She was like the Helena Bonham Carter of cats; she was exceptionally unusual. Her eyes, for instance, were like something I’d never seen – they were like giant saucers overflowing with thick carrot puree. And my God, I love carrot puree.
And just think what a little eyebrow trim would do for her, Van. Photo by Josh Morden.
The Helena Bonham Carter resemblance is uncanny…
Can’t… look… away. *splort*
What a beautiful cat!
oranged eyed kitteh! squee!
The look seems to be somewhere between, disaproval and trapped wind
Dark orange eyed cats freak me out. Persians freak me out too. This post is a double serving of freak-ay.
LOVE the caption though!
Heart shaped nose!
She walked into the room like she was walking through a train station at midnight looking for a lost lover who might show up if the 11:55 were ever on time. I lit my cigarette and tipped the brim of my hat low over my eyes so she couldn’t see I was watching her. Oh, but she knew. She always knew. Everyone watched her. The light pouring in from the shades cast diagonal lines across her pouting mug.
etc and so forth, Sam-Spade-style
I was going to say the ebil it burns
but now after Tracy…. Sigh!!!
I hereby suggest Dadaism Day on Cute Overload, full of silly/scary looking animals with even sillier captions!
Oh she’s a beautiful cat. Those eyes, so striking!
Okay, we totally need a celebrity lookalike CATegory. Remember Lindsay Lohan cat? And Wilford Brimley cat(s)?
Beautiful tortie kitty!
“the trapped-wind look” LOL!! Good one hon glad!
Helena Bonham-Carter kitty! Her eyes are WOW. And the mouse-over text made me literally fall off my couch laughing. XD
You know, I can sorta picture this cat going OFF WITH HER HEAD!!
That’s ma girl!!! Makes a mama so proud.
*flopped down on my stomach, on the carpet in front of the radio, head resting on my hands, slippered feet waving back and forth slowly*
TracyLee, what came next????? The suspense is killing me!!!
Hopefully the narrator works up enough courage to say “meow”.
i love cats with smashed in faces!
is there a name for that?
The term “brachiocephalic” is often used.
Your eyes are like limpid pools of Carrot Juice.
Andy Rooney eyebrows much? The brows are the frame of the face, dumpling!
hehe, contintued, per request:
She sauntered over and perched at the edge of the seat next to me, crossing one paw over the other, as if she were ladylike. Well, I’ll tell you… this was no lady. I offered her a cigarette, but she shooed it away with a flick of the claw. After a moment of silence so profound it could have been illegal, she purred, “I have an assignment for you, if you’re willing.” Oh boy, was I. I’d do anything this little kitten wanted me to do.
Eyebrows? where are the eyebrows?
@Rooanne, the eyebrows cover the entire face.
Her eyes are right in the middle of them. 
Totally disapproving.
Whooooo TracyLee *still laying on the carpet* Sounds like the start to a great mystery!! Mysteries are truly the Cat’s Whiskers!!
TracyLee your background music: Hey, Big Spender
The minute you walked in the joint. Wah wa
I could tell you were a man of dis – tinc-tion
Kitteh looks like she is saying “I will never comprehend how odd these humans are…”
Ooh, tracylee, round-robin story time!
….The light pouring in from the shades cast diagonal lines across her pouting mug.
“I’m missing something” she said. Heh, dames like her are not missing much…except scruples. “What can I do for you, sweets?” I asked. She gave me a look that would melt the top off of a can of tuna. “Well, Mr. Impertinent, you can start by calling me by my proper name Mrs. Edgerton Throckmorton Barfington III. It seems Eddie has gone and taken the……
Must *boop* nose
OOps, I round-robined the wrong story part…
After a moment of silence so profound it could have been illegal, she purred, “I have an assignment for you, if you’re willing.” Oh boy, was I. I’d do anything this little kitten wanted me to do.
“I’m missing something” she said. Heh, dames like her are not missing much…except scruples. “OK, sweet paws, what’s the assignment?” She gave me a look that would melt the top off of a can of tuna. “Well, Mr. Impertinent, you can start by calling me by my proper name Mrs. Edgerton Throckmorton Barfington III. It seems Eddie has gone and taken the……
Wilford Brimley in drag.
“…. taken the Maltese and the Falcon. Now normally I don’t care about dogs or birds, but inside Spot’s jewel encrusted collar is the map to the Treasure of Sierra Madre. The Falcon is the only bird that can …. “
( between laughs and chuckles) I’m really enjoying this dialogue. The cat’s expression is priceless and the eye shade is probably illegal in 10 states and 6 countries. Mmm…….
