is another of our kind's journal. She trains her owner, we observe. By the way, this is Kotoka here.
didn't bother to take me to camp with her. A million scratches to her for that. I pawed through her black book and there appeared to be many birds. Why did she deprive me of such a heaven?
All I get is processed cat food of G-D knows what animal of origin while she gets to see and hear all kinds of delicious birds. She heard parakeets and saw meaty crows. If I could fly, just to enjoy one bird a day. But unless if I were Jewish or an ornithologist, I would not be allowed there.
the cat appears very mad. If I were left alone on a plane for 19 days, I would've pawed the plane to some interesting island--I would've travelled the world on a bird-tasting vacation!
The S. Africans sure love to trap their cats
. And they enjoy dogs chasing us too. Thankfully we have PETA in America.
Even in San Francisco
, cats are politically correct and used as an excuse to be discriminated. "Hey, I'm a cat fancier! I'm black yo! Give me that job!"
No wonder our way of living works best: sleep, eat, piss, eat sleep piss sleep sleep sleep. Its called catatonic-sim.
Hello darlings. Old orange Hass here.
As soon as the "owners" left this morning, I was free to slipper surf.
The slippers of the female are open-backed, meaning there is a delightful space where her toes go that would just about fit my head if some cruel creature were to cram me in the slipper, face first. But I like to use it as fairings, that is, like the windshield of a motorcycle.
The slipper is on the kitchen tile. I jump, leap, my orange and white girth flying playfully through the air, and plop my front paws into the toe of the slipper. With my momentum, the slipper and I slide across the tile four feet to the other side of the kitchen (it's a small kitchen.) After some maneuvering disguised as torturing, I can flip the slipper back pointing the other direction.
And the cycle continues, as long as the people downstairs don't hear me. If I could go out and romp with the crows and baby alligators I wouldn't need to reduce myself to frolicking with footwear, but I like to think of myself as the Anne Frank of Cat Blogs. And in the annex, hidden from the super and the nosy old neighbors, I must keep my mind limber with slipper surfing.
Surf, slip, pounce, with paws tightly coordinated into the front of the slipper. It's claw-extendingly fun.
And she wonders why her slippers are never where she left them in the morning.