Lucas the Tank Commander

Try JibJab Sendables® eCards today!

The Day of Reckoning Approaches

The annual townhome meeting is a month away, and I will be presenting the opening arguments on my proposed amendment to allow indoor cats. I've been left alone by the association Board the last few months on the issue of my two cats, although I never bypass a chance to make the evil eye and stare menacingly at a Board member when I see one. It feels proactive to intimidate the elderly, weak and feeble.

I'm sending out Christmas (or Holiday) cards to the neighborhood, urging them to "get out and vote." I could really use the assistance of social activist groups like ACORN to help. I mean, they registered millions of voters (most of them fake) for Obama, why couldn't they use the $50 million in taxpayer bailout money they received and help me out with a few?

I've prepared the speech I will give before the associaiton, and come up with a few clever lines I plan to use in case I'm interrupted by the witch Glenda, the Secretary. Thankfully the nastiest of the nasties will be in Alabama.

With that in mind, please send me your thoughts, prayers, campaign donations, etc!

Fugitive Felines: The Owner Strikes Back

On June 18, I received a letter from the board of directors of my townhome association stating that I had been "observed bringing a cat into my unit on two separate occasions, in direct violation of Rule 2 of association Rules and Regulations." I happen to live in probably the only homeowners association in the state that disallows cats as well as dogs. I had chosen to "not comply" with the rule throughout the duration of my time living here, as Goober, Comfy and Tukus can attest. But it seemed I had been found out. I imagine Lucas was seen through the window in the back yard of my home. Tukus has never been the shy type.

Rather than turn my felines over to a shelter and admit defeat, I decided to fight back. The draconian rule had been placed by one of the board members years ago, an elderly man who hates animals and has been breathing down the necks of people living here the entire time. He controlled the board, a group of three elderly and disagreeable ladies, and basically told them what to do in all instances.

For the next few months I would seethe with hatred throughout the day at the mere thought of this gentleman. I came to learn other anecdotes about him, such as how he caused another elderly resident to die of a heart attack during an argument a few years ago. This man became Public Enemy #1.

As justification for the rule, the Board (or this guy) held that "cats might get outside and go to the bathroom in the garden." I've yet to see this "garden" on our common grounds, but I'm given to believe it consists of a rock and a hedge.

I created a petition asking that Rule 2 be amended to allow indoor cats. There are 24 units in our association, so 13 became the magic number of signatures to achieve, an unstoppable majority demonstrating that the rule did not hold the support of residents.

I started out going to people I knew, and achieved five signatures rather easily. Most of these people had had bad past experiences with the Board, and were eager for a chance to "stick it to them." After this, I had to enter uncharted waters and approach complete strangers for their signature.

The first man, a little bug-eyed fellow with an even uglier spouse, denied me after my impassioned pitch. "That's why we moved here, because of all the rules! Nothing is allowed!" I walked away from the Ugly Family dejected, and gave up on my goal. I felt silly and stupid for having tried.

Then the second letter from the Board came. "Do you have a cat in your unit?" My evasion techniques in my first response hadn't worked, and the Board was not hinting at fining me. It was time to get back to business. I went back to making cold calls on strangers. I even enlisted the help of a friendly former Board member.

My strategy was to wait outside my garage until someone came home, then approach them with a well-organized, convincing speech about how the Rule lowers market value, makes selling the unit more difficult, and is unfair to homeowners. Most signed without a fight. I reached ten signatures this way. Some people were enthusiastic, most didn't give a crap.

Then I balked. I didn't know who else that appeared friendly that I could approach. My leads had run out. But buoyed by the support of friends and family, I continued. I got only one more rejection in my quest for 13 signatures, from a blind man oddly enough who didn't want to make waves.

I fired the letter with the petition to the Board, in the hopes they might change the rule under public pressure. Here I was, still out of "compliance" with the rule, living with my drapes down each day and scared for the safety of my beloved kitties.

A letter came back from the Board. They were going to allow a vote on this subject, but were going to delay it until the year-end meeting in January. A cowardly move if there ever was one, but demonstrative of their unreasonable nature. Clearly, they were worried about public opinion, but didn't want to take decisive action on the issue at hand.

However, the tone had changed. No longer were they talking to me with harsh, intimidating language. Words like "appreciate" and "respect" were used. Further, they were backing off my own issue of having cats in the house. Not tacitly, but still.

My amendment to the rule will pass no doubt, unless the Board fakes proxy votes or deliberately miscounts the tally. My goal will be to "get out the vote" for the annual association meeting. I'm still debating running for a Board position myself, and giving an ouster to the evil three (well, one's not so bad) that currently sit on the Board.

