Thank You

I would just like to thank all you nice Catster cats who have agreed to become friends with me. My mom tried to assure me that I would make some online friends soon, but I wasn’t sure at all. As she will tell you, I’m not the bravest cat in the world, and after she brought that other cat into the house who just ended up terrorizing me (I probably shouldn’t admit this because now you’ll think I’m the wimpiest cat ever, but the cat in question was actually a very brazen and self-assured four-week-old kitten), I didn’t think I would ever make any friends. Thankfully, all of you have proven me wrong, and I feel much better about myself!


“It is difficult to obtain the friendship of a cat. It is a philosophical animal … one that does not place its affections thoughtlessly.” - THÉOPHILE GAUTIER

Identity Crisis

Help! Even though my mom has me listed as at least partially Russian Blue, I’m not sure that I am. She’s not either, but someone had told her that I looked as if I could be, so voilà, that’s what she decided I was. But, what if I’m something else? What if I’m a shorthair something-or-other? How would I even know if I were British, European, or American? Mom says it doesn’t matter what breed I am, and that even if I were no breed at all she would still love me because I’m the most loveable kitty in the WHOLE WIDE WORLD. That’s nice, and I appreciate the sentiment, but she knows her nationality, and I would like to know mine. Can anyone tell me by looking at my pictures? If not, how else could I find out?

Oh, and I haven’t told her, but I’m definitely heavier than 12 pounds. I won’t get on the weigh scale for her, and luckily, mom hasn’t figured out that all she has to do is weigh herself on the scale while holding me, and then subtract her weight from the total. Silly mom. And if she ever does clue in, I just won’t let her hold me! Tee hee. Nobody needs to know my real weight—I've been through enough. Don't you think?

Happiness

My mom just told me that she loves me more than any other cat, and that she always will. She's actually told me this many times before, but I always like to act surprised. She then gave me belly kisses, and I purred as loudly as I could to let her know that I love her too!

Quote

Another quote by my wise friend Theo:

"If you are worthy of its affection, a cat will be your friend but never your slave." - THÉOPHILE GAUTIER

Mom Says I Can't Eat Centipedes

Can you believe it? I thought it was a bit mean of her, but apparently she saw a HUGE one (at least two inches long!) in the bathroom last night, and it brought back unpleasant memories that she thought she had successfully suppressed. It seems that my predecessor, Adrian Mole, had quite the predilection for the many-legged creatures, and would often be caught munching on them. Gross! Well, that’s what mom says. In fact, she says it’s the grossest thing she’s ever seen, and went to a great deal of trouble explaining to me why she thought I should just leave them alone. She also added that if she ever caught me with one dangling from my mouth, she would not let me lick her for a full week! Personally, I think they’re amusing to watch, and probably full of healthy protein too. I’ve never tasted them myself per se, but if that other cat liked them, they can’t be that bad. Still, as she rightfully pointed out, I can play with other things, and I never go hungry, so maybe I should just leave the buggers alone. Okay mom, you win!

“You like me, you really like me.”

Mom says I am one of today’s featured diaries. How cool is that!? I’m not sure I deserve this honour, but I sure am going to take it! I like writing as much as my mom does (between you and me I’m the better writer in the family, but don’t tell her that as she gets so SENSITIVE at times – thankfully that’s one trait I didn’t inherit), and plan to do much more! Who knows, I might even become famous!

I’m going to take a well-deserved catnap now....

(Hey Scooter, glad you had fun on your trip!)

Sorry Mom, But That Centipede Was Just Too Tempting To Leave- Alone

I know that you presented a compelling argument (see June 4th entry), and that we agreed (well, you agreed) that I would leave them alone, and I honestly tried to live up to my (only partially coerced) promise, but can I help it if it decided to invade my domain? At least I didn’t try to eat it. Right? Moreover, I’m sorry if I woke you at 5:00 am, but it was getting away and I couldn’t resist trying to whack it with my paw one more time. Is it my fault that I had to jump two feet high to reach it? I also feel bad that in the second that you turned around to get the Black Flag House & Garden Bug Killer (even though I’ve heard you lecture about the sanctity of life for ALL living creatures more than once) the mysterious (and quicker than you can say "Where did it go?") centipede vanished. I understand if it left you in a right tizzy about its whereabouts; because of course, you were concerned that it might crawl into your bed, if it hadn’t already done so. I apologize for all of that, really, but don’t you think that the blame is entirely yours? Isn’t it only fair that you recognize and accept my perfectly natural inclinations? Don’t you try to do that for your fellow human beings as well? Silly mom. I see that I still have much to teach you.

To Scrap or Not To Scrap

My mom likes to read. And I like to encourage her in this, not only because it usually means more lap time for me, but because reading in general is, as Martha Stewart would say (not that my mom identifies with her in any way), a Good Thing. But, reading can be a Bad Thing as well. Take the other day for instance. My mom was casually reading the newspaper, when all of a sudden she gave me a funny look. I’ve seen this look before, and have been with my mom long enough to know that that look can sometimes be a Dangerous Thing. I decided to investigate as unobtrusively as I could, and had a peek at the article she was reading. It was a full-page article about something called “scrapbooking”. I’d never heard of this, and mom admitted that she had never had any interest in this popular hobby before (which is probably the Best Thing since I know just how talented she is at anything resembling arts and crafts). Before now, that is. Now it occurred to her that while she couldn’t care less about making a scrapbook about vacations, or special occasions, or anything else, it could be quite fun to make a scrapbook about me. Me! Well, folks, I put my paws on that paper and let it be known right away that that was not the Right Thing. What was she thinking? Isn’t this diary enough? So, I am happy to report that mom folded the newspaper away, tucked the idea into her ever-expanding mental “don’t bother” file, and just gave me a few pets instead - an Excellent Thing.

Hey Scoots (a.k.a. Scooter), I’ll let you and the other Catster cats know how I got my name very soon. Mom is saying something about being tired and needing me to help her take a nap. Purr!

One More Quote From Theo

"Who can believe that there is no soul behind those luminous eyes!" - THÉOPHILE GAUTIER

The following quote was passed along by my good (and wise) friend Scoots:

"The cat has too much spirit to have no heart." - ERNEST MENAULT, French writer

I like these guys; they obviously know cats well. If only everyone did!

Where is MY Kitty Complexion?

I asked my mom this question repeatedly, as I noticed the increasing number of cats getting their complexion chart posted. Her answer, whenever I got one, was not very satisfying. Being the persistent kitty that I am though, I finally cornered her and got her to ‘fess up. This is what she said to me. “Sweetie,” she said, “if I filled in that complexion chart truthfully, I mean, with complete absolute honesty, then you would come off looking like a very ordinary, average cat, and I don’t want to do that to you because you’re not an average cat. You are the most special cat I’ve ever met, and that chart simply would not do you any justice.”

Well, I must admit, I was somewhat mollified. I then had a closer look at that chart and concluded that my mom was right. I’m curious when I need to be, ditto for making my needs vocally known, I’m either sleeping or running from window to window (I can never make up my mind which window gives me the better view), I’m not a Mensa card-carrying member, but neither am I a silly half-wit, and while I’m very affectionate with my mom, I’m completely timid with everybody else. Put all of that information into a chart, and you just get a straight line smack down the middle. BORING. Which I’m not.

Mom made me feel better though. “Sweetie,” she said again, “I think the folks at Catster just made a mistake and forgot some key categories. If they had thrown in Adorability and Appetite, your score would have blown that chart to smithereens.” I thought about it, and knew my mom was entirely right this time. Who needs a complexion chart anyway?

Funny, I even feel taller now.