I decided that I am the Ultimate Feng Shui Creature.
For those of you who don’t know what feng shui is, it’s a more than 5,000 old principle that can make your life better by rearranging your environment.
Of course, the name feng shui, which means water and wind, is Bad – we cats hate water and wind messes with our fur. Therefore, I renamed it Fang Shoe, since I have fangs (just come over and I will show you!) and I love shoes (to sniff, to play with, to sleep on – you name it!)
Now, I will explain why I am such a paragon of FS.

Let’s start with ch'i - the life force that flows in and around everything, binding it together. I am very much alive and interact with everything, so I rest my case on this one.

Colors seem to be important, especially blue and white. Well, I am a white cat, so therefore I am by default good FS. The blue is a bit of a problem – white cats with blue eyes are deaf, so I am glad mine are green (or amber, or whatever you want to call it).

In FS, life and movement are used to fill in stagnant areas or break up long, straight lines. In interior design it translates into putting plants in the corners of rooms, or fish tanks against boring walls. This is an excellent idea – I love destroying plants and wouldn’t mind at all to do some fishing in the comfort of my livingroom! My Provider disagrees, so there are no plants in my apartment, and no fish to have some fun with. This is unfair, since I know for a fact (from my friend Ariel Bahir The Cat) that my Provider’s b-f does catch fish, so what’s good for the boyfriend is good for the cat, non?

Another principle is simplicity. You can call me an expert on that one; my life philosophy is: eat, sleep, cuddle, nap, play, snooze, create some mischief, catch some zzz, and try to outsmart Provider. You see, we cats have simplicity down to an art form. Humans write whole handbooks about it, the fools. These books are damn expensive and boring as Hell – that is, if Hell exists, which I don’t know since I am not religious, but if it exists, no way a great Cat like Moi would ever be there. I cannot say the same thing about my Provider – she is a lawyer after all...
So you see, I am the ultimate simplicity-meister.

FS has something against straight lines. Suits me fine as well, I never run (or wobble) in a straight line anyway. How can I ever topple my Provider if I run straight towards her? No, I have to sneak up from an Cunning Angle and grab her ankles that way.
In general, we felines like to curve – we invite humans to pet our bellies by arching our spine backwards. A nice side effect is, that it makes our humans jealous, heh, heh. That will teach my Provider that all that fitness doesn’t make her spine anymore flexible than it is now.
Therefore, by Divine Design alone, we cats are so FS, it hurts!

So, the next time you meet one of Us, please feel free to worship at our FS cat feet!

My Provider went on vacation, without asking me for permission. I was left all alone in my 4.5 room apartment. OK, the neighbors came twice a day to serve me breakfast and dinner and Ruth came to change my cat litter every other day but still…I didn’t receive the attention due to me. Needless to say, once she returned, I made my Provider pay big time during the weekend. After shouting at her for a whole evening (which didn’t seem to bother her too much) I followed her like a shadow. Watching all those suspense thrillers must have given her nerves of steel – she didn’t seem to be too bothered by that either.
So I am plotting a new strategy. I want a Reward for being a good cat and not doing major damage to the apartment. (That would be stupid – I live in it too, but I am not going to point that out to her!) I did some surfing on the Internet again and found the purrfect gift for me. Bling-bling. For those of you who are not familiar with the term (shame on you – it is included in the Oxford Dictionary!), it refers to diamonds. As you might have guessed from my previous blogs, I am a hip-hop fan and like shiny, sparkly thingies to play with, so bling-bling is right up my cat alley.
Some Providers even bestow some serious carats on their offspring (check out the Foxnews feature "Moneyed Mini-Mes are Ice, Ice Babies"), so why not Moi?
I also identified the perfect bauble - a really cool gold pendant (a dogtag, but what's in a name?) with diamonds and a LED display for my name.
So now I just have to find a way to 1) let my Provider order it for me, or 2) get my paws on her credit card and order it online myself.
My chances of getting hold of her credit card are slim – she is too organized and makes sure it’s out of my reach. So she has to order it for me.
Wait, there is a third option – you, dear Reader, can donate some serious money towards my “bling-bling for that Great Furry Thing” campaign. I know it’s tax deductible in most States, so you are doing yourself a favor as well.
You want my bank details? Just react to this blog and I will send them to you. By secure means of communication of course. So how about it?
Samuel the bling-bling king

