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C'est Moi!

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Ungrateful peasants!

June 26th 2009 10:27 am
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I thought they would be proud! But, non. Evidemment, they are offended. It seems they want me to hunt, yes. But they would prefer that I restrict my ministrations to les rodents. And they would particularly prefer that I not bring my little playmates in through le catdoor in the middle of the night for, shall we say--purrrrrrrrrrr, purrrr, purr--le gran sleepover.

Pfffft!, I say. To be a chat, it is to be a killer. Not a dainty, selective killer. Non! It is to be--how shall we say it?--an equal opportunity killer. If a salamander should present itself to my claws, am I to deny it? Mais non! He must receive equal treatment. And if his blood soaks in, a little bit, to the hardwood floor... pish what is that to me? Less than nothing. And if, two nights in a row, some little bird, it should cross my path? Well. The little bird, it will be found lifeless among its lovely feathers on the living room rug in the morning. That is the way of things.

Do not look to me to deny my nature.

And to sleep the sleep of the hunter, with just a trace of blood on the palette... ah, delightful! I shall have to ask le Dex-tair what shadows taste like.


Le Great Outdoors, it gets dark at night!

May 9th 2009 1:03 pm
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I have lost my magic collar!

Magnetic collar, Phoebe.

Phffffft! It is much the same thing, is it not?

If you like.

Just so. I have lost my magic collar somewhere yesterday during my (daylight!) peregrinations throughout le Great Outdoors. And without it, our house, it is like le Hotel California, only quite otherwise: You can check in any time you like, but you can never enter!

Yesterday afternoon, I came home from a little chase. I bounded up le backstairs and across le porch. I made to enter le catdoor at speed, as has become my custom. But no! C’est bump, and I cannot enter! Only then do I note that my magic collar, it is gone!

I can look through the catdoor, because it is transparent (though more than a little besnotted by le Dex-tair's great snout, I must add). And what should I see through the glass darkly--speaking of le Dex-tair--than the great snout itself, staring back at me.

"Dex-tair," I purr seductively, "run and tell the man that I must be let in. Immediately. Chop, chop, Dex-tair!"

"I think not, Your Highness," he dares to say! "I don't think the biped needs to be bothered with this little matter. Not just yet, at any rate. Have a nice night out there with the wild things, Phoebe. I’ll see you in the morning, I'm sure. Well, almost sure. Ta ta now!"

And so it was that I did have to spend the night out with the wild things! I did not get back in until very early this morning, when the man let le Dex-tair out through the human door to perform his morning ablutions.

Perhaps having one's own footman is better than le catdoor, after all.


Inside out with delight

April 11th 2009 3:18 pm
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I have been shown the door. Le catdoor. Yes, my people, it is official--I am now an inside/outside cat.

As it turns out, I could have gone out le catdoor at any time, had I only known such a thing was possible. Le Dex-tair has misled me, it appears. But it is just as well, I suppose--which does not mean that I will not punish him!--the getting back inside requires the magnetic collar, which only today have I been given.

Now I may come and go at my very whim. Inside. Outside. All around the yard. And particularly under the deck where the mices hide.

Here is an interesting thing: Inside, le Dex-tair does not wish to play with me. Every time I spring upon his head, he either ignores me--if he is standing up--or growls at me--if he is lying upon the floor attempting to sleep. But outside, le Dex-tair very much wishes to play with me, and it is I who wish to be excused. I run away. I climb trees. I hide behind bushes. And then...

I run like the wind, through the back gate, up the back stairs, and through... le catdoor! Where le Dex-tair cannot follow! Oh, this will be great fun, I think.



March 22nd 2009 12:23 pm
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So, only now is it been explained to me that my so sharp and amusing little claws, they are retractable!

It would have been good to know, this business of retractable, before my favorite claw became entangled--never mind how--in the tempting little black ringlets of fur on le Dex-tair's so ridiculous ears, causing him to stand up precipitously and make very rude noises to me.

Yes. My minions must be required to keep me informed of such useful intelligence. That they have not is a most shocking failure. There will be consequences, I think.


I do not like it.

February 20th 2009 11:12 am
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The female human, she gets up in the very small hours of this morning, and she leaves! Pfft! Like that she is gone. She abandons me to the tender mercies of the male human and of le Dex-tair, neither of whom, I fear, has your queen's best interests at heart.

