Through good times, and bad times

I made a new friend this weekend. His name is Chris. He is a fellow blogger so I'm going to give him a shout out. He came over to my pad and pet me and made me feel noticed, if only for a few minutes. That was really decent of him.

It seems the plight of a neutered geriatric cat in some regards isn't much different from that of a gay man. We talked on this some and then Stephanie got jealous of the attention I was receiving and dragged Chris away from me.

I sure hope I get a chance to meet that nice young man again.

I wish I was a little bit taller

One day my owner thought it would be funny to stick me in his file drawer. So in I went! No one else really found it amusing, including the handsome specimen shown, but at least he did! Must have something to do with being an accountant.

However, the picture perhaps describes how I feel inside sometimes. Like I'm shut away, someplace Stephanie can't see. And I meow as loud as I can, "Notice me, notice me Stephanie Marie!" But she continues going about her business as if I wasn't even there. Like her law school books or laptop or GI Joe action figures are more important than me.

All I want is for Stephanie to show that she feels the same love for me as I have for her. I may only weight 16 lbs (I used to be upwards of 20, back in the pre-'betes days), but I pack a lot of tenderness.

If she continues to ignore me I'll have to resort to sticking my head in the shower when she's bathing or vomiting on her clothes.

You people are so demanding

Seems like these days everyone wants their piece of yours truly, Goober.

In truth, my life is far less glamorous than you probably think. I hate to burst anyone's proconceived ideas, but here's the lowdown on my daily activity.

I position myself equidistantly between the litter box and my food bowl, and meditate. I appear to be asleep, but really I'm contemplating which one I want to visit next, the litter box or the food bowl. Sometimes I have philosophical dialogues in my head where I consider what came first, the food bowl or the litter box. Is it possible to use the box without first visiting the food bowl? Would the food bowl lose all meaning without the litter box.

After a good two hours internal debate, I make my choice and see it through, and then return to my former position, where the struggle resumes.

This goes on until Stephanie comes home, at which time I shout at her in kitty-speak for not appreciating me and beingthe selfish one in our relationship and not respecting my emotional needs.

It takes its toll on a kitty

I've been living illegally the past few months, much like Anne Frank in the Secret Annex. Except in my case I'm not looking out for the Gestapo, but the bldg maintenance crew.

I'm told not to meow too loudly. Not to run out the door and down the hallway as I enjoy. Not to stand too close to the windows. Even to use my litter box with greater discretion.

Well I can tell you right now I haven't been complying with the last part. I still visit the box at least six times a day. They won't take that from me. Like that U2 song says. "They took your life, they could not take your pride!" That's me. With a few slight modifications.