Max, I don’t know if you publish ressipeez, but I haff one for kittehs dat liff in hotter plases: Speshill Wotter. It is EZ to make if you can find a hooman wiff fumbs to open da freezer and get da cold crunchie wotter yoonits owt. Poot da cold crunchie wotter yoonits in da wotter bol wiff da wotter. Dis is soooo much more entertaning den tryne to drink drips from da fawsit, which makes da Fud Lady annoyd becuz we gots TWO cat wotter fowntins (wich I ignor) and evryfing (fer peets sake!). But dis makes me drink da wotter properly an I like it. Also, da Speshill Wotter ressipee is pattented and soon to be trademarkt for my cooking show on the Cat Fud Channel becuz I invented it, but I’ll let you an yer reeders try it owt for free. Fanks, Gracie Thompson
Oh wow, that’s very generous of you! Especially since you could have made some cold hard cash off this idea! Heck, I bet you still can—just consider telling my bids about it as a beta test. Kind of like how when I write a book, I have a few people who read it before it gets published, so they can tell me how awesome and wonderful it is before the rest of the world. Beta people are important people.
I think I’ll give your recipe a try tomorrow. It’s supposed to be hot here, and even though we have a cold air blowing thingy, just the idea warrants something cold and delicious.
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We had a Police Public Call Box near us some years back, but it vanished. Now I’m not saying it was the Dr, but, well, you know it may wellhave been. As to credit cards, well that is all a conspiracy therory. . . or a pre-arrange thing with the vets, and a timelord, aka The Master, I mean how else would they know when the card bill was paid, right?
Dood, if there was a police box that WASN’T in England, it totally was the Doctor! Except maybe London or Cardiff, because he seems to really, REALLY like going there. Like, an abnormal amount. But that’s cool, because I dig the accents and really liked it when he was Scottish. I extra like it now that that he’s a she, because I’m totally going to marry her, but yeah…that Box was probably the TARDIS and by not investigating it closely, you missed out on taking a trip through all of time and space.
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Who’s this doctor everywun keeps talking about, and why is his office a bloo box with broomz inside?
The doctor is THE DOCTOR and he travels through time and space and everything, and he’s the most amazing dood out there, even though right now he’s a she and I AM GOING TO MARRY HER, and there’s a broom inside because the Doctor has been married, and how else is his/her mother in law going to get around???
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Hello yer highness,
I’m Digby and I am a bootiful, fierce bwack panfur. I hab a less hansom twin brover wepard GusGus. We were dopted a few monfs ago when we were 4 monfs old from an orfanage wiff a snarky kitty named Wick (weerd name) and an old old gentlman kitty named Nicodeemus.
The hoomans also had 4 BIG barky kitties, 3 other real kittys, pet ratty kitties and a mean, kitty wiff berry long eers and a fluffy widdle tale (berry fluffies, sofsof and pretty, but growls and gets bitey).
Anyway, the king kitty who used to be the boss here left notes before he went to the bridge for any new kitties who came to care for his hoomans. His name was Brewster Michael and he told us to follow anything you sez, so I wanted to vow our alleegance and feelty of our army here to you King Max.
We have 2 berry little kitten warriers, Milosch and Natasha, learning to be grate warriers as well, but they are not ready to serve yet. Their father is the old, old Nicodeemus who met their mother the day we arrived, rite before her appointment with the sticky man to make sure no new kitties would be coming.
Ok, that was long (sorries). My kweston…How may we best serv you mitey King?
Sending you deep bows and nose boops.
Digby of West Virginia.
DIGBY DOOD! I like that name. One of my favorite book characters was named Digby, but he was in a book you’re probably too young to read yet. But when you’re older, read some Heinlein. He’s awesome.
And honestly, the best way to serve me is to read lots and lots and lots. An educated kitty is a wise kitty, and it’s important to be wise, so you know when people are telling you true things or when they’re talking out their asterisks. The strongest weapon is the sword of truth and knowledge, and that’s the one you should train with. And you can only find it in books. And sometimes on TV if the right channel is on. But mostly books.
Heck, I’m willing to bet your fellow kitty, Wick, has a head start on all that.
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hi wise and wondefur Max
Itz Oakley your Canuck fan. I went fur my annual check up and meowmie said Iz had to have blood stolen for my furst Seniors profile, I just turned 11. what worries her iz my dental later diz month. De furst dental I was okay but dat was 2015, in 2017 Iz had to have another tooth stolen but Iz was out of it fur almost two days. Now Iz have to have a third one an she is scared poopless. but she knows ginverious an dental disease can make a kitty sick. what purr of wisdom can you give me to help her. Iz know diz is fur mine own good but still scary
your fan Oakley an hiz little sisfur Sugar
I know it’s scary, but just because you were out of it for a couple of days last time, that doesn’t mean you will be this time. And as an older dood, you know that sometimes it takes a little extra time to get over something, and that’s okay. Your body just tells you it’s time to rest up a bit. Like, when I get sick…Buddah can have the same thing and he gets over it in like a day. But it might take me 5-6 days. I’m a lot older than he is, and honestly, when it comes to stuff like that, a bit more delicate.
Your stabby guy wouldn’t have you go through dental work if your senior blood panel made it see like a bad idea. Trust that he’s doing the right thing, and then remind your mom that once you feel better, you totally get ALL the treats you want. For, like, three days. Four if you don’t bite anyone.
For the record, I would bite someone and take the hit. It’s totally worth it.
If biting isn’t your thing, poop on them. They love that. For reals.
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MAX WHERE WERE YOU LAST MONDAY? I NEEDED MY MAX FIX.
Sorry. Last week there weren’t really any questions, and my brain was filled with work thingies so coughing up a replacement column just didn’t happen. And Buddah, cripes, he was useless. He spent his time on his cat tree, on his back, legs sticking up, like he was trying to air out his nonexistent junk.
On the bright side, we just about finished up a short story, and it’ll go up sometime this week on the Wick Chronicles website. So there’s that.
Also, I wrote a poem, because I’m classy like that.
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