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Cat's Logs - Week 7

So, GlennaJo was looking through all her pictures of me and says I'm always lying down, not even sitting up like other cats. She says I need to be more active in my daily life. It's this kind of naiveté that makes living with GlennaJo endlessly amusing.

She thinks that unless there's litter or hair somewhere I haven't been there. I constantly reinforce these delusions by leaving lots of hair in the places I sleep when GlennaJo's home. But believe you me, the dining table and kitchen counters are much, much more interesting when she's at work. And the view from the top of the freezer just can't be beat. I hear she's going back to her day job tomorrow, and having survived a full week of photo torture I hope it's true,

but I'll believe it when I see it.

As you may remember, GlennaJo managed to snap a few pictures of me during my brief exploration of the giant box. One of them is reproduced below to make this entry look up-to-the-second, but don't be fooled. Why, you may ask, is this column discussing the giant box if it was actually opened and explored on the 13th?

The reason is something called "defective merchandise," which is a human invention that is totally incomprehensible to us felines. Originally the box was called a "vacuum cleaner," but after the brush roller didn't spin, it was rechristened "defective merchandise," returned to the store and replaced with a new, identical appearing, "vacuum cleaner."

If anyone understands the purpose of "defective merchandise," please email me and 'splain it. GlennaJo said (though not in these exact words) that defective merchandise is something that doesn't work, but is still made and sold by a company. I can't understand the point of making something that doesn't work, not to mention the benefit of selling it and then giving the customer a new vacuum cleaner. Maybe it's a concept only a human can understand?

So, GlennaJo comes home today and promptly disappears behind the PC. Saturday and Sunday she was talking about having to go back to work and going through "withdrawal symptoms" from leaving me at home, but she seems to have gotten over it pretty fast.

I, on the other hand, have been doing just fine on my own, thank you. Nobody's poked my belly all day. Nobody's brushed a mat out of me quickly so it doesn't hurt too much. I haven't had to endure any hugs and kisses today.

Wonder when GlennaJo's next vacation will be.

GlennaJo just picked me up and kissed me. Yuck!! I can't understand how humans can engage in such an unsanitary practice.

Many of my close friends have been victims of the dreaded human kiss fever. Due to unnecessary germ passing, they have begun to sniffle and been forced to sleep twice as much as usual in order to recuperate. As any feline can tell you, proper hygiene consists of self-cleaning, a practice humans have never been able to master. They run all that water over themselves when saliva would be much more efficient and avoid all that unpleasant wetness. Then they add lots of flower and chemical scents to their skin.

Within minutes, they're covered with junk and have practically lost their identity!

I'm hiding under the couch in the 'puter room as GlennaJo types this. Apparently she went to some kind of play where a very stubborn person who was a teacher taught another very stubborn person who couldn't talk how to communicate. So far so good, but the technique she used involved iron discipline (making the student do what she wanted ALL THE TIME). So GlennaJo has decided I will sit on the couch next to her for the entire evening. Now normally, I sleep on the couch next to GlennaJo most of the evening (unless we have a Princess infestation, but that's another entry). However, I have a policy that if I jump on it, I stay on it; if someone else puts me on it, it's the last place I want to be.

GlennaJo has come to realize that I'm smart enough to talk; but she assumes I don't because I can't. Why would I want to learn a crude primate language when I can communicate every shade of emotion and disdain known to mammal using the thousand ancient stations of the eyelid? The stations pre-date human history and are therefore considered by them to be pre-historic (read primitive).

In my opinion, a REAL communication breakthrough would be GlennaJo realizing there are several stations of the eyelid. She uses the same sloppy gesture to communicate everything from "I wish you'd jump up" to "stop jumping on the Princess."

So GlennaJo came home and wanted to play. You know how they look at you with those big sad eyes. How was I supposed to resist?

But she didn't make it easy. She grabbed the wand with the feathers attached and started dragging it on the floor. Leave it to a human to rub the toy in dirt to entice someone who catches with his mouth. I couldn't resist that pathetic expectant look, though, so I followed her around for awhile batting at the toy with my paws and hiding under the table when she left it still for me to grasp.

GlennaJo was confused by my hiding, but at least she got her exercise.

GlennaJo brought home catnip cookies and she won't share with me!

She says they're not catnip, they're mint, and I can't have any 'cause of the choc'late. How bad can choc'late be? Doesn't seem to be slowing her down any.

How can she say they're not catnip when they smell like it and make my head sing for joy?

Chats
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Squirt
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