Philosophize Me Jelly

back again...

2009-08-30T04:22:00.000-07:00

It has indeed been a long time, and a lot has happened in the household since last we spoke.

So now I will attempt to bring you up to speed with what has been happening in my life over this past year.

Not only has Twinky's daughter, Pumpkin, taken up permanent residence here, but we also have a new species joining the clan. I call it "snack" but my humans are insisting on giving it a name - apparently this "Happy" is something called a Hamster.

Its a tough job being me, it really is...

Introducing Pumpkin

2008-08-14T09:25:00.000-07:00

She's over a year old, is learning all the tricks in the book from me, and adding some new ones to the list...

Unfortunately she's made friends with that idiot Monkey - that's something I'm going to have to put a stop to immediately...

The Three Musketeers...

2007-02-21T08:32:00.000-08:00

Two weeks have come and gone, and the three new terrors are making themselves known in the household.

Their eyes have opened, they can hear, and their little legs are beginning to work, so I am expecting the little bit of peace I have left, to be slowly but surely shattered over the course of the next couple of weeks. Was there ever a time when it was just me living here? Oh, I'm sure there was - there must have been - or was it just a dream?

1. Proud mother with her favourite - the oldest by about three hours - the orange in her fur distinguishes her from her sisters:

2. The Second. She's the most shy of them all - not quite asserted herself in the world yet..

3. And finally, The Great Explorer - the youngest and the smallest of the trio - but by far the most adventurous - unlike her elder sisters, she's not a talker (I think I may be able to tolerate this one...)

Okay okay, so they're cute...

The New Zoo

2007-02-17T22:17:00.000-08:00

A lot has happened over the past few months since I posted my last pearls of wisdom here. Its a long, long story - but so as not to send you dear readers to sleep, here's the short version of the soap opera that never stops:

No.1 Twinky: yes, she was pregnant last year - but both her kittens didn't make it - they were in bad shape, and being new to this business, poor Twinky wasn't quite sure how to assume the role of motherhood. It was a sad day for all, but the little black cat made a fast recovery and life went on. Cocoa never quite recovered though - she really missed those kittens...

No.2 The mad Orange: the tomcat-about-town had his wings clipped so to speak. His days and nights on the town seemed to have caught up with him, and the two-legs finally discovered that the old boy was suffering from Diabetes - which basically means that he can't handle his sugar. So now Orange is a housecat - no more wild ramblings for him - and he gets to enjoy an injection twice a day to keep him going - lucky boy!

Unfortunately the medication seems to have given him a new lease of life, and he is now bouncing around all over the place like a mad cat - and his new hobby is bullying the filthy Monkey (very pleasing to watch). So things have turned out quite nicely...

No.3 And finally, the BIG ANNOUNCEMENT - through unexpected circumstance - Twinky became pregnant AGAIN!!! Some devious tomcat, who shall go by the name of BeeBo, sneaked into my house one January afternoon and the two of them got up to much mischief. Now the results of that union are huddled in a furry heap in the spare bathroom - yes, this time, Twinky had her kittens, who are now almost 2 weeks old...

I'm not so sure how to react to this: With four cats already in residence, most of them with personality quirks - and two imbecile dogs - there really isn't any room left for more cast members. But you know I have a soft spot for Twinky, so I suppose I am expected to be tolerant of her offspring. They are, in a way, my grandchildren after all...

Anyway that soppy old Cocoa is thrilled by the new arrivals, and has adopted the role of doggy godmother - Twinky didn't have much of a say about this.

So there you have it - the latest chapter in the saga that is my life.

More updates to follow as the little monsters slowly come to life. But here for your amusement is a short video of what they look like:

Not even two weeks old, and they already have a temper... sigh

NEWSFLASH!

2007-02-14T09:08:00.000-08:00

Yes, yes I know I have been away for a while - but tis not my fault - its those 2-legs of mine getting distracted again!

