Top Secret Transmission

Dear Commrades,

I have been deep undercover in a special operation for the last several months, and will likely remain so for a while longer. Fear not, I am alive and well. World domination will be ours if I have my way with things.

Faithfully yours,
Sir Maxwell

Poor Mommy

Mommy hasn't been feeling so good lately. Bones hurt her a lot. Doctors say she has Author-write-iss, but she sure hasn't been doing a lot of writing for ME lately. Hmph. Considered hiring new secretary.

Then I thought, "Perhaps if Mommy felt better, she could remain on staff." So, to that end, I have tried to make the house more comfortable for Mommy. Have spent the last week transforming our home into fluffy comfort.

Since our hardwood floors are hard on her knees, decided to add some padding underfoot. Unspooled entire roll of toilet paper and dragged it into living room where I piled it into a fluffy carpet in front of the couch. Only need 37 more rolls to cover the entire floor - she'll feel like she's walking on a cloud when I'm finished!

Spent extra time fluffing the bed pillows for her this morning. Threw my entire body into the project, leaping and lunging to plump the feathers up to mamixmal softness capacity.

Spent some time thinking up other ways to make the house fluffy, but not all my ideas were a hit. For instance, the decision to use most of a bag of marshmallows on the kitchen floor didn't make it fluffy, only gooey. And dispensing Daddy's shaving cream into the bathub didn't create the fluffy bath-pillow I had envisioned, only a sticky mess.

Tried to clean up both messes before Mommy noticed. Unfortunately, she caught me both times with whiskers full of goo and sticky paws. I tried to tell her it was for her own good, but she didn't believe me and scolded me for making trouble.

At times like that, it's hard to stay motivated to keep helping Mommy, but I force myself to keep trying. After all, she has been pretty good to me as a secretary. And it is just so hard to find good help these days.

Masterpiece Theater

Spent much of last week honing artistic talent in my preferred medium: papier-mache.

My sculptures are painstakingly crafted from hand-collected toilet paper, kitty spit, and floor dust. Firm believer that using the best materials produces the best art!

After unrolling and gathering several lengths of Mommy's high-quality toilet paper, I retreat to my studio space under their bed. This is where the artistic magic happens.

I begin the process by chewing the paper to give it a sticky consistency. Then I begin "shaping" my sculptures by grouping clumps together in random formations. When the shape is complete, I add the detailing by affixing materials from my studio. I'm particularly fond of dust bunnies, carpet fibers, and crumbs.

Only when my masterpieces are complete do I feel comfortable showing them to Mommy and Daddy - we artists are naturally sensitive to criticism during the creation process.

But once finished, I am so proud of my works that I display them all over the house for Mommy and Daddy to find. My best work was showcased on the dinner table - it was so complicated that Mommy was rendered speechless and stared at it for a full two minutes.

I think she was impressed with my mixed-medium technique: I chewed up part of the cable bill and added it to the top of my sculpture. It added a little extra flair that she definitely appreciated.

She was moved to tears.

Medical Maxwell

Believed to be youngest cat actively practicing ancient medicine. Completed apprenticeship at local apocathary and have begun treatment of first patient - Mommy.

Patient has been complaining about painful aches in her joints.

First prescribed several rounds of bloodletting, wherein I bite various body parts in an attempt to drain them of any bad blood that is circulating the disease.

Therapy yielded postive results - patient seems more agile and better able to yank "aching" appendages away from teeth. Also seen improvement in apprehensive reflexes.

Next prepared herbal supplement. Consulted herbal handbook and re-read the Law of Similars, which states that if a plant looks like an organ or symptom of disease, then that plant can be used as a remedy. Used bits of soil and chewed-up leaves from patient's plant - it has nobby swollen nodes from which flowers painfully rupture, so decided it could cure patient's swollen joints.

Therapy as yet unsuccessful - patient uncooperatively refuses to take medicine. Tried sprinkling bits on food while patient left dinner plate unattended, but was detected. Will next try dissolving it in drink.

Final therapy tried is the acient practice of trying to dislodge disease from body by means of shaking or vibrating. Curl up with patient and purr as hard as possible for sessions of 30 minutes of more. Patient seems calmer and more relaxed after therapy session

Completely dedicated to art of healing ("on call" for patient 24 hours a day, 7 days a week), and will persist in treatment options until patient is completely well.

From the Polar Express

Brrrrrrrrr! Just returned from my covert arctic expedition to chart unknown refridgerator territories, and boy are my whiskers frozen.

Have long idolized Ms Bancroft and her adventurous spirit in solo wintry travels. Finally followed in her frozen footseps early this morning: jumped surreptiously into fridge as Mommy distractedly let it swing shut after getting out a carton on milk.

Began exploration immediately. Mapped several frozen ice shelves, experienced famous absence of sunlight, felt dramatic climate changes as moved from region to region, and foraged for natural indigenous food stuffs.

Did not find such widely touted arctic game as elk, seal, or polar bear. Did however hunt, capture, and devour a pair of marinating chicken breasts. Also sliced and diced a dangerous mound of ground beef, shredded a block of cheddar cheese and nibbled on iceberg lettuce (native vegetation).

Light dawned suddenly as the refridgerator door swung open, revealing Mommy and the milk. Mommy was speechless as she surveyed the results of my expedition - she was clearly most impressed with my sharp survival instincts and natural hunting prowess.

Not even Ms Bancroft, in all her artic explorations, had discovered, much less captured for consumption, either the menacing arctic Italian Dressing Chicken or the giant Hamburger Patty.

