January 5, 1999 Tuesday

Today was one of those days the Husband and Wife usually disappear 'til around dark, when they come home to feed me. Instead the Husband spent the morning hovering over the toilet, coughing up hair balls and looking like hell. By a little past noon he was in bed, moaning and groaning. He finally went to sleep.

Hey, it was the middle of the day, and people usually sleep only at night, but I'm flexible, so I joined him. He seemed to appreciate the company. But when dark rolled around, I expected him to get with the schedule and feed me. It took a little convincing, but I finally got him up. He dumped something from the refrigerator in my bowl and went back to bed. I don't think he even paid attention to what he was giving me. I knew what it was though. It was the other half of that can of crud he tried to feed me yesterday. But he totally ignored my upturned nose (which usually works) and went back to bed.

When the wife came home, I tried the Feed-Me routine on her, thinking she may have thought the Husband slept through my feeding. Didn't work. The pile of uneaten crud in my bowl was probably a giveaway.

The Husband slept all evening and into the night. A cat nap of monumental proportions.

I spent the evening looking hungry and forlorn for the Wife (not easy for an eighteen-pound cat) in hopes of fresh food, but she's tough. I finally gave up and ate the crud. And joined the Husband's cat nap.

January 10, 1999 Sunday

Okay, they're doing it again. All that stuff the Wife piled on the tree a couple weeks ago? This weekend she took it all off. Now that big tree in the living room is empty again. All the funny lights and colorful little additions placed all over the house are gone. And she spent quite a while doing it, griping the whole time.

Why?

If they like this stuff, why don't they just leave it and enjoy whatever it brings them. Why spend all this time and energy putting it up and taking it down? Why do I care? If it's good for them, it's good for me. Maybe this is all necessary for some future routine that is more restful.

I kinda like the routine I've got.

It snowed profusely this weekend, therefore, my routine dictates that I sleep more. Neat and simple. The Husband however, was attempting his usual routines in spite of the weather. He walks a mile every morning, and today all he did was gripe about the unshoveled sidewalks and unplowed streets.

He could learn a lot from a cat. Keep warm, all.

January 16, 1999 Saturday

I just love hearing from my fans (you know who you are), and I especially enjoy it when they send me their pictures.

This week I got a coupla new guys to add to the scrapbook, so without further ado . . .

He-e-e-ere's Bucky!
Bucky bears a scary resemblance to yours truly, in my kitten years. The long legs, long teeth, long claws years. And I can tell by those eyes that he's a cat who knows what he wants.

Not my problem.

Moving right along . . .

H-e-e-e-ere's Misty!

Misty is new to the world and digging it. The folks she's living with are newlyweds, so everybody's got new stuff to learn. :)

She is a cutie, huh?

Wild, impetuous youth. Who needs it? They'll learn the value of catnapping before long.

So once again I am motivated to shameless begging for more photos for my scrapbook. You too can have your puss plastered on a website; just send along your favorite .jpg or .gif, and it's pretty sure to wind up here.

I must now yawn and stretch and curl up on the couch. Good day.

January 27, 1999 Wednesday

The Husband wiles away his hours in front of the computer, which is located in a spare bedroom, which has become a sinkhole of lost items. The bed is piled high with old magazines and boxes of momentoes. It's like the trash can on the Windows desktop. You put stuff in there and forget about it. And it grows like untended ivy.

There is a space on the bed just big enough for the Husband's butt as he sits at his computer. When he's in there, I will occasionally join him, and it's a bit crowded for both of us, but we manage. And when he's not there, his space is just perfect for me. I can nap for hours because nobody comes through there or even comes in the door. It's very peaceful, and the Husband's scent is always present to my exceptional nose.

So guess what? The Husband has been removing things from the room for the past week. It's the living room carpet and upholstery uprising all over again. My quiet napping spot is being invaded. When is this stuff gonna end? Just when things get comfy, everything gets moved around and I have to readjust.

I will keep you updated on this latest rearrangement, just to see if I can figure out why.

January 31, 1999 Sunday

Super Bowl Sunday.

Does that mean something to you? Then you're not a cat. You're undoubtedly only human, with a need to celebrate something. Humans go from celebration to celebration, because daily life is unappreciated. TV devotes hundreds of hours and millions of dollars to a predictably boring football game, while businesses risk everything on the commercials that appear during the game. And the eight hours of pre-game nonsense. They don't call it the vast wasteland for nothing.

So how are the Husband and Wife celebrating? The Wife has joined several of her I-could-care-less-about-the Super-Bowl female friends for a festive time in Atlantic City, gambling. The Husband has the game on, but he's hauling all the neat junk out of the spare bedroom. So I have to be content to snooze on the couch. Fine with me.

What's that? Broncos won? Yippee.

February 21, 1999 Sunday

There's a black cat in the neighborhood. I don't know where he came from. I thought I knew all the cats around here. But this guy just appeared one night. In my back yard. Like he belonged there. But that was a while ago and he hasn't come back. That I know of.

There was a black cat that lived next door for a lotta years, but the people in the house moved away, and he decided to go with them. It's not him, though. I know. This one, the last inch of his tail is bent. Why is that, I wonder?

So every night I'm out on the deck surveying the back yard, the last place he was seen. I stay there 'til the Husband and Wife start turning the lights out, then I come back in and bother them to feed me while they're trying to get ready for bed. They need constant reminding.

I think that cat must have realized the error of his ways and returned to his own territory. But I keep watching, just in case.

 February 23, 1999 Tuesday

Dang it got cold this week. Cut down on my time in the woods. Not that there's much cooking back there anyway. All the critters are dug in, conserving body heat. I did see a squirrel out foraging.

I hate squirrels. They're too quick. And that's not easy for a cat to admit. I've given up going after those buggers. They can stay in their trees, for all I care.

I've more or less given up on tree climbing too. It used to come really naturally. Now it's work. Which means it's no fun any more. So I don't do it. Simple logic, huh? Yep, I'm a cat.