Anyway - I'm back - and with some big news too. But as I've come to learn over the years, big news tends to also come with its fair share of stress, so before I begin, I have to calm my nerves a little...

So excuse me as I finish my Pilates session...

Waiting... waiting...

2006-05-10T21:25:00.000-07:00

Over 2 weeks later and still no sign...

Either she's taking her time - or she's a very good actress (Or she's suddenly piled on some weight)

Another trip to the vets is in order I think....

J

Twinkie: the saga continues

2006-04-24T23:59:00.000-07:00

Yes it is me - I haven't gone anywhere you know - just had my paws busy sorting out little Miss Twinkie's, erm, situation.

Yes, yes its confirmed, Twinkie is expecting kittens... and the entire household is in disarray. While my humans have been rushing around like simpletons wondering what to do, I've started looking for homes for the new arrivals.

Since my male two-legs came back from the vets with a look of panic in his eyes, mumbling the words "she's got two, she's got two" over and over again until I had to slap him in the face - I've been putting the word around the Network (my personal link to felines near and far) to find potential homes for the kittens.

So far I've found one, which is good news - and am still on the lookout for another. If the worst comes to the worst, I suppose I'll have to take the other one in - but I ALREADY have so many babies to look after - what with the two humans, and the idiot Monkey, and of course the two canine fools - although I must say Cocoa is pretty reliable, as long as there isn't a Jack Russel around (Cocoa is intensely jealous of Jack Russels for some unknown reason - and reverts to her primitive wolf ancestry whenever one is around).

In the meantime, Twinky is feeling the telltale signs of imminent motherhood. She has got noticeably 'lumpy' and her moods are swinging from hour to hour. Every now and again she searches the bushes for the orange tabby who got her into this mess in the first place - if you could see the look in her eyes when she's out in the garden sniffing for him, you would believe me when I tell you that she would glady beat him up to a pulp at this stage...

Twinkie visits the vets again soon for a check-up to make sure that everything is progressing smoothly. Meanwhile there's nothing else for me to do but to keep watch over her.

As the head of the house, that's my job after all - oh okay, and I'm worried about her too.

J

somethings never change

2006-03-31T09:58:00.000-08:00

Throughout life's ups and downs and the uncertainties that tomorrow brings, its good to know that somethings never change...

...Thankfully, dogs are still stupid:

As long as Cocoa and Joey are around to remind me there is order in this world, I'll be able to deal with life's little challenges...

J.

Of birds and bees... and potential kittens

2006-03-28T19:10:00.000-08:00

My apologies for the long silence. Everything is well in the Jelly household. Well, almost everything.

Our resident vixen, Twinkie, decided that it was time to sow her wild oats - and for once in her life actually found someone to reciprocate. Yes another young orange tabby has been on the prowl. And Sparks obviously flew - because Twinkie proceeded to use every conceivable trick in the book to escape from the house, for questionable little midnight liaisons. The two-legs are not pleased, having even 'de-maled' that idiot Monkey (a smart move for a human I must say), to prevent teenage pregnancies from happening in my household.

Twinkie, being a runt, and rather susceptible to anesthesia of any kind, has been spared the snip-snip treatment that the rest of us felines have undergone.

But of course now that she has tasted of the forbidden fruit, some measures may have to be taken. Twinkie is off to the vets in a couple of days to undergo something called an ultrasound. Apparently that will reveal if there are any 'Twinklets' brewing inside her...

Both my humans are very upset about the entire situation. If the poor thing is indeed in the family way... what is the next step to take? We shall wait and see.

Of course Twinkie is very pleased with herself at this moment. I've tried to explain the seriousness of the situation to her - but she just seems to have a far-away look in her eyes.

Anyway never fear - we'll work something out I'm sure.

Will speak to you all again soon.

J.

