Well now. This has been one heck of a year. Oh, the people are just fine, but I’ve been through one heck of  wringer.

The year started out nicely enough; the People lost track of the toothbrush so they weren’t running after me with a glob covered plastic stick, trying to rub the enamel right off my teeths. And the Woman took everything out of her office and stuck it in the bedroom. That bothered me for a while, because I liked the office, but once I figured out why, it was cool.

The Younger Human moved all his stuff from wherever the heck he’d been for a couple of years into the office. This made me happy, because he’s the most sane of the People, so losing the office space didn’t matter.

My masterpiece book, The PsychoKitty Speaks Out: Diary Of A Mad Housecat, was published, and it’s been doing well. Better than any of the Woman’s books have done! So…ha! I love sticking it to the Woman.

In early spring I had a few worries; I overheard the People talking about taking me to a place where they were going to let someone SHOOT me. I tried hard to hide and keep from them getting hold of me, but they managed to shove me into the Plastic Tomb, and took me anyway. The good news is I didn’t get shot. The bad news is I got stabbed.

I kid you not! This bald guy stabbed me right in my butt!

After that, everything was going fine and dandy, until towards the end of spring.  I was looking forward to summer spent lounging in a sunspot on the floor, but then Buddah arrived. He was about one pound of black fur all hopped up on kitty crack, and by the end of his first day, the People realized he was sick. He sneezed and wheezed and had gunk flying out from his nose. Seriously. I mean, those boogers shot a good two inches out when he let a good one fly.

He recovered nicely; however, he passed the illness—one heck of an upper respiratory infection—on to me, and I didn’t just get sick, I got SICK. I was so sick I didn’t want to eat, not my favorite flavors of Stinky Goodness, not tuna water, not even shrimp! All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball on the closet floor and sleep, but I couldn’t even sleep very well. My throat was all filled with gook, my head hurt, my chest and tummy were awful, and I was hot. Well, hot in a not fun kind of way. We all know how hot I usually am.

So, the People did what People are wont to do: they kept making me get up and they repeatedly took me to the stabby place. I had to suffer through having things shoved down my throat, shoved up my butt, having someone steal my blood with a giant needle, and then more things shoved down my throat. I was a most unhappy cat, and the People were even more unhappy.

Naturally, they blamed themselves for my near death experience, because they’re the ones who brought Buddah home. And it was close; a few more days and I might have up and croaked, but I didn’t. And they found out that me having gotten so sick made a problem I was probably born with show up, so they can keep treating it to keep me healthy.

Oh, and that little monster Buddah gets credit for it.

It took a while—like most of summer—but Buddah started to grow out of being such a crackhead and is turning into a cat. I tolerate him and play with him sometimes, and the People seem to really like him. That doesn’t keep me from shoving him down the stairs. He rolls and bounces, and he likes it!

Oh yeah, we have stairs now. We were in a perfectly good apartment, but the People decided to move again. In November they had some of the Younger Human’s friends come over and take all our stuff from the apartment to the house. I have to admit, I like the house and we have way more space, and I’d forgotten how much I missed having stairs. And there are lots of windows to look out of.

The problem is, all the Sticky People are gone. When we got into this house I kind of hoped we could look out and see them again, but all I ever see are birds and a few outside cats that are downright rude. Really, they walk up to the back door and hiss at us as though we’re the intruders. I’ve been showing Buddah how to growl at them and pop the windows with his paws hard enough t make them go away.

So now it’s the holidays again. I’m teaching Buddah all about them, and trying to get him to climb the Christmas tree. He’s a good learner, and by the time his first birthday rolls around I think he’ll be fun to hang around. He seems to understand that I have a lot to teach him and in between bouts of running around like his tail is on fire, he listens.

As far as I can tell, the People aren’t really doing much of anything. They have no special accomplishments this year (well, the Younger Human DID graduate, so I suppose that’s something special, even though I didn’t get a present for it) and it’s not like I would brag about it even if they did. The Man is still passing gas and somehow convincing someone to pay him for it, and the Woman is still writing. Mostly what she writes is email and blog entries, and I don’t think she realizes no one is going to pay her for that, but what the heck. It keeps her out of my fur.

I hope everyone has a spiffy new year, and remember, have your People spayed and neutered.