Conversations with a Solicitor (A Play in One Act)

Scene: Karen is sitting on the couch reading a book. Sadie is asleep on the hearth of the fireplace. I am relaxing on the ottoman. We are listening to an old Peter Gabriel CD.

Phone rings.

Karen: Hello?

American Sounding Phone Voice: Hello may I speak to Penelope Cat?

Karen: What?

Phone Voice: May I speak to Penelope Cat please?

brief pause

Karen: Penelope Cat can't be bothered right now. I am her personal assistant. How may I help you?

Phone Voice: We just wanted to let Ms. Cat know that she has been preapproved for a very common credit card in which Karen is "preapproved" about three times daily.

Karen: Let me get this straight: you are preapproving Penelope for credit.

Phone Voice: Yes

Karen: Penelope Cat?

Phone Voice: Yes

Karen: Just to be clear, do you have Penelope's middle name listed as "the"?

Phone Voice: (very deadpan) Ma'am, my computer screen doesn't show middle names or initials.

Another brief pause

Karen: Regardless, you are offering Penelope a credit line.

Phone Voice: May I please speak to Penelope?

Karen: As I said, Penelope can't be bothered. I'm her personal assistant and you'll have to deal with me.

Phone Voice: For her to access this opportunity, I need to speak directly with her.

Karen: That might be a little difficult.

Phone Voice: And why is that?

Karen: Because Penelope is a cat. Literally. Cat is not her last name.

Phone Voice: What?

Karen: Penelope is a cat.

Phone Voice: Are you sure?

Karen: Unless she's morphed into her true form, queen of the harpies, I'm pretty sure she's a cat.

Hey!!!

Once again, I couldn't make this up.

So yes, I was preapproved for a credit card. This is ridiculous, as we all know I am certainly not going to do the shopping. If I do that Karen becomes obsolete. Karen briefly considered creating me a social security number, but she decided it was too much trouble.

Besides, my last name is not "Cat". I have a last name, thank you very much.

Any ideas about how this all occurred???

Karen swears she hasn't used my name on any forms. Her fake name is "Bridget Jones" and her fake number is 976- BABE.

Whatever

Other Issues:

Songs which Karen like and I approve:

Solsbury Hill by Peter Gabriel

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LDKSVoc3mTs&feature=related

It's profound.

Good Hair and the Governator: Together at Last

To the right is a picture of the Govenator and Good Hair at the Inauguration of the President of Mexico. I don't remember the name of the Mexican president and I feel too lazy to look it up right now. I apologize to my readers for my slothful behavior.

Whatever.

My post has nothing to do with the picture. I just thought I'd share it with you.

Why?

I don't know.

Anyway, the temperature dropped last week and the weather is cooling off. Karen started pulling out her winter clothes, specifically sweaters to wear to work. This is humorous because the lows have been typically 65 degrees.

Probably not going to need those snow tires any time soon, Karen.

As you know I live in the part of Texas known as the Gulf Coast. We don't have seasons here. We have summer with occasional bouts of spring and fall. That's it. For this reason, when temps get below seventy people start talking about the "cold weather".

Personally, I like the cooler weather. Karen keeps the thermostat set at 82 degrees during the day while she's at work (self- centered hag).

Just because I don't have a job, or contribute anything other than my presence to the household, doesn't mean I don't have a right to the comfort of 73 degrees.

Anyway . . .

Sadie had another howling episode again last night. Karen yelled at her about "civilize people sleeping at two am".

Dude, Sadie isn't a person, she's a cat and not the most brilliant one at that. Karen can't put human expectations on her. It simply isn't fair.

Occasionally, she does the howling thing during the day while I'm trying to take a nap. I just get up, slap her across the face, and bite her on the ear (not necessarily in that order). Typically the problem is solved.

I'm tired now. I'm going to bed.

Moon River . . .

For the last ten days or so, Sadie has been getting behind the blinds and meowing very loudly at God knows what at ungodly hours. This behavior is annoying me and really pissing Karen off.

So what to do . . .

Karen, incoherent at two am, usually just yells at her to get out of the blinds. Once she threw a paperback copy of The Grapes of Wrath at her. (Is there meaning behind this? I don't know.) Typically Sadie immediately gets off the window ledge and hops back in the bed with us. However, usually we go through this about three times a night.

Karen is becoming less patient with my feline counterpart.

