Rigo's Place

Stories about the trials and tribulations of Rigoletto.

My Photo
Name:

As you can see from my photograph I’m a cat, but not just any cat I’m Rigoletto the world’s greatest cat. I can’t tell my age, you wouldn’t believe it anyway. My very favorite food is olives, the jumbo kind with the little red worm stuffed inside just in case anyone should want to send me some. I live somewhere in the U.S.A., but I’m not allowed to say where. Dad be afraid the town get sued or we get thrown out.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

MY WAY
Hello, Rigo Here,
The roof of my mind blew off the top of my head and I went into total spin out. To think I’ve been invited to write about myself by Gather.Com. What an unexpected honor, it is something I dreamed of but never thought it would happen to me. I was writing my Blog just for fun, didn’t even know if anyone was reading my stuff when out of the blue came the e-mail from the nice folks at Gather. Dad thought it was a hoax; such is his confidence in me. How they found me I’ll never know. To think of the thousands of talented writers around the world and they chose me. Why I’ve never even been to school, I have a degree in nothin’. I’ve not been a humble cat, but me is now very humble and grateful. I can see fame and fortune awaits me as I’ve hit the big time, there will be no stopping me now.
My name is Rigoletto after the opera of the same name, but my family and friends call me Rigo, so please feel free to call me Rigo all that opera stuff gets to me at times. I like to write about my life and adventures, I just put down whatever happens to hit my brain at the moment. I do all my own writing, Mom puts it on the computer for me because my paws are too big for the keyboard and I have trouble controlling the mouse – I hate mice!
Mom’s best friend Miss Marion the retired English teacher has criticized me because of my poor grammar. I almost gave her heart failure when I told her I’d been invited to write for Gather. “Someone is trying to pull something on you, send no money,” she warned wringing her hands. She taught English classes almost all her life, then in her senior years along comes little me and blows her mind because my grammar is terrible, my sentence structure isn’t the way she likes it and I only use punctuation when I feel like throwing something in because I like the look of it. The computer even tries to correct me, but I say, “No Thanks, I want to do it my way.” Me breaks all the rules and gets away with it because me is cat. Miss Marion can’t stand it she becomes unglued. “Everything I’ve taught he’s thrown away,” she screams wringing her hands.
Of course I threw away the rules, you can get rule perfect writers every day but none like me. I’m not a human writer, I’m a cat and my writing reflects who I am. I write the way I think and talk. I like to use me in my writings, I like to say me done this and me done that and Miss Marion becomes totally unglued. She needs to loosen up and have some fun. I like Miss Marion she’s my friend but I will not let her or anyone make me write like a human that would be boring and besides I am stubborn; such is the nature of cat.
I’m a spoiled rotten house cat and I know it. Mom refuses to let me go outside, her reason is I’ll get into trouble, which is probably true since I’m a cat and will want to do it my way. Also, Mom is very concerned with being clean and of course with those nasty little critters fleas. I hate them things they make you scratch all the time. She also doesn’t want my beautiful, luxurious fur coat to become a dirty, matted mess. I’m a good lookin’ dude as you can see from my picture and my appearance is very important to me so we’ve reached an agreement it’s best I remain inside.
As a kitten I was full of play and minded my manners as much as I could. I tried to please my parents because they made me a part of their life and gave me lots of love and plenty of good cat food. At an early age I learned how to control situations to my advantage. If I should get into mischief and Mom scolded me I would run and bury my face in the corner of the sofa; my feelings had been deeply wounded. This would bring both Mom and Dad on the run. “Why did you treat him that way, you know he can’t take it,” Dad would say. Then Mom would gather me in her arms, play Ode To Joy, and rock me until I fell asleep purring. This was my way of controlling situations and turning them immediately to my advantage.
The first day I hit their house I was introduced to opera. Mom had the Three Tenors singing and it didn’t take long before I knew every note them guy’s sung. Next, I was introduced to the Bacchanale from Camille Saint-Saens, Samson & Dalila. This became my signature music. It seemed to represent me; I’d race through the house like the speed of light then I’d go into a spin. The faster the music played, the faster I’d spin. To calm me after a romp and spin Mom would play Ode To Joy and rock me to sleep, she does it to this day.
The day my world crashed was the day my parents moved grandma here from Texas. You see, with grandma come her two feline mad hatters Baby and Callie. Grandma moved to the retirement home to escape them, but Baby and Callie moved in with us. My life was turned upside down when those two she-devils moved in and took over. I suddenly had monsters for sisters and they were not to be messed with as they were from Texas. The girls have chili pepper tempers, especially Callie who I believe is a south of the border girl who swam the Rio Grande and is illegal.
Next, came little brother Peppy. Mom discovered him under a bush in our backyard almost starved to death. We don’t know how long he hid in our yard before Mom found him but let me tell you he’s no longer skinny. He’s fat as a pig, but small because he didn’t get proper nutrition and medical care when he was a kitten. I criticize Peppy because he’s an intruder into my life like Baby and Callie. He’s young and full of energy and knows nothin’. I realize he needed a home and we were the only suckers on the block who would take him in. I suppose you think I’m awful the way I speak about him and my sisters but you see before they moved in I was known as little king. Dad was big king and I was little king. My parents thought I’d like having companions and not being alone when they were away. They no nothin’ I liked being an only cat and besides cats don’t run in packs like dogs we like our privacy, and I liked being little king, now I’m king of nothin’. Such is my life, on top one day, then rock bottom the next, know what I mean.
I must apologize to the nice guy who wanted to connect and read my stuff but the darn mouse pounced on the deny button before I could stop him and wham my new found friend went into cyber space. I want to be the most widely read cat on the planet that’s my goal, but the mouse sabotages me all the time. This was certainly no way to begin my career. I will kill the mouse one day! I do hope to get back the dude the mouse sent into cyber space. Be cool dude and try again I’ve gained control over the mouse and I want you as my friend.
God Bless,
Rigo

