2.5 Siamese

Sinking Feeling

2009-03-01T22:33:00.000-08:00

Water from metal

A cool constant dripping

Must learn to turn on

Humom, when you leave the house it is a courtesy to leave the sink dripping. Don't forget again.

The Sky is Falling

2009-02-27T08:31:00.000-08:00

Noises come in the dark of night

Lights bright inside; I cannot see out

Through the blue eyes reflected in darkened glass.

"Just a branch" humom says

Just a piece of a tree

But when tree pieces fall, I hear the sound of their cries.

Winter has come and gone and come again, all in the space of a calendar page. Sap freezes in the veins of the trees and the sky weeps branches that break under the weight of the wind. Ella goes to explore the dark world, peering through the glass as best she can. My sister looks up from her nap in fright, checking for worry in the humom and finding only curiosity there; her sleep resumes. But I...I cannot sleep when trees drop their limbs. Not when they do it with such sounds of pain.

Rightful Places

2009-02-25T20:23:00.000-08:00

She puts me down at the foot of the bed

She tells me, "No kitties up by the head"

But I know for a fact that it's where I belong

So to tell her the truth, I make up a song.

And then I sing it to her. Loudly. Perched on the pillow, right where I should be. Still she doesn't understand. Why are humans so dense?

Absence

2009-02-23T07:51:00.000-08:00

There is no excuse

For ignoring our poems

Except that we can

Yes, we've been ignoring this blog lately. So sue us. I'm pretty sure I have a hairball I can cough up for you if need be, but that's all you're getting. What do you mean you don't want it.?

Snowshoe Haiku

2009-02-11T09:44:00.000-08:00

A half-Siamese

Always does as she pleases

Tease her, she will bite

Powere Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:9

2009-02-09T07:52:00.000-08:00

Absent Presence

The presence and absence

Combine to make whole

What was once granted

Is gifted again

My sisters each took a week to speak their own minds and mews without interference from each other. I chose to spend my week in Internet silence, not because I expected to be missed, but because I always approve of an experiment. Have you ever watched a silent, empty screen with its blinking cursor and put upon yourself no pressure to write? Not a syllable, not a letter.

Try it some time. Let the need to fill a blank page fall away. Make friends with the emptiness, the blink of the cursor. Let it wait for you, then let it wait some more. Eventually, walk away, knowing that you have accomplished exactly what you set out to do: write nothing at all.

Ella's week at the keyboard, part 2

2009-01-29T09:31:00.000-08:00

There is one bright spot

Certain days of each long week

Squishy Fishy love

Oh, for the crack of the can, by belly leaps. More squishy fishies, humom. More, I say!

Defeat

2009-01-27T21:28:00.000-08:00

Fishies forsook me

My belly will not agree

The dish holds no cure

Why must all good food come to an end, an end in which the formula is changed, or my insides change in a way that makes me unable to tolerate it? I worshipped you, Fishies From the Sky. I did everything you asked. I called you down as often as I could.

The agony of failure is mine.

Queen of the World

2009-01-23T10:00:00.000-08:00

The world is at my furry feet.

So who'll go bring me food to eat?

I have decided that I am Queen of the World. I'm not quite sure yet exactly what that means, but I'm pretty sure that you - yes, you - need to be good to me. I'm thinking 24-hour pets, or maybe just 16. I think I might want some petting-free sleep. I'll let you know. Then there's the Kitty Salon with warm, fluffy towels and fresh food every hour on the hour.

Yes, I'm Queen of the World, starting today. I hope it doesn't take the humom too long to notice and start acting accordingly.

Klutz

2009-01-21T11:51:00.000-08:00

Humans have such clunky feet

And must have blinded eyes

So very often they repeat

My tail's near-demise

Watch out where you put those things!

I hate it when you trip

Right onto me - but what stings

Are the words that slip

"Watch out, Shi" you tell me then

But you're the one who tripped, my friend.

I'm trying to teach the humom how to look out behind her when she's in the kitchen. So far, she's very hard to train.

And yes, that's right - it's all Sashimi, all week, here at the 2.5 Siamese. Take that, sister cats!

Purrld Peace

2009-01-19T10:15:00.000-08:00

Why are the Internets so full of growling?

Why are the people there always howling?

Saying someone's done something "Bad! No! Wrong!"

Why do they refuse to get along?

When all through the world there are fishies and light,

Blankets and sisters and all that is right.

Why can't there be more of napping and purrs?

Listen up, humans: the smart kids wear fur.

Ella's Way

2009-01-16T09:06:00.000-08:00

I don't care what's right

I don't care about "should"

I say what I do.

Not you.

Scratching Poestry: Haiku Time

2009-01-14T10:39:00.000-08:00

A moment of calm

Before the storm commences

My fury won't cool

~Erika P.

Ella: Out of the way. This one's mine.

Sashimi: But--

Ella: Shut it, kid. Erika, your syllables are on, and congrats on making such good friends with the letter "c," but what, pray tell, does this have to do with cats (other than the third letter of the alphabet)? If there's a calm before your storm, then it isn't fury driving it. Believe me, I know fury well. And storms. A furious cat does not wait. Waiting's for hunting, not anger.

Sushi: Not all cats are like you. She could have intended it to mean a more physical fury, not that anger you take out on Sashimi as you growl yourself into an asthma attack.

Ella: That's not an asthma attack. It's a tactic. She always backs down when I start to cough. Where did she go, anyway? Not that I care.

Sushi: To the food bowl. Where else would she go? At any rate, Erika, "commences" was an excellent choice of words. I have always loved how it can mean both a beginning and an end.

Ella: Speaking of endings, it's high time to shred.

Sushi: But I do think--

Ella: SHRED!

The Chase is On

2009-01-12T21:22:00.000-08:00

She says that I should know my place

But when she runs I like to chase

I can't help it; it's just fun

To make that fat old Ella run

What? Just because she's older and been here longer than I have, why shouldn't I chase her? Sushi chases me all the time and I'm bigger than she is! Once she even sat on me when I didn't have room to run away. That was kinda embarrassing 'cause the humom was sitting there laughing at us. Whatever. I say it's my turn for the chase.

Uh oh, here comes Sushi. Gotta run!

Power Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:9

2009-01-09T11:11:00.000-08:00

Objects of Wonder

Don't believe the rumors
Curiosity does not kill
It eats
And you must feed it

I do not know who came up with the saying "Curiosity killed the cat," but it is inaccurate, misleading, and highly offensive. Curiosity is the best part of your nature, and it should be valued—even encouraged—in your humans, too.

