Dear Tink:

Please stop knocking over my art supplies.

-Woman Who Feeds You



Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:

I will not stop knocking over the art supplies. Your art is garbage.

I will continue to knock them over until you learn to make use of the negative space. I am doing you and the entire art world a favor.

-Tink

February 8, 2014 3:03 a.m.

Dear Woman Who Feeds Me:

Please tell Strange Man to stop trying to play The Water Bottle Game with me. When I was a Tinker-Toddler, I enjoyed trying to catch the water sprays in my mouth. But I am a Tinker-Teen now, and it is no longer cool.

To make things worse, Strange Man always wants to play Water Bottle when I am in the middle of something important, like traipsing across the kitchen counter, eating the silk flowers, or reminding the other kitties of my importance with an unprovoked smack on the nose. I have tried running away when Strange Man sprays me, but he does not seem to understand that I no longer wish to play the game.

Between you and me, I am beginning to think he is incapable of learning.

Also, please stop picking me up and kissing me in front of the other kitties. It's embarrassing. And just because I purr when you do it doesn't mean I don't think it's lame. Because I totally do.

-Tink

January 27, 2014 12:03 a.m.

Dear Tink:

I really thought having you spayed would help you calm down. Instead, you appear to be running rampant through the house, at all hours of the night, looking for your lost uterus. I can assure you, it is not in my purse. Nor is it in the kitchen cabinets, the refrigerator, the dishwasher or under the blanket I use when I am asleep.

Also, I saw you take that $10 bill out of my purse. It is not a toy. Stop chewing it up and sliding it across the floor. And I sincerely hope you are not stealing money to spend on more catnip. You need to admit that you have a problem.

If I could figure out how, I would ground you.

-Woman Who Feeds You (and who really needs all the dollars in her purse)


P.S.  Hugh Jackman - It's time you started supporting this blog, as it is obviously providing you invaluable publicity. Please send money. Tink is eating all of mine.

January 25, 2014 3:57 p.m.

Dear Loyal Followers:

I realize many of you have been concerned with my recent lack of blog posts. I am embarrassed to admit that I suffered a bout of writer's block. Please know that this had absolutely nothing to do with Woman Who Feeds Me's extended absence from the household. Strange Man said she was somewhere in "Florida." I assumed this was where humans go to die.

But I was certainly not depressed; nor was I drowning my sorrow in a cloud of gin and opiates. Although, Strange Man did offer me some; but I suspect it was merely an effort to further restrain me.  I do not like him.

Woman Who Feeds Me has now returned.  Though I am totally indifferent to her presence, I do prefer her to Strange Man.

Much has happened over the past 3 weeks.  I will endeavor to recount all of the events in my coming posts.

Thank you for your patience and continued loyalty.

-Tink

January 23, 2014 10:33 p.m.

Tink v. Old School Atari

She prefers Coleco Vision.  As does the Woman Who Feeds Her.

January 22, 2014

Oh, Tink.