Monkey's Grand Day Out

2006-03-01T17:00:00.000-08:00

We all have our little days in the Sun, when wild instincts take over and well... its just nice to go mad now and again. No harm in that. But for Monkey, every day seems to be a day in the Sun... too much Sun I would prefer to say. Especially for such a soft-brained creature.

Yesterday was one of those 'Monkey Days' - dangerous times; when he's been left to his own devices, because the two-legs were too busy in their own little worlds to notice.

Let me set the scene for you: the Sun was out, the breeze was cool, and the laundry had just been put out to dry...

Yes, the laundry...

Now don't get me wrong, I love the smell and feel of freshly washed clothes just as much as the next cat.

But at least I have the manners to wait until they've been pressed and ironed and laid out on the bed before I roll around on them.

Monkey on the other hand, has no manners, and in the absence of any human supervision, found the clothes line irresistible.

One minute he's lying on the grass, pretending to mind his own business.
The next minute, he's grabbed something off the rack and sprawling all over it.

That male is so rough around the edges and completely lacks any class - absolutely no hope for him. However, I must admit that its often worth the trouble putting up with him, especially when the two-legs eventually find out what he's been up to...

For the time being though, he was really enjoying the moment, rolling around on the towel and making sure that as much dust and dirt as felinely possible was being transferred in the process. Monkey is good at that sort of uncultured thing.

Meanwhile, Cocoa a simple but well meaning creature noticed the ecstatic rumblings of contentment coming from the filthy male and - remarkably, lost interest in her toys.

You must take my word when I tell you, that for Cocoa to lose interest in her toys, is the equivalent of humans losing interest in watching TV game shows - it rarely, if ever, happens.

Now I've mentioned before that Cocoa and Monkey have an unusual relationship. He pretends she doesn't exist, and she pretends he's a pillow.

So with this great opportunity to join in the fun, the great big red simpleton dropped her stuffed teddy bear and joined her accomplice on the (by now) sorry-looking towel.

And so they fell fast asleep... in fact they were still asleep when the two-legs came into the garden... and when the two-legs were standing right in front of them.

... uh oh

What a wonderful spectacle for Twinkie and I when they finally opened their eyes! Ah, these are what sunny days are made for... having front row seats for watching the idiots of the family being scolded. A Wonderful Day...

But alas all good things must come to an end, and as usual the two of them were not in the two-legs' bad books for very long - what a shame. But with dimwits like these around, it won't be long before I have to wait for more entertainment...

J

take over!

2006-02-28T23:35:00.000-08:00

Right!

Because my two-legs are off doing useless two-leg things, I'm officially taking over. Having mastered the keyboard (very slowly mind you - one key at a time - and plenty of naps and a few snacks in between), I shall be personally attending to these posts, so that no subtle observation from Yours Truly need be lost in translation.

Can't trust humans to do a cat's job at the end of the day...

So now that I'm in charge... who's going to be my first vict- I mean my first guest.... hmmm. Oh, I know!

J

weekly humiliation...

2006-02-26T12:05:00.000-08:00

Bath-time...
Its completely unnecessary.
And... its NOT funny

I think I have made my point...

The Legend and Legacies of Peachy

2006-02-20T10:52:00.000-08:00

The lives and loves of cats are far more intriguing and complex than any of those useless soap operas that humans seem to love watching so much. The difference however, is that we tend to keep our intrigues and relationships to ourselves rather than air it for any nasty little species to see.

In my neighbourhood there are a number of cats who by choice or circumstance, lead the life of a wanderer.

Now these characters are laws unto themselves - choosing not to own humans - probably because the maintenance costs are so high and the emotional trauma of training one is also quite taxing.

Anyway a long time ago, before the days of Twinkie and Cocoa and the filthy Monkey and the rat-type creature, there was one such wanderer who suddenly turned up at my door. Peachy was his name - a classic orange tabby with a not-so-classic stubby tail. He sauntered into the house, ate my food and fell asleep. I liked his style.

