It’s New Year’s Eve. Tonight at midnight we’re ringing out the old and ringing in the new. I’m not too clear on the ringing part, but I do like the new. We’ll have a fresh year filled to the brim with potential, just in time to make a new start or two. My Humans refer to these as resolutions. Like anyone committed to self improvement, I made some. A few of these may be challenging to keep, but my new middle name for this year is Determination. Pinky D. Lee. I made two lists of resolutions. My first list is aimed at my goal for Longevity (that is, to live to be as insanely old as my Humans are).

1. I will chew my food with slow enjoyment and let the others finish their meal before I dispose of the leftovers. (This will help keep me svelte and slinky.)
2. I will take my yoga practice more seriously (which will lead me to the serene and centered life of perfection to which I aspire.)
3. Beef and Liver Feast is Out. Grilled Ocean Whitefish is In. (Everyone knows red meat is Bad and fish is Good.)
4. Sunscreen is a must at all times while sunbathing (if one wants to have perfect skin in one’s antiquity).

My second list is a purely philanthropic one. I’d like 2008 to be a kinder and gentler year, and I plan to do my part.

1. I will not chase, tackle, or bite the Princess, no matter how incredibly annoying she is.
2. I will share my blankie with him if he really, really needs it.
3. I will treat my bath attendants kindly and refrain from scratching or biting them when they lather up my tail.

This may seem like a very ambitious list, but I’ve started already! For example, tonight I much preferred my Humans’ roast chicken dinner to our Beef Feast with Gravy. Even the red potatoes with butter were quite acceptable. Mezzo-mezzo on the steamed green beans, but healthiness can take some time to adjust to. Oh, I’m just in time to see the local fireworks from the bedroom window. TTFN!

Christmas Day!

Well, in my opinion, Saint Nicholas needs reading glasses. I didn't get a thing on my list. Not that any of it would have fit under my puny tree. Not even the much-promised hand-knit sweater was there. Unless it's a sleeveless, backless, frontless sweater, which I'm beginning to suspect it is. An Emperor's-New-Clothes type of sweater. What I did get was a flashing disco kitty ball, a little orange mousey with red leather ears, a carton of Ocean Seafood Cocktail with Sauce, and a bar of 100% olive oil castile soap. Oddest of all was the copy of Knitting for Dummies, a pair of little knitting needles, some skeins of Fun Fur, and a certificate for knitting lessons! (Am I being clueless?) Well, at least duck is on the menu for dinner, and there’s always next year to hope for. Ho ho ho.

It’s Christmas Eve and someone brought me a tree! A beautiful little tree with a big red bow. It was left next to my chaise lounge. That must mean it’s my very own tree, under which my presents will be left tonight by Saint Nicholas, patron saint of cats who are good all year. That leaves the other two quite out. Let me see. What would I like? A new blankie, perhaps, one made of real sheep’s fleece instead of the faux one I have now. I would rather that it not be plaid. What else? Oh yes, I’ve always wanted to try some expensive smoked salmon on a china platter, and a little silver dish of Beluga caviar would be just the thing to celebrate the season. I would adore a lovely pink angora sweater for these chilly winter evenings, and would compliment my natural skin tone. My very own stash of catnip would be great fun. Why, the list goes on and on! I think I may need two trees.

Enlightenment awaits the true practitioner of yoga, or so I understand. I’d like to be enlightened about many things. Such as why she has no tummy fur but acts like nothing happened. Or why the only thing for dinner is exactly what I don’t feel like eating. Or why the litter box is always full. But this seems like a great deal to expect from a spiritual path, especially one starting with a Y. It does help that I’m a natural. My posture for today is The Sphinx.

It seems I spoke too soon. She’s back—coming in the way she left, shrouded. In the upper rooms, from which I am excluded, silence prevails. No more wailing, no ceaseless footsteps. Why all the secrecy? They bring her food in little china dishes—special food, no doubt—food that the rest of us don’t get to try. I listen at the door when my Humans aren’t looking, but I can’t hear a thing. Even he listens. I’ve seen him sneaking up the stairs and putting his ear to the door. But no. There’s no getting in, not even for him. Our toys are in there. And my special bath soap and towel. My ducky! This is just too much! I used to snuggle close to my Humans under the covers at night, so cozy warm. Now I sleep alone in my blankie, shivering. Come to think of it, what happened to that hand-knit sweater I was promised?

I must be living in a Victorian novel. The weeping and pacing in the upstairs rooms has continued without interruption. Not even those of us on the lower floors have gotten any peace at all. Until this morning when they took her away, poor Princess. I didn’t actually see her go, sequestered as she was in her sedan chair. Then there was silence. Eventually my Humans returned. Alone. This is very disturbing. What am I to suppose? I must be very careful in the coming days not to do anything crazy. Or bad. Or at all. I might be taken away too! The Princess was a sweet little thing. Not really my cup of tea, but too innocent to receive such treatment as this, surely. I wonder where she is now. If they would only bring her home, I would help. I would stay by her side and nurse her back to health and sanity. I know I could do it. I must persuade them. Have hope, little Princess! We may yet see you again!

