Well- if you want to talk about nick names- I have quite a few. Yes the grand nick name is ‘The Nenah’. Which has evolved to such other names as ‘Nenito’, and recently – ‘Oy-The Yehnah’. Also ‘Cat of Color’ is a favorite, my mom says it’s PC (which I’m sure means pretty color!). My mom also calls me ‘No’ frequently, but she uses a different loud voice. Which leads us back to ‘Snowball’. Apparently I have a lot of grey hair (that must be the PC part).

My mom cooks a lot too. It’s scarry walking through the kitchen sometimes, with food dropping all around- and sometimes on me. She loves these things called onions that make my eyes water and my face puffs up when she cuts them. I always try to stay far away, until she’s done. If I pretend to be the slightest bit interested- she gives me some in my bowl. I eat it to be nice- but seriously- human food is gross! I just want more treats!

It’s really cool that there is another black cat in Colorado called Max! Nice to meet you! I’m going to try your 5AM trick to get the humans to scream! Take Care Bobby!

LB Max

I think location is the way to go – You are MaxCo, and your possible long lost brother will be MaxLB (he lives in a high rise in Long Beach – stares outside at birds and the Queen Mary all day).

Excellent idea, MaxCo!

Bobby OUT!

It’s no secret that I have lots of nicknames, thanks to the Mother, but those are not among them. Maybe those belong to the Max of the french bread making Humans? This might be a bit confusing with both of us commenting, so I’ll just sign as…

Max from Colorado

I ALSO hear that your “Rents call you “The NeNah” – What is up with THAT???

First the NeNah, then Snowball?

Dude, we have to come up with a plan – it is obvious you have reached out to me for help since you write to me as MAX – I can have my “Rents talk to your “Rents (nickname courtesy of Max the cat too), maybe they can knock this nickname nonsense off.

Gotta go shred a book, now.

Bobby Out!

Dude, I TOTALLY heard about the PeteLoaf, and being the occasional carnivore myself, I suggested to the “Rents (great nickname, gotta steal it) that they make it so the Bird could have a bite, but the mother said it was “too hard” and the father is useless in the kitchen except for making coffee and peanut butter on Ritz crackers.

Yeah, they get pretty worked up about food – I get worked up about it when it is time for fresh food in my bowl, and that is it – I do not pitch a fit over every bite I take, it is really silly. They just have too much time on their hands and have to fill it up with all kinds of nonsense.

You sound like the Master gacker, definitely. I know your Mom, and I know how incredibly cranky she can get being woken up by a noise indicating a mess she has to clean up is to follow. Bravo! I need to start handing out ribbons to all of the animals who come up with the most creative ways to annoy their Humans.
Actually, I have a little trick I do that I consider to be in it’s own category. When the Mother tried to take me outside to have fun (which I do, but don’t tell her) I start acting like I do not want to go, and put up a big fuss, jumping down on my perch, then jumping way up high to the top of the condo, where I perform my bulls-eye projectile poop.
caw! caw! caw! Cawcawcawcawcawcaw
Sorry, it just kills me every time I think about it.

It is fabulous – I usually aim for her arm, as that elicits such a scream and a near fall off of the chair, that, to be honest, I am afraid to poop on her head – she could really hurt herself, the way she overreacts. You should hear her when I land a big Bob Butt Loog right on her arm – she swears and curses at the top of her lungs – honestly, I think she actually makes up some of the nasty stuff she says. Quite the little lady, my Mother. It’s just a little bit of bird poo – you’d think a sewer pipe broke over her head.
I’ll try to get it on video and send it to you.

I love your pictures – my Mother is a total Cheese Weasel, too, with the pictures of me. You’d think she was the only mother on earth – these “Rents, they all think they “own” us – isn’t that just the funniest thing you have ever heard?

Well, I have another book to review tonight, but it is going to be seriously short – trust me. You will enjoy it.

Come back soon, okay? Two Max’s, Too Cool!

Ciao Ciao!

Bobby OUT!!

My Parents are the “other foodie friend(s)” mentioned in your last comment, Marsha & Pete. Yeah, my Father is the maker of the smoked Peteloaf. I know, big deal. They sure think it’s a big deal though, and I’m sure that by now you’ve heard all about it, too.

What is it with them and the food? We all eat, why do they have to make such a big deal out of it? Seems like a bunch of pomp & circumstance if you ask me. I cannot understand why anyone would waste hours of precious napping time preparing food that’s going to get all chewed up and swallowed in a matter of minutes.

All this talk of food has reminded why I came on to comment – hairballs! I am the master hairball gacker. I have practiced for years and have learned how to gack & vomit at will, much to the disgust of the ‘Rents. And yes, mornings are especially good – it practically ruins the entire day for them! The yelling is a little much, but overall entirely worth it just for the entertainment value. I find that 5 am is a particularly good time to gack one up. The wretching noise I make wakes them out of a dead sleep instantly, and boy does the Mother get mad. Like I said, this skill was worth every minute spent perfecting it!

So, I was told by my Mother there is another black cat named Max living in LA – which is where I’m from. Hmmm, wonder if it is possible I have a long lost brother? I was adopted by the Parents after all.

Oh and btw, dig your blog. Way cool. I don’t blog, but my Mother is such a dork she puts my pictures on her website. Check me out, I’m a handsome beast (if I do say so myself!).

http://www.marshasorce.com/zenphoto/index.php?album=cats%2FMax

Thank you so much for your kind comments about the review, and especially the art. I am still in shock that they threw our collage away. Peasants.

I have fully instructed the cats to barf their hairballs at the foot of the stairs, so that when the humans come down all tired in the morning, they step right on them.

Totally hysterical. The mother even slipped and fell on her butt – her heel went on the hairball, and when she fell, her butt landed right in the barf, Caw! Caw! Caw!
It was the best “Human T.V.” day ever.

Yeah, pigeons – not so smart. We have doves out here that are constantly wanting to come in and have a cigarette with me, but they don’t seem to understand there is a window between us, and I am always yelling, “look out!” but they crash right into it. Nobody has gotten hurt, but they do not seem to communicate very well to each other, either, because they keep doing it. Not the brightest, but they are kind of cute.
I have a crow girlfriend who sits outside and we talk through the window when the sun comes up. The Humans had to go buy really thick pillows so they wouldn’t hear us. I thought that was very considerate of them, not wanting to invade our privacy.
It is rare that they are that thoughtful.

Are your Human’s really starting to call you snowball? That is just wrong. Stay in touch and we will come up with a plan to knock that new name out of the bird park.

Thanks for writing, and if you have any good reading suggestions that you would like me to review, I always take into consideration books that other higher beings such as ourselves recommend.

Come back soon, Max!

Ciao!

Bobby Out!