The Human Enigma

Well, what can I say? From having very little comments when I wrote yesterday's post, I had people respond to me that I didn't even know read the blog. If a cat can be said to be humbled, I guess I was yesterday, although I'll not admit that ever again, even if I'm tortured with things as vile as tuna I can't reach! An upstanding ladycat should never confess to being humbled. And yet, it was incredibly nice to see all of the comments from peoples and cats, some of whom I didn't even realise were visiting me from day to day. Thank you all for continuing to read. It means an awful, awful lot.

Now, the title of my post speaks volumes, because the human is a bit of an inigma. On Puss-Puss' Blog
I've been discussing how the wake up habits of my human are not only inappropriate, but distressing and dangerous too. To illustrate my next point, I'll reproduce what I said to her there.

Puss-Puss, this behaviour you speak of is something my human exhibits every single day of her life. Hers is extreme, however. She maintains that she doesn't have time after the work hunt to sit down and provide a comfy, self-heating, soft place for me to sleep until I have decided that it is time to wake up. Firstly, she states that she must clean the house, wash bedding, de-fur the furniture. My answer to that is that if we are clean, that is all that matters, bedding is better when it has your scent on it and not the smell of horrid human soap, and that I spent much time and effort furring that sofa, thank you very much, and could she kindly leave it alone. She tells me she doesn't have time to listen to my complaints either. The nerve! My human has also gone a step up on the bell idea first thing in the morning. I trust that you will agree that when you sleep, it is not advisable to allow strangers into your den. You are vulnerable when you're resting, after all. My human,however, thinks it is acceptable to wake up to the sound of a myriad of peoples voices which come from a small box on the bedside table. There is even occasionally music too. I have to admit that it is a most effective waking mechanism, for it has me on alert immediately. I feel it my duty to protect the human from her own stupidity, and that involves being on the watch to save her from intruders. The thing that gets me though is that she chooses the voices. She used to have a beeping box instead, but maintained that she didn't like it because it woke her in a bad mood. I'm sorry, but waking up at all before you've finished sleeping would put anyone in a bad mood, whether it's through voices or beeping. They are strange creatures, these peoples, but their stupidity does make them indeering, no?

I am sure I am not the only cat with a human who exhibits these strange, and quite frankly worrying behaviours on a daily basis, but her latest complaint has me making some of my own.

My human uses a litterbox. It's not a propper bathroom spot, having no sand, no area to dig in, nowhere even to stand to do the business. Rather, it is a bowl filled with water. The first time I watched her use her box, I was most distressed. First of all, she sat, or at least, did the human equivalent of sitting. now even a kitten knows that if you sit down whilst going to the bathroom, you're gonna get one messy rear end, and then, what's worse, you'll be forced to clean it off to preserve your rightfully gained reputation for being one of the cleanest members of the household. That is not a pleasant mouthful as I am sure you will agree, but the human would have a worse time of it than me. Her spine is not as flexible as mine. This probably has to do with old age and the fact that she doesn't regularly do her stretching exercises against a scratching post, but the fact remains that she cannot clean herself all over as we can.

To get back to the story at hand, I watched in fascination and no little disgust as she sat down on the water bowl. I could not believe she was wilfully going to contaminate a good, clean water supply, and, as I would with any of my own kittens who attempted such a horrible trick, I shouted at her. It had absolutely no affect, and, right before my horrified eyes, she, well, she used the box that is not a box. I remember stopping dead, sitting back and just staring at her in disbelief. It was outrageous that she had not only ruined a lot of good water, but hadn't listened to my sensible warnings into the bargain.

From that moment on I took on the task of educating her to propper box uses... Or trying to. I ran with the idea that she was a newborn kitten as far as brain power was concerned. In this way, I could find it in myself to forgive her for what she'd done. She knew no better, so how could I punish her?

As I would with my own, I called the human, and for once she came. I made a show of walking to the box, then called her again, just to make sure she had her full attention on me. I then climbed into the box and, in the politest of ladycat fashions, I did what I needed to. I'm not always quite that austentacious, but she is a lady-human, and needs to be set a standard for manners. I scratched around in there for quite a time, making a lot of noise to show her that I was burying the nasty. I knew I needed to do this to combat the fact that her eyes did not work. When I exited the box, I did the mummycat to kitten chirrup at her to tell her what a pleasurable experience it was, then called her to let her know it was her turn.