I’ve decided to take up yoga. With all the goings on here of late, a girl has to do something to calm her nerves. Yoga is a good match for me. To begin with, I’m quite limber and athletic, and I will look very attractive doing the postures. Second, I already spend a good portion of my day in meditation or communing with Nature. Yoga will help me achieve at-one-ment with the Universe and enhance my specialness of being. There are many postures for me to choose from to showcase my natural abilities. Here I am doing The Cat. Ohmm…

It’s been an unsettled few days in this house, I must say. It’s gotten so a girl can barely catch a wink of sleep for all the consternation. My humans talk in anxious tones. He’s keeping a decidedly low profile, true to form. The trouble began, of course, when The Princess broke the mirror. Only she actually saw it come down, but it landed with a shockingly cheerful tinkle (of that I am witness). My humans initially made a great commotion—followed by a disquieting hush. A noisy human is a predictable human. Their silence in the face of catastrophe is alarming indeed. I fled the room.

Later, I heard her muffled voice from somewhere upstairs. Pacing and crying, pacing and crying. This has gone on now for three days and I am losing sleep. What could have happened, I wonder? Did she look into the broken mirror? What did she see? Is she now to be cursed with seven years’ bad luck (and me with seven years of abbreviated sleep)? All that crying and pacing. She sounds like she has gone quite mad! Once again, of course, she’s stolen the scene. If anyone’s going to be a drama queen around here, it should be me!

The clouds are gone and the sunbeams have returned. Sometimes a good sunbeam is the only thing that warms up my day. The other two have no idea, of course, how difficult it is when one’s winter coat consists only of a few new guard hairs and a marginally fluffier tail. He in particular hasn’t a clue, luxuriating in all that fur. He likes sunbeams too, of course, but the potted plants near the window are his favorite spot. The scuttlebutt around here is that as a street urchin he used to sleep curled up in a flower pot on the porch, and that he was so skinny he was named for a stick! To be honest, I don’t see it myself. Just look at him now. Does he look stick-like to you? No. He’s quite well fed, frankly, and just dripping with fur. With those handsome looks, opportunity must have knocked quickly indeed, and the door to my Humans’ house surely flew open like he was royalty. My life hasn’t been quite that easy. But as they say, it’s life’s challenges that build character—or, at the very least, a fascinating personality. Like mine, of course.

There I was, enjoying a moment of quiet meditation on my Human Male’s lap, when I heard water running in the bath chamber. I was immediately on the alert. My Human Female never runs water there in the middle of the day. Only on bath day, my bath day. I slipped quietly from the room. An absent cat is a dry cat. But then no one came looking for me. Odd.
I sat in my hiding place waiting, but nothing happened. Could I have been mistaken? Well I can’t imagine that. After a while, I got bored and sat on the window sill in the sun. My tan is coming along nicely, if I do say so myself. Even my Human Female came over to admire it. Then she grabbed me!

I admit it. I was not very cooperative. To heck with dignity, I was tricked! I trusted her, and look what happened. Oh, all right, so it wasn’t as bad as all that. Nothing terrible happened. I lived. But, honestly, the ducky didn’t help much at all!

I had my measurements taken today. I’m 12½ -17-19! (That’s nape-to-tail, chest, and tummy, of course). My Human Female is making me a sweater of my very own. A beautiful, hand-knit sweater to keep me cuddly warm all winter. I’m so excited. I can’t wait to wear it! It will be in lovely pastels specially chosen to perfectly complement my soft pink skin tones and my chartreuse eyes. I will be the height of fashion. I just know it! Besides, the other two don’t have sweaters on account of all that fur, which just goes to prove how truly special I am. Brrr… I swear, it’s getting colder in here by the minute. I do hope this hand knitting isn’t going to take all day.

The weather has turned very cold here. I wouldn’t ordinarily be affected, being an indoor cat and all, but my Human Male likes to keep the house like an iceberg. My Human Female is cold too. I can tell. She scurries about the house all bundled up. Even the sunbeams, of which we have a great plenitude, aren’t warm enough. Why, I can barely venture out of my blankie, where I am forced to huddle and nap for long periods at a stretch, only occasionally dashing to the kitchen to check the food dish. When I came back from my last trip, he was in my blankie! The nerve! With that long fur coat to keep him toasty. I danced around shivering until my Human Male rousted him. So what if the blankie was his first. It’s mine now. I need it. When, oh when will winter end?

Turkey Day was a bust, I must say. And I had such high hopes. Just as I was nearing the giblet plate, the door bell rang! Well, a girl in my state of undress can’t let herself be seen by just anyone, now can she? I made for the stairs (as did the other two, truth be told). We settled in comfortably to wait out the intrusion. It couldn’t be that long, could it? I was deep into a well-deserved nap when I first noticed it. That smell. That incredible smell! The smell for which Turkey Day is renowned throughout the animal kingdom. I noticed The Princess had disappeared. Leave it to her to go prancing around and sprawling for the Humans for a chance at the feast. I have my dignity, thank you very much. I can wait. But where was he? He’s as strong-willed as I am. He has dignity. Doesn’t he?