The warmer weather is still a ways away, but I'm anticipating it. The woods comes alive when the weather starts to get really nice. And so do I.

Heh.

February 27, 1999 Saturday

They got me.

It had been so long I'd forgotten about their tactics. The Husband and Wife left the cat carrier in the kitchen with the door open, and being the naturally curious creature that I was intended to be, I stuck my head and front feet inside to check it out. There was something strangely familiar about it, but it had been so long since they used it that I had no suspicions or forebodings.

Until the wife shoved my hind end in and closed the door. Stupid me.

Then we're out the door, into the truck and off to the vet. I know I've been through this routine before, but each time I put it out of mind when it's over. So each time it's a new and unknown experience. And I have frequently stated my preference for the status quo.

So they put the carrier on the vet table, but I'm not coming out 'til I'm better acquainted with the surroundings. Which was longer than they cared to wait. So they had to dump me out.

The vet person poked me and stabbed me with little needles, but she was very gentle and pleasant, so I didn't complain much. Before I knew it, they were shoving me back into the carrier (I was more willing this time 'cause it had become more familiar while on the trip there).

A short ride home and it's all forgotten about. Which is why I'll fall for it all over again next year.

March 5, 1999 Friday

The Y2K bug.

Ya gotta love it. You can watch it dominate human social activities as the year moves along. Without it, human beings would have just plodded through another year, pausing to note the change in all four digits at midnight on New Year’s Eve, proclaiming it a new millennium (even though it’s actually a year away), then returning to their old routines. Their biggest dilemma would have been writing the correct year on the checks.

But thanks to Y2K, their lives are brightened with new and exciting activities. Some search through pages of programming code. Some stockpile canned goods. Some feel helpless. Some are blissfully oblivious.

And as the year drags on, you’ll hear more and more about it, usually sensationalized by the local news. Hospitals are woefully unprepared for the date change. And you sure don’t want to be in a plane on New Year’s Eve at midnight.

Things were so much simpler when animals ruled the world. And, at this rate, they will again.

History proves again and again
How nature points out the folly of man

--Godzilla

March 10, 1999 Wednesday

I think I figured out why humans wear watches. They’re religious symbols. Humans worship time. Or more accurately, they are slaves to time.

The simple convergence of the two hands on a timepiece can raise stress levels to unhealthy proportions. The love and understanding that occurs between a man and woman means nothing if one of them is “running behind” and making the other “late,” according to the movement of the hands.

Humans go off to work. If they don’t arrive every day at a pre-determined position of the hands on the clock, they run the risk of losing their livelihood.

And if something is supposed to occur at a specific time and doesn’t, humans take it personally.

Time is a cruel taskmaster. He causes physical and emotional disorders because of an arbitrary use of the clock.

It’s not that I don’t use time. I can tell when the Husband is due home every day. But I don’t need a clock for the occassion.

And like any religion, humans allow themselves to be controlled by it. They don’t need to. They could walk away from it. But they won’t. They’ll hurry through dinner to be at a specific place at a specific time, even though the specific time is purely arbitrary.

Tired or not, they sleep at a specific time so they can awake at a specific time.

Cats, on the other hand, sleep when tired and awake after resting. They pretty much do things when they want.

No wonder cats rule the world.

March 18, 1999 Thursday

That's the Husband, with his arm in a sling. It was a lot of fun having him hanging around the house for four days, cursing computers and ergonomics. He decided that it was the fault of the mouse. He habitually would hover over the mouse; his arm off the table, guiding it delicately.

Dummy. Mouse and delicate do not go together. But it was entertaining to watch him try to use the mouse with his right hand (he's left-handed). And then, when the arm had healed, to try to re-learn the proper use of the mouse with forearm resting on the desk (actually, he has to rest it on his knee - there isn't room on the desktop for a knuckle, let alone a forearm).

He should have come to me; I'm the mouse guru around here.

March 26, 1999 Friday

For months now, I've known that the weather was going to turn cold. I was prepared for it. I knew it meant weeks cooped up in the house.

Now my internal calendar (not to be confused with the purely-arbitrary human calendar) tells me that the warm weather will soon be arriving.

What happened?

It never really got cold, and now it's going to be getting warmer. This is not typical of Mother Nature. I'll bet humans have screwed things up somehow.

So now I'll begin to adjust to the newness that is spring and welcome it joyfully.

This week, f'rinstance, I brought home a rabbit.

:)

 March 31, 1999 Wednesday

It was 8:30 in the morning. The Husband was on his way out for the day. The Wife was still in bed; she leaves later. And as usual I had been fed (the usual boring crud), and I followed the Husband out the front door. He was in his truck and gone before I realized that there was something different. It was the outdoors.

It was friendly. There was no cold wind or damp air or dark clouds. I wasn't prepared for this. I knew the nicer weather was coming, but I wasn't expecting it TODAY!

So I sucked in a lungful of air and crawled under the bushes, where my outhouse is located. Normally, I would then take a liesurely stroll around to the back of the house and back in through my own door. But to my surprise, the side yard (next to the creek) was crowded with rabbits, squirrels and birds, rummaging through the sad excuse for grass that blankets the yard.

These guys mean the seasons have changed. Particularly ol' Robin Red Breast (I never could catch him). And there wasn't just one or two squirrels, there were a bunch!

My instinct to attack was muted. I was truly amazed at the plethora of wildlife gnawing at my side yard. I curled up under a bush and just watched. They're all back. I was still there when the Husband came home.

Some days are just too nice, y'know?

April 9, 1999

The human race and its calendars. Do you know what today is? It’s April 9th. Baby-making day, if you want a shot at having the first baby of the new millennium. And you plan to be pregnant for TWENTY ONE MONTHS!! The new millenium begins with 2001, you idiots!

