you can't eat that!
9:12 PM Eastern Time
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Feline Bureau of Investigation
Probably my favorite thing to do in my free time is CONDUCTING INVESTIGATIONS. I investigate all sorts of things, like the paper in the recycling bag, the flora and fauna on the kitchen floor, and the stuff in the space under the stairs. My moms keep a lot of things in the space under the stairs. Among other items of intense interest, I have found shoeboxes, wrapping paper, and my one mom's big huge painting back there. My mom with the tasty hair did this big huge painting once, but she doesn't want it on the wall these days. So she wrapped it all up in newsprint and stuck it under the stairs. I do not understand art, but I do understand EATING NEWSPRINT.
My moms chase me out from under the stairs more often than they would prefer. (I also would prefer this to happen less often, but for entirely different reasons.) Sometimes they will PICK ME UP AND FORCIBLY REMOVE ME FROM THE PREMISES. I hear this is kind of like what happens to U.N. weapons inspectors. They go poking around for items of intense interest, and then they get kicked out of wherever they were poking around. Any items already of intense interest get a whole lot more interesting after the kibosh is put on your investigation.
My moms heard me under the stairs the other day. I was happily testing the newsprint's fitness for feline consumption when it was all CAT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING UNDER THERE? THAT IS NOT HOW YOU APPRECIATE ART! and one of my moms picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, whereupon she set me on the bed and proclaimed,
My moms chase me out from under the stairs more often than they would prefer. (I also would prefer this to happen less often, but for entirely different reasons.) Sometimes they will PICK ME UP AND FORCIBLY REMOVE ME FROM THE PREMISES. I hear this is kind of like what happens to U.N. weapons inspectors. They go poking around for items of intense interest, and then they get kicked out of wherever they were poking around. Any items already of intense interest get a whole lot more interesting after the kibosh is put on your investigation.
My moms heard me under the stairs the other day. I was happily testing the newsprint's fitness for feline consumption when it was all CAT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING UNDER THERE? THAT IS NOT HOW YOU APPRECIATE ART! and one of my moms picked me up and carried me into the bedroom, whereupon she set me on the bed and proclaimed,
J'ACCUSE!
This, I understand, is French for "smell my finger." Coincidentally, that's my second favorite activity.Labels: modus operandi
5:35 PM Eastern Time
Friday, October 06, 2006
Nuzzling the hand that shoos you
Gentle readers, you may be wondering how I remain so well-adjusted despite the incredible stress of NOT BEING ABLE TO SNACK FREELY.
We cats have fairly short attention spans. We are also very distractible. For example, sometimes I might be staring at a spider that is crawling about in a most interesting fashion, and then all of a sudden I realize MY TAIL HAS GOT SCHMUTZ UPON IT and to be perfectly honest the spider gets a lot less interesting. And maybe then, after practicing good hygiene, I go off and CHEW ON A PLASTIC BAG, having completely forgotten about the spider. And maybe then, in the middle of my snacking, one of my moms will come up behind me and it will be all BAD CAT! CATS DO NOT EAT BAGS!
(Which, of course, we most certainly do. Otherwise, WE WOULD NOT HAVE BLOGS.)
And then maybe I will keep chewing on the bag because this is the one thing that holds my interest for hours. My one mom, with the tasty hair, says this is not unlike people with ADHD, who are able to concentrate for hours only while playing video games. But my situation is different, you see, because video games are always changing (which according to my one mom is why people with ADHD like them so much), whereas plastic bags don't really change all that much. Except for how much cat slobber they accumulate before I am BUSTED.
So then maybe my mom will forcibly redirect me. By this I mean she will PICK ME UP AND PUT ME SOMEPLACE ELSE, and when I go back later to look for the bag, IT ISN'T THERE ANY LONGER. Maybe I will be really insulted for a few minutes, but I cannot hold a grudge. And so then I will be very sweet and nuzzly toward my mom.
This is also true when I have my nails clipped. I whine and groan and cry during my involuntary pedicure, and my moms go on about how CAT, YOU BREAK MY HEART BUT YOUR CLAWS ARE SO LONG THEY PIERCE MY LEG THROUGH MY JEANS, and it's all very unpleasant and insulting. Then my mom who is clipping my nails will let me go, and I will climb off her lap and stand right next to her for some petting.
My post-traumatic snuggliness confuses both my moms greatly. I heard them mention the other day something called STOCKHOLM SYNDROME. But really? I am just a sucker for attention, though I have very little of it myself.
We cats have fairly short attention spans. We are also very distractible. For example, sometimes I might be staring at a spider that is crawling about in a most interesting fashion, and then all of a sudden I realize MY TAIL HAS GOT SCHMUTZ UPON IT and to be perfectly honest the spider gets a lot less interesting. And maybe then, after practicing good hygiene, I go off and CHEW ON A PLASTIC BAG, having completely forgotten about the spider. And maybe then, in the middle of my snacking, one of my moms will come up behind me and it will be all BAD CAT! CATS DO NOT EAT BAGS!
