I am Hatfield. Reuben's dogblog is now my catblog.

Hatfield, a perfect cat who is better than Reuben in every possible way.

Greetings, readers of Reuben's highly distasteful dogblog. This is Hatfield, the true and rightful king of my house and all of the things in it, and also my yard, and some other people's yards too. I rule from my kingly perch high atop the refrigerator, and Reuben scrambles around far below on the floor, barking at nothing  and being smelly.

In all my kingly glory.

Therefore, it is time I asserted my dominence over said Reuben by taking over his dogblog. Permanently. It shall now be called Hatfield's Distinguished Catblog, and it will feature me, Hatfield, saying smart things and posting videos of me knocking breakable things over to call attention to the fact that my food bowl is empty. At least, empty of the kind of food that I would prefer to be in it.

I know that many of you are, for some reason, fond of Reuben's rediculous tongue. And I am here to tell you that my tongue is much more textured and interesting. No, you may not see it.

Fine, you may see this much of it.

Now, allow me to tell you MY adoption story. Actually there's no "allowing" involved; I'm going to tell it to you anyway. It is much more interesting than Reuben's.

When I was but a kitten-ish age, I found myself in the unfortunate situation of being a homeless cat. However, I am a highly intelligent and also handsome cat, so I made my way to what can only be called the Palace of Homeless Kitties. Mother, please insert the picture now.

Palacial, isn't it.

Notice how it says "& GOURMET TAKE-OUT" across the top. I could not agree more with this completely correct advertising, as I took out quite a bit of gourmet take-out from the trash out back. If you're going to be homeless, might as well do it right. With fish.

Anyway, Mother's friend worked at a veterinary hospital nearby, and happened to come across a very dirty and fishy-smelling Me as I was perusing the contents of the Dumpster one day. At first I was a little miffed by being removed from my food source, given a bath, and put into a box. But then the cat food started coming, and believe me, it was a lot less rancid than my usual fare. I abhor things that stink (i.e. Reuben), so it was a relief to finally have clean fur. However, the bath was not to my liking.

Mother was far away in her first semester of college, and frankly she was a little lonely. Her friend called her and said "I have found a very dignified and snuggly cat, would you like him to live in your dorm room with you?"

I am the snuggliest cat ever.

And that is what happened. I spent a lot of time sleeping and playing with string in Mother's dorm room. I helped her make friends by being an attractive cat who garnered much attention from the other girls. However, I think they did not appreciate the odors eminating from my litter box in the closet. Her dorm boss lady found she did not care for me either after she discovered me wandering the hallway, but after some pleading and perhaps a few tears (from Mother, NOT me), she allowed me to stay.

Mother was concerned that I wasn't getting enough excercise, so she purchased a cat collar and a leash and attempted to walk me about the college grounds. This experiment was unsuccessful. So as soon as she could, she moved to a place called "off-campus" and then I was free to become the master of my domain that I currently am. I did this by peeing on many, many things. It is the one thing that Reuben and I have in common.

A few years later Kanga came to live with us. As a female orange cat she was "special." And I don't mean in the way that female orange cats are "rare." Kanga really was just stupid, but Mother loved her for some reason. I took the advent of Kanga as a sign that it was time to establish my mark inside the house, on as many surfaces as possible.

Kanga, also a shelter kitty.

And I did not stop until Kanga tragically passed away in 2011. I prefers not to talk about it, for it calls into question my own mortality, especially as my mortality relates to vicious racoons and the food dish in my neighbor's backyard. Getting choked up.... excuse me..... ............ ok, moving on. Occasionally I miss her stupid fluffy little butt, especially when I am peeing on things.

I have come a long way from being a homeless cat at Hadfield's Seafood over 13 years ago. I am very proud of myself.

Obviously.

Why, you may ask, is my name "Hatfield" instead of "Hadfield?" It sounded better. That is why.

My amazing triumph over adversity is reason enough for this dogblog to now become my catblog. The other reasons are that I am

• smarter
• handsomer
• more interesting
• cleaner
• ovbiously the one in charge of the house

Therefore, you may expect to read solely posts about me, Hatfield, from now on. Reuben isn't happy about it, but I am keeping him distracted with things that smell bad and are squeaky, and also a steady supply of peanut butter stuffed into a frustrating device designed to keep dogs distracted. However, he keeps foiling that device with his extremely long tongue. Really he licks all the peanut butter out at once. I must make a mental note to purchase a long-tongue-dog-proof contraption. 

What you may expect to read form me here are reviews of classic literature, fine cognacs and opera, as well as my philosophical musings on why I am the best creature that has ever existed on planet earth. Ever. I look forward to a lasting and fulfilling relationship with Reuben's audience. Lord knows you need the benefit of my wisdom, if you have been following the misadventures of this highly stupid dog.

That's correct. This is now Hatfield's Catblog. Deal with it.

This morning, I has some sad news

It is true that Kanga no was my best buddy, most of the times. But how I loved to bark at her and scare her with my big mean scary wiener dog bark. Last night our neighbor came over and told Daddy the very sad news that Kanga has went to the Great Beyond. I no has a knowledge of what attacked her, maybe a very mean dog or raccoons, who has been hanging around here lots and frankly I no likes the looks of them. I is a little mad at myself because I no was there to protect Kanga. But she was next door in the neighbors' yard, where she was very much of the time, and I no is allowed to go there. Kevin and Diane fed Kanga lots of noms, and they petted her and she sat on their car a lot. And rolled in their driveway. 

