Thanksgiving food crisis

You will not believe what happened to me a few days ago. The people I live with suddenly packed their bags and left, without so much as a fond farewell. They were gone forever, or that's what it seemed like. I thought, surely, somebody will come by and feed me, for they had forgotten to fill up my food bowl in their haste to depart. Pauvre moi.

Oh meow, zee petite chat needs her food! Plus, it was Thanksgiving. Alors! I know it was Thanksgiving because I could smell the wafting aroma of turkey flesh cooking. It's not exactly what I prefer for Thanksgiving, but a cat does what a cat must do. If you must know, I prefer le beuf tartar for dinner, or a petit poisonne if possible. But I digress.

When they finally dragged themselves home I was considering eating newspapers. It had been three days since I heard the pleasant sound of the can opener, the rustle of a food bag, the tinkle of the chat treats hitting the floor. I was famished and so was my rather slim-ish companion. She's getting so skinny I don't even like to cuddle with her any longer. We dug in, and snubbed them royally for several whole minutes.

But now all is well again. The crisis is definitely over and once again life is good. I think I'll go sit in the window now and rest. Au revoir, ta-ta and all that.

Mini

Mini's Mona Lisa smile

Have you ever looked carefully at a cat's face? Cats, in general, are quite serious. We never smile, not even enigmatically, like her highness, La Mona Lisa. Why is that? Non, it is not simply genetics, rather we are serious because cat business is tres, tres importante.

On mousing

Urban cats don't have real jobs, unfortunately. Our main responsibilities in life are to purr, sleep and be persnickety. I find that job description rather limiting at times. As a cat who was literally raised on Kierkegaard and Proust, purring seems like a rather mundane raison d'etre. Sometimes I need to do something meaningful, like chasing mice, but we don't have any real mice around here. I only have toy mice stuffed with cat nip. Yummy! I just cannot help myself, I do enjoy tossing my furry little toy mice around, especially the ones with the rattles inside them. They are especially fun in the middle of the night when everybody is sleeping (except me). And the catnip, so habit forming. Sometimes I think I need rehab. The Tom and Jerry Rehab center is booked, as usual, with my catnip-addicted pals. I'm tired now. I think I'll purr for a little while and then take a nap in the window sill.

Remember: Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards. That's Kierkegaard, you know.

Cat scans...

...are highly over rated. Cats don't need to see the insides of things, the outsides are awful enough. As a sensible cat, I can scan everything I need to from my perch on the window sill.

As I was saying (or speaking, if you prefer)...

Ah-hem. Since you last heard from me, I've been attending a French accent reduction class, but so far, no luck. I steeel have zee slightest, how shall we say, French, huh-huh, accent. I believe I contracted it while I was still in the PD (philosophy department). La Professora loved la francaise so much that it was hard to resist mimicking her a leetle bit, and then it became, how you say, (h)abit-forming. So now La Chat Mimi must take zee steps drastique to become more Americaine. It is dreadfully importante. If I do not master zee English post haste, I might be mistaken for zee dreaded alien chat and whisked away to who knows where. Alors! Merde!

Drapery: the ultimate conquest for mountain climbing cats

Have you ever given any thought as to why cats like to climb the drapes? The answers are many and complex. The question is why, and the answer is because they are there. First, it's easier to climb the drapes than it is to climb the walls. (Wallpaper makes climbing walls easier than paint. Trust me on this one, and please note the claw marks on the dining room wallpaper. The next attempt is in the works.) Second: drapes pose a challenge. My favorite drapes are the ones with the thick material with the nubs on them. Something to really sink my claws into. Sheers, on the other hand pose a different set of problems, it's the ever present "slip thru" dilemma that scares most seasoned climber cats. Only kittens can successfully reach the drapery summit when climbing sheers.

Lastly, the most difficult climbing experience for cats is, of course, the mini-blind challenge. Think about it for a second...consider the inherent danger embodied in a mini-blind climb. My fur quivers in anticipation, but fear resides in my heart of hearts. All attempts so far have met with failure. Remember, cats climb without ropes, parachutes, water bottles, or oxygen tanks. We climb au naturale, but we must climb. The view from the top of the drapery is the ultimate experience when it comes to indoor climbing. (Outdoor climbing is a whole other phenom.)

Hello? Are you listening? It's me, Mini.

Meow! Meow! Can you hear me now? MEEEEOOOOWWWW!

It's me, Mini, and I'm speaking to you.

For years, all I could do was meow, and then, somehow, the spirit of speech took over, and voila, now I can talk, and boy do I have a lot to say. (You will note that occasionally I have a slight French accent, what whatever.) You will be also surprised to hear such interesting stories from me, a cat, who doesn't get out too much. I'm keen-eyed and I watch a lot of TV, so that's how I learn things these days.

Before I landed here, where I live with another cat and two older adults, I was a stray in the philosophy department of the local university. They weren't too nice to me, a mere cat - no, not a meerkat (you idiot) - I'm a small, black and white "tuxedo" cat: graceful, patient, somewhat understanding, and lonesome. The PD (philosophy department) wasn't a good place for a cat with my sensibilities, so I wandered over to sociology, not great, but better, but I decided to move on one night when nobody was looking. I finally landed in IT, where things began to pick up, cat-wise. Then I got picked up, literally, placed in a wire cage of all things, and tossed into the backseat of a VW with the word "meek squad" on the side.

I wasn't there long, the geek I was with had an appointment, to fix a computer of course. He bribed my present owners, telling them he wouldn't fix their computer unless they gave me a good home. He also threatened them with bodily harm if I didn't continue to remain in good health in their care.

Well, let me tell you, it worked. My new companions, dimwits that they are, certainly do love me. They absolutely smother me with affection, including the dimmest bulb of all, their "other" cat. I'll tell you about her later, but for now, let me assure you that you are in for a rare treat. No, not a cat treat, a rare treat.