It’s not like the human race has not been informed of this fact. They have just chosen to ignore it. Instead they are bombarded by the media sensationalists proclaiming this to be the final year of the current millennium.

It must be something about the word “millenium.” They could just as easily be pushing the Year 2000, which is a novelty on its own. But no, they have to fly in the face of accepted mathematics and proclaim that the new millennium begins after midnight, December 31, this year.

What is the big deal anyway? It’s a Christian concept, and Christians are a minority on this planet. Of course their influence belies that minority. It’s pretty much accepted that the actual year of Christ’s birth could be off by several years either way. Nobody knows for sure. So the first baby of the new millennium could be out there walking around already.

What’s going to happen after midnight, December 31, 2000, when the new millennium actually begins. Anything special? Probably not. The thrill will have been long gone.

It’s just another new year to celebrate.

April 15, 1999 Thursday

I have pointed out frequently that the human race seems to exist only to celebrate the exceptions in their otherwise humdrum existence. Guess what they're celebrating today? Taxes.

The local post office has live bands and snack foods available. Others stage magic acts or other entertainment. The larger post offices have the added burden of tv news celebs getting underfoot. All to entertain the large sum of people who have procrastinated doing their taxes 'til the last possible minute. That's certainly a cause for celebration, huh?

Schools should consider that for all the kids who are late with their assignments. Or the people who ignore dental pain until it's unbearable. Wouldn't they like a mime to amuse them while they try to get an emergency appointment?

The human race exists for the amusement of felines, y'know?

So if you're driving past a post office today and you see a guy in a chicken suit, consider how practically every dollar you've earned so far this year -- before taxes -- is the amount you're paying to the government for last year's taxes.

Have a nice day. :)

April 28, 1999 Wednesday

What a beeyootiful spring day! Sunshine, light breeze, not a cloud in the sky (except those pretty little fluffy ones).

And the rodents are out taking advantage of it. And I'm out taking advantage of the rodents. Except the squirrels. I hate squirrels.

For the last several mornings at the crack of dawn, I have returned with a small furry mammal to amuse the Husband and Wife. And they are amused; they're up at 5 a.m. chasin' the little guy around. I have to bring him into the bedroom to get their attention. They tend to sleep right through these episodes if I don't.

It's apparently working out. I went and nibbled on some dry food while they pursued one particular critter. I gotta admit I've been kinda lax, and it is springtime, and pussycats fancies lightly turn to thoughts of vermin.

More to come. Fer sure.

April 30, 1999 Friday

The Husband just figured out it’s the end of the month. He’s been spending all his spare time in the garage since the weather got warmer. He building something. And he’s been neglecting the Internet; his other life. So suddenly he realizes that it’s the last day of April, and the Notes pages on my website are not up to date.

"Everybody write" he says. So that’s why I’m back again so soon.

Originally the idea was to update our notes every week, and five files a month were allocated to allow for the fifth "week" that shows up four times a year. In theory, that means four entries each month for two months, then a fifth entry every third month.

But the Husband didn’t like that empty file out there for two out of every three months. So he insisted we use it. He forgot about it this month. So did we.

So that’s why your reading this crap now. :)

Hey, this is my website, and I say it's okay.

June 3, 1999 Thursday

The Human Being and the calendar; a symbiotic relationship. Neither can survive without the other.

There are all kinds of interesting conventions that have evolved over the past century that must be altered before January 1, 2000. One has already been dealt with. Checkbooks. For the entire lifetime of most humans, the space for the date on checks was indicated thusly: ________________19___.

That has pretty much been changed to Date:________ without too much fuss.

Now consider this: If the last decade was the eighties, and this decade is the nineties, what is the next decade? It has to be something; human conversation will demand it. I suspect it will be inadequate, whatever it turns out to be.

And once you get that figured out, what about the decade after that? After around 2015, it will be acceptable to call it “the teens,” but it will still be argumentative around 2011 and ‘12.

Because of all the hype surrounding the fact that a whole new millennium is arriving, and not just a new century, when referring to the “old days,” will you feel compelled to refer to the years fully, e.g. 1995 instead of ‘95?

When the Y2K bug turns out to be a dud, maybe some of these problems will be taken seriously, and humans can relax again.

And the sun will rise and set as it always has.

June 11, 1999 Friday

Human beings build things. It’s in their nature as a species. Other species build things also. Beavers build dams, birds build nests, termites build mounds.

But humans build to excess. They don’t just build shelters to live in, they build other shelters to work in, and still other shelters to store things in. Then they build machines to get them from one shelter to another. Then they build shelters for the machines.

Is it me, or is this a concept out of control? When they run out of room to build things, they tear them down and build new ones.

Is this a trait of the “smartest” animal? Dolphins are supposedly as smart as humans; what do they build?

It creates an interesting paradox. As the human population increases, there will be an increasing demand to build things. But available building space will be decreasing. What then? Evolutionary principle says man will start building smaller things. As a result, man will evolve into an ever-smaller being in order to use the smaller things he builds.

Did you know that the huge woolly mammoth, which once grew to a height of twelve feet, was only four feet tall when it finally succumbed to extinction?

According to my calculations, Man will average only three feet tall on May 4, 9287, when the last available building space will be gone.

Then they might allocate some money for the long-dead space program to get them to a planet with elbow room.

June 17, 1999 Thursday

Hairballs. And the pets who have 'em.

It's the unfortunate conjunction of two fortuitous events of nature.

First, cats are fur-bearing animals. This should come as a surprise to no one. It keeps us warm, unlike naked humans, who have to pile layers of material on themselves and lug it around with them. Of course, they make a positive statement out of it, building a multi-million dollar industry out of precisely what to "wear."

But I digress. Secondly, cats are habitually neat and tidy. All that shedding fur immediately gets licked right out of the permanent coat. Of course, you know the results. The Wife doesn't know which is worse - the hairball itself, or the noise I make announcing its arrival.

