Mom always laughs at me because I don't like to go to the vet. But she doesn't like to go to the human vet either! She had to go for a checkup today and I'm sure that if she had a tail it would have been flipping back and forth, just like mine. MOL!

I guess humans don't like to be poked and prodded any more than we do.

I was just watching a TV show about human origins with my mom and dad. I thought it would be interesting to know something about where they came from. But now I'm puzzled--the narrator said that the reason humans don't have fur all over their bodies, the way we do, is to facilitate cooling--it's an adaptation enabling them to do long-distance running in the hot climate they originated in, and so to be successful hunters. But--my mom and dad don't do any long-distance running. In fact, my mom is noticeably slow--if I start climbing the stairs when she is three steps from the top, I still get there first! So why doesn't she grow fur? *flips tail in confusion*

My mom isn't a very capable human--she needs a lot of supervision because she's very clumsy, always tripping over things or dropping them. And I am very happy to provide supervision--when she goes upstairs, I go upstairs; when she goes downstairs, I go downstairs. And she is absolutely not allowed to be in my basement playroom for more than five minutes unless I am there too! I have to watch her every move. I never know when she's going to spill something, or let something fall, or end up on the floor herself. When something like this happens, I show my displeasure by thumping my tail (or running away, if a really loud noise is involved!). But she never learns. I wonder if there's a set of exercises I could do to teach her to be more graceful? Clearly, watching me is just not enough.

I don't really understand why, but the sound of mom's voice has always atracted me. The first time I heard it, in the shelter, even before I saw her, I started meowing--I knew, somehow, that she was the right human for me to adopt. (And when she and dad heard me meowing, they came to me right away--and of course my great charm and beauty sealed the deal! *giggles*)

The print on the newspaper is a bit difficult for dad to read because he's so nearsighted, so sometimes mom helps him out by reading articles aloud to him after they eat breakfast. Whenever she does, I immediately jump on the table and run to give her some head butts. (Yes, I know I'm not supposed to jump on the table like that, but who cares?) Her voice is just like her violin playing, which I am also attracted to, even though it's not very good--I just can't keep away!

*runs in singing*

Whe-e-e-e-ere is my treat?
Whe-e-e-e-ere is my treat?
Mom, mom, mom pick up your feet!
It's time for my holy brunchtime treat!

*runs out*

So many strangers running around my palace today! I'm not sure I can stand it. Mom's violin teacher was here, to give her a lesson--why was she here, I wonder? Mom always goes to her place. . . . Anyway, I couldn't go into the living room for my midday snooze on the green chair because the teacher was there sitting on it--so annoying! Then, there was that strange guy working in the basement--fixing a basement light, dad said. So, I couldn't go to the basement playroom for my usual inspection, either. And all that noise outside, while my magnolia tree was being trimmed! At least that stranger didn't come in. Meow, I'm exhausted now, just from running around spying on these humans to make sure they weren't damaging my palace somehow. Now that they're gone and it's finally quiet, I think I'll need a restorative nap! Right away!

Aunt Aimee came to do my nails today. She clipped them and then put some new pink nail caps on my front claws. She told mom that at PetSmart there are pink nail caps with sparkles on them. Sparkles! That sounds like fun. My collar has sparkles, after all. I'm going to send mom to take a look.

Poor Aunt Aimee! Her brother was killed in a hit and run accident a few months ago. The driver who hit him still hasn't been found. It's so awful!

The street isn't only dangerous for kitties; it's dangerous for humans, too. I wish mom and dad would listen when I meow to them to stay inside and not go out.

Meow! Mom noticed that there was some kind of yellow stain on the bottom of my right foot, about the size of a penny. I'm quite sure it was nothing, but she was afraid that maybe I'd stepped in some of dad's paint. The kind of paint he uses isn't toxic, but it bothered her anyway, so she got dad to pick me up and hold me while she dabbed at my foot with a wet paper towel. A! Wet! Paper! Towel! I was quite indignant, I assure you. The wet towel felt extremely disagreeable. Mom needs to learn to leave well enough alone--the yellow stain wasn't bothering me at all!

(sigh) Dad always asks me why I need such an unusually great amount of petting. It's hard for him to understand that even after living here in the Cat Mahal for nearly five years, I'm still making up for not getting any attention when I was living on the street, and not getting much in the shelter either because I was so shy--they called me the "wallflower." Meow, well, I'm not the "wallflower" anymore, and I'm going to get as much petting as the humans' hands can take!

*lies on back and rolls happily from side to side*

Humans may be big animals, but I can't believe how weak they are. This morning mom petted me for half an hour and then complained that she had to stop because her hands were tired. Her hands were tired! After only half an hour! What is this "carpal tunnel syndrome," anyway? It isn't something kitties get, I'm sure. We are much better designed, physically, than humans.

Half an hour of petting really isn't enough to start my day. I need a lot more--belly rubs, chest rubs, and head scratches. I'm going to have to get mom into an exercise program to build up her stamina!