Saturday 29 November 2014

Ah, a delicious morsel.  Nature is full of beautiful (like me), and delicious things (like bugs). Butterflies have the best of both worlds.  They are both lovely to look at, and their wings give them the gift of flight, which adds the third dimension in tracking.  Capturing bugs is great fun, but butterflies, though slow, allow an athlete like myself to test their jumping capabilities.  This particular butterfly looked slightly worse for wear, however, I wouldn't exactly call it shabby. I pounced on it just as it took wing, easily detaining it under one paw.  It struggled feebly.  Perhaps this one would not give me as good a work out as I had first believed.

It was upon my landing that the mini human came onto the scene.  It watched as I held the butterfly, but not speaking with the same efficient squawking and guttural sounds as the larger humans, the conversation that followed was really quite one-sided. It simply bellowed "No!" I was familliar with the "no" word of the humans.  It was how they communicated when I use the potted plant as a litter box, (sometimes one desires some variety), or when I chew the yummy snake-like things connected to their electrical gear.  (I do love those lap-top things, they are so warm to lie on, especially when they are opened).  At this point, I took it upon myself to play coy.  No what? I thought at her loudly, No, don't let it suffer?  No, don't let it go?  No, don't let it live?  She stared at me, and only said "No!" again.  Alright, I acquiesced, have it your way. I gobbled it up in two seconds flat and licked my lips.

I believe there is a slight chance that I misunderstood, for the mini human stooped down smaller than it normally is, and repeated the "No!" word it is so fond of.  This time it came at much greater decibels and in a much higher tone.  I took my leave then, with ringing ears.  I glared at the large human to open the door for me so I could get some water to wash it down with.  Nothing ruins a meal like annoyingly loud conversation in close proximity. Still, I felt bad about the little misunderstanding.  Clearly, it must have meant No, don't eat it all yourself.  Next time I feast on a bug or rodent, I will be sure to leave some for it, so it doesn't feel left out.  But until the next one...feed me.

Thursday 27 November 2014

Training humans is such tiring work.  Who am I kidding, I would happily sleep for eighteen hours a day if I could.  (You don't look this great without at least a little beauty rest).  I have recently began using reverse psychology on my taller humans, and it is working beautifully.  I have discovered that by ignoring them for most of the day, when I do deign to grace them with my presence, they fall over themselves to pet me, entertain me, and cuddle with me.  I think they genuinely feel privileged, and rightly so.  This not only opens me up to prime brushing or extra snacks they call "treats", but it means that I can sit or lay on them and they will stay still so as not to disturb me.  It was with this discovery that I began to tease them a little.

Don't get me wrong, there is very little on this rock we live on that is better than laying on a self heating bead, but you understand I have to mock them. Keeping them on their toes is part of my mission in life.  These new games I've discovered are subtle, just enough to irk them, without making them angry.  It's a real testament to their devotion to me when I cuddle up to one of the humans just out of arms reach so they have to stretch or bend slightly in uncomfortable ways just to reach my fur. Why would they bother, you ask?  Who knows, but it works, so I'll keep playing.  I think it goes back to my ignoring them, the big lugs actually start to miss me, (like they don't know I'll not only be in the exact same spot as when they left, but likely in the same position).

My newest game is my favourite.  I get as comfy as I can with one of my humans, laying partially on them, enough to be slightly weighty so they don't forget that I'm there.  It could be anything from fully basking on a chest or lap, to using them as an angular pillow.  Then, I sleep.  Or, rather, pretend to sleep.  (The challenge for me is actually staying conscious so I can enjoy the game to it's fullest). Eventually, one of three things will happen: 1. the human will get hungry, 2. the human's appendage, whether it be a hand, foot, or leg, (whatever I happen to be laying on), will fall asleep, or 3. They will need to use the facilities.

