Life of Riley

Shh. I am not ready to be let out of the bag just yet.

My monkeys don’t know that there’s a new version of this bloggy thing out, and as I’ve always been an early adopted kitty, I am the first with the goods. The man monkey has disappeared somewhere, and the monkey lady is totally without a clue.

Apparently I have lots of new abilities and tools and tricks for writing things. The lack of a thumb will be less of an inconvenience naow.

Hrrrmph. ‘Now.’

I do apologize for the lapse. Although I rejoice that we cats have claimed our own dialect of Monkeytalk, I am a personcat of confirmed habits and try not to backslide.

It is difficult, however, as my monkeys have both acquired some fluency with the lingo, though their accents are aPAWlling. Sometimes it is hard work maintaining my usual unflappable dignity. They do sound so funny.

In other news of note, my life here in the big square cave is blissfully happy and I am constantly petted and adored, WHEN the monkeys happen to come back from where ever it is they go.

I make sure of that.

The monkey lady continues to make that “schmip-schmip” noise all over my head and ears, but I’ve learned to live with it and actually enjoy it. They have brought me several new toys, one of which is a rather terrifying thing that I think is called a “hedge-ogg.” It buzzes when the monkeys pull its tail out and then it runs around a little and stops. Perhaps the tail-pulling part hurts?

Most intriguing. I enjoy experimenting with it to see if it likes being tossed up in the air.

Also, the monkeys replaced my boingy thing, which had gotten less and less boingy.  Now the stick part is a different color and the treat on the string is like a fishy, but the boingy part is satisfactory. The other day I pulled it off of the window (sometimes it is stuck there with a thing like a sticky paw) and brought it to the monkey lady for her review.

She is rather bright for a monkey; she caught on eventually that I wanted her to hold the stick and make the boingy thing go.

Must dash, as the birdies are outside the window and I am compelled to return to my observations of them. These particular birdies are red-nosed berry-pickers and rose-bellied rain whistlers. Last week, there were some of the ones I call “long-necked rilly big honkers” out there. No sign of any of the smaller “short-necked Mr-and-Mrs Quackers” that seem to travel in pairs and investigate bushes that are ju-u-u-u-st out of sight around the outer corner of the cave.

Oh! And earlier today, a very tiny little plain grey cheeper landed just outside the entrance to the cave and seemed to be looking for a place to live. That would be interesting as little cheepers have lived out there before, AND THEY HAD BAYBEES, which flew away after a few weeks. I hope that happens again.

I shall enjoy keeping a journal. So many interesting things to report on that happen outside the safety of my cave.

Since it seems to be all the rage, I figure it’s time for me to make the plunge…

I’m very pleased to announce the formation of a Presidential Exploratory Committee for the 2008 campaign season. I’ve asked my monkeys, Ginny and David, to co-chair the committee.

Although I have yet to confirm her interest, I will probably be asking Polly Levinthal-Soskin to be my running(dog)-mate.

I promise to establish bipetisan coalitions, eliminate the taxes on pet toys, and ensure there is a can of Iams in every bowl. I will also work hard to enact the “Sunny Spot on the Rug” act, to ensure there is always a comfy place to take a nap.

And, for the record, I’d like to make it clear that while I did try the catnip … I did not inhale.
[tags]president, campaign, 2008[/tags]

Naptime, playtime, dinner time and bedtime seem to have rolled along for quite a while now. My monkeys and I have established a comfortable routine; they feed me and pet me and take care of my simple needs a la toilette, and I give them head-bumps, twine around their legs affectionately, sleep on their feet when it’s cold, and on those happy snuggly mornings when they don’t go away for the day, I occasionally creep between them for petting and generally being adored.

A few mornings ago, this routine was a little different: the monkeys brought boxes upstairs and opened them on the bed and laughed. We snuggled and of course there was much Adoration of the Kiti (me). Then my male monkey brought me something wrapped up in crinkle stuff that jingled and smelled intriguing. It was a NEW TOY that I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. It is a fuzzy jingle thing on a string, but the weird thing is that it bounces in the air when they wiggle the little stick that it hangs from. When I grabbed
the jingle thing and went to take it away to my lair, it snapped back to the stick with an audible “ba-woingg!” noise. This noise seemed to amuse them greatly. They kept imitating it: “ba-woingg!!” I played and played with it thoroughly, until I signalled that I was fatigued. They laughed and laughed.

I am happy that they are so amused and entertained by my attention to detail and my serious and quite deadly hunting instincts. I am king of this cave, after all.

Yesterday, however, was different. I was bundled uncerermoniously into the little box-thing that they use to transport me away from our cave, and we all got in the smelly box that moves. I called to them, disconsolate. They called back to me cheerfully. I decided to accept my fate.

Eventually, we arrived someplace that smelled of other! CATS! and of things I associate with being frightened and feeling odd. My Internet researches have taught me that this would be a good time to say “OH NOES!”

We sat for some time in a gathering area. My monkey walked over and casually petted ANOTHER CAT which was strolling around, obviously the king of the place. She skritched his ears and talked to him. He was orange, like the mysterious previous owner of our den, as I’ve discovered his or her hairs in my investigations and explorations. Other cats were there, but were being held (carefully) by their monkeys. None of them seemed happy to be there, either.