Of course I'm not too crazy about it myself.

The Husband has taken to brushing me every evening now, in the hopes that he will get the loose fur before I do. I'm pulling for him.

And I would do all this unpleasantness outdoors, but I can never tell when one of the nasty things will present itself.

GAKK!! uuuuuuurrhh GAKK!!

'Scuse me, gotta go.

June 25, 1999 Friday

Heat, hairballs and insane humans.

The hairball annoyance continues. What am I s’posed to do, stop bathing? But the Husband brushes me extensively every night, which is removing a lot of the loose fur that would otherwise end up in my gullet to be disgustingly expelled at some future inopportune moment.

Now add heat to the equation. It’s in the 90’s with humidity in the ugly range. I’m walking around with my tongue hangin’ out (no sweat glands, y’know). Which I suppose is preferable to sticky, sweaty fur, huh?

And this week the Wife is working odd hours and the Husband is either puttering around in the garage or just sitting around (he can do a great impression of an inanimate object). Either case does not provide any entertainment value to a cat.

So I’m spending my time in the woods, looking more for something to do than something to catch. I end up overheated and go back to the house to lay around in the air conditioning and hack up hairballs.

This, too, shall come to pass.

June 30, 1999 Wednesday

Did you ever wonder why a cat hisses? It's hereditary (what isn't?) The cat is trying to imitate a snake.

Really.

Predators have an inbred instinct about poisonous snakes (don't you?). Even if they've never seen a snake, they know upon the first encounter that they're in a pecka trouble. They back off.

Somewhere a bazillion years ago, a cat picked up on this, and warded off predators by hissing like a snake. It worked. Did you also notice that a threatened cat will flatten its ears and open its mouth in a wide gape when hissing? Snake impression. A cat's head is snake-shaped when the ears are flat.

The fangs help the image. And with the hissing comes spitting, suggestive of venom. And the switching tail? Snake impression.

Honest. This is for real.

Now a large dog obviously knows a cat is not a snake, but the hissing, spitting and twitching triggers an ancient instinct in the dog that says back off or you'll be sorry.

And it works.

Honest. This is really true. I know it sounds silly, but I do a great snake impression.

Okay, don't believe me. But it's true.

Honest.

Go away.

July 13, 1999 Tuesday

Ancient Egypt. If you were a cat there, you had it made. Those Egyptians had huge fields and huge storehouses of grain. And mice. They had lots of mice. And one day, an Egyptian named Moe (you can check me on that) noticed a bunch of cats just hangin' out at the grainery and pickin' off mice with ease. And from that day on, cats were given God status. Cats were cherished and appreciated. Humans who killed cats were themselves put to death. If a cat died naturally, it was mourned with the same rituals afforded any family member. They were mummified and buried in huge cat cemeteries.

Just for catching mice. We would've done that anyway. But those Egyptian folks knew how to say thanks.

There was a cat goddess named Bastette. She had a temple in the city of Bast and an annual religious festival in honor of the feline.

The cat was so honored that the rich throughout the civilized world had to have one, but it was expressly forbidden in Egypt to sell, give or otherwise pass off a cat to an "outsider." So a black market in cats sprung up. The Phoenician gypsy merchants, who were credited with spreading a written language throughout the civilized world, are also credited with spreading cats around the civilized world as beloved housepets.

Kinda makes a cat proud; just thought you'd like to know.

July 29, 1999 Thursday

The heat has been ridiculous lately. Fortunately it's only hot outdoors. So I don't go there.

Of course staying indoors kinda puts a crimp in the Opie Project; although the Husband and Wife have managed to come up with quite a few mice on their own.

I couldn't let them have all the fun. I ventured out one morning before it got ugly hot, and returned with a rabbit. The Husband was so overjoyed he stopped eating his breakfast and begin chasing the rabbit around. But rabbits are easy to catch. So after he nabbed this one, and took it outside, I immediately went out and returned with another rabbit. He apparently liked that idea, because he repeated the whole process.

We had so much fun that when he returned home that evening, I went out and got another rabbit. And we had the same fun chase again. But this time when the Husband returned, he accidently locked my door. I was stuck inside all evening.

Not that being "stuck" inside during a heat wave is all that bad. But the Husband had to make do without a rabbit to chase around.

His loss.

July 31, 1999 Saturday

The heat just keeps beating down. The grass is crunchy. And the animals stay hidden out of the sun. Not that I care to pursue anything challenging in this heat.

It's not too bad in the underbrush by the creek bed, though the creek has been reduced to a trickle by the heat.

You'd think the animals would make more frequent trips to the water in this heat. But they don't. Sometimes I'll curl up in the bushes near the creek and wait for something to pass by. But it never does.

Other times I curl up in the small shady spot on the deck by the tree and watch the birds fly in and out. I know I don't have any chance of nabbing them, so I don't even try. Not that I'd try even if I did have a chance in this heat. So I just lie still and watch. They don't even notice me.

When the Husband runs the lawn sprinkler, birds come flying in from everywhere and stand around, waiting for their chance to get sprinkled. Some birds try chasing the water as it makes a big circle around the yard.

There are the days when just lying still is rewarding. :)

August 10, 1999 Tuesday

Her highness, the Governess, has declared a drought emergency for the whole State of New Jersey.

What does that mean to me? Well, the husband and wife can no longer water the lawn, so there's no fresh sprouts for the rabbits to chew on, hence no rabbits to chase. Or squirrels, or anything else. They stay in the shade of the woods where tasty sprouts of whatever these guys eat have not burned away yet.

So I lay out on the grass (which has gotten rather crunchy and uncomfortable), awaiting the animal of the week, which never shows. What does show up? Insects. The flying ones are annoying, the crawling ones are only momentarily entertaining, and the small ones get in my fur, which has attracted the attention of the husband and wife (anything that gets me attention can't be all bad), so they brush me every day.