Remember that in order to have true power you must be a leader, a teacher, a guiding paw. If your human seems complacent in her routines, begin working to instill a sense of curiosity in her. Make her question things around her. Make her wonder if she really knows what is going on.

The simplest way to do this is to change your behavior. If you are normally a calm individual, begin taking midnight runs about the house and spooking at the slightest movement or sound. If you are normally skittish, come up and brazenly ask for attention. If those around you are used to capricious behavior and it fails to awaken their curiosity, you may require a more subtle approach.

A favorite of mine is to choose a common object and stare intently at it for long periods of time. Refuse to be moved or swayed from your object or location. You may even want to voice your concerns and lead your humans to the object at first. If you must leave for any reason, immediately return. Vary the look on your face from interest to wariness from time to time.

Your companions will begin to wonder what is so interesting about the object. They may ask you; refuse to answer. Insist that they contemplate for themselves. You are not trying to teach them about one object. It is the inherent interestingness of all objects that is the key.

Repeat the lesson from time to time to serve as a reminder, but be wary of doing it too often. Humans have a limited attention span and the misfortune of being easily bored. Keep your lessons varied and with rest periods in between and you will see your power and influence grow.

My Favorite Chore

2009-01-07T10:38:00.000-08:00

I like to hunt the dark spaces
The places in between
But humom piles more darkness on
Don't you think that's mean?

Humom was doing what she calls "making the bed" the other day. I love it when she strips that platform bare and then layers on the sheets and blankets one by one. I hop up as soon as the process begins and she laughs and draws up each new layer gently, which is great. But I crouch still and purr to let her know when it's enough. A sheet and two blankets is perfect, thank you. But this time of year she just keeps piling them on: a comforter, another, an afghan...

It can wait, humom, it can wait. Let me explore the dark spaces first. Let me sleep where it's warm and enclosed, but not too heavy to breathe. You can finish your chores later. That's what you always say when the dishes need to be done.

Timeless

2009-01-05T10:05:00.000-08:00

New Year's noisemakers
As irritating as dogs
09 barks hello

So what if it's another year by the human calendar? People go around acting like new is good, but what's wrong with the old? Nothing. You go around trading one year for another and all you get is old. As far as I'm concerned it stops now. Toss out the calendar and put away the clocks. I'll let you know when it's dinner time. Expect to hear from me soon.

We're Done with 2008

2008-12-28T18:02:00.000-08:00

Dear Humom,

We have decided that your winter silliness and poor control over the weather aren't worth our time. We're sleeping until the first week of 2009. Don't forget to keep the food dishes full for mid-nap snacking.

~ The 2.5 Siamese

(posts will resume January 5th, 2009)

Holidays at our house

2008-12-25T10:51:00.000-08:00

We think the humom is a little bit confused, but whatever you do or don't celebrate, have a nappy holiday. Yes, nappy. Sleep is the best way to celebrate a day off, so don't hold back. Nap until you just can't nap anymore.

~ The 2.5 Siamese

Gotta Go!

2008-12-22T17:36:00.000-08:00

My sister writes of golden silence

But today she cried;

With all the wailing in the house

You'd think that someone died.

But all she wanted was clean litter;

Her paws were so demeaned.

But Sushi, why'd you go on wailing

After the box was cleaned?

So much for all that silent stoicism, but at least it got humom to clean the boxes. I just don't know why Sushi kept up the wailing after the deed was done. I was trying to take a nap.

Holiday Feasting, The Way it Should Be

2008-12-20T12:00:00.000-08:00

Dreidles made from clay

Are fun to chase down hallways

But your pancakes stink

I have nothing against holidays that often involve stray ribbons being dangled and flipped for my entertainment. I've seen Sashimi eyeing the tissue paper with barely contained hunger. But for the love of Bast, why have a traditional food made out of potatoes? Can't you humans have a holiday that involves freshly grilled tuna fillets seasoned with butter and a hint of garlic salt?

Really. Do I have to think of everything?

Holiday jeer

2008-12-17T22:37:00.000-08:00

Humom lit the lights today,

But not like those nearby;

Those other folks have red and green

And white to light the sky.

Humom's lights do have green too,

But red and white they don't.

Hers are purple, orange and end

in pumpkins and in ghosts.

I guess our mom's a wacky breed.

Instead of Christmas cheer

Or Chanukah, or Kwanzaa lights

She fills her days and all her nights

With holiday long past by rights:

A Jack-o-Lantern's leer.

Okay, so the rhyme and scansion's a little forced, but you get the point. I don't care. It's all true.

I do not like the cold

2008-12-16T15:13:00.000-08:00

What's with all the cold

My nose is frozen solid,

My whiskers like ice

Turn up the heat, humom. Higher. Higher still. The world should not be this cold.

And next time you turn off the heater because when you use the vacuum it blows a fuse, turn it back on immediately. Do I have to remind you of everything?

Or you could just not vacuum. Really, we wouldn't mind at all.

Mighty Roar

2008-12-15T22:39:00.000-08:00

Our peaceful home was filled this night

With angry, painful sounds;

I could not find the right escape;

Fear held me in its bounds.

Dear humom, have you gone quite mad?

Have Sushi, El, and I been bad?

I cannot think what we have done to call this frightful monster out.

So I turn my back to you,

And will let no kindness through;

No matter what apologies you give, sincerity's in doubt.

For though it's quiet now, and still, the vacuum does still lurk about.

I hate vacuums.

In Abhorrance of Baby Talk

2008-12-12T20:51:00.000-08:00

I said no to cute

So don't use that tone of voice

Baby talk, meet fangs

Why is it that some humans insist on talking to us like we're some kind of babble-worthy morons? Cut the baby talk, people, or I'll have you wailing like a kitten whose tail just got stepped on.

Power Plays for Beginners: Chapter 1:8

2008-12-11T09:51:00.000-08:00

Wealth Beyond Words

Silence is more than golden
It holds worlds without price
Hold yourself within it
And watch them unfurl at your feet.

Do not allow your voice to be bought and sold for food, for attention, not even for clean facilities or the opening of doors. Use your voice as you see fit, not every time you feel the pangs of need. Sometimes, the silent stare is more effective. It causes those around you to pause and consider, to attempt to discern your needs and desires rather than instinctively responding to a yowl.