Heigh ho, we go into a little room, and it’s clear that I’m about to be tortured for information. You’ll never get it out of me, monkeys! You’ll never find all the furry mice.

A young female monkey came in and approached me respectfully, holding an implement in her paw. I allowed her to stroke me, hold my foot, and clip my rear knives, which I will admit had become rather long and scraggly. My monkeylady assisted her by holding me comfortably so the other foot-knives could be clipped. That wasn’t so bad. The young monkey went away and I thought “Here it comes.”

A monkey lady who smelled of other cats and odd things came in and made encouraging noises at me. I decided to hunker down in a cat-fu position that an adept would recognize as a defensive one, “Crouching Tabby, Airplane Ears.”

I steeled myself for the inevitable poking.

She looked in my ears while my monkeylady gabbled in their incomprehensible patois at her. The lady, who seemed to be a practitioner of the arts of cat torture, was surprisingly gentle, but authoritative: she stuck a stick in my ear. Well, it has been itching lately. And my knives had been catching on things, prompting me to try to trim them myself. She felt me all over, and then she waved a wand-thing over my back. It went “Beep!” and the torture-monkey made a pleased sound. My monkeys sounded pleased
too: they were given a folded paper.

I think alien monkeys must have put a “chimp” in my back so that I could be somehow identified or tracked from Mars or something!!

Before my monkeys ever came and got me, when I was still in cat durance vile, something was done to me back there, and when I was in the Lost Time and was arrested and brought to another cat torture place, they waved a wand over me. They seemed disappointed then - maybe it didn’t tell them all about my adventures, or about the First Monkeys who had torturers cut away my front-knives and some other prized parts of my person. Those First Monkeys… it’s probably best that I don’t really remember. I still get scared
in the dark at bedtime; I don’t know why, but I only like the foot of the bed-thing at night. However, I have come to enjoy cuddling and petting with the male monkey, and even allow him to curl me up in his arms and hold me. He finally learned how to do it properly, of course.

Also, I don’t like feet much. Feet with shoes, especially. I run away sometimes and have to remember “you’re safe, you’re safe.” And then, of course, I stroll back and pretend nonchalance. That is all I really can recall of my time “before,” really; a vague feeling of fear and an overpowering need to escape.

Fortunately, I now love and trust my dear monkeys, and they seem to understand that sometimes I get a little scared, but it goes away quickly. Even yesterday, I was never really that scared. I just stayed in my cat-fu defensive posture until it was clear that the worst was over and there would be no poking up one’s personal backside area. Eventually I was able to relax and purr for them a little as they petted me in the little torture room, just to show them there were no hard feelings.

Finally, finally, the torture monkey seemed to conclude her examination of me, and apparently I passed with flying colors, and I didn’t even have to tell them where even one fuzzy mouse is tucked under the… never mind. Back into the carrier-thing, more waiting out in the gathering room looking at other cats. One of them was rather hissy, so I ignored him. Bad form.

And back we came to our warm cave, where I received treats and some playtime with my favorite new ba-woingy jingle-thing. All is now right in the world.

… I am the most important thing in the world … not this stupid computer.

As we all know, a cat’s life is rich and full and quite, quite mysterious. While the monkeys were out today, I amused myself by looking for other cats on the internets thing.

Although there are many internets cats, this one seems to have an intriguing hobby: he brings back these things called “garden gloves” that monkeys put on their paws when they’re outside digging in the dirt. Why they do that, I don’t know, but apparently that’s why some of the green things outside get bigger. Although, some of the green things outside of my favorite window are either called “flowers” and some others are called “weeds,” and both kinds of green things are much bigger than I am.

His name is Willy; I approve of the name since it is a little like mine. He likes to bring back these “garden gloves,” and then his humans proudly display his trophies and allow his victims to retrieve their pawcovers. It would be very amusing if Willy returns to the scene of his “crimes” and takes the things again.

Actually, I can’t think why he’d want to carry the things in his mouth, because the humans use them to DIG in DIRT, remember. Very grimy, if you ask me, and they probably smell and taste bad.

I would not succeed in a life of grime, but I wish Willy luck with his, and give him one paw up.

As a committed gentlecat of leisure, my activities of late have not included updating my Internets news page, because really, what more can one say about the comforts of my life. It literally has been quite the life of Riley for me, but of course is well deserved.

About the only major change has been that I now sometimes sleep at the head of the monkeys’ bed, instead of at the foot. This is convenient for sleeptime petting, and also I don’t find it necessary to vacate the premises due to some monkeys’ restless feet late at night.

They took more photographs of me today; I am steeling myself for the ignominy of my image being put up on the Internets where other monkeys will apparently hoot softly, but I am persuaded that at least I was looking my best, as always.

Something very odd happened a few weeks ago; my monkeylady went away one morning and didn’t come back at the end of the day! Or for several days! But my monkeyman stayed home and we had much fun with the little red dot and of course, my beloved String!! Attack!!1! game. 

