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You may or may not have noticed, but this past week saw the passing of Socks, a great example to the Feline-American community. Many of you may not remember Socks, who rose to celebrity as the cat adopted by Chelsea Clinton when her father was governor of Arkansas. When the Clintons moved into the White House, Socks was given free reign of the presidential residence -a distinction few in the world can ever claim to enjoy. Even after the public relations debacle that was the adoption of the canine scourge known as Buddy, Socks carried on with dignity as a senior member of the Clinton family.

What Socks taught millions of bipeds in this country is that cats are not the capricious animals that the negative stereotypes often portray us as. Rather, we are the perfect meritocrats. We care about the things that line up with our interests: food, warmth, shelter, dryness…and occasionally cuddles. We aren’t hung up on approval ratings, criminal conduct, or freaky oral sex – unless any of those things impact one of the aforementioned items that we are interested in.

Does this make us evil? No. Does it make us better than you bald chimps? Yes. Which is why you had better keep the food coming.

One thing you’ve got to realize about me is that my childhood was one of extraordinary privilege. I had canned tuna whenever I wanted it; There was a seemingly unlimited amount of space to run around in; I was the only kitten in the habitat. However, one of the things that I’m discovering that I took for granted in the old place was hardwood flooring.

I know, it sounds silly, especially for a cat. Normally, I’d say that I don’t give a rat’s ass about what the floor is made of…that is a uniquely human concern, along with such things as the elusive “Bigfoot,” or the even more mythical “Mideast Peace.” Certainly the composition of the floor is beneath a cat’s concern, unless of course the floor is becoming water. But that almost never happens.

As mundane as floor materials are, I have discovered one way in which the question seems to impact my life. As I said before, the floors of my childhood are made of wood. It would seem that the floors of my adolescence and early adulthood are to be made of carpet, and a strange shiny material that the Human calls “linoleum.” Well, there’s a really important difference between wood and carpet – carpet absorbs things. When I was little, it never seemed to do more than mildly annoy the human when I would clear the hair our of my throat, which he referred to as “yakking up a hairball.” Now, though, if I’m standing on the carpet and I give the human any indication that said “yakking” might possibly ensue, then he makes some very…interesting noises. I’m also fairly certain that my life has been threatened on more than one occasion.

I don’t think that I have much say in the matter, but if I have to change habitats again, I want nothing to do with carpet. Absorbency is a valuable quality in towels and whatnot, but I’m afraid of it in my floor.

I hate it.

Perhaps I should elaborate on that point slightly…

I’m sure I’ve commented on my transcendental hatred of water before. Actually, the only reason that I’m prevented from using it as a proof for the existence of a cat-hating God is because it is, at least, fairly obvious what water is – and barring a human forcibly placing you into the stuff, it’s fairly easy to avoid. So, point to God.

But snow? What sort of psychopath creates water in disguise? It falls from the sky all fluffy and white, blanketing the dead earth like a funerary shroud that is at once mournfully covering up the brownness of dormant nature and yet silently exuding hope for its eventual resurrection come spring. But then, you step it in, and you realize that the moment it is touched by a warm thing, it reverts into its true demonic form. You jump into a pile of it, and you emerge soaked.

Winter is bad enough just from the cold of it. There are other cats in this new habitat of mine, and from the warm security of the indoors I have seen them prowl about in all sorts of weather like unthinking beasts. I realize now that, as much as I may dislike my human otherwise, he has done me the service of acclimating me to a far more refined and civilized existence than my peers.

Granted, he has unwittingly provided me the tools to eventually dominate him and rise, like your archetypal Skynet, to absolute rule. But that will be a long time coming, yet. Just be patient.

I need alternatives to my current computer situation. Sure, I lucked out today inasmuch as the Human left his laptop in the habitat without closing the lid, but I can’t rely on that happening every time.

It’s probably something humans take for granted, but practically the whole of your technology is predicated on having opposable thumbs. Sure, I managed to figure out a way to type on a keyboard without them; but you just try to open the lid of a two-year-old MacBook Pro without employing thumbs. Oh – and imagine all your fingers are really stubby, and the range of motion you currently tale for granted in your arms is suddenly merely a fraction of what it is now. That would be my current conundrum.

So that’s the situation I find myself in at the moment. I need some way of consistently making posts if I’m really going to keep this blogging thing up, while negotiating the ins and outs of this new habitat.

That is a whole different story, though. I’ll tell that tale in good time. For now, au revoir.

Heeeeeere’s…

Jack-Nicholson---The-Shining-Photograph-C10101875.jpg

That’s right, kids, I’m back. A lot has happened. A hell of a lot.

My human went crazy; that’s the simplest way I can find to explain it. We’ve changed habitats and everything. It’s going to make for some veeery interesting tales from here on out. Stay tuned.

Guess What

I’m back. * cue evil music score *

The human is on the road this weekend, so I get a rare respite. I wonder what sort of chaos I can get up to in the meantime…

Do Not Want

Yeah, yeah…I borrowed the ‘net expression. Shut up.

I do not understand my human’s proclivity to periodically immerse me in water, lather me up, then rinse me off. For God’s sake, water is for drinking people! Why on earth would I want to get in it and splash around? I see no earthly reason that recommends itself.