I am so glad other people saw this and thought of Wilford Brimley.
She used Latisse, that eyelash serum, and it seeped into her eyes. Now she must look for the eyebrow cure, because with this game, looks are everything.
I think kitteh looks terribly sad *sniff*
Wee crumpet is also a Grumpette!
and? and? who’s next with the story???
btw, @vanbakes, she’s adorable! can you show us more pics of her?
“… the only bird that can decipher the map. You understand my concern.” And boy, did I – those carrot juice eyes were welling up with crocodile tears that threatened to spill over into her perfectly coiffed moustache. “I’m on the case, Mrs. Barfington. Don’t you worry your beautiful little head,” I assured her, but as I rose from the table she turned and fixed me with a look of utmost disapproval. “Remember, that Maltese is…”
(can’t resist a redonkulous noir storyline, hehe)
“…left of center , off of the strip. In the outskirts, in the fringes, In the corner shooting from the hip.” I wondered if she had been smelling paint fumes, but then I remembered that dames like that wouldn’t put their paw anywhere near a paint can. They would get someone to do it for them. Somehow, someway. A whisker droop here, an eyebrow subtly lifted. So I figured the Maltese would be going to see the Pope. I set off for Italy to . . .”
Aside from my Spencer, who was truly the most beautiful cat in the world, this may be the most beautiful cat I’ve ever seen. She’s lovely. (My Abby has big round copper eyes like those – I tease her about being from a Japanese cartoon and she looks at me like “bitch you just jealous.”)
So I figured the Maltese would be going to see the Pope. I set off for Italy to check out if my contact Henry the Hammie was still around, running his seed n’ straw scam on innocent tourists. Sure enough he was…. Skulking around the wheels in the back alleys of Rome. As usual he was wearing a fez. “Hank, my ham, I’se gonna get straight to the point. I am checking out the whereabouts of one Maltese”. Hank’s widdle eyes widened in terror. “Oh no Mr. Rick, he is not here!!!” I did not point out that my name is not Rick. He has also called me Dude, Snookie, Mr. Marmalade, and the Doctor. He is one weird hammie. He scurried away from mein, frankly, an awful cute manner until he saw the wheel…..
“make an appointment with Monsignour Verducci, who had always obliged me in the past. But before I left, gave me a vampish look with those honeyed eyes and said:
“You know, the Maltese is really a little white dog, and…..”
“little white dog, and dogs will wag their tail for anyone that scratches them behind the ears. That collar lies right below the ears if you follow my meaning. ” Boy, did I ever. Dirty dog that I was. I was remembering her telling me that when I saw Henry the Hammie scurrying towards the Wheel. At this point I reached out and grabbed his oily little tail, I could see Pat Sajak and Vanna were waiting for him to give the right answer. I put him in my pocket, and made tracks for Monsignour Verducci near the Vatican White. The light was blinding my eyes when I saw his revolver….
Truth about Scarlette is – she’s the greatest and sweetest kitteh of all time… oh, and she’s esstremely photogenic.
@ceejoe check out my flickr for more pics!
http://www.flickr.com/photos/vanbakes/4402736310/
The light was blinding my eyes when I saw his revolver flash a bright light and discharge a sign that said “bang”. I forgot Verducci, is Italian for ‘wisenheimer’ which is German for ‘jamoke’, which is New Jersey for ‘goober’. Verducci was a large man who fancied himself somewhat of a veterinary comedian. “Take my Falcon…please!” He simultaneously wheezed and laughed at me. “Listen I got no time for comedy, there is a dame with killer sets of legs after the Maltese and I need to sort out the players.” I snarled. Pat Sajak, still only a block away, said “There are players at the Wheel! of! Fortune!” And then he tried to get me to spend money on a large ceramic dog. Nice try, Sajak. Last time I fell for that con was..er yesterday. But nevermind that, since Verducci suddenly snatched the Ham and took off for the …
Clearly, this is the daughter of that Muppet drummer, Animal, and a kiwi bird.
lol saffron
But nevermind that, since Verducci suddenly snatched the Ham and took off for the Forum. A funny thing happened before I ran off to the Forum… Pat Sajak repeated…. “THERE ARE PLA – YERS at the WHEEL! OF ! FORTUNE!” I was torn between my love of ham and my love of the dame, so I stepped up to try my luck. Vanna wasn’t so bad either. I could see the answer on the board, but it wasn’t exactly my turn. So I shouted out, “THE MEXICAN RiVIERA!” Of course, I knew the trip to the Vat had been for naught. So I hitched a plane and flew over to Mexico, a long river looking to find . . .