Now, were she a kitten, even the most dim-minded of the litter, she would have attempted to clamber into the tray and copy me, even if it did take a little urging. I urged her all right, but she simply looked puzzled and asked if I was feeling all right.

Friends, whenever she is around I repeat this education. I will accept that it sometimes takes a few demonstrations before kittens get the hang of what they are supposed to be doing, but after months, she was still ruining the water, and seeming quite content to do so. I demanded that a box be brought into the living room so that I could ensure she had full hearing of my actions whenever I decided to go. Through a judicious use of crying, scratching and leaving litterbox presents on her sofa, I finally convinced her to move it. But it was to no avail.

I will call to her every time I come from my box demonstration, hoping against hope that one day the penny will drop and she'll come to the box like a good human for her toileting. Bug has heard me do this when the human is talking to him on the phone, and the pair find it highly amusing. I don't. It takes a lot of effort to keep up the manners and the demonstrating all the time, and they don't seem to appreciate that.

I still fail, after wracking my brains, to understand why humans choose to go to the bathroom in such an undignified and frankly dangerous manner. At their most compromised they are still visible, and they don't have anywhere to bury the waste to throw other animals off their scent. What is more, they contaminate good drinking water, and while I know that there is usually a lot in the bowls for me and Dogface, the human is reduced to drinking it from bottles. That bowl is human sized, so I can't understand why it doesn't click with her that if she stopped putting her waste in there, she'd have no need to ration herself to bottles. Her bowl is self filling and everything, but no matter how many times it does this and sweeps away the waste, she's just right back there the next time.

Do any of you have explannations for this? Is it a behaviour you have witnessed in your peoples? Have you had any more success than I in training them out of this worrying habit? Is there an instinctual reason why they do this which I am simply not aware of?

The Human is Back!

Yes, yes, yes, she arrived back today! Ahem, excuse me. I know it's not fashionable for us cats to show our excitement like that, but really, she's back! She even brought a suitcase with her, although she says I'm not allowed to play in it as it contains something called gifts. I know they're all for me, so why I shouldn't romp in them I don't know, but she won't be persuaded.

She arrived back this morning, well, in the middle of the dark time really, because the sun was barely up. When she came through the door she even sounded tired when she called my name. Now, cats, I'm sure you'll agree with me that when your peoples have been away for a time, the correct thing to do is to scorn their attempts to cuddle you when they get home. If they've been away for a long time, we are to ignore them until they give up, showing them that we haven't forgotten that they abandoned us, then, just when they lose all hope, jump onto their lap and show them how much we've missed them.

I did this, and in my opinion, I pulled off the first part well, or rather, I had the potential to. When the human came in, I didn't just ignore her. I hid. She pushed the suitcase through the door, dropped all her bags and flopped on the sofa. Still, I ignored her. But then she started to call me. I struggled, but I'm afraid to admit that I lost the battle. As you know, I missed her dreadfully, and at the sound of the voice, I crumbled.

I've told you that I never jump directly onto the human's lap, but today was an exception, and she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to quite like it. There followed an extatic half hour of cuddling, tickling and general admiration on her part.

She disappeared for a time after that, and I got worried again that she'd go away and not come back for more time, but she was only gone for a short while, and when she did reappear, she had mummycat's smell on her. She says mummycat was so happy to see her that she even miaowed very loudly and let herself be picked up, something she's usually too timid to allow. The human is very, very worried about her though. The apetite supplements worked while mummycat was taking them, but over the last three weeks, she's lost a lot of weight and is really quite skinny. The peoples that we lived with before the human have said they'll have her back the Friday after this one, and the human thinks this is probably best for her. She's still too timid to come out of the room and she's obviously unhappy in there on her own. The human doesn't like to see any cat shut up, so even though it keeps mummycat happier than if she was given the full house, it still upsets her to see it.

