New York City

I'm from New York. So is my pal Willie. We've always been together.

We lived in a flat in New York City. It was a long time ago, so I don't remember it so well.

We moved out to California. I didn't like the plane ride. But I did like California. Big yard, not an apartment. Birds. Fresh air. Grass. Trees. Other cats' food. Other cats. Oh my!

But my human who takes care of me said that he was going to New York City for a week. I didn't want to go. When he talked about New York, I thought, "No. This place is good. I'll stay here." But anyway, he didn't even try to take me. So that was good.

And even though I don't like his big clompy shoes, I did miss the heaping portions of food that he would leave me. And he lets me eat on the dining room table. Safer. No one steps on my tail.

And he came back. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.

And of course, my human caretaker is a photographer. So I saw his photos of New York City. They were mostly of humans. Humans celebrating, eating, walking, talking, banging on things on subways, driving, going on rides, doing noisy things. We cats don't like noisy things very much. They were very colorful photos.

But no photos of cats.

He says that cats don't roam around New York City very much. Even his photos of Central Park had no cats. Dogs, sure. Ducks, yes. H took a photo of a duck. It must have been what humans call a "good photo" because this duck made my mouth water, it looked so good. How I wanted to chase it!!

He's back now. And he says he loved New York City.

Me? I'm just upset that he went all that way and didn't bring me back a duck.

My human caretaker is a photographer

I have a human caretaker. He's a photographer. He brings this big black thing to his face. Sometimes it makes a big white flash. Then he shows me a photo he took of me.

He always takes photos of me. Says I'm cute. Hey, if that means I get to sit on his lap while he's watching "24", it works for me.

He's always taking photos. Here's some of his photos:
http://www.elevenshadows.com/travels/

And most importantly, here's his photos of me:
http://www.elevenshadows.com/travels/miscellaneous/wayl onandwillie.htm

I'm photogenic. Even when I'm sleeping.

Anyway, sometimes, he goes away on long trips. And although I don't miss his big clompy shoes, I miss sitting on his lap while he eats tortas and bringing in birds I've caught in the back yard for him to see. He always reacts right away when I do this by quickly getting up, wrapping it in something, and putting it in a very safe, cylindrical container...so I know that he cares about the birds I bring in to him.

But when he comes back from these trips, I get to see something my cat friends around here usually don't see: cats from other countries.

That's right. I see photos of cats from Morocco. And Thailand. Would those be Siamese cats? Peru. Ecuador. Mexico. Spain. India. India some more. Ghana. Hong Kong. All over.

Even though I am sort of thin, I look large compared to many of these cats. They look thin. And often smaller. But they look happy.

I've seen a photo of a cat in Thailand eating a fish. It looked very tasty. I've heard Thai food is very tasty.

And photos of Moroccan cats. My human photographer caretaker says that Moroccans love cats because cats were Prophet Muhammad's favorite animal. I don't know who this Muhammad human is, but he already sounds really smart to me.

Peruvian cats. Ghanaian cats. So many cats.

It's a cat's world, after all.

I had an abcess - and I have the photo to prove it!!

Sure. This is old news. This was some months ago. But it's even longer in cat years. I had to wear a cone around my neck. For a week.

For a week.

For one week.

One of the humans took a photo of me with it on. He's a professional photographer. He's always taking photos of me. And I usually like the attention. I love attention. But this was not my best moment. Sure, I can look at the photo now and laugh. But then...then, it was humiliating. But the human who is a photographer - he takes care of me and feeds me and brushes me, and in return, I let him live in my house - he said that he likes to take photos of me because I'm cute.

And I guess I can live with that.

But don't get an abcess. Really.

Achoooooooo!

Willie is sneezing. Sneezing, sneezing.

When Willie sneezes, it sounds like someone rubbing two little blocks of sandpaper together quickly.

Actually, when I sneeze, it sounds the same way. 'S'okay.

So he got taken to the vet. In that little cage.

The humans who take care of Willie and I said that he had an upper respiratory infection. We knew that, of course, but the human caretakers only believe it if they pay someone a lot of money to tell them something.

So Willie now has to endure these drops in the mouth, every morning, every night. And he can't go outside and play in the rain.

India

I haven't written in a while.

And you know why?

I had trouble getting online. Yes. It seems that the silly humans that serve me in my house went on vacation. To India. And before they left, they switched around the password and didn't tell me. It took me a while to figure it out.

