My friend Bundy live in another country than I do, but that’s OK – we are in constant catelapathy and email contact anyway. Let me introduce you to him.
His life is similar to mine – he also needs to constantly educate his Providers.
If you wonder why we cats nap so much – that’s the reason!
Bundy’s Providers also go on holidays, leaves, congress meetings etc. It must me a Human Thing that still puzzles me. As Bundy puts it – We Cats always come in second.
This is what he wrote me:
“My providers sometimes leave me alone for a whole weekend. I don't mind too much, they leave enough food and it is very quiet so I can take a fair good rest. Right now, I am getting clues they are going away for a longer time. There are lots of clothes on the spare bed (where I am not allowed to come, but still I know!) and funny folding papers on the table.I hope they leave soon. Usually when they go away for a longer time, two old grey humans come to my house. They give me lots of food and let me share in many of their goodies they take with their coffee and tea. Let the good times roll!”

You see, Bundy is a Very Clever Cat.
Just read the following:
“I am treated unfairly. Just this morning I went out in the garden (I was almost forced by my Provider to do so, and it happened to be a very wet morning. So, I just trotted along a bit through the garden and got some mud onto my paws, which is only natural. Then I decided to go in again and be nice and friendly to my Provider. Strangely enough she almost went berserk when I jumped on her lap and put my paws lovingly on her shirt. When I backed off on her desk and moved to and fro on her papers - she got even worse. I decided to behave Worthy, and retreated into the garage where I usually sleep on a pile of shopping bags.Which makes me think: Samuel, were you forced to move? I was. Several times. The last time was the worst. I was moved over a distance of about 200 kilometers. Which is cruel to a cat. I was drugged with some strange jagged little pill, so I was unable to resist. When I came to my senses again, I found myself in totally unknown surroundings. I was forced to spray a lot of you-know-what to mark my new territory. Needless to say that my Providers reacted most unpolitely to this. Life is hard.But, after all, I must admit that I have a rather pleasant house and garden right now. Lots of fieldmice available. Samuel my pal, hold on and be strong but most of all, take it easy.”
Needless to say, I absolutely agree with and support mon amice Bundy.
We are now putting our cat brains together to come up with some really cool schemes…stay posted!

I discovered something really interesting. I was playing on the balcony, when I suddenly saw this little lizard thingy. I chased it into my apartment and whacked it on its tail. The tail came off and started twitching like crazy.
The dumb Animal probably thought that I would be distracted and leave it alone.
Ha! Fat chance! I am not that dense! I properly killed it, lost interest, and let my Provider get rid of it remains. Hey, do I look like an undertaker?!

Now I have been thinking: if the lizard thing can divide itself in two, maybe my Provider can do that as well! So one part can go and work, and the other part can stay home and feed me, play with me and hug me.
During the weekend, I decided to test this theory. I tried to dismember my Human, starting with her foot. She got angry and told me to stop gnawing at her ankle and pushed me outside to play.
Once I declared playtime over and had a refreshing catnap, I waited for my Provider to leave for that fitness center of hers, so I could go online and dig up some info.
I found out that this tail thingy that lizards do is called regeneration. It means that once you loose a body part, it grows back. Now I checked my nether regions (if you catch my drift) but didn’t see my cat jewels growing back. May be I washed myself a little bit too often and too thoroughly there…what do you think?
Anyway, I checked my Provider’s claim that her limbs will not grow back once she looses them…. and I found out that she is correct.
There is a really weird human called Heather Mills McCartney, who is one limb short of a full stack. She lost this limb sometime ago, and I thought that it grew back, since she seems to be walking on a full set.
However, during some kind of protest (Providers have so much energy for that kind of activities!), she lost one of her back paws during a scuffle. Seems that it was a fake one (the back paw, not the scuffle). So she had the re-attach her fake leg.
If Providers would walk on all fours, they wouldn’t have this problem in the first place. You see, when we walk, only 3 feet touch the ground, just check it out. It’s really cool, to quote your cubs.
So for now, I will leave my Provider’s limbs alone. I will think of another Clever Plan, but first I need another nap. Yawn.

What Bush should have done...

Thanks to that dog lover, aka Bush Minor, lots of Providers have perished in the Katrina disaster. Needless to say, that is a Very Bad Thing, not only for Us Cats, but also for inferior pets like dogs. To top it off, there were also no rescue plans for pets.

