I have a lot of toys that I use to play games with my human. Empty paper bags, boxes, old newspapers (new newspapers!), little catnippy mice, mice on strings, cats on springs, bells, balls, and of course, the owner herself.
The rules of our games are simple. I make them up as we go along, and whatever I say, goes. Of course I find clever ways of making my owner believe that she has the upper paw and she does think quite highly of herself when I let her win - which is only often enough to keep her interested in our little games.
Anyway, as masterful as I am at most games, there is one that I must admit I find quite baffling. Maybe some of you cats know about it. It's the one with the little red dot that flies around that you can never catch. It's very fast, and when I pounce on it, it magically appears on the top side of my paw. Sometimes, I think I've caught it, but when I lift my paw, it races off again and I can't quite get a claw on it. It climbs walls, disappears under furniture, and can appear and disappear in a flash. Sometimes it even appears to be in two places at once!
I chase and I chase (appearing ever so confident so that my human doesn't detect my frustration), but I can never catch that dang dot!!
What do I do?
Bailey
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
The trouble with alarm clocks...
...is that they go off precisely when set. Alarm clocks have no perception of sunrise, daylight, playtime, or breakfast, all of which are important factors in the decision of when to wake the owner.
I hear my owner complain in the wintertime that the days are too short. That it is dark when she leaves the house in the morning, and dark by the time she gets home. She, like most humans, seems to have conveniently forgotten about this complaint now that the sun rises early and sets late. I have been trying for several weeks now to remind her by waking her at the first light of day. The thanks I get? She tosses me out of the room and says she has at least two hours before the alarm goes off.
Well la tee da for the Alarm Clock. Who serves who again? The Alarm Clock does not decide when I want breakfast, or when I want to play. The Alarm Clock does not know when the owner has to be off to work and does not care enough to wake her early, just in case. The Alarm Clock does not know that by December, she will be complaining again about how little daylight she sees.
My other problem with alarm clocks? The wretched noise they make. One minute you're snoozing contendedly, and the next some person is wailing like it's the last song that will ever by sung by all of humankind. (That would indeed be a tragedy....*sighs*). It's no wonder most of the humans I know (including mine), greet this abrupt, offensive jolt with the distaste it deserves. What I don't understand is why my gentle urgings for her to get out of bed are answered with the same lack of enthusiasm, when clearly I am only trying to spare both of us this daily insult.
When we first met, I would wake her by pawing and pulling at her hair. She didn't like that. Then, I tried nipping ever so gently at the skin of her arms. She disappeared underneath the blankets. Toe pouncing was unpopular. Licking was not so nice. She liked when I would purr beside her ear, but that only made her sleepier.
Maybe if I just stood on her head?
Humans....can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
Bailey
I hear my owner complain in the wintertime that the days are too short. That it is dark when she leaves the house in the morning, and dark by the time she gets home. She, like most humans, seems to have conveniently forgotten about this complaint now that the sun rises early and sets late. I have been trying for several weeks now to remind her by waking her at the first light of day. The thanks I get? She tosses me out of the room and says she has at least two hours before the alarm goes off.
Well la tee da for the Alarm Clock. Who serves who again? The Alarm Clock does not decide when I want breakfast, or when I want to play. The Alarm Clock does not know when the owner has to be off to work and does not care enough to wake her early, just in case. The Alarm Clock does not know that by December, she will be complaining again about how little daylight she sees.
My other problem with alarm clocks? The wretched noise they make. One minute you're snoozing contendedly, and the next some person is wailing like it's the last song that will ever by sung by all of humankind. (That would indeed be a tragedy....*sighs*). It's no wonder most of the humans I know (including mine), greet this abrupt, offensive jolt with the distaste it deserves. What I don't understand is why my gentle urgings for her to get out of bed are answered with the same lack of enthusiasm, when clearly I am only trying to spare both of us this daily insult.
When we first met, I would wake her by pawing and pulling at her hair. She didn't like that. Then, I tried nipping ever so gently at the skin of her arms. She disappeared underneath the blankets. Toe pouncing was unpopular. Licking was not so nice. She liked when I would purr beside her ear, but that only made her sleepier.
Maybe if I just stood on her head?
Humans....can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
Bailey
Saturday, May 26, 2007
More on the confusing behavior of dogs...
Take the game of Fetch. This is how I've seen dogs do it:
Step 1. Human throws ball, stick, or other suitable object.
Step 2. Dog races after it, and carries it back to the human.
Step 3. Repeat Steps 1 and 2 as often as desired.
This is just one classic example of how dogs believe themselves to be in service to humans. This is how I play fetch with my human:
Step 1. Show interest in ball, mouse, or other suitable object.
Step 2. Bat it around until my human sees.
Step 3. Chase it across the room, preferably under a piece of furniture or other virtually inaccessible location.
Step 4. Repeat with all such toys that are within my reach, as well as some objects that my human finds useful (i.e. pens, keys, socks, etc.).
Step 5. Purr with amusement from my seat on the sofa while the human runs around collecting the items.
Step 6. Pretend to care when the human throws my toys around the house again afterwards with the mistaken belief that she is playing a game with me.