C’mon, youse guys, what happens next????????? I’m waaaiiiiting….
WHAT KIND OF CAT IS THIS?
So I hitched a plane and flew over to Mexico, a long river looking to find a big fish in a small pond. I may not be sophisticated like George Hamilton, nor as tan, but I do know that dames like the big fish, especially those from a small pond. Or from Jared’s. Size matters, baby. I also know that eating the inflight meal, ham tapas, on the flight over to Mexico was a bad idea. I was sicker than a feline after a five day catnip bender. Was I poisoned? The reach of the Maltese is long and his spies are everywhere. The stew on the plane had white hair; she must have been a spy for the Malt. Man, I am a sucker for a pretty pair…of paws. Lesson learned, I wryly laughed to myself. Time to get back to business. Instead of trying to locate the Maltese, I decided to start with his henchman, the Falcon. He had not been heard from for a millenium. I knew he usually operated as a solo, so there would be no henchmen to get in my way. It was a difficult problem, even a chewy one. So I turned to the only resource I had left….
My guess is a Persian, like my Isabella. These smooshy-faced babies are very sweet.
Oh, she’s a Persian, alright. Unless she’s a rogue Mogwai.
She is too cute. She does look sad, though. She must be snorgled!
haha i wish it were a rogue mogwai. that’s the only pet i would ever need in my life!
So I turned to the only resource I had left, my own brain. As my brain was clicking on the clues, the stew came over and looked me deep in the eyes, as if to hypnotize me. She didn’t have carrot puree eyes, so I was immune, but she didn’t know that. I was still ill from the in-flight meal, so I gave her my pathetic look, which kills most women. She whispered to me, “Michael Kors is not on Project Runway…” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. I got off the plane and headed to Ensenada, first stop on the Mexican Riviera. As I drove in, a freighter was pulling into the dock and again I was blinded by a white light. I looked again, and a white flash blurred before my eyes. It was a bird, a White Falcon, or was it George Hamilton’s white suit on the freighter. In my stupor from the heat, I reached out towards the white flash and grabbed. It was the …
.. the little white maltese dog again, with Monsignour Verducci in hot pursuit (he just had come in on the overnight red-eye from the Vatican…..as he ran past, he confided to me that he used to be Father Verducci, but had just been promoted, because he was such a good PR person.)….but I digress…..the little white dog rounded the corner smartly and ran smack into a……
It was the Maltese! “So I hear you been lookin’ for me”. He fixed a gaze upon me like I was a bowl of juicy noms. Normally, I am pretty fearless, but feeling like a bowl of gooshy food made me scared. A bad kind of scared. Not the good kind like when you see Saw, or see-saw. But a bad kind of scared like when you realize you forgot to tape the last showing of the finale of Project Runway. The Maltese started to laugh. Hahahahoowwowwwooooo!!! His henchmen (2 rottweilers, 1 chihuahua, 2 hedgehogs and 3 tabby cats–he has a rather large payroll) started to surround me. “So this is what it is like when the jig is up” I thought. That is when I heard the voice of my rescuer….
oops, sorry cheshirekittehcat, I overlapped your story
@Saffron: O, I dunno; it seems to fit pretty good; (it won’t really matter when our book gets published: we will all split the royalties equally, anyway…….!)
ran smack dab into the middle of a white statue of the Blessed Our Lady of One Hundred Years of Solitude. Monsignour Verducci, adjusted his hat and suddenly felt guilty. The henchmen (2 rottweilers, 1 chihuahua, 2 hedgehogs and 3 tabby cats and a partridge and 5 Best Buy Refrigerator delivery men who were supposed to be delivering a fridge to my house, but ended up in Mexico somehow) took that opportunity to wrestle him to his knees. Oh, the barking, quills, yowling and spilled ice from the ice machine that I really don’t need! I almost did not hear the voice from above, nor see the silvery runway floating down from the helicopter above. It was Michael Kors and the Fat Man. “I really need to get a hold of Mrs. Edgerton Throckmorton Barfington III to model for my new line of faux fur purses! I must speak with her!” I grabbed the runway rope from the chopper and grabbed the Maltese at the same time. His vicious pack noticed too late as I floated up in the air. One took a serious chomp out of my gumshoes, which I would hope Michael Kors could fix. Just as I made it into the bed of the helicopter . . .