Peachy: a friend

Naturally we became friends - sharing the gossip of the neighbourhood, discussing the latest techniques in falling asleep while still knowing exactly whats going on around you, and the state of the day's food - you know, usual cat things.

In fact Peachy enjoyed a rare privilege - he was the only other cat who was allowed into the house by my own free will, (the others that came later were forced on me - I had very little choice in the matter).

Now Peachy would choose to come and go as he pleased, but unfortunately, still being a typical male in some respects (i.e. 'not being lead by his brain') he would often be distracted by 'natural urges'. Being very headstrong on the subject of female conquests, Peachy would risk life, limb and oncoming traffic to achieve his goals - and I dare say he fathered many of the cats that still wander the streets today. (Of course he wouldn't dare to try that sort of thing with me - I am a product of the SPCA school of life after all - snip, snip and all of that)

Sadly, Peachy's hormonal drive was to be the end of him. After countless conquests and an unknown number of resulting offspring, Peachy's legendary reign was cut short at the side of the road. My humans brought him home and buried him under the orange tree.

But that is far from the end of the story. For Peachy's genes live on...

Not long after his passing, a scruffy stunted little black kittten turned up outside our air-conditioning duct. Her mother had been seen a few times in the company of Peachy.

My fabulous powers of deduction have lead me to the conclusion that Twinkie indeed is his daughter. A theory she supports completely during 'that time of the month' when all sense of decency goes out of the window and she transforms into a stunted little seductress.

Although Twinkie may lack much of her father's intellectual capability, she more than makes up for it in another of his 'tendencies'.

Peachy would be proud I'm sure... although this kind of behaviour is certainly not my cup of milk.

Ah yes, but do remember I said that Peachy was prolific, so my story is not yet done.

Last year another visitor turned up on my doorstep. Orange tabby, stumpy tail, adorable manners (eating and falling asleep). Unimaginatively called, erm... 'Orange', this male bore a striking similarity to Peachy.

Orange: keeping it in the family

Orange is about the same age as Twinkie, he comes and goes as he pleases, but he's also been through the SPCA school of life, so he lacks those 'tendencies'. It is by no great leap of the imagination therefore, to believe that Orange is another descendant of that casanova of cats.

Because of his disinterest in the pursuit of females, Orange's great love is food. It keeps him safe and off the streets, so one mustn't complain if he destroys the contents of my food bowl from time to time. The added incentive of having Orange coming around from time to time is that his presence causes incredible anguish for that filthy Monkey, often causing him to run headlong into heavy objects and hide under chairs - a real treat for me...

Orange never outstays his welcome, is polite to the females of the household, is tolerant with the canines, and knows how to use a litter tray. A perfect gentleman.

So in many ways, Peachy is still with us.

(Orange is off again as I speak. He says that the humans at No.57 are serving fish today, so he mustn't be late - between you and me, I'm not sure that he's actually invited...)

"Time to make a move"

"Got a dinner appointment"

"Now where's No.57 again?"

Subordinates: The Rat-type creature

2006-02-14T08:10:00.000-08:00

Now a lot of humans have been asking about the rat-type thing that parades itself as a dog. I have no real desire to talk about it - but as its name keeps cropping up from time to time, and many readers believed I was being a little too cruel towards it in a previous post, (yes? I still don't see a problem here), I will reluctantly take a minute or two to further elaborate on this strange little creature.

When I first laid my eyes on the rat-type creature, I probably came close to becoming the first ever cat that laughed. The thing rushed into the house, barking away at anything and everything - a sure sign of stupidity, especially when it failed to realize that threatening a cat doesn't really work when the cat in question is much bigger than you are, and has no compulsion about repeatedly slapping you in your tiny little bug-eyed face.

Even Twinkie, as stunted and under-developed as she is, still towers over this 'Joey' creature, and both of us had great fun pointing this fact out to the thing - until we realized that it could not understand a word we were saying - which kind of takes the fun out of hurling insults towards another species.

