There are so many wonderful things to read that these tall hairlesses have ceded over to the internet like Flippy’s page with the aptly named CATalogue (emphasis mine) of useful articles to the tall hairlesses.
Archive for May, 2005
I soil the litter. You clean the litter.
The litter is too dirty to use I just dump on top and will not stir.
The choice is up to you.
You know the smell effects
the sun has laid its warm palm
on my hip, slides it slowly
dips over my tail, along
the straight rail of it
heading with my thoughts
towards the ice box
I hear splattering clops
rain patters the window
I half raise my chin
press back my second eyelids
see the kitten paw prints
of rain drops against glass
and the sun streaming through
unpeturbed by wet. funny day,
rain pushing in like that
I have been thinking of taking up new language study. My resident vocologist has been giving me tips in the lower moan range of wingeing and ejaculating barks but I’ll admit I’m not a very good study. I have the ears but not the heart for it.
The simians have been away a great deal lately. They have been courteous (and my kind does value courtesy) with attending to putting food on Mror’s altar for the strengthening of our bodies.
But so far as giving me hours to observe them that’s more of a tail in the door of my plans. How am I to send my findings if I can’t find them?
(The thick notes get sent on to the 8th dimension directly. I don’t bore you with those highly repetitive details of how they move in space, offgas, escalate body temperatures, digest, the patterns of heart rates adn brain waves, changes in electromagnetism and hormonal flux, proxemics, bark, bark, bark ad bark)
There’s only so many hours one can harrass a colleague without tipping her over into more than one sense of madness.
My colleague has discovered she has a tail. True, I can see why, if you will pardon my cattiness for a moment, why this eluded her. She is, shall we say, plump in a Garfield sort of way. Her hair is coarse. He tail is kinked and more narrow than befits a cat. More like a mouse tail really. it’s no wonder she disowns it.
What did she do now you wonder? She was vexed. ( I wonder if it had anything to do with my hiding on the table and pouncing her as she entered the room, again?) Her tail was twitching. She then saw it in her peripheral vision and gave chase. Which, you’ll admit isn’t uncommon. She cauight it. Normal. That she bit it. That she yowled in pain and surprise as a consequence. That a few minutes later she did it again. An interval passes and again a yowl.
The simians threw a pillow at her. I threw a prayer;
Please, give me another assignment Cattess Mror? That or patience of oaks?
My colleague. What can I say. I despair over her but try not to. Darwinian selection has been exceptionally kind to her in that she is so many moons and yet not dead yet.
She has been sounding off the “no food” alarm to the simians incessantly, (and silly sod I can be, I belived her). I didn’t check for myself. When I did check finally, I saw the altar was full to the brim but *moved* two cat lengths towards sunrise — she couldn’t sniff it out?!
I let her work it out at her own pace and ate my fill this morning in peace without her head butting in. She was too busy hammering to get fed to notice my crunching it down in the other room.
I did not board the lap for this ride. I came for undivided attention, arriving when the couch was clear of books, papers and computers so I could mentor you on *being*. Having the hairless tom bring you a computer means I’m gone. Get the pattern hairless kit? You work on computer, conversation stops between you and him. You work on the computer attention from me stops. Life is too short to do more than one thing at a time.