Classic Cardigan: I Love Potty Humor and I Can't Help It

But first, here's a photo of the boys that I "swiped" from Jodi, the talented (and award-winning) dog blogger at Kol's Notes - Tips and Tricks from the DIY Dog...

She took it on Saturday, while at the BlogPaws pet blogging and social media conference in Tysons Corner, Virginia. I was not there.          

OK, yes I was! ;) (That's partly why I'm posting this "classic" today...because I'm old and tired, y'all.)

But anyway, about that photo. So, we were in a large dining room at the conference hotel, in the middle of zillions of people (and some other pets), when Jodi kindly gave me a baggie of some of her homemade carob dog treats, and then Dewi got completely fixed on the bag in my hand, and stood up on his haunches (as pictured), and did a show for everyone in the room, which made me a very proud dog mama! (JF did tricks and made me proud, too, by the way.)

And, there you go! The dogs represented at BlogPaws. :) They (and I) had a wonderful time. More on that later.

Today, though, I'd like to re-share a story I wrote over two years ago, which for the longest time (like up until last week), I had forgotten about. Because it's "hiding" under a post title that, other than the word "turd," has nothing to do with why I find potty humor so appealing.
(Hint: It might be genetic...or a product of my upbringing. You decide. ;-)

Originally published on March 2, 2011 (under a somewhat misleading title)...

There's a turd in the litterbox! Somebody celebrate with me!

Made you look! :)     (sorry, I couldn't resist.)

image credit bandofcats.com

Preface: Somewhere, my hubby -- as he reads the blog now and then -- is hanging his head in shame. He thinks that I'm (check that -- my *whole family* on my dad's side) -- is fascinated with poop. For the record, I strongly disagree; however, I will admit that growing up, the subject (poop) was discussed freely. To be exact, my father (quite matter-of-factly) believed that just about any ailment could be attributed to one's being "irregular." Headache? You must be constipated. Bad breath? Constipated. Cranky? Clogged pipes. :) So, we ate a lot of beans and greasy things (no Activia back in that day) to keep things running smoothly. And incidentally, I still had bad breath and got headaches (but was a perfect angel otherwise). (FYI: There's a sucker born every minute. :)

Why there was even that *one* time when -- fairly early in our courtship -- my then boyfriend (now hubby) was over for dinner. He (boyfriend) must have turned down a second helping of butter beans (or some other mushy form of fiber) when my dad -- in his best Sheriff Andy Taylor drawl -- exclaimed, "B___, Ahh SUMtimes wurreh 'bowt yer reg-ye-LAIR-teh!" (Translation: "B___, I sometimes worry about your regularity!")  The rest of the meal was a blur.  I'm surprised I didn't get dumped (pun intended). :)

*****

But, enough about me!  You might recall from yesterday that my old cat, Charlie, has been down with some bad tummy upset (hint: not constipation), which at her age, could have conceivably been her demise. However, this morning, there in her own private litterbox -- a turd! The old girl is still in the game. :) What a relief!

Carry on, y'all. :)


Chocolate, anyone?

In Memoriam: Charlie (Chatting it up in kitty heaven), 1991 - June 2, 2011

Bad Nursery Songs with Elizabeth: Old MacDonald Was Crazy (E-I-E-I-O)

For my "Old MacDonald's" husband and Marianne (whose comment inspires me). ;)

A song parody of Old MacDonald Had a Farm for your Wednesday enjoyment...

Ahem.

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz (was) crazy. E-I-E-I-O

To her "farm" (which already consisted of four humans, Buster, Albert and Charlie {cats-now gone} and Molly {dog-also gone}), she added a Tigger. E-I-E-I-O

'sup?

With a "We don't need 4 cats!" here, and a "But, she's so sweet and she lived here first!" there.

Here a...there a...everywhere a...blah blah.

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I-E-I-O

(Note: From here on out, the verses will be abridged.)

Meanwhile on the "farm"...

Welcome, tiny fifth human!

Bye, bye, Buster. >^-^<

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

To her "farm" she added an Eva. E-I...

Mew. 

With a "That's the meanest cat I've ever met!" here, and a "But, she can't help that her life has sucked until now; she'll come around; just wait (a reeeally long time) and see!" there.

Here a...there a...everywhere a...blah blah.

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

Meanwhile on the "farm"...

Bye, bye, Albert. >^-^<

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

To her "farm" she added a Lulabelle. E-I...

Do you really intend to go out in public dressed like that?

With a "Does the vet think they can find her a home?" here, and a "They offered to try, but I think the kids are already attached to her." there.

Here a...there a...everywhere a...blah blah.

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

To her "farm" she added a puppy. E-I...

I need you to love me and squeeze me and call me Jon Farleigh.

With a "I kind of had my heart set on a blue one; can we just look at the blue puppy, too? here, and a "But, WE'RE IN LOVE already! [sigh] OK sure, let's go meet the little blue guy." there.

Here a...there a...everywhere a...blah blah.

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

Meanwhile on the "farm"...

Bye, bye, Molly. /(^.^)\

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

To her "farm" she added a second puppy. E-I...