Today she asked me if I thought Sadie was howling at the moon, since she only does this in the middle of the night. I told her that cats don't howl at the moon.

"All cats?" Karen asked me.

"All the cats I know," I replied.

"What cats do you know?"

Point taken.

So apparently, Karen thinks Sadie is some form of werewolf, howling at the moon. I can't say I particularly enjoy the behavior, either. I just refuse to get worked up over Sadie's ridiculousness.

Whatever.

Solicitors and Metallica

I received a comment in Spanish asking me to post a link to a site selling t-shirts. That is, I think that's what the comment was requesting-- since I don't speak fluent Spanish and had to rely on context clues, I really don't know this for sure. This is the first comment I have not posted.

I decided I should develop some guidelines for links/ comments I will publish. Here are the rules according to me, Penelope the Cat, about posting:
1. All postings must be in English. It's nothing personal. I exclusively speak English, and I don't want to post anything strange unless I understand what strange thing I am indeed posting.

2. By posting links for products, it is my belief I would be endorsing said product. Since I expect you to take my endorsements seriously, I only endorse things I know about. For instance, I would definitely endorse Robyn's Poncho, for it's soft feel and bright pink color. I would never endorse the ear drops I have to take once a week to keep my ears "clean". (Stupid Karen)

3. One of the beautiful concepts of a blog is the lack of guidelines. Thus, I don't have to publish anything I so choose not to publish. Beautiful, isn't it? Basically, that's my philosophy: I will publish what I damn well want to publish. Disagree with this premise? Too bad so sad-- Sadie is in charge of complaints and concerns. She's illiterate-- good luck getting a response from her!

What about freedom of speech, you ask? Well my friends, I'm a cat. I have no voting rights (bastards Americans-- so superior). Therefore why should I follow your societal rules? If you want friggin' freedom of speech my suggestion would be for you to get your own friggin' blog.

Anyway, I read this a couple of days ago and had a laugh:

http://news.aol.com/entertainment/music/story/_a/hetfield-held-up-for-taliban-beard/20070709082409990001

I saw the picture of Hetfield with the beard. My first observation was the gray.

The mighty have aged.

Furthermore, he reminded me more of Ashley Wilks or Charles Hamilton in Gone with the Wind than of a Taliban member. I guess the Taliban could be recruiting whomever, but middle aged white dude heavy metal heroes?

I don't know . . .

It happens. Say what you will about "profiling", but I would like to know why Hetfield was detained as a risk.

What are the factors?

A beard???

This is a little ridiculous.

To their credit, the airport officials quickly released the dude when they realized the mistake. So no, Hetfield is not on his way to Guantanamo for torture and testing.

All is good. And this ridiculous didn't even happen in Texas.

Go 'Stros

Redneck Hell and the Skanks Who Live Here

There are two times of the year which I detest:

The days between Christmas and the new year and the week before the 4th of July.

Why, do you ask would I detest what normally is such a festive time of year?

We live in redneck Hell.

Let me explain . . .

The back fence and the driveway of our home serve as the city limits. Our house is actually in "no man's land", which is great for taxes, but bad for certain concepts of civility, such as not shooting off fireworks 24/7.

The rule is those not living within the technical definition of the city are perfectly welcomed to shoot off whatever explosive devices they choose. Being that we are essentially part of the city line, we also get temporary new neighbors: the firework stands.

It's great. Girls dressed in American flag bikinis waving giant signs advertising explosives standing on the street for all to enjoy.

Brought to you by the same people who think Texas vs. Johnson is an abomination.

Brought to you by people who've never heard of Texas vs. Johnson.

Karen is so moved by such displays of patriotism, she want to cry.

Actually, Karen does want to cry. She's totally paranoid about a drunken redneck setting the roof on fire. Thankfully, it's been pretty wet on the gulf coast lately.

What is it about beer and fireworks? Do these things go hand in hand universally, or is just in redneck Hell? Personally, I would worry about losing a paw or worse if I were playing with explosives after downing a few.

You would think I live in Baghdad or Kabul with all this racket. Sadie and I hid under the bed for about two hours today because we were so scared.

Actually, that's not totally true. Sadie was scared. I was taking a nap. But the damn explosions outside our house woke me several times.

That I don't appreciate.

Karen isn't known for her tolerance about this. She doesn't like her sleep disturbed by such behavior, either. I've seen her on the phone with the sheriff's department in the wee hours of the night ranting about "disturbing the peace".

