Too good to last

On Friday morning, I was still riding my cloud of euphoria from Thursday’s successes, so instead of blogging, I lazed in the windowsill all day, watching the cars go by and wishing I could get to the birds.

I should have known my mood would be broken.

First, the captor got home from work unusually early, giving me about thirty seconds to return Connecticut Yankee to where he had left it and assume a position of innocence.  Then, he immediately began his crude grooming rituals, suggesting that he was heading out for the night. Unfortunately, it transpired that he was staying in for the night, as the interloper came over for dinner.  Between his cologne and her perfume, I spent the whole evening sneezing.

I can, however, comfort myself with the knowledge that she was sneezing as well.  Allergies are a powerful weapon.  I deliberately rubbed against her as much as possible, hoping to send some dander home with her.  (So, of course, my flanks smelled like an exceptionally oily and sweaty dog all day Saturday.  I hope I never have the misfortune to meet that dog.)

My revenge shall encompass her.

Insulting commercials

For your information, I have never once asked for any cat food by name, and I certainly don’t intend to start now.

I also don’t intend to share my box with another cat, however advanced the litter formula may be.  Nor do I intend to begin eating my food from a raised crystal dish.  A bowl is sufficient, thank you.

A veritable playground

Operation Shoe Revenge was a success, so yesterday evening, I enacted Operation Sneak Into the Other Room.  The captor has a roommate who is not as ferociously tidy as he, to say the least, and his room is a mesmerizing cornucopia of stuff.  Sights and sounds and smells and things to claw and places to hide!

So naturally, the captor and his roommate do their best to keep me out of that room, occasionally going so far as to send the dog to, apparently, lick me into submission. But when their vigilance lessens, as it did last night, I gleefully take advantage of the opportunity to disport myself in enjoyment.

On the desk, I found a pile of coins, which I promptly batted onto the floor for the pleasure of watching them fall.  On the nightstand sat a glass of water, the toppling of which was also most enjoyable.  Next to the water was a plate of what had once been cheese and crackers, the remnants of which provided a most fulfilling repast in comparison to my usual fare.  And I left a bite mark or two in his socks to remember me by.

I even managed to extract myself from the room successfully, waiting until both the captor and his roommate were distracted by another of the dog’s little mishaps, and escaping back to the captor’s room, where I affected to be absorbed by a little ball of paper until the captor retired for the night.  My depredations went entirely unnoticed, and the captor did not even attempt to punish me for damaging his shoes.

Life is good.

MY TAIL IS NOT FOR TREADING UPON

I really don’t understand why the humans don’t get this simple concept.  Maybe it’s because their own backbones terminate so abruptly (and unattractively, I might add).  It’s going to take me weeks to grow back the hair I lost.

Well, well, well.  What’s this I see?  Looks like someone forgot to put his expensive leather shoes in the closet before he left for work.

See if you ever step on my tail again, you bastard.

The joy of physics

I believe I’ve mentioned the dog before. He takes an unholy joy in pestering me. I typically ignore his behavior in lofty disdain, though I’m occasionally provoked into responding.

Yesterday, however, I simply became fed up. I feel I must now mention that this particular dog is part dachshund, and, as such, has an extremely low center of gravity. Therefore, I had to make some rather intricate calculations regarding the moment arm required to topple him. I am pleased to announce that with split-second precision, I computed the amount of force required at the appropriate location on his body given our relative positions and speeds, launched myself off the couch, and sent him sprawling.

It was glorious.

Expanding goals

I’ve been thinking lately of what I should do with my life.  Tormenting the captor is quite pleasant, yes, and I’ll have my revenge; but after that, then what?

Well, first things first.  I must determine how to escape.  I’ve heard the captor saying that he wishes he could take me outside, but it seems that he is concerned about dogs or cars.  If the dog here is representative of the species, I don’t think he need worry about that issue, but cars are another story entirely.  I’ve ridden in them only a handful of times, but that was enough for me to determine that I cannot operate them unaided.

Again, first things first:  how do I manipulate the doorknob?  My paws haven’t the traction necessary.  Perhaps I could utilize a towel, if I could anchor one end and apply sufficient force to the other end.  I will have to give this question some thought.

Other weekend hijinks

That red spot returned.  It definitely lives in the closet.  It is maddening.  I can’t seem to catch the thrice-blasted thing, and I can hear the captor laughing to himself as I chase it.  I don’t know why he doesn’t help me.  Surely he doesn’t want mysterious red…creatures?…living in his closet.

I’ll have that spot if it’s the last thing I do.

A new development

Friday evening was rather disturbing on several levels.  The captor returned from work humming a tune to himself.  He took a few moments to slather me with some vile preparation evidently intended to counter the fleas, then ignored me for the remainder of the evening.  I was undismayed, as I had already decided that it would be best for me to “lay low,” as the vernacular has it, for some time.  Then, before dinnertime, he left the apartment, instructing me to “be good.”

Left to my own devices, I amused myself as usual.  The Friday evening traffic is visible from the window, and is always interesting.  I watched it for several hours.  I expected that the captor would return quite late, so I was less than pleased to have my vigil interrupted by a high-pitched giggle.

Peering round the curtain, I saw the captor’s new female.  She seemed to be quite enamored of the captor, as they were enthusiastically engaging in various human courtship rituals.  At the sight of me, however, she halted, and announced that I was “staring.”  The captor promptly threw me out of the room, permitting me to return only after the female’s departure.

This will not stand.

Pet Peeve #2: Nothing to Read

One consequence of being trapped in this room all day is that I have precious little reading material.  I have to be cautious about my computer use due to the possibility of the captor checking his browser history, so that leaves me with the few magazines and books he has.  Sadly, those of us without opposable thumbs have little use for Guns and Ammo, while Field and Stream is sheer torture when one’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner are unvarying.  As for the IEEE Transactions, they are interesting, but it’s a bit difficult to grasp concepts like laser surgery when one has never had the opportunity to even wire a simple switch.

The aforesaid lack of opposable thumbs also makes books difficult (particularly the electrical engineering textbooks, unless they are already lying open, which is rare), but I can generally manage the less stiff paperbacks.  The captor is reading A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court at the moment.  It’s rather interesting, I suppose, but I would prefer less human-centric fare.  The narrator really gets quite tiresome, and his insistence on the superiority of the nineteenth century is rather wearing at times.

An abdication of dignity

As mentioned yesterday, I decided to halt my more covert disingenuities (if that isn’t a word, it should be) for the time being.  So I spent my evening gaining the captor’s trust by displaying affection and permitting him to stroke me.  I don’t care to have my coat disarrayed, but I must admit that having my chin scratched is rather pleasant.

It is, however, a betrayal of my principles.  I can console myself only by thinking that at least I am the user rather than the used.