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Peppy & The Buzzard

This story has to do with the street cat Peppy. As much as I hate to admit it Peppy’s not really a bad guy he’s just young and full of mischief. If he don’t get killed or carried away he might just prove to be not too bad a guy.

Peppy is an inside/outside cat, as I like to say. Since he lived for two years on his own and survived, Mom will let him go outside while she drinks her coffee and reads her bible in the morning. But this morning while making coffee she kept a check on him. She’d glance out the window and noticed he hadn’t left the patio. Strange she thought but kept puttering around the kitchen. One more glance out the window and Peppy was still on the patio; then she noticed the hair on his back began to bristle. No dog in site what was the trouble quickly she opened the door then ran to grab Peppy. A huge buzzard was sitting on the fence ready to snatch Peppy should he venture into the yard. “Get out of here,” screamed Mom as she ran with Peppy into the house. Looking out the window Mom saw the buzzard flying away he was so big he could have easily picked up poor little Peppy and had him or any other small animal for breakfast.

“That was a close one Mom,” I said, “You think the wind blew him in last night?” “I guess so Rigo,” Mom said near tears. You see we had a bad storm the night before with strong winds, hail and tornado’s flying everywhere. The wind probably blew the old buzzard in town and he ended up in our back yard with Peppy nearly being buzzard bate. Now Mom has become even more over protective of Peppy not letting him out until almost noon hoping I suppose that if the buzzard is still hanging around town he’ll have found his breakfast and won’t fly away with our Peppy.

I’ve been telling Peppy he needs to put on weight but now it seems to be necessary. No bird of any kind could ever fly away with me or Callie they would never get airborne or crash a few feet from the ground then me or Callie would make the feathers fly. I hate birds anyway, especially the killer kind.

That’s all for now folks, catch you next time.

God Bless,
Rigo