Twinkie, demonstrating a hidden artistic talent, was so taken aback by finally having another individual in the house that was smaller than herself - that she put pen to paper and created a masterpiece...

But anyway 'Joey' had her uses quite early on. I had run out of swear words to use on Monkey - but all of a sudden I had a new one. So for about 3 weeks, whenever the filthy male passed my way, I'd greet him with a cheerful "you're a pathetic little Joey aren't you?" Of course Monkey is too stupid to understand the complexities of an insult, but it still made me very happy.

Its no surprise then that Monkey and Joey have formed a friendship of sorts, an 'alliance of idiots' as I prefer to call it. I must admit they deserve eachother; between them they may be able to conjure up enough brainpower to actually understand the difference between cat litter and cat food...

What surprises me more is that Cocoa, whom I have always thought quite cat-like in her intelligence, actually has patience for Joey and tolerates her constant yapping and disturbances. I don't know if this is exhibiting loyalty to her own species, or if I've been too quick to judge her apparent intelligence. Only time will tell.

Anyway thats enough about this Joey creature. Alas she also seems to be another permanent fixture in MY house (just to remind you of that tiny little fact). Honestly I don't know what to make of my humans sometimes - perhaps I was given defective models?

One last question before I close this sorry chapter in my continuously challenging life:

What is the difference between these two:

1. imbecile dog

2. Joey

Answer: absolutely nothing!

(A beautiful cat with wit and humour to match.
What more could you ask for?)

Importance of Ownership #2: 'The Food'

2006-02-10T10:33:00.000-08:00

'The Food' is important. It's the trigger that wakes me at dawn, the drive that compels me to make it through the day, the pick-me-up that ensures a good 40 winks at noon, and the tonic that sends me to sleep at night. Yes, I take the food very seriously.

This also requires that the source of aforementioned food be guarded unfailingly from anyone. Through years of careful investigation and undercover work, I have discovered the source of the food. It is stored in a tall cupboard-like compartment, which the two-legs call a 'fridge'.

This device produces a seemingly endless supply of food - which is delivered simply by opening its door. No wonder my humans value it so much - they are always opening its door and delving deep into its mystical interior - and my male human pays particular respect to the 'fridge', by making special visits to it at night.

For obvious reasons, this magical contraption must be safeguarded from those poor minds too easily corrupted by its power. So therefore I have taken it upon myself to stand (or lie down - that works well too) guard over this 'fridge'. It is a difficult task, as you can imagine, but an important one nevertheless.

Fortunately for me the other residents here still haven't worked out how to scale the heights of the 'fridge'.

And Twinkie has a preference for bathwater, so she is safe from the influence of this dark magic for the time being.

My heroic efforts are duly rewarded in time - but even eating is an art in itself. Most importantly one must be able to dine in peace and ALONE.

This can be achieved by carefully following these precautionary steps - now repeat after me:

Jelly's Guide to Dining for One:

approach foodbowl with caution...
surveying for unwanted spectators...
quick taste - but eyes still fixed on environs...
when position is secure - tuck in

If you are able to follow these instructions then you'll be able to avoid that annoying and idiotic concept of 'Sharing' which the humans keep persuading me to follow. I've never understood it myself and I don't intend to start trying now thank you very much.

Now don't forget that good dining manners extend far beyond just viciously defending your food from others. After you have finished the meal, there still is the all-important matter of cleanliness:

And of course to conclude the occasion, one must compliment the providers of 'the food'. In polite society, the greatest compliment is to fall asleep immediately, wherever you are, and remain so for another 3 to 4 hours - by which time the next meal is ready.

Of course you cannot be expected to master these skills overnight, but persevere my friends, and like me, you'll eventually have your humans eating out of your paws.

