Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) turns five next Tuesday; and as you can imagine, preparations are underway. The National Guard has been alerted, anything of value has been wrapped up and stored in the basement in boxes marked “Taxes: 1990-1999”, and the catnip grown in and around Hennepin County has been bagged and marked at inflated prices.
Inexplicably, the Office of Homeland Security insists that the threat level remains at “orange”.
Liza Bean is turning five.
You remember Liza Bean Bitey, don’t you?
Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) is a symmetrically striped, tiny-pawed catcher of mice and demander of cream, a cat with a sharp tongue and a penchant for umbrella-ed drinks.
Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) is a cat who once returned my car with a typewritten manuscript in the trunk purporting to be a collaboration between her and Hunter S. Thompson. When I pointed out to her that Hunter S. Thompson died the year she was born, she simply raised one eyebrow and said, “Did he, now?”
That Liza Bean Bitey.
Two years ago I took her out for sushi for her birthday, a debacle still fresh in my mind, particularly since I cannot walk past any of the local police without them making clawing motions at me while chuckling the words “Meow! Meow!”
Philistines.
Frankly, the guy Liza attacked had it coming – after all, any lout suggesting that Liza Bean “go back to where she came from” deserves the restaurant-clearing brawl that he gets; and while her bail money – the money I was saving for a flat-screen TV, dagnab it! – was considerable and we still cannot show our faces at the Origami, I carry the memories fondly.
Last year’s birthday celebration was a quiet affair: a houseful of her friends over for “paw” food (trays of puree of mouse on Ritz crackers, bird bits on toast points, gin and tonics). The party eventually moved to the roof and Squeak Toy played until the police were called, but no charges were filed; and as I had enjoyed the drinks as much as anyone else and had agreed to not write about it, the details have moved into the fuzzy-and-disputable category.
Which brings us to this year’s celebration.
A pub crawl – or, perhaps more accurately, a pub slink.
The plan? She and her friends - including members of her last musical endeavor, A Band of Biteys, now that she and the drummer have settled their legal dispute - will leave the house Saturday night at 8:00. With a dozen bars in easy slinking distance, they will go to one after another, waiting for that moment when the door opens whereupon they will shoot in, four and five at a time, winding 'round ankles, dodging the good citizens of Northeast Minneapolis and pushing their fuzzy bellies up against the bar.
Ad hoc neighborhood watches are being formed as we speak.
If last year’s celebration is any yardstick for this year’s, I will awaken early to dozens of cats strewn about, on couches, atop the fridge, in the tub. I'll make scrambled eggs and ham and buttered toast. Coffee will be made and aspirin offered; and despite my protestations, I will find ten-dollar bills attached to handwritten thank-you notes tucked throughout the house after they leave.
Cats.
They know how to party.
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33 comments:
Yep. I do believe I see the beginnings of a national holiday, there.
Bud of the Baskervilles
I have let our cat Festus read a few of the Liza Bean Post of yours and he askes everyday about her. He wants to meet her an askes if she has a Facebook page. He's curious(DUH) about being in her band. He has been practicing playing the spring door stop most nights(Around 2 or 3 AM). Is she lookin for a Twanger?
Signed, I need some Sleep.
That Liza Bean...she's a hoot.
So, will Dolly G Squeakers (formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers) also be joining in the festivities?
=]
Fred, it would only be right, given how much she's given this great country of ours. :-)
Simply, a Twanger is in high demand on the kitty-band circuit. Liza Bean does not actually have a FB page, although this amuses me and bears looking into...
Sweetie, as you know, Liza Bean Bitey (of the Mpls Biteys) and Dolly Gee Squeakers (formerly of the Humane Society Squeakers) have a love-hate relationship. Liza believes that Dolly is an opportunist and cannot hold her liquor and Dolly feels that Liza is an over-educated snob with a palate that extends past her wallet. They are both correct.
So will Dolly be joining them? I would say "yes". Dolly's actually quite a tramp when she's drunk, so I'm foreseeing posts on said tramp-ness in the near future...
This is just delightful, I LOVED it!! so glad I popped by :o)
All worth it for the ten dollar bills and handwritten notes.
Gin and tonics? I would have thought sure that a sassy lady like Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys) would opt for Catnip Juleps.
Goes to show that you just don't ever know someone...
Deborah, I'm glad!!!
Flea, a little courtesy goes a long way, don't you think? :-)
MJenks, Ohhhhh. I wish I'd said that. :-)
At least the cats are good tippers. Just trying to find the silver lining.
lgsquirrel, they are also exquisite gossipers. Oh, the dirt I'll hear late Saturday night!