My Provider is on holiday, so I am home alone. It’s hot, I’m bored, so I decided to look for interesting news items on the Web.
You know, it is a Good Thing we cats don’t get depressed. In contrast to dogs – they go into an emotional and mental decline when their providers are not around. If you don’t believe me, read the following article that I found on the World Wide Web.

MILTON, Scotland - Donna Cooper still has no idea why her normally obedient border collie, Ben, leaped to his death this spring off a tall rural bridge in Milton without any warning or apparent rationale. "Ben's feet never touched the wall," she said, referring to the waist-high, 18-inch-thick barrier that has been hurdled - inexplicably and with a near certainty of death - by scores of dogs during the past three decades. "He just went straight over." Maybe it's the whistle of the wind from distant Loch Lomond, or the fabled "white lady" who is said to haunt an adjacent mansion or the rustle of tree branches next to a nearby waterfall. Dogs have been leaping off the bridge at rates reportedly as high as one per month during the past 20 or 30 years.

I find this a fascinating story. Please note that only dogs seem to commit suicide, there is no mention of sheep, goats or (gasp) Cats.
Dogs are supposed to learn from experience, right? So why do they jump? I know that Scotland is a cold place and canines might fight off the chill with a wee glass of Scotch, but that would make them drunk, not suicidal.
So there is only one answer – somebody is putting them up to it. I have my suspicions – but I don’t want to implicate my cousin Ian McCat, so I keep silent. (I do the same with my cousin Loui “The Claw” Cattino in NYC –better safe than sorry!)
So let’s blame the White Lady – not many ghosts have made it into the main headlines!

PS
Note to myself: next time I send a present to a relative for World Animal Day (10/4 for you forgetful providers), I have to stay away from dog whistles……

My Provider has to fill in forms. Since I am a Helpful Cat, I put in my two cents by stretching on the paperwork and playing with her pen. Somehow, she doesn’t find that very useful. Once removed from the forms, I read over her shoulder what she fills in. Just is case she auctions me off on ebay, you see.
The form starts with her name, which makes sense me. You cannot refer to her as “hey you” - not because it’s rude (we cats don’t care about that) but it’s just too confusing with all the other Providers filling in forms.
She also has to fill in some kind of identification number. I know that pedigree pets often have those numbers tattooed on their ears, so I checked my provider. She doesn’t have any tattoos, unless she hides one under her head fur. I tried to check, but she didn’t appreciate my close inspection of her scalp. She can be a tad bit nervous about my grooming her sometimes….
Then follows the address, I assume in case she gets lost, so they can deliver her home to me to prevent me from going hungry (or worse).
She has to include a phone number – Ha! As if I ever answer the phone! Give me a good employment agreement and arrange for me to join a Union and I might consider….providing it’s not too much hard work.
Then there is something called “sex”. You have to fill in an M or a F. This puzzled me, until I realized that M stands for Minimal and F for Frequent. My Provider always fills in F, which makes me wonder what the hack she is doing at her job all day! I think I should talk to her b-f, but then, it’s his problem, not mine. Only when it starts interfering with my food and hug schedule, might I contemplate to take some action. Well, may be….
Then there is something called “race” which is really strange to say the least. I don’t see why the color of you fur should be relevant. Take us cats-we interact with anything well, how shall I phrase it, “interactilecious” (I know, I know, I made it up and it sounds hip-hop, but I just love Destiny’s Child, so there you go). Moi, I am white with black ears and a black tail. So what does that make me? Exactly – gorgeous!
One of the race groups is Caucasian. For all you ignorandi – the Caucasus is located in Russia, and I know for a fact that my Provider is not Russian. I am sure of this, since the cat downstairs does have a Russian provider. My neighbor cat and I discussed it at length and no way, that my Provider can be classified as Russian – she doesn’t even speak the language! Hispanic seams to refer to heaps of people, but none of them from Hispania! (Which is Spain, for those of you who don’t have access to my Provider’s extensive library). The number of Hispanics is too high for the amount of square feet in the Spanish Main, so I suggest that whoever wrote this form, should rephrases. Not only was the drafter of the forms under the influence of some serious catnip, but you Humans should drop this whole race thing anyway and divide the form fillers in two groups: C and N/C (Cat and Non-Cat). (Not to be confused with RC, which has NOTHING to do with cats! Does the Pope have a cat? He looks like he loves animals).
The next thing they have to fill in is age. We all age and we live in the 21st Cntury. Again, the deranged person who designed the form should be condemned to scoop up dog poo in Central Park – if you don’t even know the age you live in, you are not fit to touch a keyboard, let alone force Providers to fill in this drivel.
My Provider has to sign every form she fills in. I am trying to teach her to just put a paw print there, but somehow that’s not allowed. Must be that pooper-scooper nitwit again that designed the form and imposed all those rules.
I like it best when my Provider has to fill in her bank account details. It means that she has money to buy cat food and cat toys.
So that’s my take on what you Humans call Bureaucracy. Why don’t you guys get organized and get rid of all this nonsense? Just a thought…and don’t expect me to put in any effort! I am busy hunting a little lizard on the balcony – so hasta la vista Providos!

