Tuesday, December 1, 2009

My Seat of Power

Sometimes, its the little battles that are the most worth fighting. A symbolic victory can set a tone for your entire sphere of influence. I have chosen the middle of the hall as my battlefield for dominance over the humans. They will have to walk around me. They've tripped a couple of times, and spoken to me harshly on occasion, but I have responded with non-violent cuteness, taking my cues from Gandhi, and I'm proud to report that they are starting to see the light and simply step around me with less and less insolent backtalk. I have not had to raise a paw or meow them into submission yet.

I hear from other cats that some humans move them out of the way or are very rude to them, or even kick them. I'm happy to say that my humans have not acted in such a manner. I'm very proud of them, they have such potential as loyal cat subjects.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

The Paper Ball

The furry human has been playing a new game with us. He crumbles up a piece of paper into a ball and throws it for us. Its great fun to chase and bat around. It makes a nice "batting" sound and is very light and easy to toss. He played with us until midnight last night. I finally laid down and let Lucy do all the chasing. I like to play, but c'mon, I don't like it becoming work. That just seems wrong.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

What's in a name?

There are many different names for Polydactyl cats.

Hemingway cat, or simply Hemingway
Boxers or Boxing Cats
Mitten Cats
Michigan Cats
Thumb Cats
Six-finger Cats
Boston Thumb Cats or Bostons

There are poly's that are native to Ithaca, New York, that are known as "Ithacats".

Famous Polydactyl-President Theodore Roosevelt had a poly named Slippers. He was one of the first cats in the White House and was very popular at official functions and press conferences.

I prefer to be called a Boston, or Hemingway Cat. If I was a street cat, I'd go by "Boston" and have a scar on one cheek and have a New England accent. I'd say "Mee aah" instead of Meow. Chicks dig the scars. Linus is not a very dangerous sounding name. But you are what you are, and I'm proud to be different.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Lucy Walking on the keyboard...


Get off the keyboard Furry Butt!!

I'm blogging here!

Saturday, November 14, 2009

I am Otter.

Please go visit my friend Otter.

"I am Otter"

He has a great website and writes funny blog entries. He has thumbs too, so he's ok with me.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

The Sociology of Felines.

The furry faced human has a large book in the basement in the bookshelf. The title is "Sociology", I think it was a textbook for college. From what I could tell, it was a book explaining how human society works, or at least how to understand it. So I drug it out and set to reading it.

Alot it was crazy. Humans make things utterly too complicated. I think much of it has to do with their desire to impose order on the world. Wasted time, wasted energy. Beyond the search for kibble, a warm place in the sun to groom, and someone to snuggle with, is there really a need for much more? Humans don't get the utter simplicity of cat society, nor do I think they ever will.

The book said that there are different ways of interpreting society, different paradigms if you will (pretty cool word for a domestic short-hair to use, eh?-its the thumbs I tell ya). One of the paradigms was that everything was symbolic, another paradigm was that everyone is placed in certain positions as part of a great machine, every cog in their place, and the last was that society was simply based on the conflict between the classes-that was Marx of course.

While humans and dogs seem to subscribe to building groups of people together, united for a purpose, whether a pack of dogs, or an army of humans, cats generally are more like anarchists; small groups with self-preservation as their aim. Within a group of cats, one may assert themselves as the alpha cat, but with the exception of lions, we don't really care about building a viable group. We prefer individualism, we prefer a smaller circle of relationships. A mother and her litter, a tom and his mate, littermates like Lucy and I who have been kept together. You would never see a group of cats building a pyramid or monolith.

Nope, not when there are toys to be played with, sunshine to be absorbed and kibble to be munched. People and dogs may not look down their noses at us, but we have discovered the good life. In Costa Rica, the humans have a saying that comes closest to Feline philosophy: "Pura Vida", living the pure life, unfettered by the passions and pursuits that are so much litter box fodder. The sociology of felines is just that, the good life, without the entanglements of pursuits that only benefit the strong.

I think thats why I'm writing this, to help humans understand why felines have so much to teach a crazy human world.

Saturday, October 31, 2009


The furry person spent the day in the yard moving the leaves with this green box that roared. There were big piles of colored leaves afterward that would have been heavenly to play in.

The red haired person was doing something to the floor in the kitchen and was smearing white paste into holes in the floor, when I tried to help I got something sticky on my paw and she grabbed me and put my paw in water, how revolting!

After that, she locked Lucy and I in our room. At least we could look at the window. About dinner time, the strangest thing started happening. All of these little humans with their parents started walking through the neighborhood carrying little bags. They were in all sorts of odd clothes, and some of them even looked like cats and dogs.

Many of them came to our house and knocked on the door or pressed the doorbell. The furry person gave them treats. It was very insulting, we dress like cats everyday and we don't get those kinds of treats. Just another example of people keeping the felines down.

After about 2 hours of this, the furry person let us out. He wasn't paying attention to us, and Lucy and I saw that the door to the basement was open. We aren't allowed there, but we knew it had to be a place of wonder and mystery. We slipped down the green carpeted stairs and realized we weren't being followed. It was full of boxes and clothes and all kinds of wonderful things. There were new smells and old smells and all kinds of fun places to hide in.

Finally, Lucy got hungry and went back to our room, but not me. I was going to explore the outer reaches of the basement. An intrepid explorer, living on the edge, thats me!

Then I heard a familiar noise...

No, it couldn't be, not now! But there it was, the feathers and bell on a stick. Shaking and ringing looking like a bird hovering low. I know its not real, its just a toy, but it calls to something deep inside of me, that primal cat part of me that wants to kill prey.

In a flash I was up the stairs attacking and in my fury to kill the faux bird, I heard that horrible sound. "Click.", The door was closed and I'm in the boring kitchen again.

I feel so ashamed. I'm going to drown my sorrows in kibble now. Paradise has been lost.