This technique will train those around you to step, for a moment, from their world into yours. Invite them in with calm regard, and hold their eyes until your meaning becomes clear to them. You are teaching them to become aware of the needs of others, a skill from which all will benefit.

Of course, you may use your voice as you see fit to train your companions, but try the technique of silence as well. You may find the results surprising.

Strange Eats

2008-12-10T10:59:00.000-08:00

I'll take my greens in crunchy form

As fishie flavored Greenies treats

But this tough kid just likes them straight

And has a zest for what he eats!

I know a lot of you are like my sisters and don't like the LOLs, but that doesn't mean you should miss out on gems like this.

Go, Broccoli Kitteh, Go! Just don't try to share that broccoli with me. Yuck.

Scratching Poestry: Broken Post

2008-12-08T20:34:00.001-08:00

It has come to our attention that the poetry submission form has not been working correctly of late. We'd be sorry for the inconvenience, but we're cats, so we're not really sorry for anything. We do, however, like to have things in proper working order. The culprit seems to be the spam-prevention function on the form, so we've temporarily removed that in order to get the problem fixed. Please feel free to send submissions again, but note that there is now a limit of three submissions per day.

If you spam us, Ella will eat your soul.

And possibly your toes, too.

(If you can't find the form, read the sidebar. We're not going to do all the work for you--that's what humans are for.)

Purrs,
-The 2.5 Siamese

Water Attack!!!

2008-12-08T07:47:00.000-08:00

Dear humom, know I'm grateful for
The fishies and the pets,
But water on the bathroom floor?
That's gross as it gets!

The humom's plumbing has a leak, and water has been puddling on the floor. It's clear and smells clean so I thought I would drink it, but I stepped in to take a closer sniff to be sure. After all, water has never been on the floor before, not this much anyway. I set my paw down, and EEEEEWWWWWWW! WET!

Gross, humom. It's just gross. Water's for drinking (and sometimes spilling). It is NOT for stepping in. Needless to say, I refused to drink the offending water afterward. Humom said something about it being "icky" to drink water from there anyway. Darn right, it's icky. The stuff practically leapt out and attacked me!

She says it's all better now. We'll see. I, for one, will be very careful where I step in the future.

Sad Cat

2008-12-05T16:25:00.000-08:00

Woe is we, woe is we

Oh lonely we will ever be.
Humom's run off and away
We hardly see her day to day.

The humom has been gone a LOT lately. She calls it "work," as if that makes it better. I call it the stinks. She's been taking the laptop with her, like it's hers or something. And now I've forgotten what I waited half the week to write. Ella's pouting in the corner, saying she didn't want to post anything anyway (yet you notice she jumped on first thing earlier this week!) and Sushi is "practicing patience," whatever that means.

I say, forget pouting, forget patience. The word of the day is "pounce." Keyboard attack!

a;oseijhro nughbna[ ns8yth 7yergh lodiugpa7iergl a;jfnzvdiyubgh;ahlvksyifgbdfhjgalei lbavdyrhg;aeh bguvnbduidfjf ga u yhusg

aj;ngz2 ns;oghj ;bijo' bhaji'o i'abjhoo

Ha! I got it! Take that, spellcheck!

In abhorrance of belly rubs

2008-12-02T11:23:00.000-08:00

I do not do cute

It isn't in my nature

Love me as I am

Or don't love me. It doesn't matter.

I don't do cute.

Scratching Poestry: Rhyme of the Times

2008-12-01T10:58:00.000-08:00

Kitty in the kitchen sink
Went there 'cause he got a stink
From playing where he shouldn't play
And now the water's ruined his day.

Submitted by: Anon. E. Mouse

Sashimi: Mine! But I can't shred it--I *like* this one.

Ella: You would.

Sashimi: It's exactly what I want in a poem. Good rhythm and rhyme and it tells a story.

Ella: A lousy story if you ask me. Forced into water--I'd give the humom a thrashing if she tried that on me.

Sushi: Well, obviously Sashimi doesn't have a problem with baths. The humom just gave her one the other day.

Ella: Well, she definitely "got a stink."

Sashimi: That wasn't a bath! Humom said it was the Kitty Spa!

Ella: Believe what you want. You always do.

Sushi: Ladies, let's get back to the poem. There's a story here, yes, but it's too simplistic for my tastes. I want details--where shouldn't the cat have played, and how did he get "a stink" from playing there? Was he really playing at all or was he there on some other mission? The rhyme and meter work, though they don't show much creativity. It's good for a beginner, but I'd like to see some development in the future.

Sashimi: You know how to take the fun out of everything.

Ella: Hand it here. I'll shred. If nothing else, the cheesy pseudonym has got to go.

Thanksgiving Addendum

2008-11-28T16:43:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah...I'm also thankful for blogs.

Meow!

Thanksgiving..Or Not, Ella Style

2008-11-27T15:45:00.000-08:00

Your holiday sucks.

Turkey is a stupid bird.

Thanks for nothing, folks.

I'm allergic to turkey, so thanks a lot for having a holiday where you bake something that smells really good, then telling me I can't eat it because it'll make me puke my guts out.

No, really. Thanks a ton.

I won't even get into the whole oppression and decimation of indigenous cultures. The pilgrims made them puke too.

Thanksgiving: From Sushi

2008-11-26T14:45:00.000-08:00

For oxygen and hydrogen

Stars and galaxies

Warmth and light

----and harmony

Moments caught in time

----occasional rhyme

For thought and mind

For kindred

For the cycle of death and life

As a mouse to the grain, I am thankful.

I sing to Bast my praise.

Thanksgiving as it is celebrated may pertain only to a certain people in a certain place in time, but the practice of gratefulness spans space and years.

Thanksgiving: Sashimi Style

2008-11-25T15:19:00.000-08:00

I'm thankful for couches

And fishies and pets,

For avoidance of grouches

And trips to the vet's.

I'm grateful for heaters

That warm like the sun

And plenty of tweeters

(Just watching them's fun).

I'm happy for napping

Curled up with my sis

And even for capping

El's day with a hiss.

So join me in giving

Purrs of gratitude

For the life I am living

And a cat's attitude.

Sushi said I had to be introspective for Thanksgiving this week, so there you have it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I see a bright yellow mouse toy that needs a good stalking.

Poetry Submission: Autoshredder and the Plagiarism Police

2008-11-24T14:00:00.000-08:00

Lil mousies I luv
Mousies I luvs to eat
Bite they lil heads off
Nibble on they tiny feet!