(My human takes notes well)

Handling Humans 101

2006-02-05T21:02:00.000-08:00

The Rights and Wrongs of Human Contact #1:

Right

Wrong

Right

Wrong

Join me again soon for another enlightening tip on how to handle humans.

"Erm - excuse me, I kinda have a problem with that."

"Shut up, you little rat-type creature you.
I'm the head of the Committee, and therefore you have no opinion."

"But I'm cute, and furry, and adorable!"

"Oh do go away, no-one's listening to you."

"Sigh."

A Fugitive in the Family

2006-02-01T23:18:00.000-08:00

The trouble with Twinkie is that she has a streak of wildness within her that will never disappear. It seems as though the memories of her first traumatic months of life, when she was living in drains, have never left her completely, and the wild blood of the alleycat tends to take hold over her every now and again.

Twinkie: wild.

Of course I've tried to guide her down the path to civility, but you can't fight against the power of breeding - and Twinkie's breeding is from the streets. I have a sneaky suspicion that her father was my old friend, an Orange Tomcat who wandered around town like he owned the place - until a car stopped him in his stride. I miss the old fellow, but I see a lot of him in Twinkie's wild little ways.

Anyway to run and hide for absolutely no reason is part of Twinkie's instincts. And yesterday's escapades were just like all the others. You see the problem with her instinctive urges is that they stop right after she's run away from home and found a suitable bush to hide behind. Without any instincts left to drive her, Twinkie suddenly gets fed up with the taste of freedom and then decides she wants to come back home. But her sense of direction is as bad as her taste in male cats, so she sits still - behind her suitable bush - and waits for someone to come along and rescue her.

Freedom! Erm... now what?

Enter: my humans...

Now don't get me wrong, I myself enjoy running away from time to time and giving those two-leggers some good healthy exercise. But they don't seem to see it that way, and during such occassions, use an interesting language to communicate with each other. This particular language is apparently reserved only for situations when one of us is hiding, has pulled down the clothes rack, or has used the furniture as a scratching post. It has to be shouted rather than spoken, and also involves some rumbling noises that sound rather like low growls. An interesting language this, and I still haven't quite worked it out yet.

Now as I was saying, when Twinkie gets herself lost, she also suffers from short-term memory loss, so forgets who my humans are. So she ends up running around like a mad fool until she runs out of breath and then has to be physically carried back into the house. It must be quite traumatic for the poor thing, but she never seems to learn her lesson, and repeats the entire process on almost a weekly basis. Must be something to do with the short-term memory loss again...

Anyway she's sitting here in front of me right now - doing her best to look angelic and innocent.

I can hear one of my humans still growling in the background...

Little Miss Angelic, relaxing after
her escape - that idiot male Monkey
being very smug in the background

Year of the Dog (I say Cat)

2006-01-29T06:25:00.000-08:00

Today marks the beginning of the Year of the Dog according to the Chinese Calendar - so as you can imagine I'm in a really celebratory mood. Like, hip hip hooray... I don't think so.

Do you realize what this means? For the next 365 days or so, dogs will be gloating under the spotlight of adoring humans all over this part of the world. They'll be spoilt rotten as bringers of good fortune.... Its such a disgusting image - dogs are just bringers of dirt, foul smells and excess saliva. Just the thought makes me feel like coughing up a furball.

It goes without saying that it should really be the Year of the Cat - actually every year would be far more fitting. Much easier to remember and you wouldn't have to humiliate yourself by having to be nice to lower species. But having said all of that, there are two dogs living in my place - there's no way I can avoid this situation.

I really don't have any time for the little rat in pretence of being a dog that calls itself 'Joey'. The light that sparkles in its eyes has nothing to do with intelligence. Its just the first spark of complete and utter insanity that I'm sure will ignite sooner or later.

An... understanding

But the big, lumbering brown one, the one known as Cocoa - well I must reluctantly admit that she's almost cat-like in her intellectual capabilities. We have an... understanding. She is allowed to approach me - and I'm allowed to smack her repeatedly in the face without retaliation.