They've got to think she's crazy.

Anyway, since I didn't get my normal sixteen hours of sleep today, I'm pooped.

God bless America.

Go 'Stros.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

It's been quite a wild week. Let me bring you up to speed with me:

God's Toilet Flood of 2007
Karen was getting out of the shower Saturday morning when the phone rang. It was our neighbor, informing her that his toilet overflowed during the night and most likely water seeped into my house. Since it was about seven, Karen had not been downstairs yet.

Sadie and I were still in bed. We don't get out of bed until about nine on Saturdays.

Karen walked downstairs to discover, yes, the downstairs carpet was saturated with water and the kitchen was covered as well.

Karen was not thrilled. Nor was I as Karen sucked up water in the kitchen with the wet vac. I hate the wet vac. It's loud. It disturbs me. When she finished with the wet vac, I sat on the stairs and watched her pull up wet carpet and pad and take it to the garage. It made me exhausted just watching her.

So anyway, most of this week I've spent listening to Karen gripe about the carpet, gripe about her neighbor, and gripe about the "rotten bloodsucking insurance company" which claims a neighbor's toilet overflowing is an "act of God". I've also learned about subjugation, which is legal mumbo jumbo meaning that Karen's insurance company does not agree the neighbor's toilet overflowing is an "act of God".

Whatever.

All I know is I don't like walking on cold concrete to eat my meals or to get on the couch to take my late afternoon nap.

This, by the way, is only the beginning.

The Big Announcement
Karen has decided the toilet flood of 2007 was a message from God telling her she needed to get on the ball as far as preparing the house for sale. She was planning on doing this eventually, probably late August or September, but since she has to replace the carpet, I guess she decided immediately was as good of a time as any.

So my house is being sold right from under me.

Do I not get a say in this?

And it gets worse.

Vacation
Karen told Sadie and me last night that next week that we would be "visiting grandma" before the move.

It really irritates me Karen refers to her parents as "Grandma" and "Grandpa" when talking to Sadie and me. They aren't my or Sadie's grandparents any more than Karen is my mother or Sadie is my sister.

Whatever.

Evidently, Karen is replacing carpet and she doesn't want to chance any of us (including herself) messing it up. For this reason, she is moving us to the home of Babs and Johnny while my house is up for sale.

She keeps telling us that we will have our own room and our own space and that she'll even bring our good kitty box with us.

I'm still not happy.

Babs and Johnny are simply not very appreciative of me. If I'm resting on the furniture I'm expected to move if one of them wants to sit. They act as if I'm a mad serial killer and go and get Karen to move me.

What do they think I'm going to do?

Never mind, I think we all know what I'm going to do. But I would like to point out that I've never actually killed anyone.

And then there's Jeff.

Karen swore to me that by the time we are staying with Babs and Johnny that Jeff and Sylvia (Jeff's very pregnant wife) will be gone and living in their new house. But it doesn't matter. Jeff will still come around. He's just like that. And we'll end up fighting again.

I can't be held responsible for my actions if a 6'7 250 pound man picks a fight with me. I'll have to defend myself.

Karen has promised this is not a permanent arrangement. She swears up and down that we'll only stay until the house sells and then we'll move again to a new house.

Still, I like my house.

My Own Ailments
Karen has decided I have a "rash" (flaky skin is a more accurate description) on my neck underneath my collar. So she took off my collar last night and put some moisturizer on my neck, which made my fur kind of sticky and smelly but whatever. The great part of not wearing a collar is that I can sneak up on people now. I love it. I've snuck up on Sadie about twenty times today. She's in a paranoid fit as I type, looking around the corner on ledges, etc., waiting for me to pounce. I even got Karen this morning. I hid under the sink and when I heard her entering the bathroom I jumped out and bit her on the ankle. She again said things which are not appropriate for good society and threatened to put my collar back on.

Whatever.

Anyway, that's been the drama I've dealt with this week. I'm exhausted thinking about it.

The Cat is Back

I thought I should dispel any rumors about my whereabouts as of late:

1. No, I am not Paris Hilton's spiritual advisor. She conferences with Barbara Walters

2. I did not run off with George Clooney. First of all, I'm a cat. I have no interest in George Clooney. He's just another human working stiff. Also, I've been spade. I have no yearnings, thanks to Karen, who would run off with George Clooney tomorrow, if she had the option. (And she had me spade???)

