August 30, 2024

The other day as I was checking out my Blog stats at WordPress, the platform I use for the Attic and one of the cool things about WordPress, the ability to see your sites “traffic”, I noticed that an older parody tune of mine had recently gotten a couple of unexpected downloads/listens.

Now I am always curious as to how some viewers might suddenly discover something of mine (a tune/old post) from some time ago. I mean it’s not like I’m any good at remembering to add tags to my things because I’m not, hell, tags to me are just the things I always forget to take off of new pants or shorts or T-shirts until around three in the afternoon the first time I wear them, so I can’t chalk it up to that and other than doing a dive into the blog (which has happened where someone, maybe the first time visiting the Attic, will check out a number of things all at once before running away screaming with their hair on fire) I don’t really know how they may come across the older stuff, pretty randomly it seems.

Another older post of mine, from April of ’22 for example, even pops up on a regular basis, regular enough that it has become my most viewed effort, a fun thing I wrote about seeing the Angel of Death in the middle of Route 9 in Poughkeepsie that I also did an audio post of (here, I’ll save you the trouble of randomness or deep dives, Angel Of Death: End Of Days, Route 9, Poughkeepsie??? )

No complaints mind you, I don’t care how folks come about it or them as long as something is maybe getting a new eye or earball or two. I mean that’s why I do this right? Why I have a blog in the first place? Other than the sanity saver that it is?

The older parody tune, from March of 2021, was a tune I did for Celie’s cat “Cujo” and from an idea of hers as a matter of fact. I have written of this often but when I first moved into the one bedroom place above a three car attached garage back in November of ’17 (though I moved out recently) I was immediately astounded and overjoyed by the sheer amount of fur that were furring in and around Celie’s haven of said fur and even feather as well.

Now besides, when I was first there, usually being greeted in the driveway by “Blue” the big intimidating looking blue pit of all soft dogness after the big chested intimidation passed and amid the din of all the other dogs, I was also greeted by cats, four in particular. Bruce the coolest of cat fellas, the Big Lebowski, or Big LeBruceski of cats if you will, who ran the cat yard and house, Handsome, a cat with no more apt a name, Honey Bob Tail (who I would come to call “Boo”) the sweetest little rolly polly of a calico with, indeed, a bob tail and Cujo, a funny name for a cat I thought until he proved himself worthy of it. The first proof of worth for me? When I went to say hi with a pet and a rub of an ear after one of my arrivals home from work early in my stay while he was cat rolling around in driveway dust, as cats are wont to do, and he welcomed me with a bite of my palm halfway through my pettings of “hello”.

“Ok, Cujo … gotcha … and I get it now.”

Instant friends.

But Cujo, like Bruce, had a coolness about him (Honey Bob Tail was all sweetness and a bit of weight on your shoulder for the pick up and Handsome was just damn good looking so much so for girl cats to swoon) and Cujo and I became pals, sometimes with a new band aid or two like sharing friend wrist bands. He was also a bit of weight on the shoulder for the pick up but not because of the rolly or the polly like Honey Bob Tail, Cujo was quite lithe and long, but from the sheer fear that could accompany it (dude could take an eye from my shoulder I thought) but he liked shoulders, even stretched upwards on a knee for it … though briefly.

Anyway, Celie had mentioned to me a few years into my time there that someone, somecat, was peeing in the house and NOT properly, not in one of any number of litter boxes placed about the spot and that she had discovered through some fine detective work (cameras and an even caught in the cat act) that it was Cujo. She then said, and she knew of my parody tunes because I kept sending them to her whether she wanted me to or not, actually she probably would have preferred the “Not” because now you are just annoying me Stephen, especially the political ones, that I should try the chorus of Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me” because “It Wasn’t Me … I didn’t pee” had come to her when she heard the tune on the radio in her truck.

Brilliant I thought. But well, I also thought, I can’t just do something with only the chorus now can I? No self respecting song parodying guy would stop at just the chorus right? No, I don’t know the answer to that as I don’t know any other of these self respecting song parodying guys but, for the one I DID know? ME? That shit just wouldn’t meow. Gotta work the whole tune.

Now I miss Cujo and did for the longest time, still do, while I lived in that house of fur and feather after he, one day, just wasn’t around any longer, he was a dear friend lost and well, ’nuff said on that, and I didn’t want to revisit this tune of his for the longest time as I tried not think of the what may have happened (that’s a rabbit hole no pet person ever wants to go down in such a case). I just remembered the welcome homes and the pettings and the band aids and the kitchen counters helping me with the feeding of he and all his cat brethren on occasion (another story entirely, though one, ones, already well told) as he was just a really cool cat, a really smart, snarky, talky cat who I bonded with over hello’s and ear rubs and those occasional loving band-aids.

So thinking of Cujo again now, I thought to revisit some fun and some cat pee silly.

Cheers old friend.

It Wasn’t Me, I Didn’t Pee

Yo, Handsome … Open up man

What do you want Cujo?

Mom just caught me

Seriously?

I don’t know how

Where?

In the shower, you know

Man

I don’t know what to do

Well, say it wasn’t you

—

Alright

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

How could you forget that Mom’s the one who owns this villa

She’s got sixth senses that snap up on her pilla

You keep this up she’s gonna be your killa

She knows it’s you even got ya on camera

Before you were dumb and strolled off into the shower

These humans got tech to catch you any hour

Yeah that’s video your ass up on stovetop

You gotta say it wasn’t you to save you from the next stop

—

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
Heard her screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

Act like nothing happened, that it’s no big deal

Walk your Cujo walk, denial in your cool

See if you can sing another cat’s fault song

Maybe Sunny with who you don’t get along

You’re gonna be banished from house for real

You’ll be pushin’ daisies soon for just this deal

You’ll be out garage, house life won’t last

Get caught again and 9^th life will pass

—

But she caught me on the counter (It wasn’t me)
Saw me peein’ on the stovetop (I didn’t pee)
Even saw me in corners (It wasn’t me)
Yeah she caught me on camera (I didn’t pee)
Saw scratches on the floorboards (It wasn’t me)
Smelled the smell that made her nose curl (I didn’t pee)
I heard the screams when she discovered (It wasn’t me)
I couldn’t stay so I took off

—

Celie came in and she caught me red handed

Peeing on the shower floor

Picture this, I’m a cat named Cujo

Who doesn’t litter box no more

How could I forget that she lived

On this very big house floor

Just right down the hall here

Till she was standing at the bathroom door

—

Gonna blame some other

For the smell that I’ve caused