Mixed Feelings

Blogospohere, I have conflicted feelings. Pablo is Gone. Relieved as I am that my nemesis has vacated the premises, I can't help but wonder why he has a home with a human and a desk, and I do not. I hope that this phenomenon is not a result of my... direct manner. Should I be more conciliatory? Has my acid wit diminished my appeal? I will now make an effort to be more less critical and generally more amiable.

Here goes... Let's see... Did you see the sunrise this morning? Very nice. Lots of pink...

What else... What's in the news?... Lady Gaga is expected to be the popular choice for this year's trick-or-treaters. Very interesting. When I see the direction of popular culture I feel very... encouraged and optimistic...

Alrighty, other positive things to say...

Primary Human got a new haircut... quite fetching.

SDKJGH :z.sjdn gk;sdnjgl;zsj!!!!!!!!

I can't do this!!!

I'm sorry, Blogosphere, I tried!

I did not see the sunrise, as the view from the shelter is quite un-spectacular.

Had the position of Archenemies not already  been filled by Pablo--adopted or not--I would choose Top 40 Inane Pablum as my enemy--Lady Gaga included! Cultural icon indeed. I could wrap myself in a shower curtain and pontificate about ill-thought relationships, interspersed with random noises.

Finally, Primary Human is ridiculous. I'm not sure she even brushes her hair.

Ahhh, that's better.

Sorry, Blogosphere. I tried. If you'll forgive the cliche, I have to be me. Hopefully, there is someone out there who will appreciate that.

I am beneficial to your health.

It is well documented that people who have one or more pets have greater longevity and overall health than those without animal companions. I am an animal companion, so it only seems reasonable to deduce that I am beneficial to your health-- you just don't know it yet.

Blogoshpere, I need a home. Don't worry, I'm not about to hit you with images of us poor, lonely shelter animals; but it is high time someone recognize my splendid qualities, take me to a nice, quiet home--with a desk--and lavish on me the love, attention, and crunchies I crave.

In return for this, I can promise you the following:

1) I will never complain to you about my day.

2) I will not be remotely concerned about your personal affairs that are none of my business, ie: how much time you spend on Face Book, reality shows you watch, science experiments in your fridge, whether or not your ______ is/are natural, what kind of car you drive, or anything involving your personal credit and/or hygiene.  Give me food, shelter, care, and love (and a desk) and I don't care about the rest.

3) I will not bark at visitors.

4) I will not leave my socks on the floor, or toilet seat up.

5) I will keep my Reggae music at a reasonable volume.

Blogosphere, I don't mean to complain--but it is time for me to get out of this shelter. Don't get me wrong, they take good care of us, but my personal growth is being stifled. How can I try new foods surrounded by sandwich-munching nitwits? The radio station of my life is stuck on 'Easy Listeneng'. It's time for the next stage of my life to begin, Blogosphere. If you are my soul mate, please respond ASAP.

I told you!

Blogoshphere, did I call it?

Last week, I underwent I minor procedure-- don't worry, I am fine, and recovering well.  At any rate, my arch nemesis, Pablo, seized his opportunity to strike. Knowing my guard was down, as I recovered from the effects of anesthetic, he managed to extract from me the information necessary to invade my blog!

You may be wondering why I have not removed his post. Well, I believe it is proof that what I said previously was true. I do intend, however, to respond to this offense, point by point:

1) Pablo has no honour to defend.

2) He is evil-- hence the hacking. Furthermore, have you ever heard of anyone who speaks in the third person who wasn't evil?!

3) I make no contest to the point that Pablo loves nothing more than to eat-- you saw the photo.

4) I am neither fearful, nor insecure, nor certainly-- and it pains me to even type these ineloquent words--'a big smelly pants'.

Rest assured, Blogosphere, I have addressed the security concerns of my blog, and have no intention of letting down my guard again.

I hate to have to do this...

What can be done? I am Pablo. Pablo's honour must be defended, so Pablo has hacked Mike's blog.  Mike calls Pablo evil, but Pablo is not evil--Pablo is filled with the passion of life, and happens to also like desks.  Pablo would love nothing more than to eat, lie on a desk, and be loved--for Pablo loves love; but Mike has called Pablo out, and Pablo cannot stand by wile he is insulted. So friends, do not believe all that you read on this inter-web. Hear Pablo, that Pablo is not evil.  Perhaps Mike is just fearful, because Mike is insecure, as well as being a big smelly pants.

Why no bed for the fuller figured cat?

I think you see my point.

Everyone needs an antagonist

I know, I know, Blogoshpere, I have been most negligent in enlightening you with my thoughts, lately. Suffice it to say, I have been preoccupied. There's a new cat in town, and to quote my favourite film genre, this town ain't big enough for the both of us... literally. My nemesis comes in the form of--stop me if this sounds familiar--a very large-framed  tuxedo cat. Granted, he is long-haired, while my coat is trim and neat; but the fact remains that he--Pablo, they call him--is cramping my style.