That, my friends, is change you can believe in. Not idle words said by an idle, self-posturing politician, but grass-roots actions aimed at making life better. Let's hope it works.

In the last month I've worked hard to regain my old nature after my short relapse into short and cuddly behavior in late April. I think, after some hard reflection, that I'm back in touch with my old aggressive and hostile self, and the owner's arms' reflect that. Comfy (The Meow Cow) also has been working hard to develop a more tough and mean-spirited persona. After being put on a diet last week, she protested by taking a huge crap on the owner's Bible, a truly impressive gesture not only for its sacrilege but also owing to the magnificent size of the cowpie.

As such, the owner isn't too pleased with his felines, and has been volunteering at a shelter caring for cats by the name of Caring For Cats . Not the most nuanced name by any means, and neither Meow Cow or myself appreciate being cheated on.

The owner has already compiled a list of eligible cats with whom he would happily swap us out for, if the dictates of his conscience allowed.

Comfy would be replaced by the haughty Selkirk Rex Suzie Q, a beautiful yet anti-social creature with a pained meow that could curdle milk. Her big blue eyes appear to be constantly on the verge of shooting out of their eye sockets, and her short snout gives her a rather comical facial expression. Not only is she thinner and better-looking than the Meow Cow, she has a better understanding of litter box logistics, something Comfy lacks.















My replacement would take the form of a British short-hair named Tigger, an affectionate orange-haired fellow who loves having his ears scratched and belly rubbed, in sharp contrast to myself.

























Despite these threats, Lucas Tukus isn't going to compromise his principles or his behavior due to any other kitty competition. I'm afraid the owner is stuck with the pair of us until death due us part, the way it should be.

Lucas is a nice boy

The owner's father came all the way up from Texas to spend a week and a half's time with me (naturally). For the duration I behaved quite out of character, and now my ferocity has fallen into question. I must confess that I wasn't in my right mind during this time, but have recovered nicely since.

Instead of scratching and biting when pet, I purred. Instead of biting, I rubbed. I could even be found cuddling in laps or in beds. Lucas Tukus doesn't condone any of these activities when dealing with humans.

Now word has gotten out that the Tukus himself has a soft side, and is really just misunderstood. The owner was chastised for playing too roughly with a sweet impressionable soul, and that deep down I was really just full of love waiting to be distributed.

All of this is lies! I will not allow my good name to become one of ill repute. I'm a killer!

As soon as the owner's dad left, I scratched the owner's arms three times and bit his feet while he was sleeping, in order to do damage control and stop these malicious rumors taking my character into question.

Lucas Tukus Announces His 2008 Presidential Endorsement

All the major candidates have been actively courting my endorsement for the upcoming presidential election. While the Tukus normally prefers keeping his political endeavors local and grassroots, it seems this time I've no choice but to get involved.

After much thought, I'm endorsing Hilary Clinton for president. She's a mean-spirited and vindictive gal after my own heart. She's the only candidate I can picture violently slashing someone open with her bare nails, and also the only one with at least one confirmed kill under her belt. Lucas Tukas thinks this is what America needs during these tough times.

The nasty expression on her face reminds me of how the Meow Cow looks when I bite her tail. Notice the resemblance.

Lucas Tukus has Feline Play Aggression Syndrome

Some who have witnessed my supine form in various forms of action have come to the conclusion that I'm a nasty little fellow. But this is not true, you see. I suffer from Feline Play Aggression, or as I like to think of it, Feline Aggression Alternative Lifestyle Choice.

I'm afraid I'm just horribly misunderstood in my choice of lifestyle. When I rake my sharp claws across human flesh, drawing blood and leaving nasty scratches, I'm actually trying to communicate, "I love you and value your company." Some cats might choose to do this by purring or gentle rubbing, but, of course, they have not made the same lifestyle choices that I have. Just because these folks represent the majority is no basis for discrimination against Lucas Tukus and his alternative lifestyle.

"Play aggressive cats will hide behind doors or banisters, crouching and waiting for any movement. They will then spring using both claws and teeth, before quickly fleeing."

Yes, this is all very true. My favorite time to do this is when the Meow Cow is using her litterbox. I then give her a nasty surprise as she gets out!

People who see the owner's mangled arms and hands often comment, "Get that Tukus declawed." But again, they are speaking from ignorance. I'm not just scratching for the sake of being malicious.

I'm actually writing, "I love you, dearest owner" in ancient Siamese script, using his skin as parchment.