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Cat's Logs - Week 4

Another day, another nap. And when GlennaJo was up, Mz. Veldt was sitting right next to her on the couch, snarling every time I came near.

So, I was left to my own devices. I spent more time stalking the big, venemous prey under the stove, walked on the kitchen table, and looked out all the interesting windows. I tried to take a nap myself,

but it's hard with all that snoring.

Caught up on my sleep today until GlennaJo came home and greeted me like we hadn't seen each other for weeks. You know that bit -- where they act like you're the last being they expected to see when they walked in the house. "Prince, it's you!"

Then once she gets home she expects the whole world to revolve around her. First she takes one of those naps with her eyes staring at a lump of paper and she expects me to nap on the bed next to her. Then, of course, she sits down to the computer -- and expects me to sit on the couch next to her. Then she starts writing down this diary and that reminds her she needs more pictures of yours truly (I understand the appeal, but it's hard having the spotlight on you every day). At least for today's photo shoot I was allowed to remain on the couch, although GlennaJo kept waving a cat toy in my face until I looked away from the computer --

almost long enough for her to get the picture.

You know, life is hard for us aspiring authors. Here I am, pouring out my soul trying to express the power of my intellect, the breadth of my vision, the depth of my soul. Striving via this inadequate primate language to give you humans a tiny glimpse of the majestic feline experience.

And as I struggle to express thoughts no human can fully comprehend, GlennaJo is doing this "itsy bitsy spider" thing with her hand, pretending to sneak up on me. First patting my paw, then poking me in the stomach. Oh, great, now she's going for the feather wand toy (the same thing she used during last night's photo torture). OK, I'll be a sport for awhile if you'll finish my diary entry when we're done.

Come on, GlennaJo, I've played with your stupid human toy already. Let's get on with the diary. GlennaJo, GlennaJo! Oh well, you humans probably wouldn't have understood my artistic angst anyway.

GlennaJo says Veldt, the alleged Princess, deserves equal time. I don't agree, but don't want to be poking that keyboard with my nose, so I hope you have a strong digestion.

Prince's multiple choice question:
a) I'm a feline who can tell the difference between a princess and a mutt
b) I'm unusually perceptive for a human
c) Looks like a princess to me

Veldt's multiple choice question:
Is a certain 20 lb. cat named Prince:
a) 20 lbs. of useless fat
b) Obnoxious and unnecessary
c) Unusually unperceptive for a feline

It is my pleasure to announce that this will be a prin-brat free entry. Though the thing in question is on the couch next to GlennaJo even as we speak, I know you are really interested in my dynamic and exciting life. Today, I slept on three couches, two tables, two desks, the file cabinet, all three boxes of files, and the chair pushed under the kitchen table.

[You know, you're sweet when you're asleep.] (I am not sweet.)

[Well, you're definitely someone people have strong opinions about. Most feel you are a sweet, fluffy kitty (gag!), but some think you are a dog in disguise.]

(I believe they actually said I could whip a dog twice my size.)

Actually it was two dogs who were my size, but the cowardly ankle-biters were running the other way soon enough after I stood up to them. Then this iguana came down from the sky and turned into a mountainside, so I ran up to the top, jumped off and flew to the top of this really tall tree full of squirrels. And then GlennaJo was rattling the door, so I got up and said Hi.

GlennaJo is trying to pull that "the brush is your friend" con again. She brushed my head really gently and slowly, keeping her hand between my eyes and the brush. And cooing--I've learned to be very suspicious of cooing. You know what I mean; "That's a good sweet boy; doesn't that feel good? You're such a handsome boy." (Actually, one out of three isn't bad for a human.)

Then she stopped. I was waiting in dread of the strong mat removing strokes on my sides, but she put the brush back in the other room and went on cooing. I think she's waiting until I get real trusting and then she's gonna brush me until all the mats are gone--no matter how long it takes.

[I guess I could let your mats multiply for six months or so and then get you another poodle cut.]

You see, she takes me for either a fool or a clown.

Sometimes there's nothing for it but to hide under the bed.

As soon as she finished typing my last diary entry, GlennaJo grabbed me and brushed out one hip until I thought she'd never stop.

If she thought I'd forget before the next entry, she was sadly mistaken. She brushed and brushed, stopping over and over to pull mats apart before continuing. It really hurt! And now, I can't feel the hair on my hip anymore. I roll on the carpet and don't feel my hair pulling a bit. Ha, ha, GlennaJo, despite your brushing, my hip feels even better than it did before you started.

(Prince, you aren't stupid. Try a bit of that exalted feline logic you're always bragging about. If you feel better after something happens, what does it mean?)

[That I'm really really glad it stopped and will use my teeth to prevent it from happening again!]

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