The Naked Cat

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

2008-08-27T16:22:00.004-04:00

It’s been months since I posted to my blog, I know. Absolutely nothing all summer. And how did I spend those precious sunny hours of summer, you may ask? Was I rolling in the catnip beds of an English country estate? Was I sampling fondue in the Swiss Alps? Was I chowing down chowder at the tip of Cape Cod? No, no, and finally, no. I was here, manicuring my claws while those about me led harried and, no doubt, much more exciting lives. A cat such as myself should really have a social secretary. One gets so bored spending one’s day napping and snacking, playing with an occasional insect maybe, or hissing at one’s housemates. And then the boredom begins anew, with the napping and the snacking. Only this, while I could be doing momentous things! Why, I could be hunting wild game in the mountains of Turkey. I could be deep-sea fishing off the coast of Sardinia. I could be bird watching in the cloud forests of the Canary Islands. But no. Here I am, just wishing and dreaming. Which, frankly, takes quite a bit of energy! Did someone mention napping?

It's April Fool's Day!

2008-04-01T18:32:00.002-04:00

As you know, I’ve been gleaning interesting factoids about human holidays. Humans are very concerned with the calendar, particularly about beginning it. For instance, did you know that April Fool’s Day, which is today, was part of yet another New Year’s celebration which began on the spring equinox? This is most confusing indeed. We’re only beginning April and already we’ve had three New Years. One begins to suspect that the New Year’s celebration is less about starting a new year and more about a little festive imbibing.

Now the origin of April Fool’s Day is rather fun. In 1564, the French nobility decided to move the New Year to January to get a jump on the Gregorian calendar, and then not tell anyone they didn’t like, like the bourgeoisie. Then when April 1st rolled around, the people celebrating the old New Year’s Day could be made fun of and called “April fish,” presumably because they were so behind the times that they might as well have been in the previous astrological sign of Pisces. Traditionally, the French celebrate April 1st by sneaking dead fish onto their friends’ backs. This is so sweet! My Humans, of course, are not French. I did not get a fish. Perhaps it’s just as well. I’ve had Ocean Whitefish all week, and I’m hoping for something different—like lamb! After all, we are in Aries now.

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

2008-03-17T17:52:00.003-04:00

Top o’ the morning to you! No, I’m not really Irish, but I do like to get into the spirit of the holiday—the wearing of the green, the kissing of the Blarney stone, the chasing of leprechauns. We have so much to thank the Irish for. In addition to shamrocks and William Butler Yeats and pots of gold, there’s Riverdance and Enya. There’s also Guinness and Laphroaig, both of which I’m sure my humans would like. But in my opinion, the ultimate contribution of the Irish to world culture is corned beef. It’s juicy and succulent, and contrary to its name has nothing to do with corn whatsoever. Today it was the luck of the Irish for me. In celebration of the holiday, my Humans made New England boiled dinner. I passed on the carrots and potatoes and cabbage, of course, but the corned beef was divine! I could have eaten much, much more, but when one is watching one’s waistline like I am, one must resist. But I do look forward to St. Paddy’s Day next year. Erin go bragh, everyone!

It’s Daylight Saving Time!

2008-03-09T17:45:00.002-04:00

Last night I lost an hour of sleep. Clocks all over the country were turned forward an hour in accordance with the old adage “Spring forward, Fall back” created a century ago by an Englishman who was also an early riser and an avid golfer. He was appalled that his fellow Brits slept well past dawn instead of gallivanting around before breakfast, like he, on their thoroughbreds. He also longed for just another hour before dusk in which to finish his round of golf. If only the clocks were set one hour ahead, he thought. Well, I am not an early riser (or a riser at all, if it suits me), and so it comes as no surprise to me that English horsemen and avid golfers would come to be so completely in charge of the clock. Who else would have nothing better to do than wheedle and whine until everyone else was forced out of bed at some ungodly hour? As you can see, this lack of sleep has made me cranky, which makes me think this would be a great time for a nap.

Happy Leap Day!