But this will all pass, and animal routines will re-establish themselves and I'll be a purrin' feline.

Oh, yeah, can you guess what's happened right after the declaration of the drought emergency?

Rain.

August 17, 1999 Tuesday

I like the occasional change in routine around here. Nothing radical, just something slightly different. Something requiring little or no effort on my part.

I usually join the Husband when he goes to bed; he’ll pet me until he falls asleep. Then I leave.

Recently, instead of going to bed, he’s been going out on the deck with binoculars. I curl up in his lap and he pets me until he falls asleep. Sort of the same, but outdoors.

I know what’s going on. The Perseid meteor showers are back. Every year at this time the earth’s orbit crosses through a debris field, and bits of the debris get caught in the atmosphere and come zooming earthward. Thanks to gravity and friction, we get bunches of fiery little streaks across the sky.

The name comes from the fact that the debris is encountered in line with the constellation Perseus. These little specks of fiery dirt do not travel all the way from Perseus. On the contrary; they just sit there in our orbital path and we come to them.

So the Husband goes out there with his binoculars and waits for them to appear. He’s asleep by the time they do.

But at least it’s something different.

August 23, 1999 Monday

I found something new to amuse me. Electric fans.

There is currently a heat waveand a drought annoying the humans of this state. The heat means the air conditioners run more often. Which means the power plants are strained to capacity. Elected officials have requested a cutback in electricity usage. Which means turning down air conditioners. During a heat wave. Yeah, right.

But the Husband and Wife were good citizens and turned down the cooling a few degrees. Then they set up electric fans in the living room and the spare bedroom.

I paid no particular attention.

Then one morning the Husband took his usual spot on the couch with his coffee and morning paper, and I loyally joined in, in a curled-up ball beside him. The living room fan was doing its thing; it's an oscillating fan, and as the breeze passed over me, I was transported elsewhere. Just where I'm not sure, but it was exhilarating.

Cats have dual personalities. In one respect, they're perpetual kittens, relying fully on humans for their well-being. In another respect, they're the wild animals they evolved from, being fiercely independent and self-sufficient. When I'm indoors, I'm the former. When I'm outdoors, I'm the latter.

The breeze that washed over me from the fan was an outdoor experience; it was a gentle wind that was always about as I lay sunning in the grass. But I was actually in the secure care of humans. So I was experiencing both the security of my inner kitten, and the independence of my ancestry at the same time.

Just a theory, you understand. But as long as that fan is operating, I'm there.

August 31, 1999 Tuesday

The Husband and Wife got a new toy. A digital camera. It was very entertaining watching them play with it. You’d think they got a new kitten.

One reads the owner’s manual while the other holds the camera and studies it. Then they trade. They both get excited when they find some interesting feaure, then they try it out. Usually on me.

They must have fifty pictures of me. Fortunately, they can delete all but the best of them. I got tired of trying to figure out what the thrill was and went back to napping.

But they continued all evening. Close-ups, optical telephotos, digital telephotos, fill flash, auto flash, macros, aperture priority, shutter priority, back lit, manual exposures, manual focus, not to mention all the various ways to display the exposures on the little lcd screen on the back of the camera.

One of the more entertaining moments involved the inadvertent "locking" of one of the crappier photos (meaning it couldn’t be erased). It took them quite a few minutes to figure out how they did that, and how to undo it. You’d’ve thought they were defusing an A-bomb.

Then they adjourned into the computer room to figure out the downloading procedure. That took a while, and the wife didn’t like downloading through the serial port; she kept getting error messages. She made up her mind to get one of those floppy disk adapters that allows direct downloading of the SmartCard directly through the floppy drive.

Then it was back to the living room to take more pictures of yours truly. I ignored them to the best of my ability. They’ll get over this eventually.

My favorite feature of the new camera? When you turn it on, the lens cap falls off. Really.

September 5, 1999 Sunday

I heard from a British cousin last week. Her name is Molly, and she's one classy cat, don't y'think? (She's the one on the left). On the right is Sooty, and Sooty is currently among the missing. He went out one day a coupla weeks ago and still hasn't returned. Let's all send positive thoughts out to Sooty in the UK.

Molly is a two-year-old town cat who lives with Amanda. They hope to be sharing a house in the countryside one day. You haven't lived 'til you have a coupla square miles of forest to explore, Molly. You're gonna luv it!

September 17, 1999 Friday

Floyd came and went, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Floyd was a weather phenomenon, one of those naturally occuring events that human beings must categorize so they know how much doom and gloom to hype on the evening news.

As usual, Floyd did not live up to his hype. He dumped seven inches of wet into my creek bed, making navigation through the woods difficult (not that I tried; I stayed inside where it's dry). The creek (usually a trickle) remained within its banks, the trees stayed upright and retained their branches. It was wind and rain, and no noticeable damage.

My immediate world was unaffected, but several surrounding areas that routinely flood did so again. And quickly. The rains came quickly, the creeks rose quickly, and the populace evacuated quickly.

Speaking of evacuation, the tv news says that this storm caused the "largest ever peacetime evacuation in the U.S." I'd like to know which wartime evacuation in the U.S. was larger.

Floyd moved on just after dark and left a clear sky awash with stars. And today the sun is shining. Floyd is but a memory.

September 19, 1999 Saturday

The seasons are changing; fall is approaching, but it’ll only be with us a brief time and is thereby cherished to a greater extent. The leaves change colors, the grass goes dormant, and the thick undergrowth in the woods thins out. The wildlife critters make themselves scarce also, burrowing underground or into other shelters with their storehouses of food. Fall is a flurry of activity in nature.

We’ve already had hints of fall - cool nights and comfortable days. Sometimes hints are all you get, then suddenly it’s winter and you start seeing people wearing increasingly heavier jackets and spending less time outdoors. I spend a lot of time indoors in the winter.

But that’s not what being a cat is about. Humans only see the domestic side of the cat. We have a whole other facet to our nature that is downright primitive, and requires well-honed survival instincts in the winter.

