All right...apparently, the current Pope doesn't like Bob Dylan, but he IS a "cat person". Click on the title to read all about it. Don't worry, I'll wait.
Done yet? OK.
Yep...a book has been released (in Italian, but I'm sure it will be translated into English and other languages soon enough) about Pope Benedict from the viewpoint of his cat.
As a cat owner, I must say this.
I know that cats are loving...they can be quite personable and sweet in their way. Many are works of art, courtesy of Mother Nature. (Thanks, Mom...)
However, as much as I THINK my cats love me, I don't think they'd write a book about me. Why do I say this?
1. Chelmsford (even though he thinks taxidermed flying monkeys holding martini glasses are BEE-YOO-TEE-FUL) is afraid of writing utensils. Actually, I think there's some sense to it...he's pure white, after all, and he'd get smudgy and dirty no matter what species of writing implement would be used. I'm sure it's a neatness thing as much as anything else.
Now, wait a minute...upon further reflection, maybe she WOULD write a book about me. However, I think it would be less like Joseph and Chico and more like Mommie Dearest.
As a matter of fact, I caught her bent over a notebook the other day, frantically scribbling into a notebook with a purple crayon I had inadvertently left within her grasp. (BTW, for all you Millie fans out there, she's left-handed, or should I say, "left-pawed"?)
Here is what I found...this is a direct transcription so please excuse spelling, punctuation and syntax errors.
Alright ya puukes...listen up.
Everybudy thinks my momy is "SOOOO NICE" and "SOOOO FUNNY". Uh-huh. I cough up hairbalz nicer then hur.
(Editor's note...I fail to see the comparison but ANYWAY...)
Well, i Planz to tell the truf...yea, da truf...about whut it like to live with Suedygrl.
First of all, she duznt fed me neer enough. I iz big boned. I needz xtra food. Dum ol Chel doeznt need az much as mee. Dats why i puuk on da flor, becuz i eatz fast cuz i iz starvured. Momy duznt unnerszt...unner..uh...GET mee.
Sekund. She thnks i poops inna baftub. Itz not me...itz Chel. The fac that i iz in da tub when she see da poop and i looks like i pooped duznt meen nufin. she blamz me.
She skratchz hr but too. She eetz lotz uf Benjerry chubby sumfin. She duz let me lik the thing on top so maybey thatz ok but she stil duzzit.
Oh..she danzes in her unnerwear to. Yah...the wurdz r sumfin about a boy named bily g and he not lurf her ur sumfin. Stoopid.
(Editor's note...at this point, I caught her writing and then she ran in the bathtub and pooped.)
Just so ya know...early '80s Michael Jackson is a musical gift to this world and Chubby Hubby really isn't that much of an indulgence when you consider anything else I could be doing.
I'm just sayin'.
(Stupid cat. I'm callin' the pound...)