2008-02-29T14:16:00.003-05:00

Did you know that only 6 hours of today are actually today? It’s true! The other 18 hours are left over from the last 3 years and are pasted on to this year to make a whole day. That’s because years are really 365 days and 6 hours long, but a 6-hour day is just not workable. Why, the loss of sleep alone would be a source of catastrophic crankiness. And when would one shop? No, a 6-hour day is right out. This was wisely understood back in 45 BC by Julius Caesar who, having been off making love eyes at Cleopatra in Egypt, returned to Rome to find that the Senators had moved the Spring Equinox to winter. In order to remedy this extreme silliness, he had to add 2 whole months to the end of that year. Of course, while he was fiddling around with the calendar, which in those days had only 355 days, he decided he’d make some other changes. For instance, on the advice of Cleopatra’s astrologers, he added a couple of days to each of the 12 months to follow the solar calendar and make all the holidays fall in the same season every year. Then, every 4th year an extra day was tacked on to the last month of the year, which in those days was February. This was all well and good, but Caesar didn’t stop there. In my estimation, he should have been less concerned with changing the calendar and more with casting a wary eye toward Egypt where Marc Anthony and Cleopatra were playing fast and loose with each other. Instead, he changed the name of the 5th month, Quintilis, to Julius (now known as July) after himself. The Senators were so peeved about this final rather self-serving calendar change that shortly thereafter came the whole Ides of March and “Et tu, Brute” thing. Poor Julius. He was succeeded by his son Augustus, who in a fit of family resemblance named the 6th month, Sextilis, after himself. I wonder which 6 of today’s hours are actually today. For the other 18, I plan to nap.

2008-02-27T13:59:00.004-05:00

Busy, busy, busy. Everyone here is busy—too busy to help me with my blog or take my picture, or even give me a bath, which, as you can imagine, is totally boring for me. So today I went shopping. On the Internet. With no money. Would that be Windows shopping? I wanted to look at all the new styles, get a leg up on fashion trends. I could search for something fashionable, but not too provocative (although my diet is working like a charm). Maybe something asymmetrical. Pink. Sparkly, even. PetSmart, being “big box,” would carry the standards, but I wanted something cutting edge, slick, boutique-y. So I Googled “cat apparel.” Most of the returns were for cats on clothing, not in it, but I did find one that touted “luxury and designer cat apparel at the Gilded Paw.” Very promising indeed.

Here I must complain. Without question, cats are much more chic and sophisticated than dogs right out of the gate, so why do they get all the cool attire? Witness the Gilded Paw’s Cat Vests and Coats. If I put these on, I’d find myself saying “Howdy, pardner” or “It’s elementary, my dear Watson.” Words that are not in a cat’s vocabulary! But go to the dog dress section and you get some stylish outfits like this kicky pink camo frock or this sweet little black dress. Here’s a glittery Spandex evening gown that would show off my newly defined curves to perfection, and I just adore this sizzling tangerine organza number. Then there’s this to-die-for Emma Rose creation in black velvet with marabou trim and real Swarovski crystals! All for dogs! On the other hand (and I do hate to admit this), a chihuahua and I might have a few anatomic similarities. I just might be able to slip into a Medium. And I’ll definitely have to accessorize.

Happy Groundhog Day!

2008-02-02T20:03:00.000-05:00

Today groundhogs all over the country came out of their burrows to look for their shadows. This delightful custom was started by a German groundhog poet many centuries ago who wrote:

Wenn's an Lichtmess stürmt und schneit,
ist der Frühling nicht mehr weit;
ist es aber klar und hell,
kommt der Lenz wohl nicht so schnell.

Or if your German, like mine, is a little rusty:

If Groundhog Day brings wind and snow,
Then spring will very soon show.
But if Groundhog Day is clear and bright,
Then spring won’t come so right.

Not a very talented poet, to be sure, but obviously showing much initiative to have created such a widely observed holiday.