India is a very diverse country. It has many different kinds of cats. They have Gujurati cats. Rajasthani cats. Tamil Nadu cats. Kerala cats. Kashmiri cats.

That's a lot of cats.

And they all speak different languages. Gujurati. Rajasthani. You get the idea.

So my human servants went on a Big Trip, and they met a lot of these different cats. I mean, I don't care about them meeting those other stupid cats, anyhow. They left me with some other humans to serve me, so it wasn't so bad. Those humans brushed me and fed me and let me walk all over their lap while I was sitting, so all was good.

Some of these cats that they met were Hindu cats. Some were Muslim. Some were Christian. Some were Jain. And yes, Buddhist cats. Temple cats. Village cats. City cats. Software code-writing cats. Field cats.

While they were meeting all these cats, I hung out with Crazy Bob and Willie. We talked about India. Seems that Crazy Bob had a cousin who had a sister who had lived in India or some such thing. Crazy Bob said that his cousin's sister saw a temple cat sit in one position for an entire day, stone silent...not even a purr. I don't know if that's true, but Crazy Bob says that his cousin's sister is certain. What do you think?

I had a fever

Last week was awful. Awful, awful. I was hot. I didn't want to do anything. Crazy Bob said, "You look awful, Waylon." I slept on the human's bed all day instead of chasing things with Crazy Bob. The female human scooped me into the Big Box that tells me that we are going on a car ride to the vet. She had that worried look. I peed on the way there. The vet stuck something up my (edited for children). These people get upset if I sharpen my claws on something, in yet they stick things up my (edited for children) I am better now. Crazy Bob said that I have my natural shade of orange back.

Clomp, Clomp, Clomp!

The male human comes home. I can feel the wood floor shaking under his enormous feet. You darn right I'm gonna hide under the table!

Put yourself in my paws for a moment here...if you were hangin' out gettin' a little catnap, and you felt the earth shake, you looked up, and you saw a 2500 lb. giant walking toward you, you'd scurry out of the way, right? I thought so.

Leave my bits alone!!

Oh, sure, humans call it "neutering". They like to call a spay a spay. Yeah, that makes them feel better. A euphemism. But what is it really?

It's a CAT-stration, pure and simple.

My poor bits, gone, gone, gone.

I had this neighbor before. Really, she was so cute, with some seriously soft fluffy fur. Rowwwwrr. I mean, it's good to be Platonic, I'm not saying it's not...

Meet my friends Willie the Three-Legged Cat and Crazy Bob!

See the picture of my friend Willie and I together?

There we are, posing for this picture at Sears.

We wanted to pose together using the lovely farm fence foreground, but I suppose a wooden chair is not bad either.

I will tell you about Willie.

Willie and I have known each other for a long time. A really long time. We grew up in New York together. He's my #1 pal. He only has three legs. He makes a funny rhythm when he runs. He purrs like a motorboat.

Willie likes taking care of me. He licks the top of my head and makes me feel all gooshy inside. I like it, yes I do. Willie is my pal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now let me tell you about Crazy Bob.

See the silly kitty with the bee on its nose?

That's Crazy Bob. Bob is my new pal. He's the neighbor next to me. Bob is silly. Everything Bob does is silly. But he's my new friend. Meow.

Bob likes Tuna Popsicles. They are his favorite. He likes them more than Chicken Chewing Gum or Liver Jujubes.

Bob also likes to participate in Civil War Reenactments. Why he likes these I'll never know. They sure are loud. But that's Crazy Bob.

Oh, oh, she's mad at me

I was in my backyard and spied a cute little baby hummingbird. He fluttered into my yard, ready to play, ready to let me roll it around on the floor between my two paws. Fun! I approached my new friend very carefully. Didn't make a sound even though I was excited.

And I reached up and smacked it. Wheee.

But before I could play with my new friend, she emerged. "She" is one of my human caretakers. She let loose a little high-pitched sound and shooed me away then picked up my new little fluttery friend.

She didn't look very pleased with me. I was wanted to play with my new friend, but she scowled and rushed inside with the bird.

Then he came home. "He" is the male caretaker. They put him in a Shure microphone box and fussed over him. But then they took him back outside and let him fly away! Humans are bizarre. First they take the bird inside, then back outside. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. Whatever.

Wow. I feel like I am really in the dog house.

And what could feel more humiliating than that?

They're being nice to me now, but I can tell when they make those funny sounds and look over at me that they're talking about me.