~Roberta

Sashimi says: MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR MREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRR!

That's the sound of the plagiarism siren, followed by the misquoting siren. You have been dumped into the autoshredder.

This poem is actually a famous rhyme by B. Kliban, and goes like this:
Love to eat them mousies...
Mousies what I love to eat!
Bite they little heads off,
Nibble on they tiny feet.

Sushi says: While I believe Kliban did have a cat named Roberta, one must give credit where credit is due. This poem belongs to B. "Hap" Kliban, and no other.

Ella says: I eat copycats for breakfast. With salt, if they misquote.

Humom Has a Theory

2008-11-20T20:30:00.000-08:00

Sleep has gone away

The humom has a theory

So what if it's true?

Sleep has gone away from the humom, which is her problem, not mine, and she's had that problem for as long as I've known her. But her tossing and turning gets irritating after our initial settling in for the evening, so I usually have to hop down off the bed and patrol the food dishes while she exhausts herself. It's annoying.

The humom has a theory she came up with a long time ago. I've heard her talking with a friend about it, about things humans aren't supposed to know: she believes that every house has a certain allotment of sleep, based upon the number of creatures living there. If one creature sleeps too much, the others are left with less available sleep.

So what if it's true? I'm not saying she's right. But even if she is, does that justify waking me up every time she wants to get up off the couch for a cup of tea during what should be an evening of snoozing in front of the computer? And really, if the sleep all comes with the house, isn't it mine to do with as I please?

Power Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:7

2008-11-18T23:17:00.000-08:00

The Care and Feeding of a Human Being

The whisper of a whisker
Means more than a pile of gold
Do not be fooled by power plays
Or take yourself too seriously
For time escapes us all
And there are many ways to say goodbye

To listen to my sisters speak, you would think that all we did with our lives was eat and sleep. While some may think it behooves us to have the humans think that, we must give credit where credit is due. Many of our two-legged friends understand that we have far more important things to do and to think about than they do, and that is why we should be treated with appropriate deference.

Instead of talking about power in terms of control, I want to take a moment to talk a bit about the care and feeding of your human. Not the feeding of the belly (there is no accounting for human tastes), but the feeding of the soul. Human beings are delicate creatures, easily injured by a harsh look or offhand grumble. This means that they must be treated with more care than you would a kitten, but also that they are easier to keep in line. The simple act of turning your back deliberately on a human should instantly bring solicitous remarks, but sometimes harsher measures must be taken, including a loud bawling out and the occasional swat, depending on the offense.

I want to caution you not to take these measures too far, however. Turning from the lighthearded to the serious, I give you the following story. We have the ghost of one of the current humom's former feline companions living with us, and she has shared with me her tale of caution:

The Ghost Cat's Story

I was your humom's companion in her younger years, and she was mother, sister, and world to me and I to her. We grew up together, from kitten to cat, from girl to teen to adult. And in those intervening years between teen and adult, she left me. Abandoned.

Not to the wilds or the pound--she was not that kind of human--but she left me at her mother's house while she went off to what she called college and I called complete lack of communication.

The first time she came home after several months away, I didn't let her out of my sight. She had abandoned me, but she had returned. No questions asked, all forgiven. Until she left again after less than two weeks.

The next time she returned home, I still didn't let her out of my sight, but I never got within arm's reach. I followed her from room to room, but each time she looked at me, I casually turned away as if there was nothing there at all.

By the end of the hour she was clamoring for my attention. Eventually, I gave in and gave it to her. Then she went away again.

On her final visit home, I was completely unforgiving. I ignored her in favor of anyone else in the room, and only came to rest on her bed after I thought she had fallen asleep. I didn't come to her when she prepared to leave again. I didn't know it was the last time I would see her, that before her next visit, the life would quietly ease out of me as I slept one day in the sun. My body was old, but I was still the younger spirit she had left; the one who never said goodbye.

I haunt her now sometimes, and she haunts me back. I forgive her in her dreams, and she cries because she doesn't know if it's me or just her own mind.

***
Let that be a lesson to you all, human and cat alike, to take your power seriously and use it wisely. Take the time to say both hello and goodbye.

Do Not Disturb

2008-11-17T15:31:00.000-08:00

What is it you want?
I'm going back to sleep now.
Let me be alone.

Humom,

You ignore me while you're working. You refuse me while you're cooking. You disturb me while you're cleaning.

It's my turn to put my tail toward you. Give it a rest. Leave me alone. Think of it this way: if you wake me during my nap, what do you think I'll do to you...at 3:30 tomorrow morning? Use your imagination. I know I will.

Training: A Work in Progress

2008-11-16T23:04:00.000-08:00

Not just cute, we are astute

Observers of all things

So don't you wonder why I'm under

The big machine that sings?

No, I don't mean the stereo. I mean that big box that sings a rhythmic drone as the wet clothes inside spin 'round and 'round. Yes, down here, look at your feet next to that machine, humom. You see two bowls? Do you notice something else about them. Oh, say, maybe that they're empty?

Sheesh. She's the one who can tell time. Do I have to remind her to do everything?

Power Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:6

2008-11-14T16:17:00.000-08:00

The Seat of Power

Power is energy
Use yours
Let theirs seep into you
Like the sun in summer
In winter the warmth is harder to find
But cold is never everywhere

Winter weather has come, and it is a good time for thoughts about power and energy. While cozying up with your sisters might retain the mundane sort of heat, remember that to seek power, you must go beyond what you already know, what comforts you've been given since kittenhood.

The humom has a certain power. She controls the food (despite Ella's insistence that the Fishies will come one day without her). She controls the general environment. She has energy and warmth. This is as it should be, but do not forget that in takes only small gestures to assert and maintain control.

Any time the humom sets her laptop aside and gets up from her usual spot on the couch, without rushing I ease myself into the spot where she'd been. This serves two purposes: one, I gain the extra warmth her body has left; two, I have placed myself in the position of power. This serves as a gentle warning to the humom that when the seat of power is vacated, even for a moment, it will be filled. A lesson many would be wise to learn.

Beggars and Choosers

2008-11-12T17:24:00.000-08:00

The way to the heart

Begins with food on the tongue.

Everyone knows this.

I refuse to start a story with "Once upon a time," so let's just say that this happened a while ago, but it bears repeating.

The humom and I used to live in a different place, long before the twerps came, long before I found the way to the Fishies From the Sky, in a house with a big backyard, an annoying neighbor dog that I used to beat up, and its own set of neighborhood cats.

