On the Prowl

JJ tells me that my human has been taking my name in vain. He's been watching all these really harsh stories being told about him in my name. That disturbs me deeply, especially today of all days when the identity of the mysterious "Deep Throat" of the mid-seventies is finally revealed. Why can't my human assume a mysterious name instead of appropriating mine? It hardly seems fair. . . .

Besides, JJ is a really sweet guy, so I've heard tell. Someone was being very appreciative of the way his fur glowed in the light of the setting sun today . . . hahahaha

Anyway, I am disturbed at all these tall tales being told about me. . . . I don't sleep all day. Look at today for example: I oversaw the making of both lunch and dinner, supervised the putting away of dishes and laundry, inspected the living domicile from stem to stern and back again, bounded up to the highest levels atop the wardrobe in the spare room before sliding smoothly in and out of the blankets, sheets, and furniture, to name just a few of my activities today.

Tomorrow is another day.

Who Is JJ?

Who is JJ? That's a fair question, I guess. . . . I call JJ my brother because that's what my human calls him. He's a paper-carrying purebred Abyssinian from Oregon who was presented to me as my four-month b-day present . . . because I was teething on everyone and everything that came my way. . . . You know how it is . . . I was just a kitten, exploring my environment . . . until the day this strange, drugged out ball of ruddy fur was brought in and presented to me . . . to do with as I please . . . and so I have.

When JJ first arrived, we settled the question of dominancy in the conventional fashion. I hissed at him; he just sat there with a dazed, glazed look in his eyes. How was I to know that he'd just been given two of the required four immunization shots before he'd left the pet store? So you can imagine my surprise when a week later he came out of his groggy state and started getting uppity. Imagine that: this scrawny, drippy little puddle of a kitten six weeks my junior pushing his way into everything - my food, my bed, my human's lap . . . harumph! Of course, I settled things very quickly. After all, I'm longer, stronger, and smarter. Of course, being the stubbornly tenacious little guy that he is, I have to remind him of the results of our discussion every so many weeks, and sometimes I'm a little under the weather, but for the most part, we have things straightened out . . . I think . . . I won't discuss the fact that the little furball, though barely two-thirds my length, weighs the same as I do . . . Suffice it to say, the matter of dominance has been settled . . . again . . . for now . . .

Anyway, the point of it all is that JJ and I have been sharing space and humans for the better part of five years now. He's a warm comfort on cold nights and a sturdy companion when we are periodically abandoned by those who should know better but instead leave us to the care of casually visiting strangers. . . . He's gotten a lot better at personal hygiene over the years, thanks to some firm stern coaching on my part, and bother though he be at times, overall I am content to call him brother, for brother he is in all the ways that really count.

JJ dreaming of flight

GM

Electronic Gadgets and Gizmos

Electronic Gadgets and Gizmos
Have you ever let a dvd menu continue to play because you were preoccupied with something else? It's like those old phonograph records or 8-track tapes that just kept going around and around, like the Exchange Orangeade commercial's song . . . endlessly . . . interminably . . . until you're ready to do serious damage to expensive (or cheap) equipment, merchandise, people who inadvertently cross your path without having mercifully put you out of your misery by stopping the disc, changing the channel, or just plain turning off the device without asking the obvious question of why you've allowed this to continue for as long as it already has. . . . A friend was once kind enough to offer to help my human out of a jam. They were pulling an all-nighter and someone had put a dvd on for background sound, primarily because they last so much longer than a humble cd. . . . Well, two hours go so much more quickly when no one is actually watching anything, when they're so intent on the task at hand that they would be oblivious to the end of the world. . . . Eventually, however, Eddie Murphy's irritating rendition of Donkey on the Shrek dvd menus will pierce the most diligent focus. . . . Suffice it to say my human now has one less friend willing to keep company during an all-nighter. . . . Still, my human’s predilection for gadgets and gizmos is well-known among the circle of friends and acquaintances. For a recent birthday my human received a truly fine pda (personal digital assistant). Unfortunately, said human also needed to gift said self with a pair of brand new reading glasses. So now a fine library of elective books and music rides around in the pocket of my human’s pants, but nothing gets read because there is no room for those essential glasses. Now, of course, Palm is promoting an even cooler pda that will allow a person to carry the contents of an entire laptop. Alas, it remains a tool fit only for the visually unimpaired. Mind you, no one is getting older, just more worn. The parts need tuning, honing, refueling, not replacing. This is not denial; we’re all just in a foggy place altogether right now. . . .

