Wednesday, May 28, 2008
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.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
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!
Monday, May 26, 2008
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.)
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.)
Sunday, May 25, 2008
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.
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.
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