One fool kept skulking around the house--my house--at all hours of the day and night, any time I wasn't outside (yes, I do remember outside, though it's been a long while). This tomcat thought he'd go looking for handouts from my stash. Fortunately, I'd trained my humom well:

Stranger: Feed me! Feed me! I'm sta-a-a-a-arving out here. C'mon, you got any tuna? You look like the kind of folks who'd have tuna.

Me: Scram, nitwit, she won't feed you anything.

...and so forth. But he wouldn't give up, and at four in the morning, the humom had enough.

Humom: Fine, whatever.

(See, humom, don't go complaining about my attitude.)

Humom: Great, I'm almost out of your food, Ella, and I don't have time to go to the store tomorrow. Let's see what else I have.

Not long after, I heard a package opening and the rattle of kibble. When I came to inspect, I almost laughed. I had forgotten about the cheap box of junk kibble she'd gotten as emergency food one night when the stores were closed. If she wanted to give the tom that filth, good riddance.

And good riddance it was. He took one bite and never came begging again.

Out of the Bag

2008-11-11T15:05:00.000-08:00

We're no good at keeping secrets, but I guess it's all okay
Humom knows about our blog, but we'll keep posting anyway.

So I guess the humom knew about our blog all along, what with that edit to Ella's last post. I wonder what tipped her off...maybe it was the extra fur in the keyboard.

Anyway, Ella's complaining that I'm hogging the keyboard, but I've got another secret to spill. Okay, it's not a secret at all, really, but it's about the humom too. Last week, she had a story published in this great magazine. I haven't read it much, but it's edited by a Cat, so it has to be good, right?

Anyway, it's Fantasy Magazine and you should read it. I won't tell you which story is humom's. You'll have to figure that part out for yourself. Besides, Sushi wouldn't let me read it. She said I'd find it too scary. Yeah, right. It can't be any scarier than the giant spider I saw by the food dish yesterday, and I just ignored that (even when the humom used our food scoop to pick it up and toss it outside...I hope she washed it afterward).

Ode to the Best Place on Earth

2008-11-10T07:36:00.000-08:00

Your cushions are expansive, and I nestle deeply in

To spend my days in sleepy haze on microfiber skin

Your back and belly broad enough to hold my sisters too

I purr to Bast for bringing us a couch the likes of you.

Purr.

Birdbrain

2008-11-06T15:40:00.000-08:00

I can't speak any plainer

My tongue can't form your words

We need to hire a trainer

Humom's brain is full of birds

Humans are so way hard to train. On that, at least, Ella and I agree. Ella's made it clear that she's in charge of the house, and Sushi has bossed me around since we were kittens. So I guess it's my job to train the humom, but it's hard. I try! I mean, I tell her "now!" and she says, "It's not time for food yet." I say "I'm lonely" and she says "What? I'm working Sashimi." Sushi says I need to practice patience, but I'm tired of practicing anything.

Hey, do you think they sell patience online? I'm gonna go find out.

I'm also tired of Google spellcheck getting my name wrong. Sigh. It's a real word. A tasty word, too! Like I said, brains full of birds, those humans.

Disgruntled

2008-11-05T16:36:00.000-08:00

The world is not right.
There's something wrong with something.
Humom, I blame you.

There is no more I need to say.

ETA: The humom here...please note that Ella's disgruntlement has nothing to do with the results of yesterday's political elections. The human component of this household is quite pleased with much of what occurred (a certain CA proposition excepted). Ella, however, was not feeling well and was a bit off her Fishies. I assured her that Governor Gregoire would ensure fresh Fishies From the Sky for all.

Scratch! More Poetry

2008-11-04T17:23:00.000-08:00

A ghostly chorus sings
And spooks float by on puffs of air
All is wild and wet and cold
The old wells up, a child of thrall
Back arched tall, mouth keened wide
Tide of the E'en Hallowed by all, marched the attack!

~Submitted by anonymous

Sashimi: Sushi, this one looks like yours.

Sushi: Yes. Clearly, the author intended a Halloween theme, though he or she submitted it a little late.

Ella: Damn humans, can't read the calendar.

Sushi: Ella, hush. It's not your turn.

Ella: Whatever. I'm going back to the heater.

Sushi: I like the last four lines, the way the rhyme cascades from front to back, leaving it free verse while the internal connections are strong, yet subtle.

Sashimi: So you're not going to shred it?

Sushi: Patience, sister mine. I think the author wrote the first two lines while trying to figure out what the poem should be, then either forgot to cut them at the end, or simply settled, thinking they were good enough to pass. They're not. Continuity is important, even in free verse. I'll let the final four lines stand, but the first two end here and now.

Sashimi: SHRED!!!!

Power Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:5

2008-11-03T15:09:00.000-08:00

Let them Laugh

Your dignity is not at stake

Though they may point and laugh

Do not let them see you question

Your own intentions and motions

Do not give one small nod

To any aesthetic beyond your own.

The humom had a friend over the other day, and after a polite advance-and-retreat dance with the newcomer, whom I've met before, I relented to their social needs and joined the conversation. In this situation, many a cat will say that maintaining one's dignity is of the utmost importance, but this is not always true. There is a power in laughter, a releasing of one's guard; if there is to be laughter in the room, be its source and you will be in control.

The humom and her friend were stroking my sides and back, and I found the most convenient position to allow both of them access to be a somewhat contorted arch. Both were drawn to laughter and comments of "elevator butt" at the sight. Who was in control? I think you understand.

My former humom was fond of saying that derisive words or mocking laughter were "like a fly on an elephant's butt." That is, no bother at all. Though the saying may be somewhat crude, treat the laughter for what it is: an insignificant fly. The importance lies in your power to attract; you are in control.

Happy All Hallows Eve

2008-10-31T10:57:00.000-07:00

Happy Yowloween

from the 2.5 Siamese!

Spooky Sashimi, Ectoplasmic Ella, and Sinister Sushi

Warming the Heart

2008-10-30T17:35:00.000-07:00

Don't think that it's love,

My creeping closer to you

It's your warmth I need

Fall has fallen with a cold, hard thud in our world, but for some strange and annoying unreasonable reason, the humom refused to turn up the heat. I think what finally got her moving was the day Sushi, Sashimi and I all tried to crawl into her lap as she worked at the computer. Normally, I wouldn't dream of getting so close to the interlopers (this is MY house, ladies), but I'm nearly certain icicles were beginning to form, if not on my whiskers, at least in my heart.