Although I am not pleased with Pablo's arrival, I did have a moment of epiphany which gave me pause (no, not 'paws'--puns are beneath me.) It occurred to me, Blogoshpere, that every protagonist needs an antagonist. Every--dare I say--hero needs a nemesis. Far be it for me to upset the balance of the universe. And so, alas, though I do not celebrate his arrival, I humbly submit to the primordial dance of good and evil. Think about it. Where would Roy Hobbs (Robert Redford in The Natural) have been if not for a weird, gun-wielding seductress?... Okay, happily married to his high-school sweetheart, and enjoying major league success, but that's not a very good story. Where would Hamlet be without Claudius?  Sherlock Holmes without Professor Moriarty? Suerpman sans Lex Luthor? Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid without the Bolivian Cavalry? I'll warrant, their lives may have progressed more peacefully, but where is the poetry in that?

I have yet to surmise in what way Pablo will plot against me, but I am certain he will. He is my antagonist. It is his raison d'etre. But rest assured, Blogoshpere, I am no shrinking violet.

By the way, if as you read this, you are trying and failing to figure out who is the evil archenemy in your plot, I have news: It's you.

Creative Pursuits

Blogosphere, you know about my effort to sample new foods; but truly, this is more of a hobby, than it is a creative outlet. And although this passtime is enjoyable and entertaining, it doesn't exactly exercise my right-brain creative self. So, I have found myself with a lot of pent-up creative energy; and if you have ever found yourself in this situation, you will know that an outlet must be found. Well, last night, much to my surprise, my creative outlet came in the form of a blues song:

I can't see the crunchie bowl,
Woman took all the crunchies away.
Well, you know I can't see that crunchie bowl,
Woman took all those crunchies away.
Well, I can't even have a little nibble,
'Cuz she didn't even leave no kibble.
I got the empty crunchie bowl blues.

There's a strong smell up in here,
This litter box is smelling foul.
Oh, there is such a strong smell up in here,
Lord, this litter box is smelling foul.
Well, I guess I'll just have to go on singing,
'Cuz of that smell, my eyes are stinging,
I got the smelly litter box blues.

I'm pacing the floor now,
No place to rest my weary bones.
Well you know that I'm pacing the floor now,
'Cuz there's no place to rest my weary bones.
Well you know that I try and try,
But there ain't no place big enough for me to lie,
I got the great-big cat blues.

You know that I try and try, and try and try and try,
But there's nowhere for a cat like me to lie.
I got the great-big--
and you know that I mean great-big--
I got the great-big tuxedo cat blues.

Three words...

I LIKE CHEESE.

Would everyone please relax?

Humans, why all the bustling about? What a busy bunch you are! Yesterday, Primary Human and three accomplices spent their entire day moving heavy items, and painting the shelter. As far as I could tell, they painted it exactly the same colour-- I may be colour blind, but that's beside the point. Humans need a lesson in avoiding pointless activities that use up energy unnecessarily. I will demonstrate with the following list:

- painting / redecorating: pointless
- watching television shows about painting / redecorating: ridiculously pointless
- spending an entire day in an activity which does not result in a meal: pointless
- meetings: absolutely pointless
- teleconferences: even more pointless
- chasing shoe laces: excellent fun

Humans, take my advice. Few activities are worth the stock you put in them. I have been watching you for a while, and I have come up with three theories: 1) You would like to relax, but are afraid of what others would think, so you invest considerable time simply trying to look busy; or 2) You somehow still believe that it is possible to 'get it all done', and that once you do, all will be well; or 3) You know it is pointless, but you are attempting to entertain your feline overlords.

I think that you would all to well to consider the this cat's personal philosophy, which subscribes to three basic credos:

1) Ask yourself, is it really worth getting up for?
2) Can it be delayed indefinitely?
3) Is it tasty?

And remember humans, sometimes the can contains tuna, sometimes it's just beans. So relax... or at least stop bothering me while I relax.

I willingly oblige...

I believe it is good to be of service. In my day-to-day life, there have been many requests for my knowledge and advice on a myriad of matters; and so Blogosphere, I offer my services to you. If you require advice--whether on your summer reading list, or what pairs well with baba ganouch (Jane Eyre and dry Riesling, respectively) I welcome your questions. And so, I leave it to you, Blogosphere--I am at your disposal.

Click on 'Ask Mike', use 'Comments' to ask your question, and await Mike's wisdom.

Lunch Haiku

Humans bring lunches.
Stealthy tuxedo cat waits.
Many foods to try.

My Repose Woes

Oh, Blogosphere, I know that much time has passed since my last post,but do forgive me; my sleep has been poor in both quality and quantity.

In the past, I believe I eluded to the fact that I am, what one might call, a fuller-figured feline. As a large-framed individual (I am large framed--Primary Human vulgarly likened my head to a grapefruit) it is challenging to find amenities necessary for the domestic cat, which suit my stature. I long ago gave up hope that they would dispose of those ridiculous litter boxes and fill a kiddy pool with my preferred litter; but is it really too much to ask for a bed which will accommodate my ample form? My only relief comes from Primary Human's office furniture. I find her chair most comfortable, and quite private when pushed into the desk. But each morning, she unceremoniously removes me so that she can sit there to 'work'. Accommodating as I am, I then try to assume a posture of rest on her desk, enjoying the contrast of its smooth, cool surface--but no! There is apparently not enough room for Primary Human to look busy and allow my supine position. And so, Blogosphere, I spend the day going from place to place, floor to fridge top, trying to find a suitable place to rest.