Take the case of Snowball, a little white dog taken from his little Provider during the evacuation from New Orleans. The little human cub was among thousands of people sheltered at the Superdome after Hurricane Katrina, where he arrived with the mutt.
When the order came to evacuate the Superdome for Houston, the little human was told he could not take the Animal on the bus. Needless to say, he started crying. (the human, not the dog).
The press, which never gives Us Cats positive coverage anyway, put it as an Human Interest Story on the front page.
Humans are weird – instead of coming to the rescue of the Providers, they set up a website and reward fund to help find this non-cat. They were even successful.
Funny enough, everybody knows the canine’s name, but nobody remembers the little human’s. Go figure.
I am not a Cruel Cat – I don’t mind at all that dogs are saved as well, but let’s keep it in perspective. A creature that can feed me has priority over a creature that can’t, so I support any decision to get as many Providers out of harm’s way as possible.
Some Providers by the way are – sorry to say – stupid.
One couple of New Orleans Providers insisted on bringing "their only baby" (a 125-pound potbellied pig named Rooty, yuck! makes you wonder what those Providers look like!) — into the rescue boat that nearly sank. That, of course, is Dumb.

So Bush, who is running the biggest country of Providers worldwide, made a royal mess of it. (Well, considering the US is a republic, I should choose another word, but I don’t want to be rude.)
What should that Bush Person have done?
Simple: he should have taken Airforce One and evacuate all pets from New Orleans.
So what if they would have made a mess? Can’t be worse than what he is doing in Iraq….

Just for your information – cats rule!
For you humans who like hard data, there has been a recent survey Hartz about Human-Animal bonding. The highlight: 31% of women and 15% of men say they spend more time with their pet than their spouse or significant other. Of course! We are far more entertaining and don’t ask questions you don’t want to answer. We are also better looking with our shiny furs.
The American Veterinary Medical Association found that 54% of all US households own at least one pet and 47% of those owners consider their pets full-fledged family members. You get the point, don’t you?
A BizRate Research study for Shopzilla shows that 56% of the women and 41% of the men surveyed believe that their pets are more affectionate than their partners. Of course! Do humans purr? No! We are also cuter than their partners: 45% of women and 24% of the men think that. Heh, heh – that will teach Brat Pitt and Angelina Jolie!
About 7 in 10 pet owners (68%) say their pets make them happier than their jobs.
I know for a fact that I make my Provider happier than any of those high-tech jobs.
I tried to communicate that she might change careers, and I am happy to inform you that she is trying to get published, so hopefully she will be a fulltime author and cuddle me the whole daylong.
Although I have no complaints about my Provider in general, there is one thing I lack – major pampering in the form of a pet groomer, therapist and psychic. My human claims that I don’t need it, since I am a self-cleaning cat-with-an-attitude.
Pffff – what does she know?! Why does she think that I started this blog?! To work on my anger management of course and to vent my frustrations!

In short, We Cats are the New People and will do for the economy what kids did a decade or so ago.
If you don’t believe me: the American Pet Product Manufacturers Association reports that Americans spent $34.4 billion on their pets in 2004 with expected 2005 expenditures at $35.9 billion.
In case you get any ideas of curtailing our needs: please note that there are more pets than people in the US: 377.8 million pets, 290 million people.
And we cats are willing to hook up with dogs and other Inferior Animals to safeguard our Divine Right to be Pampered.

Quod erat demonstrandum,
Samuel Feles

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

As we all know, the world is divided in cat lovers and cat haters.
So there are people we cats like and those we stay away from.
We like humans with names like Cat (Stevens) and dislike Snoop Doggy Dog. (Mind you, he mind be a nice guy, but that name! Urgh!).
We like former president Clinton (because of his cat Socks) and dislike the Queen (the Gorky Thing) and Barbara Bush (because of her dog Millie).

Some cats are really loyal to their Providers such as Trixie.
Her Provider, the third Earl of Southampton, was imprisoned for some stupid human business into the Tower of London.
Trixie decided to keep him company for the duration of his imprisonment (1601-1603). He claimed that she (Trixie that is, not the monarch who put him there) descended to his cell via the chimney, which of course, no cat in its right mind would ever do. So we can safely assume that the Earl’s wife smuggled her into the prison cell.
I informed my Provider that she shouldn’t expect anything like this from my side. I also think that a cell cannot really hold me – I am a 20lbs cat you know and I need my Personal Space (got that one from a Wellness Magazine) the size of my ego.