(Which, of course, we most certainly do. Otherwise, WE WOULD NOT HAVE BLOGS.)
And then maybe I will keep chewing on the bag because this is the one thing that holds my interest for hours. My one mom, with the tasty hair, says this is not unlike people with ADHD, who are able to concentrate for hours only while playing video games. But my situation is different, you see, because video games are always changing (which according to my one mom is why people with ADHD like them so much), whereas plastic bags don't really change all that much. Except for how much cat slobber they accumulate before I am BUSTED.
So then maybe my mom will forcibly redirect me. By this I mean she will PICK ME UP AND PUT ME SOMEPLACE ELSE, and when I go back later to look for the bag, IT ISN'T THERE ANY LONGER. Maybe I will be really insulted for a few minutes, but I cannot hold a grudge. And so then I will be very sweet and nuzzly toward my mom.
This is also true when I have my nails clipped. I whine and groan and cry during my involuntary pedicure, and my moms go on about how CAT, YOU BREAK MY HEART BUT YOUR CLAWS ARE SO LONG THEY PIERCE MY LEG THROUGH MY JEANS, and it's all very unpleasant and insulting. Then my mom who is clipping my nails will let me go, and I will climb off her lap and stand right next to her for some petting.
My post-traumatic snuggliness confuses both my moms greatly. I heard them mention the other day something called STOCKHOLM SYNDROME. But really? I am just a sucker for attention, though I have very little of it myself.
Labels: modus operandi
2:06 PM Eastern Time
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
March of the cat
I like routine.
I also don't like change. I am not sure whether my love of routine is stronger than my hatred of change. My moms say I am a creature of habit. They are not ones to talk! My one mom, with the tasty hair, likes things to be JUST SO all the time, and she gets VERY DISTRESSED WHEN THINGS ARE NOT JUST SO. My other mom, with the comfy lap, does not seem to mind at all when things are not just so. Sometimes, though, she gets VERY DISTRESSED when my other mom INSISTS THAT THINGS BE JUST SO.
With all of this philosophical conflict in the house, it is amazing that I turned out as well as I did.
An example of my well-adjusted nature: Every so often I like to change up my routine a little. I can deal with this sort of change because I AM IN CHARGE. A lot of my routine occurs during the night, between when my moms go to bed and a few hours later when I curl up with them. Lately my routine has included walking across my moms, around their heads, and back again. My moms refer to this sometimes as THE CAT THRUWAY. Or sometimes they call it THE CAT IS ON HER BEAT AGAIN.
I am very methodical about my ambulation. Sometimes I will stop for a little snacking on my one mom's tasty hair, but most of the time I stick to my schedule of walking across my moms, around their heads, and back again. I even have a little cadence to keep me on track. It goes like this:
I try my best to be JUST SO, but I think my mom with the tasty hair has a different definition of JUST SO than the rest of us, including my mom with the comfy lap. But then again, neither of my moms have yet realized that my own definition of JUST SO is FAR SUPERIOR TO THEIRS.
And besides: I got rhythm.
I also don't like change. I am not sure whether my love of routine is stronger than my hatred of change. My moms say I am a creature of habit. They are not ones to talk! My one mom, with the tasty hair, likes things to be JUST SO all the time, and she gets VERY DISTRESSED WHEN THINGS ARE NOT JUST SO. My other mom, with the comfy lap, does not seem to mind at all when things are not just so. Sometimes, though, she gets VERY DISTRESSED when my other mom INSISTS THAT THINGS BE JUST SO.
With all of this philosophical conflict in the house, it is amazing that I turned out as well as I did.
An example of my well-adjusted nature: Every so often I like to change up my routine a little. I can deal with this sort of change because I AM IN CHARGE. A lot of my routine occurs during the night, between when my moms go to bed and a few hours later when I curl up with them. Lately my routine has included walking across my moms, around their heads, and back again. My moms refer to this sometimes as THE CAT THRUWAY. Or sometimes they call it THE CAT IS ON HER BEAT AGAIN.
I am very methodical about my ambulation. Sometimes I will stop for a little snacking on my one mom's tasty hair, but most of the time I stick to my schedule of walking across my moms, around their heads, and back again. I even have a little cadence to keep me on track. It goes like this:
MOMS' HEADS!
MOMS' FEETS!
I WONDER IF THERE ARE TREATS!
I try my best to be JUST SO, but I think my mom with the tasty hair has a different definition of JUST SO than the rest of us, including my mom with the comfy lap. But then again, neither of my moms have yet realized that my own definition of JUST SO is FAR SUPERIOR TO THEIRS.
And besides: I got rhythm.
Labels: modus operandi