Today, Chicago’s groundhog, Chuck Wood, didn’t see his shadow, so they’re in for an early spring. Neither did Jimmy the Groundhog in Sun Prairie, Wisconsin, Staten Island Chuck in New York, Wiarton Willie in Ontario, or General Beauregard Lee in Georgia, lucky groundhogs all. But Metompkin Max in Virginia, Pee Wee in Montpelier, Vermont, and Sir Walter Wally of Raleigh, North Carolina all saw their shadows, meaning six more weeks of winter. Our very own Queen Charlotte of the Queen City also saw her shadow. Well, no big surprise for Vermont where they’ll probably have six more months of winter. But poor Virginia! Poor us! Nevertheless, I think it was very selfless of these working groundhogs to rouse from their naps, go out into the cold to face anxious crowds, and make (perhaps unpopular) weather predictions. I mean, why would they personally care if it’s winter or not? They have mounds and mounds of fur, by all accounts, so what’s a few more weeks one way or the other? Those of us with no fur, on the other hand, must suffer the cold for at least six more weeks. I do hope my hand-knit sweater shows up soon.

2008-01-26T18:26:00.000-05:00

I have been on my diet now for ten days, and I must say that I’m beginning to look quite buff. I have, of course, been exercising, jogging up and down the stairs with The Princess—not my first choice of work-out partners, but he doesn’t seem to have a health-conscious bone in his body.
My new leaner self is not, however, due to the sublime deliciousness of the menu. No. Who knew healthy food had no taste? I do like the idea of eating a good diet with, for instance, a real food substance like fish or chicken or beef as the first ingredient instead of some mysterious meat by-product. Ethnic ingredients such as ground corn meal or soy flour are chic and tasty, but sadly they are quite full of carbs, and so are verboten. My Humans, naturally wanting to provide me with only the very best, brought home some All Natural food in tiny, gourmet-style gold tins. I was literally dancing with anticipation as the first adorable can was opened and served to me in a white French custard cup. This very special, chosen-just-for-me food was the most amazingly unappetizing meal I have ever tasted. Where did the flavor go? The label listed tuna and white fish and egg. Chicken? In there! But then came brown rice and carrots and sweet potato like an army of portly carbs marching across the label. At the end were the cranberries and blueberries. Are these dessert? There were vitamins and minerals. There were even amino acid complexes. I checked every single ingredient. Where were the artificial and natural flavors? Not in there. Could this be the real secret of successful weight loss? I know my Humans mean well, but I do hope that next time they will check the labels first to make sure that flavors have been included. Surely flavors don’t have that many carbs.

2008-01-17T15:57:00.000-05:00

Now that the New Year is not quite so new, I’ve set aside a little time to evaluate how my Resolutions are working out.

Beef and Liver Feast is back In! On my new diet I can eat whatever I want as long as it contains lots of protein and moisture! Animal protein, that is. Tofu is not acceptable no matter how politically correct.
When my new Yoga DVD arrives, I can take my practice to the next level.
My last bath was tear-free for everyone, especially with my lovely new “Baby Magic” body wash.
I did say that I wouldn’t chase The Princess, but we were only playing.

I think my Resolutions are coming along splendidly. But it seems that no one else in the household has made any Resolutions whatsoever. Where is the pursuit of personal growth and fulfillment? For the good of the household, I must take it upon myself to suggest some of the more obvious Resolutions needed:

I will be considerate of my housemates and cover up my litter box deposits.
I will not hog all the warm spots on the bed, especially if I have mountains of fur.
I will not gobble up all the table treats when the others, especially the naked ones, are not looking.
I will finish and bestow hand-knit sweaters on those I have promised them to.

I could think of hundreds more Resolutions that would make our household a more harmonious place to live, but these will do for a start. Perhaps if I post them near the food dishes others might see them and get the hint. Besides, now would be a good time to see what’s on the New Menu.

2008-01-12T12:28:00.000-05:00

I went for my annual physical exam today. I got to ride in my sedan chair, which is much larger and more luxurious than her sedan chair. My Humans lined it with a fluffy cushion and sprayed the inside with a special relaxing aromatherapy scent. Everyone at the doctor’s office knows me, and they were all very happy to see me again. The doctor’s office is stylishly decorated, but those fashionable stainless steel exam tables are quite chilly to sit on. I got a shot and had my blood drawn for routine tests. Overall, I am in perfect health! Except that my doctor says I have gained weight and am too plump. I don’t see that myself, but he is the doctor. He put me on a special diet—the Catkins diet! This means I will need to consume more chicken and beef and fish, eating only the most superior of proteins available. I will be compelled to dine on more canned food and have fewer kibbles, which are loaded with carbs. At the very least, I will feel it my duty to eat bacon at every meal. On a diet like this, I will be my slender self again in no time! I guess going to the doctor can have its advantages.