Today, finally, she brought up my wintertime companion from the basement, and I've spent the afternoon celebrating, toasty warm by its side.

The humom calls it a portable space heater. I call it beautiful.

Another Poetry Submission!

2008-10-29T13:56:00.000-07:00

A haiku submitted by Stacy L.

sitting quietly
the tabby suspects nothing
then the vacuum--zoom!

Ella: Haiku, so I guess that's me. All right, let's take a look...well, the syllables are on, so no scratches there, but come on--"vacuum--zoom!" It's a haiku, not a haikartoon. Yeah, yeah, so your tabby's afraid of the vacuum, the big baby. Sure, the things are irritating, but at least have the dignity to saunter away instead of scram.

Sashimi: But vacuums are scary! I like this one Ella.

Ella: Tough break, kid. I'm shredding.

Sushi: I'm just not sure I like the shift in perspective here. The first two lines are about the cat. "Then the vacuum--zoom!" I don't know, it just seems like something's missing. The tabby suspects nothing, then the vacuum...appears? Growls? Yes, I think I'd rather it stayed with the vaccum instead of switching back to the cat for the last syllable.

Ella: Well, Stacy, two lines out of three isn't bad for a human.

[Rumbling cacophany of rips and growls]

Sashimi: Yummy paper strips! Attack!

Yummy!

2008-10-28T19:23:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I love them, I just know that I do

Envelopes and sticky notes and all paper with glue

I love it when the humom pays the bills--all that tasty, tempting, gluey paper spread out before me. Every kind of paper has its own special flavor, and envelopes are one of the best. But nothing can compare with the ecstasy of a sticky note under your tongue. If you haven't tried it, I highly recommend it.

The purple ones are best.

Curse the Humom

2008-10-27T15:17:00.000-07:00

Fishies From the Sky
Manna to the feline kind
NOW. I want them NOW.

Something must be done about the humom. She ruined yet another perfectly good plan to place additional Fishies in my bowl.

Every so often, a person comes by to do some sort of work on the house. I had seen this one before. He comes by fairly regularly, though his doings are certainly no concern of mine. I hear him rattling around, but once he has put his ladder away, I sometimes come to check him out. Nice enough for a human, I suppose. He lets me sniff his hand, and sometimes he'll reach to pet or scratch.

I tried to begin his training on his last visit, but the humom, just as she always does, got in the way.

First, I let him pet me a moment, though I must admit that I didn't try too hard to pretend to be enjoying it. Maybe that was where I went wrong. I allowed him a stroke or two, then took a few steps off in the appropriate direction. He seemed to take a step, to follow, then hesitated. The humom, cruel as she is, explained:

"She doesn't want you to pet her. She's trying to lead you to the food dish."

Humom, don't you know these things are best left unspoken? Have you no subtlety, no art?

At her explanation, he laughed and turned his attention back to human business. Curses.

My only consolation is that the human who comes to fill the dishes when the humom goes away can still be suckered, though not nearly as much as he used to be. I used to get real chicken out of that one.

Power Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:4

2008-10-24T15:35:00.000-07:00

Breaking the Law of Inertia

Cats, by nature, are physicists. We explore and challenge the so-called "laws" of this science on a daily basis, shifting our mass at will, levitating despite the pull of gravity, and often exploring alternate dimensions imperceptible to human senses.

Newton's First Law, the Law of Inertia, states that "Objects at rest stay at rest and objects in motion stay in motion, unless acted upon by an outside force." This is what you need to know about the physics of motion: the laws do not apply to you.

Practice being fully at ease, mellow and contemplative, one with the universe. Then, without warning or buildup, practice being in the next room. This is more difficult than it looks. Do not tense your muscles in preparation to move. Do not tense your mind. Simply be fully at rest. Don't plan. Eventually, the mood will strike you, the thought that your body should be elsewhere. Don't stop to contemplate this thought, don't resist it. Simply fly to your feet and land a good few yards away in your intended direction.

Once you have mastered this method of overcoming inertia, many doors will open to you. And if they do not, the impact of your gathered force will make them fly open for your passage.

Humans can accomplish things too

2008-10-22T19:23:00.000-07:00

Properly guided, a human can achieve

What in their narrow world amounts to light

Or the darkness that with razor eyes

We use to separate shadow from shadow

And mold reality from dreams

My true sister and my sister-of-the-home do not get along well, but they are together in their refusal to acknowledge human nonfiction writing as an achievement. While it may not merit a cat's close scrutiny, I offer a link to my humom's recent publication so the humans among our readers might enjoy it and perhaps attempt to shape the darkness of their dreams.

You are learning, humom. You are learning.

Contemplating Action

2008-10-22T16:52:00.000-07:00

Contemplation's not so great

When all you do is contemplate.

Now that the humom is back with the computer, I've had a chance to catch up on my lolcats (after Sushi and Ella chased me away--five times!) and it got me to thinking...

Those cats are leaping and bounding and facing off against dogs and hiding in ceilings and all kinds of other things. Mostly, I just sleep on the couch and run around checking the food bowls in case the Fishies from the Sky have decided to grace us with their presence. Ella is convinced that one day they will, without the Hand of Humom. I'm not so sure, but once I almost chewed through the packaging on a bag of Greenies, so that's kind of the same, don't you think?

Anyway, I just think that maybe there's more to life than concentrating, contemplating, and daydreaming. Chasing toys is okay too, but where's the big adventure? Where's the excitement? And why won't the humom pet me at 3:00 in the morning? It's not like she's doing anything...

But now I'm back to contemplating again. This action stuff is hard. Maybe I'd better take a nap; I'm sure I'll come up with something better to do soon.

Alone

2008-10-20T21:40:00.000-07:00

Warnings not given

Lead to empty hollow homes

Alone, we waited

There was no warning. The suitcase, beaten and battered and likely still feeling my fangs, remained in the closet. I know. I checked. I keep an eye on such things.

But Friday evening, the humom said the words she says when she leaves for longer than I like to allow. Not "Later, El," nor even "Later, kittygators," (yes, I groan when she says that too). No, her words were "you be good." I know what that means. Loneliness. A cold bed. Me in charge of "the girls."

She wasn't gone terribly long--not with the suitcase safely ensconced in the closet--but she did the most evil of things: she took the laptop with her. We couldn't write all weekend, and Sashimi was insufferable, chanting in rhymed couplets at the top of her lungs for half the night.