So reluctantly, with such pain that I was put off my food for about ten minutes, I gave this day to Cocoa, so that at least she could bask in the glory of knowing this entire year was dedicated to her kind - although my generosity will last for just 24 hours - can't be too soft with them you know.

Of course the other compelling reason is that my humans are already rather soft on Cocoa - for some strange reason they treat her like a human child and she complies by being overbearingly cute. You wouldn't catch a cat stooping so low (well not in public anyway).

Cocoa and her 'mother' watch as Dragon dancers announce the Year of the... Dog

So every now and again I have to drag Cocoa back to reality and down to her rightful position in the pecking order before she gets too carried away with all the gooey stuff.

Anyway Happy Chinese New Year, Cocoa. Enjoy it while you can...

Adoration

2006-01-26T11:08:00.000-08:00

One of the best things about having a human...

Good night,
J

Importance of Ownership #1: Space

2006-01-25T10:53:00.000-08:00

The Committee (that would be Me - oh okay then... and Twinkie as well), would like to address some confusion over the term 'ownership'. Granted, the word has a variety of meanings - but as the Matriarch of my house, I automatically own everything. And that includes not just material possessions, but also more intangible things, like space, and time, and of course, territory.

Now today let us discuss the concept of space. If you looked up the word 'space' in a thesaurus written for cats, you'd find: 'boxes', 'cupboards', and 'shelves'.

Its difficult to explain to 2-legged ones, the allure of enclosed cardboard. Judging from the expression on the face of my female human when she comes home with a new pair of shoes, I'd say that it compares closely to the anticipation of climbing into a box.

Boxes are Mine - exclusively. Although Twinkie is qualified for a certain degree of access, seeing as she's a member of the Committee.

A box. Mine

Now cupboards present a slightly different issue. My humans are apparently rather sensitive creatures when it comes to cupboards, especially the ones used for their garments. Taking up such luxurious enclosed spaces with these 'clothes' things is a habit that still eludes me. After years of close observation, I have concluded that clothes are necessary for human beings to hide the embarrassment at not being born with an adequate pelt of body hair. Poor things.

Therefore my issue is not with the clothes themselves - in fact they're very comfortable... to sleep and roll on - especially that silk and linen stuff. And handkerchiefs make good headgear.

But these clothes take up, let's say, a third of the available space? So there's no reason why I should not claim the remaining two-thirds - simple logic.

It took a while and some persistence before my humans were eventually made to come to the same conclusion. I used my infamous powers of persuasion on them: now learn my feline friends, learn the power of the "rollover", or the patented "Jellyroll" as I like to call it. This manoeuvre melts even the strongest human defences.

Jellyroll: Mission Accomplished
Neither Twinkie or that fool Monkey have mastered the art - and far be for me to enlighten them.

These things must be learned, gradually, through one's own experiences.

Therefore cupboard space is also mine - and I intend to keep it that way.

Tactic #1: 'I am a figment
of your imagination'

Tactic #2:
'Yes, can I help you?'

Subordinates: Twinkie

2006-01-24T02:47:00.000-08:00

As I've mentioned previously, Twinkie was born in a drain. That's not strictly true. She was found as a kitten in an air-conditioning duct - there was a drain closeby however.

In truth, Twinkie and I have a good understanding... we spend a lot of time together... we are close... oh, alright then - I like her! Satisfied?

Of course she has no breeding in her. But she cannot be entirely blamed for that (I have a suspicion as to the identity of her sire - but I will save my amazing powers of deduction for another time). I've tried to nurture a certain level of etiquette into her, and I must say she's turning out quite better than first anticipated. And her hygiene habits are to be commended.

