A moment's recognition

The human came home early today. Nice to have company, but he was solicitous enough that I knew something was up. Not that I expected the immediate business with the hanging plant. He watered it like he does every day, and suddenly there was water all over my couch and the human in a frenzy of throwing towels.

Conspicuously absent there is anything I did. But next thing I know, I'm shoved feet-first into a sort of little suitcase, then rocking back and forth as we walk down the street, outside the apartment! Not even taking time to smell anything! I'm not ashamed to admit I was scared. Nothing enhances the unfamiliar like an enclosure where you can barely turn around.

Anyhow, we enter a building - I smell dogs - the human blah blah blahs some, and unzips the suitcase. I'm in a room I've never seen, and over the next half hour three or four other humans go in and out. I like meeting people, because they invariably give their attention to me, and here, so help me, everyone had their priorities right. Me, me, me. I'm not ashamed to admit I got pretty happy, though they poked at some unaccustomed places.

So okay, I could live with it. The human in the white coat even gave me "Cheez Whiz", a substance I could never have imagined without assistance. Briefly I was taken away from my own human, to a back room where they trimmed my claws and clipped the fur on my backside. If there was a reason for that, you don't need to know it.

The whole venture turned out so well that when the little suitcase reappeared I hopped right in. It leads to good things, right? But this time it opened into the same old apartment. Oh well. My couch was nearly dried from the watering incident, and I got a big piece of salmon. I wonder if I'll ever see that little room again.

Bring me your hair

Could you bring your head a little closer please?

Hmmm. My, my, interesting. Indeed. Hold still, I'm not done yet.

Look, I've figured out that I don't get to leave this apartment. Dogs, cars, missing cat posters, yakety yak. You, on the other hand, go where you please, when you please. So the least you can do is let me check out the odors you bring back. Your hair is, frankly, an odor sponge.

For example you've been hanging around smokers again. And you complain about my litter box?

There was also a large body of water. Really large, and salty. And full of...fish. Oh my. More than a few birds, too, but not of an appetizing sort.

Okay, I'm done with your hair. You can go now. But leave your shoes. They'll be another ten minutes.

No, I wanted to play.

You were right up to a point. When I meow from my cat tree and make little swipes at you, it does mean I want to play.

But by the time you've put down whatever you were doing, walked over, and started waving toys around, that's old news. Now you want to play. I've moved on in life, and don't see why you can't just let it go.

Perhaps at some point I'll want to play again. Possibly the next time you sit down.

You're not even listening

From what I've seen, humans depend greatly on verbal communication. If so, you'd think my human would be better at it, or at least show more effort. A typical conversation between us is

Me: Give me fish.
Human: (petting me) I love you too!
Me: That reply made no sense.
Human: Yes I do!
Me: Cretin.

I can hardly complain about the petting, but these exchanges suggest two unacceptable possibilities. Either the human I depend on for food is unable to understand me, or he is simply unconcerned with what I'm saying.

When he lectures me for begging, at least, I can grant he's closer to the mark. But it's probably a lucky guess. And where does he get off? If I knew how to conjure snacks I'd leave him alone. Completely.

Mere coincidences

A bit of fortuitous luck last night. I'd decided it would be just the thing to climb atop the mantle and crawl to the far end for a nap. Wouldn't you know, there was a folded up towel in exactly my chosen spot. Trés perfect!

But when my human came home and gave me due attention, I rather suspect he was fawning on me. Like it was endearing that I had chosen to curl up on the towel. No, you twerp, I had chosen to nap here anyway. The towel just happened to be there.

Anyhow I seem to be on a roll. Today I picked a perfect napping spot in the middle of the floor, and wouldn't you know it, there's a folded up towel right there! Ahhh. Comfortable, and exactly where I was planning to put myself.

What is the human laughing about? Pfffft. Simians.

Please stop dancing now

Self-grooming isn't light business; I defy any non-cat to lick the entirety of his or her own back. Even in a feline body it calls for some serious contortions.

So when I've twisted and balanced enough to wash my own hip, I'd really prefer that my human not start dancing. Once he starts dancing, I can't move a muscle until he stops. Because I'm sure as hell not taking my eyes off him. My instincts assure me this "dancing" is a prelude to cat dismemberment.

He knows this. He must know it. He only ever dances when I'm in the middle of a difficult grooming pose, and looks thoroughly pleased with himself.

My previous residence was no bowl of catnip. The other cat was a total hellion. But at least that human refrained from dancing in my presence.

Great, I've forgotten where I was. Must start over on the hip. Will you stop!

Am I supposed to be grateful?

Apparently my owner thought it would be kind, or amusing, or whatever, to give me a little piece of fresh tuna.

Hello! May I remind you that cats retain 99% of our feral instincts, and that I myself was feral ere we met? I can no more ignore the possibility of a whole dead fish somewhere than you could ignore a child's cry for help. That was 30 minutes of my short waking lifespan spent sniffing out the entire apartment, and now my nose is sore.

Admittedly the fish was very good. But I can no longer entirely trust you not to have more somewhere.