There's so much to tell you that I don't really know where to start. It'll probably take a couple of days, but as my human's so forgetful, I'm going to list the things I'll tell you about here. First of all, and most importantly, there's the mousies she brought me home. Then there's the things she did like gold mining and visiting native villages and going in hot springs and lots more besides. I don't know what most of these things are, so I'll probably let the human talk about them. Then there's the news on Molly which I may or may not tell you today. After that we have the human's training of Babycat's people plus my pee-pee problem while she's been away. In true cat style, these aren't listed in the order I'll talk about them in.

I suppose I should do the Babycat's problems first of all, as they're the reason I sent my human in the first place. When she got there, she did a quick scan of the situation and decided that the Babycat didn't need as much help as we thought. He, in typical kitten fashion, over-dramatised everything. The human watched Babycat's people with him for a time, then determined that, like every kitten, the Babycat got pretty much what he wanted when he wanted it. Ok, the people doesn't cuddle him all the time, but 80% isn't bad. All right, he doesn't get wet food every day, but he does have dry on demand. See, I'm luckier there. I have both. The human didn't feel that Babycat was starved, so she didn't say anything. Now for that, I'm cross with her, and I plan to tell her so when I'm done showing her how much I missed her. Every cat deserves stinky wet food!

There's some breaking news though. Turns out I've met Babycat's people before. When the human came home, his smell was on her and I remember it, although it was a long time ago. The first time I saw the human, he was with her. He tickled my tummy and he played with me at the place where I used to live with Mummycat and the others. He also did things to get me a little mad, just to make sure I wouldn't bite or be nasty. The human said she was a bit worried because, when I play or get cross, I'm a bit handy with my claws as I've told you before, but I never do it to seriously hurt. Babycat's people convinced her to take me home anyway, so I guess I should kind of like him, right? He also cuddled me when this place was a big and scary new place. He's good at cuddling, but also good at knowing what annoys me. He talks a lot too. I've decided that he should be called bug, but for a number of reasons. Firstly, he's a cuddlebug. Secondly, he's gotta be a lovebug because he got me lots of love from my human and he also gave me love too, although I like the human's better. Thirdly, he knows how to bug me when he fluffs what he calls my bellyfur, and when he tweaks my nose. Fourthly, he's a talkbug cuz he never is quiet!

Now that that's decided, I can get back to my story. If I'd known it was Bug that was Babycat's people, I'd never have sent my human. For all the reasons outlined above, Bug is a good cat person, so there's no way he'd do anything bad to his kitten, except bug him of course.

Bug also has an older cat named Cara who my human thinks is an absolute sweetheart. I suppose I should dislike Cara for this alone, but I can't find it in myself. I'm too happy to have the human back. She says that Cara is a real teddy bear. Cara doesn't seem to mind though. She slept with the human a lot, and even cuddled her like I do when I lie on my back and headbut her until she tickles my yummy tummy.

This is where the trouble starts though. Babycat has a bit of a problem with Cara and spends most of his time chasing her when she dares to come out from one of the hiding places that she chooses to stay away from him. My human thinks it's because he's very attached to and possessive of Bug and doesn't like it when Cara gets attention or even looks like she might be wanting some. He's also a kitten though, so as well as being dominant, he's wanting to play some of the time. Splatcat(the nickname given to her by the human because of the way she flops over for a tummy tickle) is too old to play with babies, so she just hisses at him and then runs away. The human tried to teach her to stand her ground and kick his baby butt just once so that he'd leave her alone, but teddies don't fight, and so she just kept running. The more this happened, the more upset the human got. She doesn't like to see animals unhappy. Bug is doing what he can to rectify this though.

After spending a week at Bug's living place, the human and Bug left both of the cats to go to a place called Alaska, which is apparently super cold in the winter, or so says the other cat the human calls Fatcat who lives with Bug's mummypeople. This one is lovely, or so she says. She's really old though, and has sore bones, so you have to be really careful when you pick her up. I'm glad I'll never get like that.

Alaska was where the human and Bug went looking for shiny gold and visiting Athabascan indians and all sorts of exciting things, but that's for another post. I've had to sacrifice my place on the human's knee so that she can type this, and I'm not happy about it. I'm done posting for now so that I can cuddle again. More tomorrow.

By the way, keep an eye out for Tortureshell Tuesday. I plan to launch it very, very soon.