You might have noticed that I am an Intellectual Cat (my Provider’s b-f accused me of executing a Pompous Writing Style – to which I say “affreux, mon cher”) .
I did my research and here is my pick of favorite cat lovers:

Cardinal Richelieu (1585-1642) had dozens of cats and built them a cattery at Versailles. When he died the overseers and cats were provided for. Now that’s what I call a Good Bloke, although he did some weird things (like burning witches – see my pervious blog).
His secret was, that he had the soul of a cat. One of his famous quotes: “I was excellent. Everybody loved me. I love myself, and I like bums.” You see?

Dr. Samuel Johnson, the compiler of the first dictionary, had a pet cat named Hodge whom Johnson fed oysters and other luxurious treats. Now that’s a great Provider for you! I like smoked salmon and my friend Ariel truffles. Our Providers don’t give them to us…. should we write to the UN about that?

Sir Winston Churchill (1874-1965) enjoyed eating with his ginger kitten, Jock. Churchill often sent servants to find Jock and refused to start eating until his cat was present at the table. If only I could train my Provider to do the same…

St. Agatha (d. 251) is still known as Santo Gato (Saint Cat) in parts France. She is said to appear in the form of a cat on her day, February 5, to punish women who have angered her.
My Provider wholly approves of this. Whatever.

St. Ives (1035 - 1115) is the patron saint of lawyers and appears in portraits with a cat by his side, and is sometimes depicted as a cat. Since my Provider is also a lawyer, I wonder if she will turn into a cat? I hope not, I need her human thumbs to open cat food boxes and clean my cat litter box. Besides, who needs the competition?

Cat haters are often dictators (Hitler, Saddam Hussein) and Inferior Authors.
Other bad examples:

Johannes Brahms (1833 - 1897) relaxed by sitting at an open window and attempting to kill neighborhood cats with a bow and arrow. That’s the reason why I don’t listen to his music, which is easy since they don’t play it on MTV and VH1 (my favorite music channels).

Napoleon Bonaparte - Napoleon was once found sweating with fear and lunging wildly with his sword at the tapestry-covered walls. The source of his fear was a small kitten.
Well, we all know he was a nutter and perished on a shitty little island, so enough said. By the way, “Bonaparte” is messed up Latin for “good riddance”, heh, heh.

Noah Webster (1758 - 1843) took 27 years to write the American dictionary, which seems a long time to me, considering he could have copied a lot from Dr. Johnson (the cat lover).
He described us cats as: "deceitful animals and when enraged, extremely spiteful.” This, of course, is something that we have in common with the human race. The difference is, we cats don’t organize ourselves in armies and kill each other. That would be stupid. It interferes with our major pursuits in life: eat & sleep.

Henry III (1551 - 1589) was ferocious when it came to persecuting protestants in France, but the presence of a cat turned him into a coward. He would faint if a cat came near him. You see, it just doesn’t pay to be a bully (unless you are a cat, of course).

Providers deal a lot with something called “religion”. I don’t get that at all. There seems to be several of those religion things going around that are suppose to make life better for Providers (and therefore for us cats). I watch a lot of television and saw the terror attacks that religious fanatics commit – too many for my taste. I would like to state here and now, that blowing up Providers is a Very Bad Thing for cats (and dogs too come to think of it). We end up being Providerless, which means: no food, no water, and no cuddles. Although I am capable of opening the fridge, cupboards, drawers and the water faucet, I don’t shop or prepare my own food. I need my Provider for that. So I need her. Period.
Not only are there different religions, they all seem to have a different take on what animals they like. Dogs are seen as unclean in a lot of religions, which makes sense to me. Only Native Americans seem to like wolves, which shows you that they are really nice people. They like and respect all animals-good for them.
Hindu Indians worship cows, which is also nice, although useless for us cats. As long as it doesn’t interfere with my beef intake, I am fine with that.
The only people that had the good sense to turn us into gods were the ancient Egyptians. OK, we had to hunt and kill some mice, but what the hack. Being divine comes with a lot of perks. Somehow, the current Egyptians are Moslems and are not so fond of us anymore. Pity.
I don’t know a lot about Buddhism (I fell asleep when I was watching the documentary on TV) but I think that they respect all animals in case it is their relative or something. You see, they believe in reincarnation, which is a waste of time in my opinion. Let’s face it, I have it made in this life and don’t want to come back as, say, a Provider. It would mean that I have to work (tiresome) and take care of cat (yeah, sure). No way, Jose.