Is there no rest for the weary... or the voluptuous?

Lessons in the art of the 'poker face'.

Thwarted as I was, yesterday, in my attempt to sample Primary Human's tofu and salad, I was forced to find amusement elsewhere. I don't think I would have cared for tofu salad anyway--what can't that woman ever bring a Nicoice or Calabrese? Anyway, Blogosphere, you may me surprised to know that to amuse ourselves, after the humans leave, we--the shelter cats--play poker. You scoff--how can a cat play poker? Well, aren't you the one reading the blog of an oddly loquacious feline? At any rate, this is our custom. We play for crunchies, and I usually win, reader. I possess an uncanny ability when it comes to the 'poker face', and Lady Gaga knows nothing. Most will say that it is all about controlling your tell--the thing that gives you away--but then they go back to their daily routine, without any thought of their constant change in expression. Here is what I have discovered: choose one facial expression, and never vary--ever. I considered several emotions to portray--fatigue, ennui, and of course, disgust--but in the end, I chose surprise. It is simple, easy to maintain, and throws everyone off guard--not just your poker opponents. The only time it hasn't worked, was during the aforementioned incident with the taking of my temperature. Already looking surprised, facially, I had nowhere to go... I digress. Choose your face, never change, win all the crunchies. That is my advice.

Eureka!

Blogosphere, I've done it! I have discovered my raison d'etre! It is my intention to try new foods. It was right in front of me, all along. I can expand my palate, and enjoy the covert actions such an activity necessitates. I mentioned, previously, my fondness for baba ganouch, which I acquired when Primary Human foolishly turned her back on her lunch. And another day, Curly-Headed Human unwittingly dropped a morsel of salmon from her sandwich--delicious! Once, Can't Keep Her Hands to Herself Human (she once helped Primary Human take my temperature... don't ask) gave me a long, cylindrical noodle, which apparently was bright orange (I don't see that particular hue). It was quite zesty, and not altogether bad. Humans constantly flaunt their omnivorous fare, expecting me to subsist on kibble and meagre portions of tinned meat. Well, I intend to exploit the frequent interruptions to their meals, and sample what I may. I will let you know how things proceed.

What to Do?

Oh, Blogoshphere, I have a dilemma. As I mentioned previously, I do appreciate the care given me, at the shelter. However, I believe in the importance of a well-rounded personality (as well as belly). I need a hobby, but my options within the shelter are limited. Furthermore, this pursuit should not be contrived-- I do not want simply to choose something arbitrarily. What to do? Last night, after the humans left the shelter, I tried to find an all Reggae station on the radio, to further my appreciation of the genre, but to no avail! I managed to open the cupboard where I have seen Primary Human store literature; but what a boring and single-minded individual she must be... nothing but 'Understanding Your Cat' this, and 'Knowing Your Feline that. I could write a book on cat behaviour--and it would blow your mind, reader. The section on cat health and disease I feared would only create, in me, a sense of hypochondria. I bet Primary Human goes home and drinks herbal tea while watching Antiques Roadshow... not that there's any thing wrong with that. At any rate, I feel not only stifled, but perplexed. Not only must my chosen hobby meet my requirements for personal fulfillment and self-exploration, but it must be accomplished within the limited environ of a cat shelter staffed by a teetotaling cat lady. It will not be easy. I will keep you informed.

Hello. I'm Mike.

My name is Mike.

In case you hadn't noticed, I am a cat.

I don't really feel like writing a detailed autobiography, at this juncture; I prefer to maintain a certain aura of mystique. But, for those of you who fill out all the personal information on your FaceBook page (do you really think anyone reads it?) I will grant you this: I live in a cat shelter (the Salt Spring Branch of the BC SPCA, to be precise); I like cool, smooth surfaces--such as desks--on which to lie; I enjoy the classical staion they play at the shelter, but I wish they'd play a little Reggae once in a while; I have a fondness for baba ganouch; my favourite book is Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy; and although I do not mind the shelter, I would prefer a home (one with kind, loving humans--and a desk). My status, could only be described as 'relaxed'. That's all you need know of me... for now.

I have spent a considerable amount of time in serious contemplation about what I would like to say. But then, I spend a considerable amount of time in serious contemplation about many things; and so that is my modus operandi for this blog--to share my thoughts on things. But where to begin? I have gripes, such as humans who talk baby talk to me, or why there is not a litter box for the fuller-figured cat. I have questions, like why do they bother with Daylight Savings Time--why not just adjust the clocks a half an hour, and be done with it, for goodness sake? I know the answer to questions too, like why do cats LOVE to lie on your newspaper?... I'll never tell. I have theories, concepts, concerns, and many, many comments. But I think I will simply blog as the spirit moves me, and right now, it is moving me in the direction of the crunchie bowl. Also, my tail is getting sore from being unaccustomed to typing. So, dear reader, I will leave you, but not for long, as I have many thoughts, and much to say.