I’ve been slacking off on the honing.

But I’ll be warm and fed this winter, and the Husband and Wife will supply the requisite attention; they just won’t understand the absent needs of my wild ancestry. So they’ll just smile and call me the "maniac cat" when I get stir crazy and start tearing up and down the stairs and the hallways at full speed.

That’s honing. :)

September 25, 1999 Saturday

And I thought I had it pretty good. I have access to the woods, right off my backyard, just full of little playmates to bring home.

Then I heard from Smokey, from the great state of Texas, who is one fortunate feline. Smokey has 25 acres to call her own, nestled in a valley, with all forms of wildlife around her.

And get this -- Smokey has her own barn! It's all hers; she doesn't have to share it with humans or animals. She lives there by choice (what cat wouldn't?) Of course the humans are right nearby, and whenever she feels the need for human companionship, she just walks over and is welcomed in.

It's kinda like what I have, only BIG! But then she's from Texas. I have the woods and a spot under the table on the deck, she has acres of pasture and a barn.

I'm jealous.

She also has her own website; Smokey's Web World. Check her out; lotsa fun feline tidbits. Tell her Opie says howdy.

But don't tell her how jealous I am. I don't want to be catty.

September 30, 1999 Thursday

Mice. What are they good for? Absolutely nothin’. Say it again.

Seems we have some mice in residence; we’ve had them all year. I see them on occasion, scurrying behind the stove. Actually, they make my job easier. They keep the Husband and Wife amused, and take some of the pressure offa me to go find new critters.

But the Husband and Wife catch them in those little green boxes and take them outside to play. They should be careful; the mice could get away out there. And I’m not going to go find ‘em again. I bring ‘em in; it’s human responsibility from there.

But the numbers they catch are diminishing. They went a whole week without a mouse recently. I hope they’re not expecting me to bring more. I’m not getting any younger, y’know. And mice have begun burrowing in preparation for winter; makes ‘em harder to find.

But the weather’s still pretty nice. I’ll give it another try. Soon. Honest.

October 9, 1999 Saturday

Squirrels.

Rodents; first cousins to mice. You'd think a cat could capture them while sleepwalking. But there's something about squirrels that totally separates them from their mouse cousins. They're quick. I mean really quick. They drive me nuts.

And this time of year, when things cool off considerably, you can see them everywhere, gathering lunchables for the winter. An ideal time to catch them off guard, right?

Those guys are never off guard.

I used sit up on the deck and watch a dozen or more combing the woods' edge for their particular brand of crunchies, and every so often I would spot an inattentive one, digging furiously and not once looking up. So I would creep catlike (how else?) down the stairs and stealthily across the yard. The other squirrels would spot me and dart away, but the digger was still not looking up. I stopped within charging range and froze. Still he wasn't looking up.

Then one of his buddies would chirp an alarm. Where's the fairness in that? So I charged, and just as I was about to descend on his neck to carry him home, he was gone. I was that close, so a pursuit followed.

Note: In a cat/squirrel pursuit, the squirrel always wins. But the cat always tries.

But I don't really try any more. It's really discouraging for me - a cat - to be bested by a rodent.

Still, I watch these guys, and I will bring one home one day, I know it.

October 17, 1999 Sunday

The Husband and Wife returned today. They'd been away all week. They've done this before, so I didn't worry. A nice lady came over every day to feed me while they were gone, and I amused myself as I usually do when they go off to their respective jobs.

But having the house all to myself gets frustrating at night. Even wild cats sleep in groups for security (one alerted equals all alerted).

It's almost worth the fun of reuniting to be without them that long. They always return home happy and talkative and glad to see me (and I them). They feed me and rush around unloading things and talk to me the whole time. Eventually, one of them will collapse in a chair and invite me lapward (which, of course, I accept), and they'll rub me and pet me and tell me how much they missed me, and I'll purr like crazy. This will go on for quite a while as they chat with each other and include me in the conversation.

They call it a vacation. I like it.

October 23, 1999 Saturday

The Husband spent all day in the garage today (but kept the door open), so I kept him company for a while.

It was a beautiful day; it rained early, but then the sun came out, and I took off to scout the woods. It's not often that I get to spend long hours with the Husband, so I was suprised to find him right where I left him. I plopped down on the driveway and he carried on a running conversation while he worked.

He's adding more lights to his truck. Why he's doing that is not important. Not to me, anyway. I was just keeping him company and trying not to be a pest.

Of course when I get hungry, it's kinda hard not to be a pest. I mean, he has to be made aware when I'm hungry, right? And how better to do that than to get under his feet.

It took several tries, but he eventually caught on.

Then he went right back to working on his truck. I finished my meal and went right back to join him. I cat-napped on the hood of the Wife's car and kept an eye on things, but generally stayed out of the way (especially when he's using power tools).

I have no idea why the Husband does what he does (I've heard the Wife say that too), but I always get a kick outa hanging around with him while he does it.

We wrapped it all up at sunset, he fed me, then we both collapsed on the couch for the rest of the evening.

We're a team.

October 26, 1999 Tuesday

I caught a squirrel. I caught a squirrel and brought it home.

Except it doesn't count, officially, 'cause it was disguised as a chipmunk.

Hear me out.

This animal was the size of a squirrel. Well, it was a lot bigger than a chipmunk. And it had a bushy tail, like a squirrel. For the record, chipmunks with long tails are actually ground SQUIRRELS. And even the ground squirrel chipmunks don't have tails that would be described as bushy. And this one had a bushy tail. For a chipmunk/ground squirrel. And it was extremely nasty. Chipmunks are passive creatures, more like mice. Squirrels have no sense of humor. They chirp and grouse constantly, and if you get one cornered ... well, it's not a pretty sight.