In the Middle Ages, Catholics burned cats at the stake since they thought we were devil worshippers. Ha! As if we would have the energy to worship anybody apart from ourselves. Those were tough times, so we hooked up with lonely women who pampered us. Guess, what? They burned those as well as witches, which is really very inconsiderate.
Protestants seem to be the best pet owners of them all (as far as I can tell). It would explain why the UK is the ultimate cat country.
Some years ago, I lived in a religious Jewish neighborhood and found out that Friday morning was cooking day. I cleverly went around the neighborhood, entering kitchens, positioning myself next to the cooking person and looking up at her with big pleading eyes. It always worked. They cooed that I am such a nice Jewish cat (well, I had an operation, but I don’t think it was a circumcision unless the vet was really clumsy and took too much off) and would give me all the goodies. I rewarded them with my very loud purr. Worked every time.
So if you want to know my religion: none. But I am tolerant – I will listen to your views as long as you feed me, hug me, and don’t bore me too much.

My Provider walks around on two paws, not four. Needless to say, this looks clumsy.
I also noticed that she doesn’t jump – at least, I never saw her jump on the couch or the table, let alone on cupboards. The little cub from next door does move around on four legs, and even better - he is my size. I like him, he hugs me a lot and calls me “kitty, kitty” before he feeds me. You see, my Provider leaves me regularly for days on end. She goes on something called “trips” and comes back smelling funny. I checked her suitcase out and noticed that there were other smells on it – even that of a cat!
To come back to Providers, it seems that once the cubs grow up, they decide to walk on their hind legs only. It makes them damn tall as well. Not that I don’t use it to my advance: I often entice my Provider to pick me up when we are on the balcony, so I can look down into the street below.
My owner often walks around with bare legs. I like that – I watch a lot of television and saw a really cool thing on National Geographic. My cousin the lion was hunting antelopes and toppled them by sliding sideways against their legs and putting his paws around their ankles.
I think that it’s a great concept, and I am trying to implement it. Compared to my dainty cat paws, the legs of my Provider are big and I must say – stable. No matter how I try, she doesn’t even wobble! Must be all that damn fitness that I am dead set against!
You know, we cats like cuddly Providers – that’s why we prefer women to men. We like to curl up next to soft warm bodies and we also like to knead body parts. My Provider doesn’t have a lot of soft body parts and I blame all that working out. She has a friend, Rachel, who is great. Rachel is quiet (and not moving around a lot like my Provider), smells nice and has nice, soft body parts that she doesn’t mind being kneaded by me. Needless to say, I adore Rachel!
I try to prevent my Provider from going to her fitness center by positioning myself on her sports bag. She just removes me, the rude one. I really don’t understand – bad enough that she has no fur on her body, but why doesn’t she want to be zaftig? As I said before, I watch a lot of television and I think that Anna Nicole Smith is the pinnacle of how a Provider should look (before she went on a diet that is).
Unfortunately, she seems to prefer canines to felines, so my chances of being adopted by her are slim. Not that I don’t like my current Provider, mind you.
But if I can improve my standard of living, why shouldn’t I?
I found out that Providers in the state of New York can leave their worldly possessions to their cats (and dogs too, I think, but who cares about them?
Not me!).
So I informed my Provider that we have to move to Manhattan. Seems that she is open to the idea, since she told me that I could look at birds from a high-rise window in Cathattan. Sound spiffing to me (got the word from a 30s novel in my Provider’s library – I like the sound of it).
I just keep my paws crossed that my Provider doesn’t find a fitness center there….

