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!