3. I was not in jail for attempted murder (or anything else for that matter). The authorities do not intimidate me. I can take the best of them.

4. I am not a contestant on the Bachelor. Again, I was spade in 2002. Furthermore, isn't the bachelor just a very small step above harems?

5. I did not get tickets to the NBA finals. I don't attend public sporting events. It's too loud.

6. I was not taking an extended nap brought on by a viewing of An Inconvenient Truth. I'm only an environmentalist to irritate Karen. I'm not about to do anything that would change my life.

7. I am not campaigning for Ron Paul. This is because I am a cat, and once again, CATS DO NOT WORK, or do anything which requires much effort. If Dr. Paul is relying on me to fund raise-- well, that explains why he doesn't have much money.

8. I was not lounging at a Scientology center. From what I gather about Scientology, I need to give them money to visit a "center". This is ridiculous, by the way. I have no pockets, how can anyone expect me to have money? They should want me to come just because I'm me.

9. I have not been chewing out Michael Moore for not including felines in his movie about the medical industry. Again, I'm a cat. I really don't have much to say about this, other than I'm against ANYTHING that allows Karen to take me more often to that place with the wretched man who sticks a cold tube up my ass, with very little apologies. He does this and then shines a light in my eyes and I'm the one who gets in trouble for making an attempt on his life.

There are some things I just don't understand.

Anyway, my absence has nothing to do with anything other than I didn't feel like working much during the day and when I did feel like writing Karen was home and allegedly needed to use the computer for "work". We had a nasty fight over this. I had Sadie barf in her underwear drawer.

Alls Fair in Love and War

More on the Meme

OK, I've got another one (thanks to George of the Crew). There is a cat running for president. This is the web site:
http://www.cheyforpres.com/support.html

I'm a believer that all cats should make up their minds about who they choose to vote for, but I have some concerns about this guy:

In his (is he a he? I'm assuming, correct me if I'm wrong) picture he kinda looks like Kinky Friedman (this is actually not a concern-- just an observation). When Mr. Friedman ran for governor of the great state of Texas, he ran a series of commercials which he lets a wild pack of dogs lick his face. Is that not nasty or what? Just on that, I wouldn't vote for him (not that I could as Karen claims I'm not allowed to vote).

Karen didn't vote for him either. She said Mr. Friedman would be entertaining, but so many weird things have happened in Texas already that she didn't want to add to that number with a governor even more exciting than Good Hair (Gov. Perry).

But back to Chey . . .

The name in itself is a concern. Is this a reference back to Che Guevara, the Cuban leftist revolutionary? The man who protested against Juan Peron in Argentina and worked in a leper colony?

Come on, do cats really want to support a leader who might want us participate in random acts of kindness? I think not. My biggest concerns are that I don't have to eat the bottom layer of food in my bowl, that I get the best spot on the couch/ bed/ living room chair/ bathroom sink/ kitchen sink (don't tell Karen-- she gets really touchy about places where I sleep in the kitchen), and that Karen leaves the remote control in a place where I can find it during the day.

Any presidential candidate who can guarantee these things for me has my vote.

Furthermore, what is this concern about teaching humans to speak the language of cats? If the humans want to succeed in the cat world, they need to get off their arses and make an effort to learn OUR language. It's doable. Karen and I communicate quite well. If the cat box is nasty, I rub up against Karen's ankles and say, "Hey pal, you need to take care of the business in our box. Sadie's been drinking the milk again." If we need more food I jump on Karen and say, "Listen, get your ass downstairs and get us some grub. You know I don't eat the food that touches the bowl and I don't really care if it's four in the morning. You need to do your job and do it now."

Amazingly, she pretty much does what I want. Sometimes I get an attitude, but it those cases I just tell Sadie to throw up in one of Karen's shoes. Sadie vomits frequently (she's bulimic, I think-- Karen and I've discussed intervention, but neither of us believes Sadie is evolved enough for an intervention to work.) The barfing in the shoes really thrills Karen and she isn't swift enough to connect the timing of shoe vomit and our nasty spat.

He he.

You know what else I am concerned about?

Spaying and neutering the kitties.

This is why: Karen came home from the grocery store yesterday and told me that she saw the cutest kittens and that she really wanted to take one home.

What is the deal?

Are they giving kitties away at Super Target?