Hi, let's be forever friends! I'm fond of the name Dewi, you?

With an "I love this puppy." here, and an "I love him, too; maybe they could be BFFs???" there...

...And then these types of scenes started happening, here:

[In the car at the vet's office]
Dewi [a little dopey] to Jon: "Hey, dude, how's my drivin?"
Jon to Dewi: "I think we're parked, man."
(10 points if you can guess what movie that's from!)

And Old MacDonald (who was, by this time, crazy and poor) surmised that writing a blog was far cheaper than talking to a professional, so she started The Chronicles of Cardigan, there.

Here a...there a...everywhere a...blah blah.

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

Meanwhile on the "farm"...

Bye, bye, Charlie. >^-^<

(In the interest of brevity ;), I'll just skip the verse about the three foster kittens.)

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

To her "farm" she added a foster cat named Maddox (and you know how that turned out). E-I...

I just met you, and you are this is crazy, but take me home
 and buy me a sock monkey collar, maybe?

(Oops, my bad! Wrong song parody.)

With a (beaten down and weary) "We don't need 4 cats." here, and a "So, I'll just foster him forever!" there.

Here a...there a...everywhere a...blah blah.

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

(This verse added 3/6/2013)

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy. E-I...

To her "farm" she added a Bertie. E-I...

Look deep into my eyes.

With a (dumbfounded) "We CANNOT have five cats. But, dang it, I like this one. [holds kitten and looks deeply into his eyes] Yep, this one's alright." [cue awkward silence] here, and a...

"OK, kids, which cat (besides Bertie and Maddox), oh, and Tigger - because she's too old - and Eva - because she would scratch someone's eyes out and die of a broken heart. Oh well, I guess that leaves only Lulabelle. Who wants to find Lulabelle a new home?"

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" there.

Here a...there a...everywhere a...blah blah.

Old MacDonald wuh-uhz crazy.  

aEEE-I-EEE-I-OOOOOuuuuu!

I told you those vowels could make a person crazy, didn't I?

You may now return to your (previously) good day!

Charlie is perched high in heaven today...

...keeping watch over Buster and Albert, who despite their differences in life, no doubt, greeted her arrival with purrs of welcoming delight.

She was 20 years old and with the human she loved most in the entire world (her dad), in the moments before she was lovingly set free. 

1991 - June 2, 2011

Goodbye, Chatty Charlie. You rocked this place.


(I'll be back as soon as I can, y'all. This kinda sucks.)

There's a turd in the litterbox! Somebody celebrate with me!

Made you look! :)     (sorry, I couldn't resist.)

image credit bandofcats.com

Preface: Somewhere, my hubby -- as he reads the blog now and then -- is hanging his head in shame. He thinks that I'm (check that -- my *whole family* on my dad's side) -- is fascinated with poop. For the record, I strongly disagree; however, I will admit that growing up, the subject (poop) was discussed freely. To be exact, my father (quite matter-of-factly) believed that just about any ailment could be attributed to one being "irregular." Headache? You must be constipated. Bad breath? Constipated. Cranky? Clogged pipes. :) So, we ate a lot of beans and greasy things (no Activia back in that day) to keep things running smoothly. And incidentally, I still had bad breath and got headaches (but was a perfect angel otherwise). (FYI: There's a sucker born every minute. :)

Why there was even that *one* time when -- fairly early in our courtship -- my then boyfriend (now hubby) was over for dinner. He (boyfriend) must have turned down a second helping of butter beans (or some other mushy form of fiber) when my dad -- in his best Sheriff Andy Taylor drawl -- exclaimed, "B___, Ahh SUMtimes wurreh 'bowt yer reg-ye-LAIR-teh! (translation: B___, I sometimes worry about your regularity!")  The rest of the meal was a blur.  I'm surprised I didn't get dumped (pun intended). :)

*****

But, enough about me!  You might recall from yesterday that my old cat, Charlie, has been down with some bad tummy upset (hint: not constipation), which at her age, could have conceivably been her demise. However, this morning, there in her own private litterbox -- a turd! The old girl is still in the game. :) What a relief!

Carry on, y'all. :)


Chocolate, anyone?

In Memoriam: Charlie (Chatting it up in kitty heaven), 1991 - June 2, 2011

The Old, Old Girl, She Ain't What She Used to Be

Our 20-year-old girl, Charlie, has been battling tummy yuck today, but still let's nothing get between her and a good belly scritch...

I'd roll over if I could.

Talk to the paw.

 Her motor still purrs, too.  
(Feel better, Charlie.)

Friday Feline Fix - Charlie (The Really Old One)

I have a confession to make.  Charlie is really my husband's cat.  I could never quite bond with her because she bullied my dearly departed Buster (first pet cat after moving out of my parents' house).  Not that she's one of those hissy *itch cats; she's actually really sweet - to people.  Charlie's *really* old - 20 years old, in fact.  Can't see or hear like before, and not the jumper she used to be, but don't count her out just yet.

This is what I think of this photo shoot.  Pftttttttttttt.

Can you see why he named me Charlie;
after some odd man with a funny mustache?

I do have gorgeous emerald green eyes, though, don't I?