She tells me before she leaves that she will be back in less than three days. But unfortunate things of a permanent nature have happened to royal heads in less time than that. Where is my feline Bothwell when he is most needed?

Perhaps I can arrange an uprising of some sort.


The people's choice

February 12th 2009 1:41 pm
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My loving subjects, they demand that I be heard. That my activities and adventures be chronicled. And the amanuensis, he cannot but comply, being but a creature of very little spine, and a comically inflexible one at that.

But, zut alors, the opportunities for adventure have been few and far between since I last addressed you, my subjects. I have seen nor hide nor hair of le Great Outdoors since then, the weather having been infamously ouet for many days.

I have had to content myself with knocking to the floor the potted plant that the silly female human insists on placing on the table in le breakfastnook and with pouncing periodically upon the head of le Dex-tair, who growls and barks and snaps, but cannot deter his better.

Of the potted plant, I say pffffft! What is a little broken crockery compared to the amusement of la reine? The humans, though, were not amused. The male even had the temerity to strike me! Not hard at all, I grant you, but in the most insulting manner. It will not be forgotten, I can tell you!

And le Dex-tair? He will learn soon enough that he is fortunate among curs if I deign to notice him at all!

There. That will have to do for now. The catnip mouse must be attacked.


Don't climb up in the apple tree with...

January 31st 2009 3:58 pm
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...Well, just don't climb up in it at all! The apple tree, it is mine! And I have climbed it right to its very... how shall I say? crotch. On only my second outing to le backyard. No, no. Really. You need not send baubles. But, surely, they will be appreciated when you do. How could it be otherwise?

I discovered several places I can go where they cannot, the humans: Under the deck. Under the stairs. Between the brick wall and the garage. Oh, but I led them a merry chase!

I found both jungle and savannah to roam. And beasts to kill! Mais non, not today. But soon. And with great finality. Les mice, their days are numbered and can be counted on the claws of one paw! This I swear as a true chat of le outdoors!

And now I must nap.

You may go.


One lump or two?

January 28th 2009 8:44 am
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The male says that I have marginally improved his opinion of cats' intelligence, but that I have done nothing, nothing to improve his opinion of cats' character or desirability as pets.

I think I shall spit in his Tony Lama cowboy boots to demonstrate my opinion of his character.


Phoebe, Queen of Scotts

January 19th 2009 8:51 am
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Le Dex-tair tells me that the humans have deceived me and usurped my prerogatives. He tells me that I am, in God's simple truth, the rightful heir to the thrones of France, Scotland, and even the perfidious Angleterre. He tells me that I must escape my captivity--he pronounces it excape, the simpleton!--and reclaim what is by rights mine.

Well, I thought something was not right about all this! And to think, the male, he has the eggs to hiss at me when I leap upon the breakfast table! We shall see how cold he likes his breakfast when I have come into my own!

Le Dex-tair tells me I must first master le catdoor. Then, when I am in The Great Outdoors, I must follow the rising sun to the east until I come to a great pond of some sort, which I must cross to reclaim my queendoms. If it is anything like the pond in le backyard, it would be easier just to walk around it. But, surely, Paris is worth a small swim, ne c’est pas?

I have offered le Dex-tair the chancellorship in exchange for his loyalty, but he is modest--deservedly, I must tell you--and asks only that I leave him in place as my Viceroy of Greater Metropolitan Spreckels. So be it.

He says I must not be dilatory, lest the humans sniff out my plan and decide that my lovely head might better be displayed in a pannier.


Le backyard

January 17th 2009 5:06 pm
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C'est magnifique!

The male scoops me up in his arms this afternoon and carries me off to le backyard, where the female awaits us. And then... he sets me free!

Mon Dieu! The birds! The smells! (I found le Dex-tair's sand box... fascinating!) The hiding places! I lead them a merry chase, I can tell you, when they decide it is time to end my first foray into The Great Outdoors!

I want to stay, to explore, to hunt. But no, it is enough for one day, they say. And what can I say to them but yes, of course--they have not yet taught me the mystery of le catdoor. (It involves a collar and a magnet, le Dex-tair confides to me--the previous chat was forever walking around the house with an empty tuna fish can hanging from her neck, he says. Perhaps I shall believe him. He is too stupid to lie, I think.)

So, for now, I rest. I frolic. I lull them all, gull them all. Time, it is on my side, after all.

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