Whatever, I can not handle another cat in the house. I barely tolerate Sadie. Karen tries to occasionally guilt me into accepting another with all these sad stories about homeless kitties, but I'm not taking that bait. Not that I was consulted about Sadie though. She just brought her home and expected me to think she was the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Yeah, that was going to happen.

Anyway, all this griping has made me tired. I'm off to take my nap.

On Language

You know what word I love?

Myriad

Doesn't it sound sophisticated? I've been using it all day.

"Karen, I have a myriad of problems I wish you would rectify."

"There are a myriad of reasons why the Astros (and virtually ALL of the National League, thankfully) are sucking right now."

"I came up with a myriad of justifications as to why it was reasonable for me to bite Sadie on the neck at five in the morning, consequently starting World War III in the bed Karen claims is hers." (whatever)

You know what other word I like? Acrimonious.

"If it weren't for his acrimonious attitude, I might stop trying to kill Jeff."

If you don't know Jeff is Karen's brother. The first time I met him he got down on all fours and barked at me. Being a docile kitten, not yet jaded from the world in which I inhabit, I licked him on the nose. If I spend any time at Karen's parent's house he comes around. Eventually, we end up in a fight during the visit. He always comments on my weight and tells Karen that I have a tumor, which is why I hiss at him constantly. My hissing couldn't possibly be because he constantly harasses me and doesn't accept the fact I am a far superior being.

Anyway . . .

"Sadie called me acrimonious, when I hissed at her for sitting in my chair." (not really, but we can hope that Sadie will eventually extend her vocabulary)

"If Rosie O'Donnell wasn't so overbearing and acrimonious, no one would watch The View, and then, consequently, Elisabeth Hasslebeck would lose her job."

Those are my words. Does anyone have any to share?

Karen has a friend who likes to say "exacerbate". She says he uses it because it sounds dirty.

Could be, but it's a great word, anyway.

Poncho and Sadie

Friday was Karen's birthday. Her parents threw her a party, and invited Sadie and I to attend, which meant Sadie crawled under a piece of furniture upstairs, not to be seen until Karen goes hunting for her when it's time to leave and I mingle until some small child makes an attempt on my life.

For her birthday, Karen's friend Robyn made Sadie and I ponchos. Karen of course was thrilled. My first reaction was to be appalled. Not two days ago I saw a kitty wearing a sweater on someone else's website and the poor thing looked miserable. Karen saw it and thought it was just "so cute". For a few days I was very concerned Karen would bring home matching sweaters for Sadie and I. (The last thing I wanted in my life was a sweater; the second to the last thing I wanted was one that matched Sadie's.)

Karen immediately put the poncho on me and much to my surprise, I found myself actually liking it. The yarn is soft and the bright fuscia color looks great against my black fur. I'm wearing it right now, as a matter of fact.

Sadie's not as keen on wearing her poncho. She's not as fashion aware as I am, though. Karen told me I can wear hers, if I wanted, but I like mine.

I told Karen she needed to buy some cashmere yarn and tell her friend to make me another poncho. I'd like to have serveral in varying colors to match my whims. I also asked Karen to take my picture in my poncho to add to the blog, which she did take, but has not down loaded to the site (surprise surprise).

Speaking of pictures, I'm about this close to firing Karen over the whole picture issue. First of all, I asked Karen to hire the famed fashion photographer Steven Meisel to take some pictures for my blog. She blew me off. A few days later I asked her about this again.

"Yeah Penelope I made that call," she told me. "Mr. Meisel has a very busy week scheduled hanging with models and celebrities and whatnot. He couldn't fit you in."

Whatever.

Karen is about as useful as Sadie sometimes. At least Sadie doesn't smart off. Sadie takes me and my needs seriously.

"Then get Sadie to make the calls to famous photographers," she told me, knowing full well that Sadie doesn't know her numbers well enough to use a phone.

I've got to get a better staff.

This whole issues is stressing me out. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. I'm off to take a nap, so I'll be refreshed to watch the season ending episode of Desperate Housewives.

Theater of the Absurd

I was enjoying my mid morning nap in the sink when out of the blue Sadie the brilliant dashed into the bathroom and jumped up onto the counter. She started hissing loudly and at first I thought she was mad at me. Then she jumped off the counter and ran out of the room. I stood up and stretched, and went back to sleep. Within minutes, Sadie came back, repeating the same pattern. This time I got a look at her.

She wasn't hissing at me.

She was hissing at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. My assistant, the brilliant wonder that she is, was hissing at her own reflection in the mirror.