But then, oh happiness, the monkeyman came home at the end of the day with my monkeylady, who held me and held me and that was the best day I’d had all weekend. She smelled of someplace far away… and also I suspect she was petting! Other! Cats! while she was away, but obviously I am the favorite and best. Naturally. She also smelled a little bit like she had been around some other monkeylady… I think a much older one. She smelled nice. My monkeylady obviously had been held by this older one,
because the scent was in her arms and chest. It was nice, like being held and petted by more than one monkey at once. Such attention is my due, of course, but it is nice.

She hooted and cackled away at my monkeyman, no doubt telling him in their incomprehensibly vocal way about her activities, and seemed to be very happy to be home. She held me in that curled-up way that I like the best, and now at night she’s in the habit of curling me up and carrying me upstairs for sleeping time.

I like this development. I shall even put up with that funny shmip-shmip sound she makes all over my face and ears, because obviously it’s her way of showing affection. She headbumps and grooms me after a fashion (so does the monkeyman), and so we do manage to communicate the important things: Food, Attention… and Love, I think. Definitely Love. 

Just so it’s clear … cat’s can program just fine.

For instance …

public class MeowWorld extends Object {
	public static final void main(String[] args) {
		MeowWorld meow = new MeowWorld();
		meow.go();
	}

	private void go() {
		System.out.println("Just in case you were wondering");
		System.out.println("Meow world");
	}
}

So there!

Schedule for weekdays:

Schedule for weekends:

As you can see, I have quite a busy schedule. Maybe I need an assistant?

So many long days. Bored, bored, bored, and lonely. I called and called, but got no answer. Sometimes the visiting monkey came and fed me and played with me, and most importantly, petted me. Only then did I feel better. But then she would go away and I would be lonely and bored again. Very dull existence.

Once or twice, the tall male monkey came by again - he did something in the secret downstairs (that’s another “no-no Riley” room, apparently. I’m not allowed) and went away soon after.

Finally, finally, early yesterday morning, I heard sounds of one of those noisy monkeyboxes outside, and voices. A lot of bumping and endless delay. Then the door opened out to the monkeybox place and there he was! My monkeyman! My very own!

I could hardly breathe. I stood at the top of the steps as he approached. Was it really true?

And there was… my monkeylady. She approached, and I ran away to show that I was an independent gentlecat. Eventually, I allowed her to reach me and hold me, and hold me, and hold me.

It was that Heaven place, again, only better because I already knew these were my own monkeys.

They certainly seemed happy to see me, too.

They brought in several big bulky things that smelled funny, of far off places and… fish maybe? And feet. They smelled of those big feet things they wear.

The rest of the morning, I was petted and held and cooed over in that odd Catlike dialect the monkeylady speaks to me. Hours passed, and I certainly think I deserved a lot of attention after so long a time alone. The monkeylady seemed fatigued, however, so pretty soon we went upstairs for a nap. Plenty more cuddling and petting ensued.

My monkeylady must have been really tired, as she didn’t get up again until almost dinnertime. More playtime, then food, then petting; it was very much the perfect evening.

Then I helped the monkeylady make up the sleeping place for us all. She opened windows and let the cold night air come in, which smelled crisp and good. Some of that white snow stuff fell and the monkeys evidently thought that was funny, but it sure smells good at night. The bedroom smelled good because the monkey lady got the stale air out and the clean fresh air in. Also she lit tiny little fires around that also smelled good, but in a way that made my whiskers quiver like they do when I’m about to sneeze.

Then we all went to bed. They sure fell asleep fast! I curled up on my special blanket and made sure their feet were warm, and fell asleep soon after.

Morning came early - the monkeys woke up a lot earlier than normal - the talking box that wakes them up didn’t start talking for a long time. More petting. I laid my head on the monkeylady’s pillow and just purred at her. She seemed to like that a lot.

After a while (petting was continuous unless they were in the room where they wash in water, they don’t like themselves clean like I do) they both went away, but didn’t take the big bulky things like them when they left for such a long time.

So that was all right.

They both came back at the end of the day, which was a huge relief. The petting continued (I’ll never have my fill of that. and I keep telling them how happy I am they came back).

Then later on, the monkeyman noticed that I was investigating one of the bulky things, and the monkeylady came over, opened it up, and I got inside. It’s quite comfortable, actually, but smells of that fishy smell. Then she pulled me around the room - apparently, the bulky thing has wheels - before flipping the lid on it closed. I hid in there for a few seconds, but couldn’t take the smell for long, so I stuck my head out.

For some reason, the monkeys were having those convulsion things again.

Anyway, I claimed the bulky thing for my domain, but merely as a matter of record. Also, I made it clear that they are not to fill it up and go away for a long time again, at least not for a good long while.

I love them, but I do have to maintain some standards around here.

The monkeys are still away … and I am just besides myself with boredom. They better have a good excuse when they come back.

The nice lady monkey came again and gave me some more food … we played a bit. She’s pretty fun. She was able to flush out the bright red dot. It changed colors just slightly, but I gave it a run for it’s money. Still haven’t caught it though. I will, rest assured, I will.

cat, vacation, bored