Wednesday, February 24, 2010

IMPORTANT: All Writers NEED cats! (Some cats need writers.)


Writer friends: Sydney is serious this week.  She knows sometimes she says one thing, you do other (like herding cats!), but not this time.  I say, you do!

Sydney has it so good, being supported in life of luxury by writers, that she sometimes forgets many, MANY kitties not so lucky.  Sydney and Mr. Oz know what is like, having lived on hard streets once.  (Well, Bad Agent Sydney lived for couple weeks in writer's crawl-space till they come find her, but same thing.)  

But seriously.  Looking for funny cat things to share with you, she made mistake of searching for "Cat" on Google news.  DO NOT DO!  HORROR SHOW!  Many cats with no homes on street, many bad peoples to do things to them!  THIS CANNOT STAND!

Meanwhile, has come to Bad Agent Sydney's attention that many writers going to waste without proper cat supervision!  ALL WRITERS NEED CAT SUPERVISION!  I repeat: ALL WRITERS NEED CAT SUPERVISION!

Somewhere right near you is cats needing good homes and writers to supervise.  Go to shelter near you!  Many chain pet stores also host adoption centers.  Sydney was in Petco just yesterday, see many pretty, nice cats need homes!

Sydney knows you are only writers and possibly not smart enough to find shelter on your own, so here is link to help:


- Sydney

*Bad Agent Sydney also concedes that there are also many, many dogs in need of good homes too.  She admits that while they are too dumb to provide proper writer supervision, they may provide companionship and fetch your slippers, which no dignified cat would EVER do.

Bad Agent Sydney wants to hear from YOU!
Please leave your queries, questions, or comments! Perhaps Sydney's response will inspire a future post!

1 comment:

  1. We "hired" my supervisor, Ellie Mae, as part of a package deal with her brother, Jethro, shortly after moving back to Missouri. Jethro was in fine health, but we didn't want him to be without company, so we asked if he had a sibling.

    "Just got one left," the hillbilly woman selling them on the side of the road said. "And she's gonna die soon. She's the runt."

    "What do you mean?"

    "She's the runt. She's too weak. She ain't gonna live."

    "Can I see her?"

    "She's in here, but I'm telling you, she's too sick to live."

    I looked in the box in her truck bed and saw a tiny little gray cat, with motley eyes and matted fur. She was absolutely pitiful.

    "If I buy the good one, will you let me have a try at the sick 'n?"

    "No, I won't let you just have her, but you can buy her for the same price. Five dollars."


    At first we thought it was Jethro who refused to be litterbox trained, so we gave him away to friends of friends needing a barn cat. But the "accidents" only tapered off, and never stopped.

    Ellie Mae's been loved, vaccinated, declawed, swallowed a sewing needle, had surgery to remove said needle, and several urinary tract infections in the ten years of her reign as queen of our home - including over one very cowed Collie dog we adopted later that same summer who couldn't outlast her. She is a runt--never grew much and even now weighs only 8 pounds wet.

    But she hasn't died yet. Best five dollars I ever spent.