Well, I guess my assessment of my housemates needs a little adjusting. I waited as that splendid aroma wafted down the stairs. And I waited. It was sheer torture, I tell you. Would they never leave? Just as I was about to go belly up in despair, I could hear footsteps. Departing footsteps! Thank the heavens, my wait was over. And as always, good things come to those who wait.

Turkey Day!

Today is Turkey Day. That means I get turkey! I love turkey (and chicken and fish and beef—but all that's for tomorrow). My Humans are expecting guests. I can sense this—all the cleaning and vacuuming and running about. This almost never happens. They even washed me. Twice! The turkey my Humans are cooking is quite large. I don't think I could eat it all myself. But I could certainly try. Dinner looks to be quite a feast. Let's see. What can I have? There are four different cheeses including an intriguing triple creme from France. An "olive medley" which is not to my taste but fancy all the same. Potatoes and stuffing, of course, with a luscious giblet gravy. Yum! The obligatory green bean casserole, which I personally can't imagine eating. Cranberry relish, Waldorf salad, corn, pie. Well, the list just gets more and more boring. It's a good thing there's plenty of turkey. What's that on the counter? Hmm, looks like a plate of giblets with my name on it. Is anyone looking?

Today was a lazy day. I napped in a sunbeam in my chaise lounge. That took a good bit of the day. Then I logged onto the Web and went to my blog. There I was—pictures of me! (That’s here, of course.) I read all about me. It was so interesting! But I know all that, so I surfed over to Google to look for pearls of wisdom about my breed. Sphynxes are a special and rare cat breed. (Well no surprise there.) We are affectionate and love to snuggle with our Humans. (As a matter of fact, my Human Male has the warmest, most spacious lap I’ve ever had the pleasure of dozing on. What’s not to like about that?) We Sphynxes love to be the center of attention (naturally), and we like to entertain our human companions with all sorts of delightful tricks and antics. (Antics? I don’t do “antics.”) Sphynxes often have a peach-fuzz-like down that makes our skin feel so soft, like suede or chamois. (After looking at a number of my kin in the online photo galleries, I seem quite hirsute by comparison. I have whiskers. I have ear furnishings. My tail, of course, is where it becomes quite clear that I’m a natural blonde, of which I’m quite proud. Really, what good does it do to be blonde if one has no hair to flaunt?) Sphynxes love to be touched and made much of (true), and we all positively adore baths! (Wait, who writes this stuff?) Well, this is very interesting and all, and I’ve enjoyed surfing and reading and looking at pictures. But clearly, you can’t believe everything you read on the Internet.

I had a bath today. I must have charmed my bath attendants. They kept telling me what a good cat I was. Well I know that! I got to have my special unscented body wash and my extra soft wash cloth and my own fluffy towel. It was so luxurious!
Actually, I have a confession to make. Promise me you won’t tell anyone. Not anyone! I don’t like water. Oh, it’s glorious enough to consume, like all yummy things. But would you rub Trout Feast on your skin? Definitely not! Water has this unappealing dampness about it. It causes one to be wet! Truly, my skin crawls just thinking about it. I carried on nevertheless. Dignity is my middle name. Pinky D. Lee. However, a diversion might be just what I need on bath day—a rubber ducky, maybe?

For dinner last night we had Turkey and Cheddar Souffle with Garden Greens. I didn’t care for the greens myself. I’m no big fan of souffle either. He certainly liked it well enough—he ate all three bowls. Is it true that real males don’t eat souffle? I sat near my bowl hoping for another course. But no. I will grow positively skinny at this rate! I did manage to coax a piece of quiche Lorraine from my Human Female. I wonder if he eats quiche.

Today was just the best day!
I got my own email address. Then I had my portrait taken. And then I got my own blog. My very own blog! Can you believe it? Not even she has a blog. But I do. I can talk about everything I do here. Let's see. This morning I snoozed in a great sunny location, which is sure to enhance the beauty spot on my shoulder (no, that is not a freckle). For lunch I had Tender Beef and Chicken Feast. The others didn't like it so I got to eat the whole thing myself! Then I spent some time chasing her around the house. “The princess,” my Human Female calls her. But if you ask me, she's no princess. Not really. So what if she has a pedigree. That just means she has famous parents. Whereas I'm sure I must be at the very least a real princess. Just look at me. Do I look like I have a commoner's genes? No, of course not. So, now that I have my own blog with my portrait on it, I'm sure that very soon I'll be contacted by my royal relatives informing me that I'm the scion of queens! I just know it! Life on the Web is so exciting! Mmm... My Humans are bringing in the beer-can chicken. Ciao!