2008-01-09T15:23:00.000-05:00

It turns out that knitting is less meditative than I’d been led to believe. One has to hold the needles just so and move the yarn a certain way. How meditative is that? Having long, elegant nails does not help unless one is merely trying to show them off. Then it hardly matters what one is really doing. But when one is trying to experience Zen, all this casting on and knitting and purling can be a big distraction. I myself, like any newcomer to Eastern practice, got quite caught up in the motion of the yarn—sliding back and forth, rolling off the ball so enticingly. I wanted to run and leap and twirl around with it, snatch it with my teeth and give it a great death shake, disembowel it even. Why, I was quite beside myself! My Human Female, seeing my utter inability to concentrate in the face of these distractions, finally gave up, declaring that I’m all toes and she’d do it herself. (Well, finally!)

Now that I’ve been there and done that knitting thing, I have a few pointers:

Never let anyone call you a Dummy.
Always pick the most expensive yarn your Humans can afford.
Only pick colors that complement your complexion.
Do not let your tail fur get caught in the cast on.
Knitting is a learning experience.

What I’ve learned: Knitting itself might be pretty yawn-worthy, but who knew that the yarn could be so much fun?

2008-01-06T22:47:00.000-05:00

I decided to learn to knit today, as I’ve heard that knitting is very akin to Zen, Zen being a close relative of Yoga and in the same part of the alphabet. I did glance briefly at the Knitting for Dummies book that I got for Christmas, but decided it wasn’t for me. For one thing, I am not a Dummy. Hence my lack of interest. But that’s not all. Its cover is so garishly yellow that any sense of balance and harmony inherent in the act of knitting would be quite overwhelmed by it. Besides, my Human Female also gave me a knitting lesson certificate, so who needs to go to the trouble of reading anything? Then I looked at my gift yarn. Well! I admit that I think the colors are quite nice—a pastel variegation of green, lavender, gold, and a lovely rose which would be quite fetching as a sweater against my palest-of-pink skin. But the actual yarn is furry! Is this a joke? I suppose I can use it to learn with. After all, I do need some cheap yarn for practice before I go on to my next project in alpaca or cashmere, or maybe even real pink angora! This is so exciting! I need to start that lesson right away.

Happy New Year!

2008-01-01T19:09:00.000-05:00

I spent today helping in the kitchen. Sour dough loaves were rising on the counter. Black-eyed peas and rice with a cayenne pepper for hoppin’ John simmered on the stove, and a big pot of collards and hocks bubbled on the next burner. I got to taste-test the bacon for the hoppin’ John—crisp and salty. I wanted more, but no one offered. My Human Male made skillet cornbread to go with the pot likker. All of this simmering and baking and pouring on of hot sauce is a centuries-old Southern New Year’s ritual for bringing good luck and a large bank roll in the coming year, which my Human Male says we certainly could use. I agreed, and would gladly have assisted, but the rice and beans and collards were not to my liking. I wonder how much luck and cash some New Year’s hocks and bacon will bestow, y’all.

2007-12-31T19:04:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-12-25T14:35:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-12-24T12:56:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-12-19T18:47:00.001-05:00

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.

2007-12-14T18:33:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-12-13T17:54:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-12-12T16:56:00.000-05:00

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…

2007-12-10T20:59:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-12-04T19:33:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-12-01T15:04:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-11-28T19:00:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-11-26T18:55:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-11-24T16:37:00.000-05:00

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!

2007-11-22T13:57:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-11-18T16:09:00.000-05:00

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.

2007-11-12T19:27:00.000-05:00

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?

2007-11-11T14:05:00.001-05:00

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.

2007-11-09T17:53:00.000-05:00

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!