And you wonder why I don't post more???

I'm annoyed. I've got to go and take a nap, so that I have the energy later this evening to attempt to kill Sadie.

Rushdie, Baked Beans, and Regis Philbin

I'm a busy cat. I get so frustrated sometimes because no one seems to understand how much I do. Look at what I did today and tell me I'm not busy:

7 am: Woke Up. Sat with Karen as she got dressed for work. Watched The Early Show.

8:30 am: Karen left and turned off the TV. How inconsiderate. She makes me so angry when she does that. But what she doesn't know is I can use the remote.

8:30- 10 am: Morning Nap

10- 11 am: Grooming and Watching Live! With Regis and Kelly. Good to see Regis back.

11- 11:05: Lunch

11:05- 12 pm: Mid morning nap. Note: Allowed Sadie to sleep in bed (this was her hour).

12:00- 1:30 pm: Grooming and watching Ellen. Sadie and I discussed my schedule for tomorrow.

1:30- 1:33: Chased Sadie around the house for no apparent reason.

1:33- 3:30 pm: Took a nap, as tired from chasing Sadie. Halfway listened to Astros game.

3:30- 4 pm: Surfed the Internet. Found great article about Hugh Grant assaulting a photographer with a Tupperware container of baked beans.

4:00- 4:10 pm: Afternoon snack

4:10- 5:45 pm: Discussed ongoing projects with Sadie, who seems to be a little behind schedule. I simply asked her to focus more on her work and she told me to go to Hell.

5:46 pm: Fired personal assistant. Asked her to leave house.

5:47 pm: Realized neither assistant or myself can reach door knob (fire hazard-- must discuss with Karen). Assistant must wait to leave until Karen comes home. However, assistant banned to kitchen in meantime.

5:48 pm: Realized that Karen would not allow Sadie out of the house, as Karen ALWAYS sides with Sadie.

5:49 pm: Sadie forgets she's banished to the kitchen. Pretty sure Sadie forgot she was fired, as find her in the bathtub going over the blue prints for our latest real estate venture.

5:50 pm: Decide it isn't worth explaining to Sadie she has been fired and too tired to interview for new assistant. Rehire Sadie.

5:51- 7 pm: Nap

7- 7:45 pm: Grooming

7:45- 8 pm: Karen arrives home. Since she didn't walk upstairs to say hello, I wander downstairs and find her eating dinner.

8- 8:15 pm: Karen and I discuss our days and watch 30 Rock on the couch. Tell her about Hugh Grant and beans. Karen said the story was tragic at Shakespearean proportions Sadie joined us.

8:15- 8:16 pm: Chase Sadie through house because she sat on couch.

8:17- 9:30 pm: Slept in stairwell

9:30- 10 pm: Worked two advanced level Sudoku puzzles.

10- 10:30 pm: Watched The Daily Show with Karen. Mildly amusing.

10:30- 10:32 pm: Chased dust flakes in the air.

10:33- 11 pm: Read first three chapters of Fury

11:00 pm: Decided it would be amusing to torture Karen by jumping on her face while she tried to sleep. Karen did not like this and told me so.

11:03 pm: Midnight snack

11:08- midnight: Dozed on chair in living room.

12- 12:20 am: Discussed plot to overthrow the leadership with Sadie. Sadie did not know who "leadership" was.

12:20- 12:21 am: Attempted to kill Sadie with my bare, clawless paws.

12:21 am: After a long day, decided to go to bed.

Welcome to My World

I am Penelope, the Bombay cat. I started this blog because I am bored. It will give me something to do between naps and licking myself. I've actually wanted to do this since Christmas, but I just recently got to my typing skills up to par, since stupid Karen won't type for me (like she doesn't have anything better to do with her time).

Anyway, I share my house with two others: Karen, the mortal I previously mentioned to whom I rent space, and Sadie, another cat, who I allow to live with me. Sadie has agreed to help me out with the blog and in exchange I will allow her to sleep for an hour in the bed without trying to kill her. Eventually I will post some pictures of us. Karen takes lots of pictures and if she not too busy doing God knows what, maybe she'll honor us with the effort of finding some. Whatever. Anyway, I'm tired now so I'm going to take a nap. Tomorrow I might write about what I like to do. Maybe I'll write about my exciting day at home. Maybe I won't. Either way you should read because everything I have to say is really important and you should want to be enlightened with my thoughts.