I know a certain Pup, a great lover of cats, who would have been tickled pink to be invited... even though he knows he is a bit bigger than the rest, he does like to belly up to the bar with a bunch of pussy cats.
<<. Dolly's actually quite a tramp when she's drunk, >>
Oh aren't we all ??
a Broad, HA! :-) Yes.
Are Pup's papers in order? But I suppose a flight of that magnitude at this late date may prove impossible.
We'll keep him in mind for next year!
Perhaps, next year, Mz. Liza Bean would be interested in a Cowboy Round Up...you know, she and her feline-friends could all gather round and help herd the cattle. What? You've never heard of herding cats? You DO live a ways up thar in the North, doncha?
Well at least Liza Bean's friends have enough manners to handwrite their thank you notes instead of texting them (although a hostess gift would be more appropriate - cash is never snubbed).
Philistines? Ouch. Harsh. Liza Bean sounds feisty and pretty much the killer cat I always wanted.
There is a children't book in here.
But would Liza Bean sign over the rights without a share of the proceeds? I am sure that she would be a ferocious negotiator.
That, of course, should be children's book. Rilo the Schnauzer's jealousy is showing.
Liza Bean's got classy friends and family.
When our cat Saphhira has parties while we're away, they leave things tucked around the house, but they ain't thank you notes and there sure isn't cash attached *~*
This made me feel good.
Oh meow and wow--this is why I NEVER miss your blog. You are the cat's meow.
Sarah
In my next life, I want to come back as your cat! This is too cute.
jj
Sounds like the party of the year.
Will you be sober enough to remember the blackmailable details?
I have to say, I am impressed your guests leave you $10 tucked away. Such good manners.
I'd buy some extra bin bags and latex gloves, just in case.
I caught Admiral Fluffy the other day looking at a picture in a locket and ask him who that symmetrically striped, tiny-pawed catcher of mice and demander of cream was. He just closed the locket and looked at me with a sigh. I know she is the reason he needs the sea. It takes him away, and, for a short time, cures his broken heart. We will be taking a rather low key approach to her upcoming birthday and I will just be there to clean up his puke when he drinks himself into a stupor as he tries to forget.
Gizmo, or Gizzy as we called him, would have loved your pussy ... sorry, Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys).
In the cat-world he was a hunk; 10 kilo's, 34 cm at the shoulder and over 1 metre long from nose to tail tip.
His hobby was terrorising neighbourhood dogs (including a German Shepard called Titus) and attacking postmen through the letter box.
He was a perfect 'alarm' cat and would wake me up every morning with a heart-felt jump onto my head with claws extended. What a guy!
He was a non-drinking, non-smoking kitty that was full of muscle and good intentions and would have loved to have worked out on Muscle Beach in the raw.
Local vets trembled when he entered their practices and safety clothing was hastily donned as it was widely known that he loved vets and COULD eat a whole one if permitted.
They did cut his nut's off, after all.
It would have been a match made in heaven but for the fact that my beloved Gizzy had to be helped over the bridge when he was 14 years old.
Just think of the fun they would have had.
By the way, Happy Birthday (for next Tuesday) Liza Bean Bitey (of the Minneapolis Biteys).
I gave you a mention over at 'my place'...
http://symdaddy.blogspot.com/2010/10/gizzy-comment-made-to-article-posted-by.html
... ain't I nice!
I feel your pain, my kitty also engages in some pretty wild antics. The parties always seem to end the same, the neighbours complaining about the volume of the Stray Cats blaring from the speakers, the inevitable fight over who is the hotter, Josie of Josie and the pussycats, or catwoman. And finally all the guests indulging in a group lick fest that would rival some of Caligula's events.
Thank you for the smile
:-) Liza Bean seems to bring out the imagination in everyone! I love the days when the comments rival the post...
Don't get big headed folks! She means ME!!!
*sings*
Everybody wants to be a cat,
Because a cat's the only cat who knows how to swing,
Everyone's pickin' up on that feline beat,
Co everything else is obsolete....
God (or, you know, whoever) bless Fred and my own shamelessness. I've found you through a particularly giggle worthy comment on his blog and have found more of the same here.
Bravo, my girl. This was genius.
However, I feel I should warn you that - now that I know where Oliver went last year - the dry cleaning and rehab bills will both be forthcoming.
How he made it to Minneapolis, I'll never know.
He's resourceful, for a tabby.
- B x
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