Gone? Meow, gone.

There are no words to describe the emptiness in my apartment.

Well, maybe:

still
smells like stinky human
less furry
only tiptoe around my own mess
no crying
little less bright
little less happy

Freddie and Jojo have left my apartment to spread their message of love, stinkiness, and equal rights for animals!

That's right.  They've left me, taken away by their evil master:  Shanoto-Chan.

Although I have heard I have earned visiting privileges, I am saddened by the suffocating silence of my apartment when I walk away from my studio.

Where the furry love?  Where the loving sensibility provoked by Jojo's crooked walks and ranting evenings?  The closing of the eyes and the stretching of the lips?  The showing of the teeth inspired by Freddie's playful paws pointing up towards me as he rolled casually on the floor?  What pleasantries!  What memories!  Few, but still, they are memories not yet lost!

Like the day Jojo pooped in the matchbox and thought the matches were litter and he started scratching them.  "Get out of there it's gonna blow!"(CounterStrike)  Not only did he leave a little paws trail (on which I have since applied fixative to protect) but now whenever I light up the stove.. I smell Jojo.  Cute.

Stinky But Cute. That's what I used to tell them... It was like, "our thing".

Or like the day Freddie decided to leave the apartment, right out the front door.. and I had to hunt him down.  I put on dark clothes, a little mascara, and set out to seek him in the bushes.. I looked up to see if he'd been hanging by one claw off the railing (it happens you know) and looked down from the top to spot his movements.

How did I finally convince him to return?   I took out the box of matches and lit their poopied stems outside my apartment, one by one.  I guess, in the end, Freddie did it for Jojo.  Came back to this cell of his... loving cell as it where... just to check if  Jojo was on fire.

Oh remember those "Don't play with matches!" (G.I. Joe or HeMan or something) PSA's?   Those were crazy.  I remember thinking "What the heck are matches?"  Well, as soon as I learned how to read, I found them, and hahaha, I found out fairly soon how much fun it was to watch things burn up and change shape, being reborn.  (Thanks PSA for introducing me to matches, helping older women, drugs and sex!)

So Freddie comes into the apartment (he either thought Jojo was incinerated inside or afraid that I'd toast him too with my magic fireball stems) and I came in and slammed the door behind me.  "SLAM!"

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jojo's fur flying straight up into the air, with a startled expression on Jojo's face, and his legs kind of spread out. I think Jojo can't see the floor, so he kinda has to guess how he's gonna land the jump.  So Freddie sees Jojo's "Scared Shi*less" routine (the poop powers the propulsion, and the claws-twitch-move helps the hover) and runs back to the locked front door.

Sorry Freddie.  Today is not the day you escape.

Jojo landed on his head.  Again.

:|


I'll miss those critters!!!


At least I get to walk around my apartment naked without wondering if Snausages are for cats.

LIP- Live in Peace, Freddie and Jojo.

 (this is Jojo's "Scared Shi*tless" routine)

PS I may have embellished a bit.  :)

The 3rd Cat Act

The last time you'll probably see me and the boys in an  interview of this sort.  :(

Living with Freddie and Jo-Jo Part 3 from Roberto Del Valle on Vimeo.
The final act.

freddieandjojo.blogspot.com

Video Blog #2: Deux Chats

Another 8 minutes of your life to be sacrificed to the gods of cruelty:




Living With Freddie and Jo-Jo Part 2 from Roberto Del Valle on Vimeo.
Part 2 of 3.



freddieandjojo.blogspot.com

Video Blog #1

It's 8 minutes long. You have been warned. (Part 1 of 3)

Living with Freddie and Jo-Jo from Roberto Del Valle on Vimeo.

Don't laugh at me guys!

Diarrhea

Wow.  

The sound of diarrhea hitting a plastic pan with its warm pitter patter that spells out RELIEF.

Thanks Freddie for that.  

And of course the cherry-on-top (in the "listening to the process of pooping while cooking" situation is walking away with the plate thinking "Good one Freddie.  Good one my good man...  As good as only you can.. " and glancing over to see that Freddie's recipe for refried beans is the same as Rosarito's. "Oh Freddie... good one..."  

My bean quesadillas will taste even yummier now.  Thanks to the litter (which actually manages to grab the odor before I turn the corner to my music room) I was able to avoid the acidic aroma which would have quickly transferred to my taste buds and so much affected them that the bean quesadillas would be much spicier, even after already generous amounts of Tapatío.  Yup.  There's a written accent mark and it does not rhyme with "armadillo".  Oh there you go, you said it anyway.  :|

These quesadillas are "the s***!"  Thankfully, not actually.   Although I do think that from now on, if I were to cook or simply heat beans ever again, I will never take my eyes off of them until they've entered my mouth and therefore.. my belly.  Freddie can be sneaky like a mother.   I'm afraid if I even blink, Freddie migh play a little poopoo prank.  

"Silly Robert, Poo is for Plates!"  

Oh, and worse if I've mopped the floor with Pine-Sol before eating.  "Well, I don't remember heating up beans, but damn them look so good, but I needs some cheese.  Hyuk."  I can just imagine Jojo and Freddie in a corner, looking at me and putting their paws up to hold the laughter back, looking at each other to then look back at me and snicker.  Their reflective mirror eyes shining back at me with such intensity and clarity I can see in the reflection the inside of my mouth as I'm chewing (after I mop I'm a mouthbreather) and I can see exactly what they're laughing at.  It's not the fact that I'm eating poop while creeped out. The devilishly evil brats are looking at the little hairs twisting around.  :|  Hilaaaarious Freddie.  You need to drink less water buddy to give it a better consistency and flavor.

Sadly I have a feeling that cat diarreah would probably taste similar to Rosarito's beans with queso cotija, Tapatío and crema mexicana in a flour tortilla.  Mmm.  

The secret is the beans.  Mom's homecooked frijoles fritos were and continue to be the ultimate gas-producing dish.  But it taste so good going in, you don't really mind it coming out.

Conclusion:  Mom's recipe for Fried Beans = Awesome    Rosarito's Authenic Refried Beans = Cat diarrhea.

*Burp* I'm done.