Let’s talk about food. We cats are picky when it comes to our nosh.
We are not like dogs that love decaying meat of dubious origin.
We like our nibbles and water fresh and pronto. My favorite cat food is the most expensive brand available (heh, heh). In case you wondered, we cats have an instinct to find out how we can break your budget. My Provider has the theory that I can read price tags – I see no reason to inform her otherwise. We also go by the assumption that everything you eat is 1) good for us and 2) should be ours in the first place. So we take you food, play with it and taste it. My Provider likes rabbit food. I try to play with the lettuce leaves, which she keeps preventing. Spoilsport! I am not too crazy about rice and mashed potatoes (boring), cooked vegetables (yawn) or grilled chicken and fish (yuck). I do like her tomato soup, buttermilk and sweet white wine. I don’t understand why she doesn’t allow me to dip my paw in her bowl or glass and lick it off. She eats with metal things, which seems rather clumsy to me. Why not put your mouth close to your food and catch it with your teeth? Or take your paw and scoop it up? I tell you, Providers are weird…. Another weird thing she does is “cooking” – instead of eating the stuff as she buys it, she takes quite some time to work on it. It involves taking it apart (using another metal thing), putting it in a bowl of sorts and placing it in cupboards that she calls “oven” and “microwave”. The stuff only stays there for a limited amount of time, and then she takes it out and eats it. I find this bizarre. You have your prey, right? (At least the stuff she brings in doesn’t move, so it is safe to say it’s dead) So eat it. She also washes her food. She has something with washing – every morning and evening she goes into one of the rooms and stands in the rain. Yes, really, it is this weird room that doesn’t smell nice at all and has a damn uncomfortable floor. She goes in and then it starts to rain. I would run out, but she stays under it and puts stuff on her head fur. She seems to like it. I watch it often – just in case the rain flushes her away. She told me that it is called a “shower” but I watch TV, so I know for a fact that “shower” is “rain”. If you don’t believe me, watch the pretty lady on TV that points at the world map.
My Provider is well organized, so I get my food and fresh water at fixed times. This is a Good Thing because I like to eat; it is a Bad Thing because I have to adjust my schedule to hers, which is too un-cat like to even think about!
Sometimes I am tempted to pinch her credit card and order food online. But I am just too lazy to figure it all out, and I also would have to keep track when it will arrive, which means more infringements on my schedule.
So for now, I leave the status quo as it is…

In general, like all cats, I hate dogs. They are loud, smelly and uncouth. In short, they are as un-cat as can be. My neighbors used to have a dog – a pug. My Provider liked the canine, which shows you that she 1) has no taste and 2) no brain. This misfit (the dog, not my Provider) used to bounce into my apartment and zip through my living room.
He would come up to me and touch my nose –yuck! My Provider used to coo that it was so cute and that I should be a friendly neighbor and play with him. Yeah, sure, I will do that the moment my Provider stops removing the fur from her legs. Luckily, the neighbors moved and took the Thing with them.
I often watch television with my Provider. We each take half of the couch. I think this is chutzpah since I want to stretch out on the whole couch. Since my Provider is stronger than I am (damn all that fitness nonsense!) and I am just too lazy, I tolerate her sitting next to me. One day, we were watching some channel (don’t know which one or even in what language – it’s all gibberish to me anyway) and we saw this Paris Hilton person with her dog. Now that gave me a good laugh! First of all, it’s the size of a small cat and obviously it also strives to look like one – unsuccessfully I might add. It looks like a cross between a rabbit, a piglet and an elf. Its Provider, the PH woman, is obviously aware of this and hides its ugly form in designer outfits or stuffs the mutt in Gucci bags.
The Creature is not stupid though; it repeatedly tries to run off. Since it’s small (I could easily squash it my sitting on it) with little legs not designed for speed, it cannot run fast and far enough. PH keeps schlepping it back to her- even the little pink running shoes it’s forced to wear don’t help it escape.
Now you have to understand, I am not an Evil Cat. I do sympathize with this poor non-cat thing. So I hereby invite it to my home. Considering its size, it won’t eat much of my cat nibbles. It for sure will not use my cat litter box. It will find a place to sleep – somewhere in a corner preferably. And best of all, my Provider doesn’t want her pets to wear clothes. Not sure if this is pure kindness on her part – she is stingy, so may be she just doesn’t want to fork out the money. Once the mutt moves in, the first thing I will do is take off its shoes. My Provider takes hers off every time she comes home from her fitness center and let me play with them. So I will be happy to chew on the little pink ones as well. And in time, I am sure that I will get used to the dog's looks and smell.
If the going gets too tough for the creature, the canine can come to me – I might even teach it to purr and to open the fridge….

My name is Samuel Clemens The Cat, and like all cats, I am a Superior Being.
The reason that I have this blog is not because I want to educate you ignorandi, but my Provider has one, so I insisted on having one as well.
Let’s get one thing straight – I am a cat and therefore political incorrect. So if you are a sensitive soul, go buy a puppy and leave me alone.
I live in a four-room apartment with my Provider, who is OK most of the time.
Like all humans, she can be dense, so I have to shout at her. Somehow, this amuses her resulting in her picking me up, hugging me and cooing “Oh, Samuel, you are so cute!” Nu, talking about stating the obvious!
I see myself as a wee little kitten, although this does not always seem to be accurate.
I used to be able to stretch out on one of my Provider’s thighs – now I need her whole lap. My surroundings claim that I am a 20 lbs cat and that I look like Ariel Sharon in cat form. That’s fine by me – I think he’s gorgeous!
I will update you on my exciting life – you might ever learn something from it!

Le Chat, c’est Moi