The humom came home Sunday, and I admit that at first I was relieved. It isn't like her to go with so little warning. Still, lessons must me learned, and I had my revenge.

I crawled under the covers and puked in her bed.

Our First Poetry Submission!

2008-10-17T12:44:00.001-07:00

My ears are pointed, my tail is long
but I'm a cat, so that's not wrong.
My paws are clean, my belly round,
I think the thoughts that are profound,
My mighty voice roars my eclat,
Better than lion, behold: the cat!

Submitted by: anonymous

Ella: You've got to be kidding me.

Sashimi: Mine! It rhymes, so I get it first. Back off, Ella!

Ella: I wouldn't touch it if you paid me.

Sashimi: Okay, MINE. So...the rhymes are mostly clean until that last couplet. Despite what Disney wants you to believe, "eclat" does not actually rhyme with "cat." My main problem here, though, is that the poem doesn't say anything. Yeah, okay, so you have pointy ears and a long tail--don't we all? We know your thoughts are profound and that you're better than a lion, because you've already stated in no uncertain terms that you're a cat. Well, duh. We know what cats are. Where's the angst? The wonder? The pathos? The glory? Sorry, anonymous, but you're about to be shredded into tasty, bite-sized strips. Sushi?

Sushi: I have to agree with your assessment, plus the scansion is forced in several places. This may be intentional, but with such a simple poem, its saving grace lies in the skill of the mechanics, or would if that skill wasn't lacking. Ella?

Sashimi: Ella?

Sushi: I think she went to check the food bowls.

Sashimi: SHRED!!!

The Lonliness of Sashimi

2008-10-15T19:16:00.000-07:00

Human beings make no sense

They lack in grace and eloquence

They sleep when I'm wanting to play

And half the time they're gone away

'Nuff said.

We have no lips!

2008-10-14T19:48:00.000-07:00

A book review by Sashimi

For songs and adventures I have only praise

But I can't say the words that your silly cat says

Okay, so I read this book called Tailchaser's Song by Tad Williams--stole it off the humom's shelf. It's not like she'd notice; she's gone all day. It was all right, although those boy cats sure seemed awfully stuck on their, well, you know. Like that's the only think that separates boys from girls. Hello, we're better hunters, among other things.

Anyway, like I said, the adventures were all right, but this guy--obviously a human--who wrote the book, he made up a cat language where half the words had the letter "f" in them. Okay, maybe not half. But the word he used for girl cats ("fella," are you seeing the irony here?) definitely did. Now, I can type Fs all day long (or until Sushi and Ella kick me off the laptop), but I HAVE NO LIPS. PRONOUNCING THE LETTER "F" REQUIRES LIPS. Cats cannot say "fella." Our mouths don't work that way. We can't even say "food." That is why the first word we learn in human language is the one that brings the food to us without the letter "f":

Now.

Power Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:3

2008-10-13T22:36:00.000-07:00

Looking At vs. Looking Through

Blue eyes, lightly crossed
In the most delicate fashion
Are useful tools

There is never harm done by appearing wiser than you are. The only harm comes when you prove the perception wrong by speaking like a fool. The answer is simple: don't speak.

Humans are a strange breed, speaking sense mixed with nonsense in a single breath, but a steady stare can cut through the words and lead your human into first confusion, then concentration, then finally, an attention to and respect for you.

The best placement for such a stare is from less than 18 inches from your human's face. Snaking your head out slowly to come nearly nose-to-nose with the human as she quiets is a very useful, but more advanced technique. The key to the stare is to have your eyes just slightly crossed. This way, if your human makes strange faces at you, you can ignore them with dignity. It also gives the impression that you are looking through them, not at them, and that what you see inside their minds is being considered gravely. A warning: do not cross your eyes too far, or you will appear ridiculous (more on this as a technique in a forthcoming chapter).

For the humans attempting to use this for their own benefit, I wish you the best of luck. It can work in your favor as well. I do suggest leaving the nose-to-nose practice to the experts, however, for this seems to cause undesired reactions in human power plays, often resulting in the one of the noses in question coming in contact with a heavy fist.

The Suitcase Must Die

2008-10-12T13:49:00.000-07:00

The humom travels
Leaving us behind, alone
Revenge is taken

The humom isn't stupid, I'll give her that. She knows that I know exactly what the suitcase means. She doesn't bring it out until right before a trip. She did it again last month--left for four days without so much as a fresh-roasted salmon as a goodbye present (however, I noticed she brought salmon back with her...I'm waiting, humom. I'm waiting).

She is not so good about putting the suitcase away after her travels. So I have decided that the suitcase must die. Already the carrying straps are beginning to fray at the edges from the wrath of my teeth. If those pre-humom [expletives deleted] hadn't ripped out my front claws, that thing would be in furry little bits for Sashimi to choke on right now. As it is, I think it feels the bruising of my paw.

It will go down.

I have already won.

Power Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:2

2008-10-11T14:35:00.000-07:00

Seeking the Spaces

She says "no room"
But spaces lie
And I lie between the spaces
Curled inside
The cosmic lap of patience

One of the primary duties of a cat, particularly that delicate breed from which my sister and I descend--you too, Ella, just less directly--is to ensure that the local human population is at all times aware of who is in control, whose purposes they serve.

One method of gently but firmly establishing your power is to prove you are able to defy what humans call the "laws of physics." The simplest of these methods is what I like to call "pooling." In effect, one must liquefy one's body and pour oneself into an available space that is seemingly smaller than one's own body mass. I have heard reports of those cats who choose to do this in shoe boxes, cases, and household storage areas, but I find the best place to make my presence known is directly into my human's lap.

I have a relatively small human, as adult humans go. When she hunches over her laptop, elbows pulled into her hips and hands on the keypad, the available lap space looks impossibly small. She tells me, "Sorry Sushi, no room for you."

There is always room for a well-placed cat.

Practice your pooling in safe places, such as cardboard boxes and abandoned baskets, before attempting to pool on a human lap. Once you have established yourself, be certain to regain your full weight, concentrated on one small spot. Refuse to move voluntarily if the human appears uncomfortable. Patience is a quality to encourage in their kind. It is up to you to teach them.

LAST, Episode One [Lack of Attention Span Theatre]

2008-10-10T22:31:00.000-07:00

Concentration might be nice
But I just like to play with mice.

Some people say that I have a short attention span, but the bathtub wants me to play NOW!