Just as I made it into the bed of the helicopter Heidi Klum appeared and said “I’m sorry, you are out. Auf wiedersehen.” And she pushed me out of the helicopter. Fortunately my partner at the detective agency, Tim Gunn had given me a fierce parachute before my trip, so I deployed it. The Maltese and I floated down to Earth like a feather off of a boa of a showgirl. We landed in, well we landed in a mess of trouble. Which I was beginning to get tired of. Seems the players kept changing and my mental rolodex was filling up like a cart full of LARGE bags of kibble at Costco. As I tried to figure out where we were, I turned to the Maltese and said…
(@ Saffron: I allas’ KNEW that Tim was the Officer Friendly on Project Runway!!!)
I turned to the Maltese and said….”bubble, bubble HELP!” For we had landed in the the quicksand right outside of Puerto Vallarta where there were no juice bars, no tourists, only this brain-sucking spirulina. I only wanted to do one thing – breathe. The Maltese had wrapped himself around my head, like a deathgrip on the turban of Terror. I grabbed him by his collar, grabbed on the fine silk strands of the fierce parachute Tim Gunn crafted for me, knowing he used only the finest materials. As I lifted myself out of the muck, and cleared the spirulina manuka honey mask out of my eyes, I was looking eye level into the barrel of a gun, held by ….
held by the Helena Bonham Carter Kittehkat; it seems she was a double agent, (or was it a triple, I don’t remember); she said she was the real brains of the operation, with a perfect cover, because she looked so innocuous,….people would never suspect her, she sneered; looking like a dummy has its rewards; she pulled the trigger with her dainty paw; but as luck would have it, the gun jammed…..the maltese and his horde came racing around the corner in a bumbling barage, and then……
…and then tangled between the silk chords of the parachute and the green of the quick sand, I tiny sparkle caught my eye. That feline could sniff out a gem even through miles of muck as she followed my gaze. It was the jewel-encrusted collar the Maltese had just left behind covered in green goo. She dove for it, but I jerked the chords of the parachute and had the jewel collar in my pocket, as I the chords neatly snapped around her ankles and she toppled into the muck.
I leaned back and laughed, I found the map as the howls of the horde ascended upon me…
…
- Ed.]
[Whut teh hellz??
it’s an obsession ~ a runaway train!
AWW
I would just CUDDLE that kitty 
I leaned back and laughed, I found the map as the howls of the horde ascended upon me but suddenly came to a stop. “Uh oh, I thought. This can’t be good”. It seems they could see the end of the page on CO and we were in danger of falling off. It was then I realized that the jeweled collar, when laid down on the map so the square of the hypoteneuse showed the reversed polarity of the neutron flow, and displayed the clear path out of the muck! So we all went 500 yards, hung a left at Dunkies, went past three more Dunkies then turned right….and we landed right at the front door of my office! Tim was there and when he saw me he said “You are a hot mess. I am not responding well to this crew you broufght in with you”. And then he adjusted his cuffs. I felt bad. The kind of bad that makes your teeth start to cry. “Sorry, buddy”. I said sheepishly. The sheep that had tagged along with us somewhere between Ensenade and the third Dunkies were ma-a-a-a-a-d. I can’t win. So the upshot was…..
*brought not broufght. I need to have that tenth cup of tea before trying to spell
wow, this went outtah controlz!
My new fridge was delivered . . .2nd try! It’s beautiful
So the upshot was I had the answer within the palm of my hand. I knew I had to clean up. The smell of the sheep, the quicksand was overwhelming, not to mention all the coffee breath from Dunkies. Tim was not only adjusting his cuffs, fixing his necktie, but his tic in his left eye came up, threatening the delicate balance of his rimless glasses and his nose. I noticed the Monogram on his lapel was a White Bird, a White Maltese with some gold thread in patterns that appeared to be a map; no wait, a large arrow pointing that away. “Tim,” I shouted, “where did you get that monogram?!!!” He jumped a mile high as I was standing this close to him. “Wha??? I assure you this did not come out of a cereal box, but it is haute couture” He pulled his handkerchief out and it too had a map on it which aid down on the map so the ange of the hypoteneuse showed the inverse polarity of the ionic flow, which led me straight to the river Ganghees.
She was standing there, and she swooned when she saw me. I said, “does this mean you love me baby?” as I caught her in my arms. She replied, …..
(I can’t believe this is still going; I see the “Comments Closed” sign looming ahead)
As I caught her in my arms. She replied “Wait, what?”….but then her honey-colored eyes clouded over, and she sneezed bombastically. She said that if we were patient until the hypotenuse was squared, and the inverse polarity of the flow, well, just flowed upriver we would be able to escape in one of the dug-outs that had been squirreled away just for that purpose. But then she got all upset, and blurted out: “What about all the money the little Maltese dog buried in the backyard? …..The treasure is…….”
[Dun dun DUNNNN!!!
- Ed.]