This is where the real reward comes for me.  If the human gets hungry, they will hold off, with tummies growling and much complaining until they eventually have to feed the mini humans.  This is when my hairless minions bug their parents, insisting that if they are eating, I should get "treats" too. Yum.  If however, my human laying under me has body parts that lose circulation due to my dainty weight, they will subsequently jump around, slap their sleeping body part to wake it, and stomp on the floor, looking and sounding insane, and entertaining at the same time.  But the last outcome is best.  If they decide they have to use the facilities, they will often put it off, since I look so precious when I'm "asleep". (Let's be perfectly honest here though, I look that precious all the time).  Anyway, they will literally put the need to go aside for hours, in order to not upset me.  When they finally do go, it's usually because that paired with hunger moves them to leave the comfort of me and the couch. (I am aware that the general phrase is "the couch and I", however, I am more important, and should always come first).

When the human finally rises up and leaves the room two things at this point happen: they are thinking of food since they are hungry, and they nearly take themselves out by tripping over the precariously stacked tower of cans sitting in the room they are going to visit.  Oh look! I purr as I rub against their leg, (there is no way I'm letting them forget about me now!) A convenient stack of, what is that?  Could it be food?  It is! How about this, dear.  First you finish up over there, and then...feed me.

Wednesday 26 November 2014

Well, it is clear that I am going to have to put my paws down!  As you know, the bi-pedal humans are incredibly slow.  Someone with my refined speed and agility can only call their gate...lumbering at best. (I'm being polite, you understand).  In any case, to make up for it, they have invented this sort of human-carrier on wheels that has moving seats and that goes very fast. I believe they call it a Carrier And Recliner, or CAR.

But that is not important.  What is important, is the way my humans all piled into it without even cracking open a can for me first! I mean I know it wasn't my supper time yet, and it's true that I have trained them to always have a bowl of kibble on the go in case I want a snack, but what if they got home after six o'clock!  Why, I have standards, and supper time denotes soft, meaty, odorous, jelly-like food from a can.  (I'm beginning to salivate just thinking about it!) I would be truly forlorn if I was left sitting alone, meowing at the top of my lungs beside the bowl of kibble, with an empty space beside it where my can should have been.

When my humans are around, the mini human that tries to feed me closed cans all day, finally wears the patience from the larger variety at almost six pm exactly, and that is how I get fed.  When I saw my mini humans locked into their CAR seats, I knew my supper was in jeopardy.  I jumped in quickly and looked up at them as if to say "Aren't you forgetting something?"  Of course, my humans aren't necessarily the brightest, and they misunderstood.  Instead of going back into the house to feed me properly, the large human dragged me out from under the feet of the mini humans in a most unceremonious manner.  True, it probably would have gone smoother if I hadn't grabbed ahold of the floor mats with my beautifully sharpened claws, however, I had a point to make.  I ended up being stroked, and told that I wasn't allowed to go along too before I was once again released into my natural habitat, but I wasn't done yet!  Cats don't give in easily, it's not in our nature.  Anyone who has ever heard the cat-calling the humans have dubbed a kind of music called "caterwauling" during a heat, knows of our persistence.  But again, I digress.

Not wanting to be outdone by my human, I sat prettily and immovably behind the CAR, so my human could not move it.  (I have great faith in my humans, what they lack in brains, they make up for in heart, and I knew I was safe in their hands.  They love me.  Who wouldn't?)  Unfortunately, this plan also backfired, and I was moved again, this time with a sore lack of petting, into the human's shelter.  After watching the CAR take my humans away, I strolled nonchalantly into the feeding area to discover what I had already suspected.  Kibble.  No can.  Well, no opened can.  I love my mini human, even if she hasn't realized yet that she has opposable thumbs.  I stared hungrily at the tower of would-be supper beside my kibble bowl, and started to wonder when they would be back.  Perhaps I'll take a long nap in the sunlight, and think for next time, of a new way to tell them...feed me.