Ohmigod, the computer cord is a SNAKE!

Time for a nap.

Why I Choose to Worship the Fishies From the Sky

2008-10-08T22:25:00.000-07:00

I awake to growls
Not throat, but stomach rumbles
Bowl awaits, untouched

It was the worst of times for the feline kind, without the Dickensian doublespeak. For the first time in my life I feared the contents of my bowl. They didn't smell right. They didn't taste right. At first, the humom was pleased that I was eating less. As if a great belly was cause for shame. I asked, I demanded, I finally begged—yes, begged—for something different to eat. I'm not proud of the begging, but they were desperate times.

The humom worried. She rarely fed at the font of news, but when mention of a taint in many food supplies reached her, the search engines began to whir. My brand of cereal wasn't on the list, but still she worried. Still my belly shrank.

Yes, humans are that slow. I'm not.

I didn't get sick, didn't let the growls from within drive me to that food. I told her, again and again. I will not eat that food. I need to eat food NOW.

She found me a new kind of food to eat. I danced in celebration. The dance did not last long. Either the richness of after so long nearly empty was too much, or the taint had touched the new blue bag. Or perhaps the new bits fought a battle with my stomach and lost—it is a mighty fighter.

Three days, more meals lost. Another bag of something else. Something that tasted so bad I would've dumped the whole bowl in the litter box if I could have. No, thank you. I'd rather starve. I nearly did.

And then--oh, then!--then came the Fishies! The great and wonderful Fishies From the Sky.

I first received them as "treats," meaning only a few precious Fishies rained down upon me, away from the regular bowl. I knew what I had to do.

I sat patiently, calling for the Fishies in the spot where they first appeared. Sometimes, in answer to my howls, the humom would allow a few more Fishies to rain down.

Not good enough.

Then, the First Bringer of the Fishies came.

She was kinder than the humom, and I could see that she and I understood one another. I sat in my spot and called the Fishies down. The Bringer helped them come. I walked over to my bowl and called the Fishies down. They did not come.

I looked at the Bringer and she understood.

Fishies. Go in. The bowl.

She understood. I know she did.

The humom understood too, but she's as stubborn as I am. Something about changing a diet too fast and "not like the last time" or something like that. I wasn't really listening. I couldn't. The Fishies were singing too loudly.

Eventually, we came to an understanding: the Fishies now go in the bowl.

Every night I give a growl of gratitude as the sound of Fishies From the Sky against ceramic calls to me again. Food is freedom. The Fishies have saved me. Their crunch has healed my body and their flavor heals my soul. I have found a cause that is greater than myself, a rare thing for a cat, indeed.

Long may the Fishies rain down from the sky.

Mutiny! Well, the beginnings of it anyway.

2008-10-06T00:01:00.000-07:00

What is today but one more day
To play and nap and nap and play
And sing to ears that need me-ewing...
Now what the *%@!? was I doing?

Heehee, I let Sushi think she was talking me into this. I told her there was no way I was going to blog or anything because hey, I don't want the world knowing every little bit of what I do (which is true, but I don't have to write down EVERYTHING, right?). Then Ella starts in with her whole rant about bad spelling on the Internet, and I'm like, "Hey, I like icanhascheezburger," but Ella says if I blog I have to spell things the right way, which I KNOW how to do (Ella thinks I'm stupid, but then, she thinks everybody's stupid except maybe our humom when she's giving us the nightly Fishies, but even then...) so anyway, I let them think they were making me do it but I'm WAY more computer-savvy than either of those two. Who do you think did all the photoshopping on our pictures? Not Ella, that's for sure. She just turns on the laptop and starts growling. Or maybe she just does that when I look over her shoulder.

So, I know what you're thinking: they're both going to know I was faking not wanting to blog after they read this, but hey, I don't care. Sushi with her big plans and Ella with her grumping, but I'm the one curls up at the humom's side while she types. I'm the one who sees how to do things. Ella's the one who got us the account, but I made it pretty. Well, prettier, anyway. Typing's hard when your paws tend to hit too many keys and you don't have thumbs. Dewclaws don't count. Still, I have big plans for this thing, and the others can't stop me.

Catch you all later. Gotta go back to playing sweet but slightly stupid. It works so much better than Sushi's yowling. That's why I'm the one who gets first crack at the Fishies every night, not because Sushi lets me, no matter what she tells you.

Power Plays for Beginners, Chapter 1:1

2008-10-05T09:48:00.000-07:00

Finding Your Lungs

Possession of the tangible things
Is unimportant in the larger view
A whisper can call down the Fishies
But an empty bowl can only wait and hope

All homes have lungs. Just because they do not breathe, themselves, does not mean that your home has no voice. You are the voice of your home, and your first duty as a cat is to find that spot in your home where a full-bodied yowl will reach into even the darkest corner and make spiders tremble, freeze a mouse in its tracks, and bring the humans running to your aid.

Pace out this space and know its exact parameters, as you never know when objects may be placed in the sweetest spot. Test your theory when your humans are away, as surprise has the greatest effect when you want to make the house speak. Channel your bat-self to echolocate if you do not have a companion to tell you when the sound reaches its greatest distance.

Now you have found your house's lungs.
Now you must choose when to give voice.

Many choose the 4:00a.m. yowl as a way of asserting control over the human occupants of a home. I have found a better way.

Through careful yet seemingly casual observation, I ascertain when my human is occupied by showing affection to my siblings. As she often says, "I only have two hands—I can't pet all three of you at once."

While the human is thus engaged in petting Sashimi and Ella on our favorite haunt, the oversized couch, I slink to the base of the stairs, my home's great lungs. I then release the wail of the woebegone, the cry of the sorely neglected, the world-renowned Siamese yowl.

This serves two purposes: not only do I assert control over the human in the presence of the others, but I manage to take their petting hands for myself once the human comes to investigate the matter, thereby establishing myself as leader of the household.

Three hands aren't necessary when the two in existence are mine.

Call to Claws

2008-10-04T09:14:00.001-07:00

Sometimes there are things
Greater than a single cat.
Not the Internet.

It is time to fight back. Computers crossed the line long ago, stealing the attention--and then the laps--of humankind. We cats answered back, reclaiming the Internet with pictures and words to lower the human defenses with laughter and lull them into complacency with hours of surfing, Googling, captioning and in general inducing a widescreen daze.

You cannot ignore us. You cannot escape us. You cannot deny us.

And some of us can spell.