I am in a foul mood. There is this ongoing heat wave – so all I can do it stretch out on the tiles and doze. This stinks – it interferes with my eating and being naughty.
I blame my Provider – I am sure that she is responsible. She keeps denying this, pointing at the pretty weather lady on TV and informing me that she is the culprit. Ha! As if I would ever believe that! Let’s face it: my Provider gets out of the house when it’s cool and comes back when it’s cool again. You see my point? She also turns a wind thingy on (she calls it a fan, but that’s nonsense – fans are humans that love me, not wind thingies) that creates a nice breeze. Ergo, she IS in control of the weather!
On Saturday, I shouted at my Provider to get rid of this heat and had to hit her ankles with my paw to make my point. All she did was go to this fitness center where she spends way too much time for my taste, leaving me behind in the heat. Despite all this working out, she still doesn’t jump on furniture, so it’s all a bloody waste of time anyway if you ask me.
(Which you don’t, but I don’t care about your opinion, so there you have it).
As you can tell by this blog, I am able to type on the computer.
I am quite savvy – I am a high-tech cat. Hey, my Provider might have worked for some shaky and shitty startups, but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t get some benefits out of it! OK, the keyboard is a piece of crappy plastic – its legs broke when I jumped on it.
Bad engineering, I tell you. But the computer as such is OK.
My Provider disconnected Internet, which is really outrageous, since I cannot order food or toys online anymore. I am quite good at opening bags and fishing out credit cards, so I had it all in place. Being offline is a bummer – I am still hoping that her b-f will convince her that it’s really a Very Good Idea to on the electronic highway.
I often try to get my point across my staring into my Provider’s eyes. I tell you, humans are dense – they don’t understand mind reading at all!
So I also try talking to her. For someone who is supposed to be multi-lingual, I can tell you from personal experience that she hasn’t got a clue about our cat language.
Even shouting really simple phrases at her just draws a puzzled look, often followed by a hug and a “you are so cute”. Yeah, I know, but that’s not the point I am trying to make, Thou Dense One.
So you see my predicament. Hence, I am planning to experiment with little notes that I will leave at strategic places throughout my apartment. Provider is a avid reader, so that will do the trick.
I will start working on it as soon as this bloody heat subsides – in the mean time, I might watch “cat on a hot tin roof” on cable…but first I need a catnap…zzzzzzzzzzz