So I brought the chipmunk/squirrel home and dropped him in the living room (I'd normally drop him in the kitchen, but he was a squirmy thing). The Husband was on the phone at the time, but he noticed the whole thing. It took him all night to catch it (actually into the next morning). He tore up the computer room, and it chattered at him the whole time (more evidence that this was, indeed, a nasty squirrel), but stayed out of sight.

The Husband finally gave up and went to bed (he'd always managed to catch chipmunks), and I took over the watch. I can be very patient. It was about 1:30 in the morning when the "chipmunk" ventured out. I let him get some distance out in the open, then pounced, but he was quick (see, a squirrel) and darted into the bathroom. I knew I had him then; no place to hide. So I laid down across the doorway and blocked his exit. He proceeded to chirp and twitter at me in nasty squirrel fashion. That woke the Husband and Wife.

The Husband got a paper bag and managed to herd the chipmunk (squirrel) into it. He clamped it shut and the nasty little thing was keeping the bag animated by bouncing around like crazy. The Husband got dressed and carried the creature out to the back yard and released it. It ran off like a squirrel.

The Husband insisted that it was a chipmunk. A large chipmunk with a bushy tail, but a chipmunk no less. And he logged it that way.

But I know better. I caught a squirrel.

October 31, 1999 Sunday

Halloween is a strange occasion to celebrate, but humans will celebrate anything.

Halloween is particularly unwelcomed by felines. Cats were persecuted because they were thought to be in league with the devil. Who wants all that nonsense dredged up and celebrated?

And then there's all those funny little ugly people that show up at our door demanding treats (which the Husband and Wife yield to unflinchingly). I always wondered what power they hold over them. I watch from a distance in fascination.

Sometimes these weird creatures are the nieces and nephews in disguise, and I'll come out to greet them, 'cause they're always so thrilled to see me. Still, I have to see their eyes before I get too close, though.

But now that's over, they've all gone away, and things are back to normal.

Aren't they?

November 4, 1999 Thursday

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’ve never gotten so much e-mail on one subject before. It’s nice to know you care.

Specifically, I’m referring to the chipmink/squirrel episode of last week. I have managed to interact successfully with most of the smaller woodland creatures (meaning I have brought them home to see where I live), but squirrels have always been elusive, and I have mentioned my dismay at failing to capture one on more than one occasion on these pages.

I’m a middle-aged feline now, and while the instincts and urges are all intact, the reaction time has slipped a few milliseconds. So I had pretty much written off squirrels as future guests in my abode.

Chipmunks, on the other hand, lack the squirrel’s quickness and mean-spiritedness. So when I encountered this guy in the wild, I had no fear of failure. All my catness came into play, and pretty soon we were headed back to the house. But this chipmunk was not typically chipmunk. He squirmed the whole way (most critters just go limp - they think I’m their mother, orsomething). So by the time I got him up the stairs, his fidgeting was getting old, and I dropped him at the top of the stairs.

Right away the clues were there. Let’s look at the evidence:

Markings: Tail: Size: Disposition: Quickness:

Chipmunk  Squirrel Squirrel Squirrel Squirrel

Squirrel 4, Chipmunk 1

He led us all on a merry chase all evening (chipmunks usually cower in a corner somewhere). This was no ordinary chipmunk. Still, that’s how the Husband logged it. Ordinary chipmunk.

But my fans, bless you all (and if you haven’t received a personal reply yet, you will), weren’t going to let that go by. A deluge of e-mail has him rethinking his position. Chipmunks and squirrels do cross breed, so it is certainly conceivable (pardon that pun) that this was a squirrel with dominant chipmunk markings. Too dominant, the husband argued originally. The markings are the first thing to dissipate in cross breeding. He was an English major; what does he know?

But after several days of e-mail protests, he is reconsidering. But he hasn’t done anything yet, so let’s hear from the rest of you. He can be persuaded, and I think I’ve earned the recognition. I’ve heard from the northeast, the plains states, Canada, Africa and Australia. How ‘bout the West Coast, the Far East and Europe? Let’s go global on this; the Husband can’t ignore the whole world, right?

Click here for justice. And thanks. You are so cool.

November 12, 1999 Friday

Thank you, citizens of the world.

I will be credited for a squirrel capture in the OpieLog, thanks to the public outcry.

A respondent from Pennsylvania wrapped it all up when she noted that in the grand scheme of the cosmos there is squirrel in everything.

Another from East Kentucky noted that my previous difficulty with capturing a squirrel had nothing to do with its appearance, but rather with its squirrel characteristics, and this particular critter had ‘em all.

Not one to rest on my laurels, I went out and brought home a bird yesterday. On the capture-difficulty scale, birds rank right after squirrels. Now they do, anyway :)

So thanks once again; I can rest easy knowing you’re out there.

Which is what I’m going to do right now. :)

November 21, 1999 Sunday

I smell change.

Cats are not very good at calendars and cycles and seasonal changes; they just don't care. Calendars are a human contrivance and have no meaning in the feline world. Cycles are instinctive; a sort of deja-vu that a cat can use or discard at his convenience. Seasonal changes are probably more meaningful to outdoor cats than we who live a climate-controlled existence.

So what is this change I'm sensing? It has something to do with with human behavior. The Sunday papers get fatter at this time of year, and the Husband and Wife spend most of Sunday morning pouring through colorful inserts from those papers. They discuss their contents and how appropriate they would or would not be for various family members or friends. The status of bank accounts is usually discussed as well.

It happens at this time every year. Starting next weekend, the people-food leftovers become more plentiful and include tasty white meat. The week after that, they bring a tree into the house. For the next few weeks after that, they return home (usually not together, though) with packages large and small that immediately get hidden away.

But mostly they seem happier than usual. Which of course, makes me happy. So when they sit and talk about their day, I'm right there being petted, part of the family.

So whatever it is that foments this change, I'm in favor of it :)

 November 26, 1999 Friday

On the fourth Thursday in November, humans group together and become pigs, stuffing themselves with a wide variety of food until they're ready to burst.