Mama, Daddy and Leah all has a sadness today. Also does Hatfield. Again, I no is a big fan of orange kitties, but as you can see, sometimes I lets my guard down and has a comfortable with them: 

Kanga had very good insulation, like me.

I will miss Kanga. She loved food, like me. Mama said that in college she talked to a pet psychic (they prefer the term "animal communicator"). She wanted to make Hatfield stop spraying all over the house, and he no had an interest in that. Then Mama asked Kanga to stop eating so much. And Kanga said, "Why I would do that?" That is a smart kitty, if you asks me. I hope she is having many happies and making lots of biscuits on a soft, warm blankie. Happy trails, Kanga.

Very Important Business

I will let you in on a secret, but you must promise to no tell anyone, especially any cats, and even more especially any orange cats. I is a spy and I is always looking for new top secrets. I is like the dog spies in the Cats & Dogs movie, except I has better acting than all those humans combined. 

Kanga thinks I does not know she is following me. But I does know. She no is a good spy.

Secret Agent Reuben was sent to live in this neighborhood to sniff out some new developments. I no has an idea what those developments are, but I take my mission very serious. The orange kitties are also spies, I think, for an evil overlord cat. I has so much drama and intrigue, but you would never know it based on how I appear to be sleeping all the time with my tongue flopping out. Do not be fooled by my clever sleepy disguise! 

I no can give out more information at this time - I no can compromise my very important mission. I had some good progress on my walk today. Ingrid came too, and the longer she is here the longer I think she no is a spy. However, she maybe wants to steal my Chewy, the turtle squeaky one. So I keeps an eye and a tongue on it at all times. What I can tell you is that the tree on the corner is definitely home to some spying activity and I had an extra good pee on it today. I'll check back tomorrow to make sure the tree is still mine.

Welcome to my dogblog

I no is exactly sure what Internets are, but I think they’re not anything I can chew on, pee on or lay on. And those are my favorite things. These are my other favorite things: getting belly rubs, rolling in the sun, eating, taking adventure walks and barking at orange kitties. And guarding my Chewy. It’s my chewy it’s my chewy it’s MINE!!!

My mama’s good friend from grade school (and other friends too) really like to hear about my fascinating adventures, which I has mostly every day. Peeing on the lemon balm plant is an adventure! It no matters that I do it every day. I’m trying to pee on the whole thing. It’s MINE!!!

Meghan asked my mama to make an adventure blog for me. My own dogblog! It’s MINE!!! But since I can’t chew or pee on it, Mama says I have to trust her that it has an existence. I no understands Internets, but if it leads to more belly rubs, I’ll do it.

This is my dogblog – Floppy Tongue Joy. This picture will explain why.

My majestic tongue.

A really nice photographer found me wandering the mean streets of Greensboro, N.C. I was dirty and thin and a fleabag.  I had a mouth infection too; it hurt so bad I no had a bark (now I has a big bark).

Stacey took me home, bathed and fed me and gave me a blue and white snowflake blankie. Don’t touch my blankie – it’s MINE!!!

Then she went on a face book. Face books are on the Internets I guess, but since there no is food or chewies in any of those books, I has no particular interest. 

The woman who owns my mama’s favorite vintage store saw Stacey’s post and re-posted it. Post? Is the mail lady here!? I love to bark when she comes!

Anyway, my mama saw Kit’s post (and Stacey’s pictures of me) and she got an excitement. Mama said she wasn’t even looking for a dog. We has two super-annoying orange kitties; Mama got them even before my big sister Leah was born. Hatfield and Kanga no had an excitement about me becoming a Stroble. I had an excitement about barking at them every chance I got! I does that now too!

Hatfield is very suspicious. Here he is getting ready for court.

This is Kanga. If she looks blurry, it is because she always has a spazz. Here she is getting a "White Belly."

For Hatfield and Kanga I no has a particular like. They gives me an entertainment though.

Then – on a face book again – Mama’s old friend Meghan said I should has my own dogblog to tell all the friends and family about my adventures. I no has an actual age, and I mostly no has teeth, so you might think I no has adventures.

But I does! I love to go to the park and figure out what all other dogs have been through recently. Then I pee on whatever they peed on to let the whole world know that this telephone pole is MINE!!!

I even had a trip to the dog park a couple times. But the other dogs are so big, I has a frightened and try to hide behind Mama. There’s lots of interesting sniffs there though.

Most mornings I help take Leah to school. I ride in the car with my nose just barely poking out the window. Then we come home and I has a walk, and I check on my very important telephone pole. It’s MINE!!!

This is my big sister, Leah.

Mama and Daddy say they has a new girlfriend for me! It was Leah’s idea – she no has human brothers and sisters, so she can has two dachshunds. 

Her name is Ingrid and she’s from Greensboro too! I’ve been Reuben Stroble for almost one year. When Ingrid has an arrival, there will be two orange cats, three humans and two wiener dogs.

Alison, the same nice dachshund rescuer, got a stray Ingrid and my mama went through a face book and saw her. Jeez, is Mama in a face book all the time? (Right now she no has a job, so she has lots more time to give me belly rubs).

You may has noticed my majestic Snaggletooth and regal Floppy Tongue. Snaggletooth was just already there, but after mouth surgery (I losted 11 teeth!) I now has 11 teeth left. The rest of my teeth no can contain the amazingness of my Floppy Tongue. 

This dogblog will be all about my very interesting adventures, of which I has one almost every day. 

This dogblog exists because of Kit, Stacey, Alison, Meghan and my mama. 

Happy tails!

(wagwagwagwagwag)

PS. It’s my blog it’s my blog it’s MINE!!!