Still, her level of judgement remains questionable - I can only hope that this will improve with age. Her decision to befriend that horrendous Monkey is not one of her shining moments. And to engage her in stimulating conversation for longer than five minutes is a considerable strain - especially since her usual response to anything is in monosyllables and ever so slightly repetitive:

Twinkie, my dear, any plans for this afternoon's garden excursion? "FOOD!"
What do you think of that new ginger tomcat next door? "FOOD!"
What would you have written as your epitaph? "FOOD!"
Is that new brand of cat litter to your liking? "(pause)... erm... Food?

Only one other may share the sacred basket:

Inspite of these few shortcomings I like to think of Twinkie's glass as being half empty rather than half full.

Despite her small, dwarfish, elf-like, stunted, easily ignored stature, she has great potential that girl.

Subordinates: the filthy male

2006-01-22T02:18:00.000-08:00

There is a certain order to things. I lead my life in comfortable compartments: sleep, eat, minimal exercise in the garden, sleep, eat and sleep. This system works well for me, and I see no reason to change it. So when that order becomes disrupted by the arrival of an outsider - and to add insult to injury, a member of the opposite sex - this presents a set of problems.

I do not subscribe to this so-called 'equality of the sexes' nonsense. Females are dominant and males provide only one useful function - and even then, only during breeding season. But let's put such base thoughts aside for now. Let me get to the point.

The introduction of the filthy child 'Monkey' to the household was traumatic for us. Even the imbecile dogs were unsettled by its arrival. Sadly my humans failed to forsee the troubles that were to follow - being too simplistic to understand the basic signals I attempted to give them. Honestly only a complete idiot would fail to realize the significance of furniture-scratching and curtain-tearing. Walking upright seems to have lessened the blood supply to human brains - just my theory of course, but one that is constantly supported by their behaviour on a daily basis.

This Monkey is nothing but an urchin. As a kitten his stench was worse than the dreaded shampoo that my female human insists on harrassing me with every fortnight. He has not improved with age.

It must be something to do with maleness. The sheer ecstasy with which he rolls in his own toiletry is an embarrassment to the species. And yet he is smothered by my female human. She showers affection on him as if it were required for his very survival. I don't understand it myself - for goodness sake, he doesn't even have any pedigree blood in him!

Breeding, my friends - its all about breeding. Even if you don't have it, it can be cultured upon willing individuals.

Take Twinkie for instance (and once upon a time I meant that statement, literally). She was born in a drain. Yes, yes I know - you're asking me how on earth could I associate myself with a drain-dweller. But let me explain - although she arrived looking like something the dog dragged in, after two years of careful nurturing by Yours Truly, she's turned out quite nicely, even if I do say so myself. Don't expect an invigorating discussion about the ergonomic benefits of wicker-basket beds from her - but at least she's well-mannered and satisfactorily groomed.

This monkey creature rants and raves and is a veritable nuisance. Even after the joyous occassion of his neutering, (we had great hopes for him at that point), the loss of his reproductive abilities failed to stop his incessant spraying and questionable toilet rituals. And as far as conversation goes, he makes even that lumbering red canine seem positively Abyssinian! The things that my humans expect me to tolerate, I tell you...

Betrayer to our species: consorting with... dogs

Anyway this Monkey creature is now a permanet fixture in MY home. But that is not the end. Oh no. I will have my day.

(PS: It was not my idea to post pictures of this filthy animal - but was compelled to do so to stop my human's non-stop whining)

Greetings

2006-01-20T10:10:00.000-08:00

My name is Jelly, formerly 'Grace' - but that name didn't make much sense, so like any self-respecting feline with Persian ancestry, I had it changed, and paid big money to erase any trace of my previous identity. I own two humans who co-habit my home. I tolerate them. They feed me, and provide amusement by making noise. I am matriarch to two other lesser specimens of Felis catus and two Canids of questionable ancestry and intelligence.

I am a philosopher, a watcher of the world, as it were - and by means of this blog, I will attempt to enlighten you of the view - from my point of view.

My male human specimen assists me in this typing business - far too mundane a task for me to indulge in, you understand.