Bailey
Step 1. Human throws ball, stick, or other suitable object.
Step 2. Dog races after it, and carries it back to the human.
Step 3. Repeat Steps 1 and 2 as often as desired.
This is just one classic example of how dogs believe themselves to be in service to humans. This is how I play fetch with my human:
Step 1. Show interest in ball, mouse, or other suitable object.
Step 2. Bat it around until my human sees.
Step 3. Chase it across the room, preferably under a piece of furniture or other virtually inaccessible location.
Step 4. Repeat with all such toys that are within my reach, as well as some objects that my human finds useful (i.e. pens, keys, socks, etc.).
Step 5. Purr with amusement from my seat on the sofa while the human runs around collecting the items.
Step 6. Pretend to care when the human throws my toys around the house again afterwards with the mistaken belief that she is playing a game with me.
Bailey
Friday, May 25, 2007
She's been cheating with that dog again...
Oh, she comes home and cuddles me and plays with me and pretends that I don't know, but she can't fool me. I know all about the dog. Even if I couldn't smell him a mile away, the guilt is written all over her face, visible even under all the dog drool. Disgusting.
Now, let's be clear. This isn't about jealousy. No way. ME, jealous of a DOG? Seriously. You've got to be kidding. I'm clearly superior in every important way - my shear feline genius, good looks, and most importantly, my highly advanced and civilized standards of personal cleanliness. *preens*
No, it's not about this dog. It's just about dogs. I don't get them. I think it's pathetic how they would literally trip over themselves to please a two-legged, any two-legged...anything to earn a bone, a toy, or a pat on the head. Talk about desperate.
Of course it makes sense if you consider the evolutionary relationships between humans, dogs and cats. As the more advanced species, we felines naturally understand that humans are here to serve us. Dogs, on the other hand, being an inferior species, mistakenly believe that humans are gods. It's pitiful to the point of being downright sad, if you ask me.
More later...she's chasing me off the computer...
Bailey
Now, let's be clear. This isn't about jealousy. No way. ME, jealous of a DOG? Seriously. You've got to be kidding. I'm clearly superior in every important way - my shear feline genius, good looks, and most importantly, my highly advanced and civilized standards of personal cleanliness. *preens*
No, it's not about this dog. It's just about dogs. I don't get them. I think it's pathetic how they would literally trip over themselves to please a two-legged, any two-legged...anything to earn a bone, a toy, or a pat on the head. Talk about desperate.
Of course it makes sense if you consider the evolutionary relationships between humans, dogs and cats. As the more advanced species, we felines naturally understand that humans are here to serve us. Dogs, on the other hand, being an inferior species, mistakenly believe that humans are gods. It's pitiful to the point of being downright sad, if you ask me.
More later...she's chasing me off the computer...
Bailey
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Move over, it's my turn to type...
Hi, I'm Bailey. Actually, it's THE Feline Queen of the Universe to you people. If you know what's good for you, you'll bow before my stripey paws and tell me what a pretty cat I am. Meow. *preens*
My two-legged, the one who brings me food, she calls me Bailey. Now, I don't want to venture too far into trying to explain what comes out of the brains of the two-leggeds, but I'm sure it had something to do with that sassy boss doctor on one of those TV medical dramas. I like her, but don't tell my owner. You see, if I ever let on that I actually like that show, she won't feel guilty anymore about watching it when she should be showering me with attention. It is, after all, all about ME. Even if me is named after that or whatever....
Anyway, my owner thinks she's some kind of writer or something and spends a lot of time typing on this thing. Time spent typing = time she's not petting me. Can't have that now, can we? Oh believe me, I've tried everything. Sprawling out on top of her arms, batting the mouse off the desk, chewing the corners of her papers, swishing my tail in her face...and sometimes it works. But most times, it deters her only temporarily.
Well, I've been watching her do this for some time now and I just don't see what's so hard about it. If she can do this, I can do this...and let me tell you, I am going to set the record straight about whatever she's told you about me.
Look out world, I have arrived. Meow.
Bailey
My two-legged, the one who brings me food, she calls me Bailey. Now, I don't want to venture too far into trying to explain what comes out of the brains of the two-leggeds, but I'm sure it had something to do with that sassy boss doctor on one of those TV medical dramas. I like her, but don't tell my owner. You see, if I ever let on that I actually like that show, she won't feel guilty anymore about watching it when she should be showering me with attention. It is, after all, all about ME. Even if me is named after that or whatever....
Anyway, my owner thinks she's some kind of writer or something and spends a lot of time typing on this thing. Time spent typing = time she's not petting me. Can't have that now, can we? Oh believe me, I've tried everything. Sprawling out on top of her arms, batting the mouse off the desk, chewing the corners of her papers, swishing my tail in her face...and sometimes it works. But most times, it deters her only temporarily.
Well, I've been watching her do this for some time now and I just don't see what's so hard about it. If she can do this, I can do this...and let me tell you, I am going to set the record straight about whatever she's told you about me.
Look out world, I have arrived. Meow.
Bailey
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