A Wholly Holey Day

Every calendar in every room and every ad that has cluttered mailboxes this weekend say that today is the day the United States officially takes time to remember those who have died defending our country from external threats as well as those who who continue to defend our country from threats, internal and external. What I remember is that we used to take the time to come to a halt on the last day of May, regardless of what day of the week it was. We used to take the time to go to national and civilian cemeteries, to decorate graves and read headstones, to listen to speeches and music that helped us to remember why we had stopped our crass commercial pursuits as a nation, however briefly we may have done so. Now, however, the air is filled with the smells of barbecue, the sounds of laughter in parks and cursing in parking lots, and the sights of flesh bared to the sun to welcome in the summer season.

Now, I'm not advocating a national day of melancholy, or maybe I am. . . . When I was a child this was a day to review tales of the attack on Pearl Harbor. Now we have the tragedies of September 11, 2001 to add to those tales. We have too many wars to remember and too many fallen warriors to honor. Still, that hardly seems a reason to ignore the memories, especially on a day actually officially labeled "Memorial Day". When I look around, what I see are Law and Order marathons and long lines at theaters showing movies that have little or nothing to do with national pride or respect for those who have sacrificed for our nation. Of course, those aren't commercially viable these days, so they aren't being marketed. . . .

Oddly enough, I was never a real eager flag-waver. In fact, I had a pretty negative reaction to a fellow I just saw wearing an Uncle Sam tophat in a local grocery store. My reaction, however, made me stop and think. Today is, after all, Memorial Day. Then I realized why I object to the hat: these days flag waving doesn't seem to be about those who have died so much as it seems to be about sending more young folk after them to die in far off lands, not necessarily for American ideals, unless one counts crass commercial interests on a global scale at the expense of anyone and everyone that gets in the way. There seems to be a bit of a black hole in that kind of thinking. . . .

What I need to do is get back to my stated philosophy of eating, sleeping, and loving as opportunity allows. . . .

Refrigerator Quality Ode

Below is a sappy, mildly offensive, and sadly pathetic attempt at poetry written by one of my humans. Think of it along the order of an earnest offspring's refrigerator decoration offering . . .

Ocean Beach – SF, CA
May 30, 2005
1:10 p.m., PDT

Ode to My Max

Georgy Porgy Maximus son
Deep thinker yet so much fun
When I stroke you from ears to tail
The silken pleasure makes all others pale
There’s nothing like the feel of your fur
No music is greater than your resultant purr
To rub you up from butt to back
Helps to prevent a nasty hack attack
But greatest by far is when you deign to wrap
Your long sleek torso around my neck or in my lap.

Though by day you sleep, by night you’re king
You prowl the halls while all others listen to you sing
Every closet and shelf is clearly your domain
Your daily pleasure is driving housekeepers insane
Your mind and paws are like steel traps
And woe betide JJ when either snaps
Shut, that is . . .
Though Greco-Roman nekko gropin’ isn’t your favorite game
It’s a mistake to assume you’re completely tame
When the fur flies and bodies thump
You’re not the one left nursing a lump
You understand fine though you choose not to speak
You’re no fool and you’re certainly not weak

And yet . . .

You were such a sweet frail boy at the start
You settled into my arms and laid claim to my heart
I’ll never let you down (unless you insist)And if you die first, you must know you’ll be missed.

Doggerel

Dogs
Today my humans took me down to the sea
I wish they would just let me be
The ocean is broad and wet and wide
The sand is dirty and flat; there’s nowhere to hide
Dogs are everywhere without any leash
Wish someone would put them all in a quiche
With eggs and milk and cheese all baked
In an earthen oven so hot it ached


JJ
Oh look at the ribbon kite up in the sky
Wriggling and diving, so low then so high
JJ would go nuts . . . and then he’d cry
That nekko’s always wanted wings so that he could fly
He’d chase birds and kites like he now does stringy things
If he could just be a nekko who had him some wings
But just as he is he can’t reach much that swings
And that really bugs him, it really stings
He really can get to be quite a bore
Going on and on and on about wanting to soar
It’s only been recently, since he turned four
That he’s stopped yammering on that score
Now he just sits silently . . .
Sometimes I miss when he was three . . .


Birds
Down at the beach
I saw a bird take a dump
Better to see
Than to feel the lump
Full of lime
And slime and stuff
That when dry makes
Cleaning so tough

Decisions Decisions

My parental unit wants to use me as a front for this weblog, but the decisions are evidently debilitating: title, template, purpose, focus, photos? Fool! If no one is notified, who will read it? Having glanced at the surface, who will delve further? Having delved further, who would possibly want to linger?

Follow my example: sleep all day, make love all night, eat when it suits you, drink to slake what thirst assails you, breathe what air you can while you can. When others bother you, ignore them, chastise them, or when all else fails, flee. There will be other opportunities . . . and if not, what will anything matter then?

(Lilies of the field and all that sort of stuff, don't you know?)

A Clearly Foggy State of Mind

Must start somewhere, so why not here? Just want to see what a post on this page might look like for now...