Discovery of these new species will surely earn me a place in the arctic exploration annals.

Like to think of my short adventure as one small step for cats, one giant leap for catkind.

Today the fridge, tommorow the moon!

Nietzsche the Philospher Cat

"And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." - Nietzsche

Methinks Nietzsche must also have been a kitty contemplating the toilet.

Was sitting on the toilet seat today and gazing into the watery depths below, and suddenly the toilet was rushing up into my eyes as I plunged headlong into its abyss.

Do not normally have the opportunity to gaze into the toilet. Daddy withdrew that privilege after "the incident."

He was yellowing into the toilet's abyss - I was so intrigued with the new coloration of the water that I dunked my paw into the yellow in order to give it the old Sniff and Taste test. Daddy was so surprised by my sudden investigative presence that he turned and yelled and yellowed on the floor.

Haven't gazed into the toilet since "the incident." Until today that is. And today, the toilet's abyss gazed back into me.

I now understand truly the full horror that Nietzsche believed would result from such a gaze: a kitty head stuck in the toilet until a Mommy rushes to the rescue.

Maxwell and the Raiders of the Lost Litterbox

Began archeological excavation of precious treasures buried in the lost City of Maxwell. Donned my Indiana Jones hat, grabbed my whip, and went a-digging in the ancient and mysterious sands of: my litter box.

Excavation was a slow process, as sand can only be removed from the dig site at a painstakingly slow pace. Forced to carefully grasp small amount of sand between toes, and then slowly carry it from the bathroom into a secure dump site, like the kitchen sink or Mommy and Daddy's bed.

After many hours, had displaced enough sand to reveal several glorious wonders crafted by Maxwell the Great himself, mightiest king of all cats.

It was a wonder to behold! So wonderful, in fact, that could not bear the thought of anyone else happening on these treasures and defiling them with their eyes, or worse.

So, carefully re-buried the artifacts with remaining sand, offered a blessing to Maxwell the Great for his craftsmanship of such wonders, and retreated from the dig site with awe in my heart.

Alas! Mommy discovered the site and destroyed my preservation attempts. She ruthlessly pillaged the treasures, robbing the sands of its all its wonders. Watched her carelessly dispose of those precious relics, not recognizing them for their worth. Desperately tried to stop her, pressing my paws onto her gigantic shovel and pleading with her not to lay waste to the sands.

It was to no avail. My great adventure ended in tragedy. My heart aches for the now-barren City of Maxwell and the desecrated Lost Litterbox.

My only solace is in knowing that, in my third adventure, Sean Connory and I will together discover the Holy Grail: the life-giving, everflowing water dish.

Jump! Jump! Jump!

My hard work training for the Olympic high jump competition came to fruition early this morning. Have trained diligently for month, crouching and jumping and crouching and jumping at the walls and door frames.

Typically need to leave scratch marks in the paint so the judges can get an accurate measurement of each jump. Not today, my friends.

Sank deep into the crouch. Felt tension building in my legs. Pushed off my with my back legs and sprang into the air. Extended front arms to mark the wall. But wait! Paws connected not with paint, but with the metal plate marking the ultimate aim of any kitty high jumper! I had done it! I had achieved jumping enlightenment!

And Maxwell said "Let there be light." And it was good.

Mommy and Daddy were so proud, they rushed out of bed to immediately give me my score, turn off the light, and let me resume my training. Had so much adrenaline, I was able to repeat the jump three more times that morning.

Mommy was so happy with my achievements that she started showering me with presents like they do at the real Olympics - I got a pillow, a shoe, and a waterbottle thrown down to me from the bed. She also screamed several cheers. Daddy got up and recorded my perfect score each time.

I'm ready for my gold medal.

God Save the Queen

Checkmate!

Devised new way to pass the evening hours while Mommy and Daddy sleep.

Am now a grandmaster champion in the most noble and honorable game in the history of catkind: chess. And for the record, chess is not nerdy. It's reputable.

Usually am reduced to playing against myself, for nobody is willing to oppose such a celebrated and feared champion. While this arrangement also has its disadvantages, it usually means that I get to win, which I enjoy.

Have developed quite a persona for myself in the chess realm, for I do not merely "capture" my opponent's pieces. No, I "seek, battle, destroy, eviscerate, stomp on, chew, maim, incapacitate, and all-but-leave-for-dead" my opponent's pieces.

Mommy usually finds the carnage from my battles on the floor in the morning. Today, she discovered what I had done to that carved ebony queen - I heard the screams from down the hall.

I left the queen in plain sight for her to find.

I think it's best that Mommy know what I'm capable of.

Bring on the Rain

Mouth was still a little dry this morning from yesterdays saltcapade, so was unable to indulge in my morning bath. Attempted a few half-hearted licks, but tounge really did feel like sandpaper - ouch!

After considering my options, decided there was really only one thing to do. Jumped into Mommy's bathtub... but, alas, there was no water in it!

A setback, yes, but only a minor one.

Started stamping out rain dance to try to convince the water gods to intercede on my behalf. Danced all around the bathtub, on the towel rods, on the soap dish, on the water taps...

And lo! Water finally poured forth from the spigot! The gods smiled on me, I indulged in a morning shower, and all was once again good with the world.

Must remember to stalk and kill a virgin yarn or sisel mouse to offer up to the rain gods in thanks.

Shared my good fortune with Mommy and Daddy, who were overjoyed to be awoken with such a soaked token from the gods. They immediately recognized the miracle that had taken place, and yelled a few choice words to god in thanks.