Sacrifice and Absence

It is with great sadness, and not a tiny touch of worry, that I write this post. you see, I've made a decision, one which I'm not sure I'm very happy with.

It all started with a kitten, a foolish, silly little kitten that was brought home to live with my human's people. Given that my human owns his people, I thought that it was my responsibility to help raise the kitten in a sensible way, given that peoples don't have a hope of doing this right. But the problem is, I'm at a great distance, so none of my teachings can be practical. They're all written.

Over the last few weeks, I've been commenting on the Babycat's blog, trying to help him where I could. Some of you other manly mancats have been doing it too, helping where you can, although I'm not sure all are helping for the good! No, Whicky, I'm not thinking of you as I write that bit...

Anyway, pardon. I do have a habit of getting side-tracked. So, I was commenting, giving my wisdom freely, but it didn't work! Firstly, the baby's just a kitten, so forgets half of what I tell him, and has this insane childish idea that peoples are basically all right, and not stupid at all! He's been going through a rough time of it at the moment with his people, and is trying hard to train him in the propper way, but given that he's young, he's making no head-way at all.

As I've said before, I feel responsible for Babycat because my human decided to own his people. I'll be having words with her about that after this incident is over, I promise you. Owning a people only brings problems, as demonstrated by the situation I find myself in now!

Ahem, getting off the topic at hand again. I thought long and hard about the problem. I was having no effect on my own. Even the manly vibes from the manly mancats weren't doing any good. Could I? Should I? More to the point, dare I?

Well, I dare. I'm a decent cat even if I do say so myself, and seeing another in need, I can't help but do what I can. It's for this reason that I'm sending my human to Babycat, well, not to him directly, but to his people to train him. My human, in some ways, is pretty good. She knows to feed me fish, something which Babycat doesn't get. She knows that if I miaow, she's to find me, pick me up and cuddle me. Babycat's people leaves him alone even when he's crying. I don't care if the people had other things to do. Even my human, who is basically stupid, interrupts what she's doing whenever I sing to her.

This is just a few of the things Babycat's people is doing wrong, and I think I can help. So I've put my own needs aside and made a sacrifice. For just over three weeks, I will part from my human and send her halfway across the world to live with Babycat's people. I'm going to be candid with you for a moment. I've always said that I love the human, and I do. It's for that reason, and I don't care how needy this makes me look, that I'm going to miss her dreadfully. She cuddles so nicely. She's soft and warm and her voice is gentle and comforting. She makes a good place to lie at night and she does feed me wet food every day. What am I going to do without her for three weeks?

While she's gone, I get to live with hoover lady. Hoover lady is mad on cats, but we're not so mad on her. She's all right, I suppose, but she's not my human. She'll probably still feed me the wet stuff (the human said she'd tell her to) but it just won't be the same. She's going to sleep in the human's bed, but her smell is different and I don't want to cuddle her the same way I do the human. Why did I do this? Why did I say I'd send her to Babycat? Surely he can do without her and manage on his own?

I instructed her to call the flying plane companies, but she said, "Well Tia, you know I've been planning to go here for quite some time now, so the flights are already booked". Well, how did she know I'd send her! I say my human is stupid, but it's at times like this that i'm forced to re-evaluate. I mean, you gotta be pretty smart to know what I'm going to do before I do it, right?

Because she's away and Hoover Lady's no good on the computer, I won't be blogging very much. I'll update when I can, and I have a special event that i'm planning to launch on Tuesday, maybe, but it depends if I can sneak some time on the computer or not. My human may update the blog with information about what she's been doing. I've given my permission for this, so don't worry, she hasn't stolen my passwords!

Her suitcase came out today. I've been half-heartedly trying to play in it, but I keep remembering what someone else said in my comments. They said that when the suitcase comes, it means that the peoples who own it are going away. My human owns this one.

Oh, why did I do this? I have to remember that I'm a big cat and can do without my human. I don't need her. I'm going to have a good time without her by breaking every rule she ever thought she'd made. I'm not going to miss her at night. I'm not going to wonder if Babycat is cuddling her and she loves him now more than me. I, I... I think I'm going to go now. Remember this, Babycat. Remember what it costs me to send her. Don't make her yours. Please don't make her yours.