In Search of Aslan

Thought I'd go ahead and post on my birthday, seeing as I'm a bit overnipped and overfed, and felt typing would be a nice way to clear my head. Turns out I haven't blogged for a year. Oops.

( So let me bring you up to speed. )

Today I turned a glorious five years old, which is really the new two. I consumed one can of tuna and half a streamer. Just because I'm getting older, doesn't mean I'm losin' my class, y'all. Bring on the caviar and aged cheddar!

In my passive, sometimes obstructionist resistance to following authoritative instructions in interpersonal or occupational situations, I toyed with this one before I ate her whole.



Delightful, no?

Meowma and Meowpa unite in marriage this weekend, before leaving me alone for 2 weeks to romp around some island made of easily digestible greenery. I'm sure this island is full of cats and shiny objects, or they wouldn't embark on such a journey. I've been assisting them with their upcoming nuptials by promptly unraveling menu ribbons, creating tears in gift-wrapped packages for easier gift wrapping removal, and mightily pouncing on reception objects that are fragile to test their endurance.

I'm an excellent Quality Assurance asset.

Quite often, I am a silly, happy-go-lucky feline of the night. But today, I have to talk to you about something quite serious: invisible goblins.

My parents have no idea how blessed they are. I've chased three goblins out from behind the curtains this evening alone. Goblins are stealth, and they are vicious. I trapped one in the bathtub yesterday, and pushed him right down the drain. I am Annie, unsung hero of Yorktown Estates. I am Annie; I know how to get the job done.

If my goblin hunting skills don't impress you, surely you are charmed by my precious piano bench pose?

I was born in West Hollywood. Knowing this, we can infer two truths: I'm accustomed to warmth and I have great fashion sense. Wisconsin has been a bit limiting, but thank goodness scarves are both practical and stylish.

So I hear it's my birthday tomorrow. This means a whole can of tuna will be served to please my feline tastes, which is completely acceptable. But I'm still turning four years old, which means an impending quarter-life crisis. As you can see, I'm less than impressed with this notion.

Here I am, enjoying the latest issue of the highly literate yet delightfully chatty Redbook. As you can see, I get rather fired up when it arrives at our house...

I knew a cat named Summer in Portland. She had grizzled whiskers and tough paws. She'd sit across the way from me, in her window with chicken wire on the insides. Sometimes we'd talk. Othertimes we'd be content to sit and gaze. Our friendship was no different than most.

Humans talk about change in the springtime. I see more change in the summer. Meowma buys things to hang and give, and I get to lay in brown cardboard boxes. My flowers don't wake; the ceiling fan hums awake, urging me to move atop the sheets. A screen door appears - my new scratching post. Take-out boxes create a countertop obstacle course, and DVD rentals make impromptu forts. Romance and adventure books litter the tables; the perfect pages to nibble on. Glasses of lemonade and beer provide new scents, and cool showers leave puddles for me to lap up. The balcony is full of birds with red chests, and Meowma and Dad let me cuddle between them, the cold air from the vent covering us with dreams.

All the same, the year-round comforts stay close. Is there anything as simple and peaceful as sleeping the afternoon away on the stairs?

Like the photo, do you? As I'm a new resident of a luxury apartment community, Meowma decided I needed a glamor photo shoot to solidify my new social status. I do like the lighting on my whiskers.

Since I'm now a sophisticated feline, it's time to add a little culture to my life. At the advice of a friend, I am busy exploring the mysteries and celebrations of Egyptology. Though I must admit, typing the word "Egyptology" into search engines has made me interested in linguistics. I nap on a lot of newspapers and books, you see, and words captivate me.

And wouldn't you know it, those blasted female cardinals have followed me to my new location. This morning on the balcony they had me absolutely surrounded, cocking their lopsided heads to squawk and tease. I will not stand for it, I tell you. If I have to delve into the world of ornithology to hatch a plan (like my use of "hatch"?), so be it. Meowma had to come and rescue me from those noisy devils this morning. She scooped me up and said, "Poor baby!" My pride was briefly shattered. But, I did catch a fly this afternoon. That always helps the ol' self-esteem meter.

The move to Vector Control is complete.

More forthcoming...

P.s. Who knew a balcony was really a Six Flags Great America?