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Cat's Logs - Week 5

That sneaky GlennaJo!

She plied me with catnip and then went at me with the brush. (Didn't stop you from using your teeth, but at least you stayed put.) Now I can't feel the hair on my rump anymore so, once again, despite her best efforts to cause me pain, I feel better than ever.

When simple biting didn't stop the brushing, I came upon a great new strategy. I was so disgusted I just laid my head down on the couch and sighed, then just quit struggling. Immediately the brushing stopped. "Prince, are you OK?" No answer. "Prince?" Gentle pet on head. "Oh, I see your tail twitching." Brush put away. You know those possums may have something with that playing dead bit.

Wonder how they keep their tails still?

GlennaJo shared her can of chicken with me.

(If you call scraping a few final scraps into the cat's dish sharing.) [It was more than you managed to eat so far.] (I'm aging it for later.) Anyway, after a sumptuous dinner (Right.) I sat on the couch next to GlennaJo.

Every time she pets me, or even makes a move to touch me, I twitch in the most pathetic way. Brushing avoidance technique 104 is working pretty well so far, although I'm still waiting for my other hip to start feeling more comfortable.

And speaking of avoidance, I think my latest approach to cancelling photo shoots is working pretty well. [You mean sitting on the part of the carpet that needs vacuuming? It's just a temporary reprieve.] (How can you take pictures if I sit in the dirtiest part of the house and twitch?)

[I'll show you tomorrow night.]

Catnip heaven!

You know, this photo shoot stuff may not be as bad as I thought. GlennaJo sprinkled lots of catnip on the bed and then went behind the camera and left me to my own devices. I tell ya when I get into a really good long catnip roll, even flashing lights don't bother me.

So, I'd be rolling in the catnip, perfectly relaxed and then I'd remember how sneaky GlennaJo can be, jump up and look for the brush. "Prince," said the catnip. "Prince! Come to me."

Who am I to argue with catnip?

I hate to admit this, but it took all of my dignity and self-control not to beg GlennaJo to sprinkle catnip on the bed and have another photo shoot.

But no--she wants to see how the last roll of film came out before shooting anymore. I feel kinda used and manipulated. Two days ago I was a normal cat--disgusted at the thought of a photo shoot and irritated at the flashing lights; and now I want to know why we're not having one. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect humans may not be so stupid aft...

(Whoa! A smidge of humility I can take, but I draw the line at self-ridicule.)

No photo shoot tonight. No brushing. No itsy bitsy spider.

GlennaJo is crashed out suffering from "asthma." I think it's just an excuse not to type my diary, so I've made it impossible for her to get any rest. First I race to the kitchen--making sure my feet hit the floor as firmly and sharply as possible. Then I race to the living room window at the other end of the house, hitting every piece of furniture and other obstacle I can possibly fit into my path. Then I stop by the bed and stare at her until she notices and invites me to jump up. Resulting in another trip to the kitchen.

Heeeeeeeere's GlennaJo! Finally typing my diary. [OK, how's this?] I took it easy today, relaxing morning, noon and night. Then in the evening the stored-up energy just burst out in a pyrotechnic display of running, jumping and general mayhem. Now I'm relaxing again.

(That's it? That's really lame!) [Think you can do better?] (Move aside.) Hhhhhheerere'''s deee reeeseesaallll sssstttoryyy. Ouuuuchch! miiiiii nos.

So GlennaJo comes home, late as usual, whooping: "Vacation, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Vacation, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Now if you're imagining that as those e's move along they get higher and shriller, you've got the picture. And if you're a feline american (or other variety of feline), you can imagine that it continues to get higher and shriller until to goes off even our fine-tuned scale.

Once my ears stopped ringing, GlennaJo plopped down in front of the PC and went into a trance. I took a nice long nap and gave my ears a chance to recover.

Looks like it's gonna be an exciting week.

So, GlennaJo's opening this really big box and saying, "Aren't you curious what's in the box? I'm going to see what's in the box."

Yeah, all right if it will stop this babble. So I walk over to the couch the box is on and you can almost see the light bulb going off over her head. "We could take pictures of you in the box!" Brilliant.

Being no dummy, I walked next to the box, briefly sniffed the other packing pieces laid to the side, then posed in a nice sitting posture staring at the camera. When GlennaJo had expressed sufficient disgust at my pose, I moved on to check out some nearby camera equipment. Then she tried crumpling up a paper bag and throwing it in the box, so I ran into the bedroom looking for the silent prey. Finally beginning to respond to my training efforts, she gets out the gray wand and makes the silent prey, once I spot it on the floor, climb the side of the box and "disappear" inside. I immediately look at the gray wand expectantly. She tries this two more times and then another light bulb. "Prince, this will make a good diary entry! You're a really good boy." Some days you can't win!

Now here's the worst part, I figure if she's done taking pictures it's time to check out the box, so I jump in and start my explorations. Next thing I know she's throwing cat toys at me! So, naturally, I sit up in my best formal pose and look right at the camera. Works almost every time--GlennaJo lowered the camera--so I continued exploring. Another cat toy hits me. There was only one way to end this torture, so I jumped out of the box.

Maybe the "princess" wants a job as corporate asset?

Chats
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Squirt
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