I'm the Cat of Cats, there ain't none higher...

...sucker felines should call me sire.

Apologies to RUN DMC and mad props to William Brighty Rands, the poet who wrote this...

The Cat of Cats

I am the cat of cats. I am
The everlasting cat!
Cunning, and old, and sleek as jam,
The everlasting cat!
I hunt vermin in the night-
The everlasting cat!
For I see best without the light-
The everlasting cat!

I haven't written in a while- or let's just say I haven't been published in a while. My human has been so wrapped up in his own little world, that he hasn't taken the time to share my ramblings. I'd enter my own diary entry, but my paws are too fat for the keyboard. My typing would end up looking something like this- uhbf/vilIDFVNHObv - which probably spells something in Russian. Anyway, my human thinks I need a new place to poo- one with a retractable dome- like those new baseball stadiums. Apparently, he doesn't like it when I think "outside the box". I, on the other paw, am waiting for him to install some black lights in the bathroom, so I can admire my handiwork (technically I don't have hands, but I don't think "pawiwork" is a word). Besides, I think the money he'd spend on a new box could be better spent- on tuna- for me. Well, basically, I just wanted to wish my feline friends a happy Spring. If you go out, stay out of traffic and wear your flea collar. If you stay in, I hope there's a nice breeze drifting through your screen door and birds to watch from your window roost.

Winter

Normally the first thing I want to do when a door is opened to the outside world is spring through it to freedom. I love playing in the long grass and weeds and hiding out in the shrubs and trees. But it's February now, and winter has finally arrived in this part of the world, and with it snow and ice and bone-chilling cold. This week the temperature dipped below zero-- no weather for a cat to be outside. Instead, I stayed in and slept. There's not much else for a cat to do on these dark days than curl up on the couch with my human or on a favorite blanket in the bedroom closet. On days like these, I worry about the cats who have no homes, that are forced to wander the cold, icy streets in search of food and shelter. If they are lucky someone might put a bowl of food out for them on the front step, or take them in on the coldest days. Otherwise they must survive on the "accidental kindness" of humans by seeking out food and shelter in a trash dumpster or by finding a warm spot next to a dryer vent. I love the outdoors, and in the summer months, I wish I could stay out every night. But tonight, I will curl up by the heater, drink fresh water from a faucet, and count my blessings (and if I'm really lucky, I may even get a scrap of chicken from my human's plate).

Got Soy Milk?

Well, you can keep it! Just about every morning I patiently wait for my human to finish his bowl of cereal so I can get at the teaspoon of milk he sometimes leaves for me at the bottom of the bowl. To ensure that he leaves a few drops for me, I will get his attention by rubbing up against him and sneaking a peek inside the bowl every now and then. Sometimes he finishes the milk without saving me a single drop! He says it's because I have a tendency to yack it back up on the carpet. If only he applied the same rules to himself when he decides to drink shots! But, I digress. The other day, we were going through our usual routine; he was shoveling some kind of flakes into his mouth using some sort of metal object, and I was anxiously waiting on my measly ration of milk. When he finished eating, he lowered the bowl to the floor for me. Milk! I'm getting milk today!, I think to myself, while trying to pretend it's no big deal. Eagerly, I bent my neck down to the bowl (It had better be fresh, I don't do sour milk) and took a sniff, and then a big lap with my tongue. Yuck! Patooey! What is this crap? This isn't milk! It tastes like vanilla-flavored chalk! I shook my head vigorously and then - to my own surprise- leapt into the air. I had been fooled. Worse yet, all my human could think to do was burst out laughing at my expense. That's when he sarcastically mentioned something about it being soy milk. "Oh..you don't like soy milk? That'll teach you to be curious"... or some such nonsense. Soy milk!? I had heard of soy sauce, but never soy milk (a dash of the prior on my salmon is actually not bad). But this "milk" stuff is something different entirely. Be forewarned my feline friends! Don't fall for the soy milk trick! If this keeps up, I'm going to offer him a glass of my homemade "lemonade".

A poem (in english subtitles for you humans)

Stevie Smith was a poet from Hull, Yorkshire, England who was fond of animals, especially her pet cats and dogs (we'll forgive her for the latter). She wrote several poems in their honor. Here's one...

Cat Asks Mouse Out

Mrs. Mouse
Come out of your house
It is a fine sunny day
And I am waiting to play

Bring the little mice too
And we can run to and fro

(From the collection "Collected Poems")