And this year was no exception. Yesterday the house was filled with people, including the short ones who want to hover over me and pet me. I find them a bit strange, but harmless.

The wife and her sisters took care of being sure that everyone had eaten beyond their limit, then they served pies.

Football was on tv briefly, until the short ones got antsy and required a Disney video to sedate them.

Moving around was dangerous; too many humans. So after I was treated to some people food, I left. It was a little damp outside, but not too cold, and no feet to dodge.

But now it's Friday, and I begin to reap the rewards. As she does every year, the Wife is out Christmas shopping, so the Husband and I sat on the couch, devouring a plate of leftovers. I think I had as much as he did. :-)

And I can look forward to this for another week.

Hey, I'm thankful.

 November 30, 1999 Tuesday

... and they talk about me bringing mice home!

December 9, 1999 Thursday

They like to have fun at my expense.

The wife brought home this ... thing one night and put it under the Christmas tree. To me it was just a box with a ribbon; I paid no attention. How was I to know it was plugged into the wall?

So I'm lounging in front of the tv, as I am inclined to do, when suddenly the box begins to open, and two of the ugliest kittens I've ever seen poke their heads out. Then they start meowing in time with Christmas music (their mouths moved). And they weren't bad.

I sat frozen, fixed on them just feet away. My eyes were wide and intense, but I made no move toward them. My tail switched back and forth.

Frankly, I didn't know what to make of them. They showed no threatening moves, but neither did they show fear or respect. Soon, the meowing stopped and they withdrew into the box. All was silent. I had to investigate. I sniffed intently all around the box (while trying to appear disinterested). Suddenly, they reappeared, and I jumped. The Husband and Wife laughed, and I knew I'd been had. These were not living creatures. I walked away in disgust.

I shoulda known better from the beginning. No actual self-respecting cats would be that silly-looking.

Ho ho ho.

December 17, 1999 Friday

I'm not feeling well. I have no appetite, and my smeller is impaired. And I have a fever. Of course I didn't realize any of this 'til the Husband and Wife dragged me off to the vet this morning. After three days of not eating, they decided to intervene.

I was just feeling blah and wanted to be left alone. When I'm hungry, I'll eat. I'm a cat.

But now I'm home and my wishes to be left alone are being honored. Except once in the morning and once in the evening, when they think they're going to shove a pill down my throat. This is gonna be a lot of fun.

In the meantime, as you will see below, I have found the perfect spot to wait out my malaise.

Merry whatever.

December 26, 1999 Sunday

Thank you one and all for the get well cards. With you guys rootin' for the fat ol' cat, how could I not come out on top? The cat is back and ready for power napping.

I don't know what an earthquake feels like, but I've got a pretty good idea what it looks like when it's done. Our living room on Christmas day.

The Husband and Wife gave each other gifts that were wrapped in paper. Soon the gifts were piled in every seating area in the living room (I was left with the back of one chair for my perching and observing), while the paper covered the floor. No sooner had that happened than they were out the door with even more gifts for the relatives, and when they returned, they had even more to pile on the already-occupied seating areas.

So that was the big day for me. Watching them pile stuff on the couch and chairs, then sleeping while they visited relatives. But they didn't forget me. I batted the obligatory cat toys around the room for a while and pretended to enjoy it, and waited for dinner. Turkey again. People turkey, not cat food turkey. Beats Fisherman's Feast.

So today I figured we'd get back to normal, and I would once again be receiving all the attention. But the Husband pulled some electronic component from a box (creating still more clutter) and spent the morning hooking it up. The wife got a call from friends needing help setting up a sound card in their computer. The Husband got a call from bro-in-law needing specific tools to finish assembling his 4-year-old's bike.

Alone again. But tomorrow is another day.

December 28, 1999 Tuesday

Check it out:

The Wife gave it to the Husband for Christmas. I think it shows amazing good taste.

It's bronze, about eight inches tall.

The mouse is a separate small sculpture.

I think it was mis-labelled. It's really mine.

December 31, 1999 Friday

Hello calendar freaks ...

Well, this is your day, if you believe all the media hype about a new millennium beginning tomorrow. Except that it doesn’t. That’s still a year away. As is the new decade and the new century.

It will be a new year however.

It was pointed out to the masses years ago that the new millennium begins with 2001. Not that anybody paid attention. The problem is the word “millennium.” It’s a catch phrase by itself. It has a lyrical ring to it, and it suggests historical importance. Since all four digits in the date would change for the first time in any living person’s lifetime, that must be the Millennium. It’s obvious, right?

So did the media make any attempt to correct this misconception? Of course not. They jumped on the bandwagon, perpetuating the “dumbing down” of America, ‘cause it’s good for the economy (read: it’s easier to get money from dumb people).

Those who chose the Millennium Now position began to offer theories as to why the centuries have been counted incorrectly until now, when they came along to straighten things out.

An almost-logical theory is that birthdays are celebrated at the conclusion of each year (i.e. a person celebrating a 100th birthday has completed 100 years, and a new 100 years commences from that point. Therefore the 2000th birthday completes 2000 years and a new 1000 years begins at that point.

But calendar years are not birthdays. There was no year 1 or 54 or 103. Some monk in the 2nd or 3rd century calculated the birth of Christ and measured the years from there. Of course he was off by as much as ten years, having Christ being born after Herod died. Prior to then, the years were counted according to the Roman calendar. When the Christian world accepted the Mistaken Monk Calendar, it was in the middle of August (well, maybe) and the year was proclaimed to be number 273 (or whatever), and since there were 100 years per century, year number 300 had to be part of the third century, not the beginning of the fourth century, since the monk began counting with one.

So now we hafta spend the next year listening to hype about the First ... of the Millennium (First Baby, First Sale, First Election, First Free Throw). Joy.

Makes you wish you were a cat, doesn't it?