Tuesday 25 November 2014

My control over the humans grows!  By strategically placing myself in a place that interferes with their activities, I have found that they stop what they're doing and they pay attention to me instead. The tone of the human's voice denotes a gentle scolding, but when delivered with cuddling and petting, I'll take it. True, my latest endeavor to thwart the folding of the body-coverings resulted in the mini-humans poking at me through the holes of what I can only assume was meant to be a kitty crib, since I fit so well, why they would want to fill it with body-coverings when it was likely meant for me I don't know, but I digress.  The pokings I endured. Conveniently, the holes in the kitty crib were small enough that the mini-humans couldn't poke at my eyes, which the smallest human seems to enjoy for some reason.  Horrid thing.  I await the day until it grows further and will be large enough to get my cat food can opened without help.  On that day, I foretell the coming of a great buffet!  Until then...feed me.

Sunday 23 November 2014

Mwa ha ha!  Behold how I camouflage into my natural surroundings!  In fact, I bet the only reason the humans found me was because I expertly climbed the only tree near that part of the yard.  Of course, the sound of the birds all up in arms probably didn't help.  Next time I will pick the other tree, free of an alarm system.  Climbing things, anything really, is one of my favourite pass-times.  I enjoy popping out at the humans when they least expect it, I find it hilarious when they clap a hand to their chests and hyperventilate out of fright.  It's a really wholesome game that I can play with the whole clan of the hairless monkeys.  No one actually gets hurt, and they're so relieved and happy after they calm down, when they realize that it was just me, that I often get a really good petting.  I'm doing them a real service, I mean stroking my luxuriant fur really helps them relieve all that nervous tension.  What would they do without me? Probably lead boring stable lives.  Until the next petting...feed me.

Monday 17 November 2014

Ah, my natural habitat, the outdoors. One thing you must learn about me to truly get to know me, and I feel that my human counterparts are slowly beginning to understand, is that IF it moves, I WILL own it.  I'm not necessarily into the whole killing aspect of the sport, I mean, look at this luxurious fur, blood would mat in it in a heartbeat, and then it's just work,work,work to look my best again. But, to pounce on something is claiming it for ones own.  I am both good at tracking and pouncing, with almost deadly aim.  Those little inferior creatures never know what hit them.  Sometimes I give them a grain of hope by raising a paw and letting them skitter a few feet, but then I remind them who's boss.  It's more fun when they run on their own anyway, I could bat around a corpse, but then again, more work.  Letting them go in the end is not defeat, (especially when one of the humans removes my prize in a container and sets it free, that is totally out of my paws), it is just my magnanimous way of letting them realize that I have allowed them to live out the rest of their lives.  You know, unless they look particularly tasty, in which case bugs in particular make a satisfying snack.  In any case, until the next bug...feed me.

Saturday 15 November 2014

I am Bones, so named because when I was a kitten, the humans decided that it looked as though they could see my bones.  Pft, they should have realized that bones aren't fuzzy, furry, or fluffy, but I can't really expect too much, they are only human after all.  (I feel sorry for any mammal that is bi-pedal; their balance is less superior, they can't fully appreciate the intricacies of having four paws, and they sport these flat nail things that could never be useful in catching mice or climbing trees).  They even try to make up for it by colouring them bright colours, which really just makes them more of a target and all in all seems very counter-productive.  How do they ever expect to catch their food if the rodents see them coming more easily.  They also sport fur only on the head (although some of the males have been able to grow patchy little face or chest sweaters, yet the females seem to prefer both themselves and their mates with most of their fur removed.  It's a good thing they have found an indoor shelter to stay in, because they would freeze to death or die of exposure with all that showing skin.  The knowledge that they unquestionably fall short must sorely create in them a never ending feeling of frustration and longing, which clouds their understanding of the awesomeness that is CAT.  The only good thing I can say at this point is that the advantage to their opposable thumbs has allowed them to have mastered the skill of opening cans...I am hungry now, so I will hide in the humans' food.  Maybe they will get the hint.  It will be like a great game, they will think I am missing.  They will spend hours looking for me, only to find me where they least expect it.  Feel free to sit and ponder how I got in there and shut the door after me, but in the mean time, I bide my time until they feed me.