The creature continues to vex

Adult male and mistress have once again purchased a large green tree that smells most enticing. However, they have not yet placed any of the pretty dangly things upon its branches. I am quite excited with anticipation.

And it makes a welcome change from my usual state -- cowering in the corner in my efforts to hide from Bobo. I can no longer refer to her as the small one, as she is nearly as big as I. However, she is still the young one, and her demeanor is proof. She waits for me at the door, and once I have crossed the threshold, she pounces upon my back as I try to rush to the feeding area. She then tweaks my ears with her paws as I eat, hoping to move me from the dish so she can usurp my place.

And she seeks to usurp me from more than the feeding area. She now sports a mane and pantaloons, and I have heard mistress speak admiringly about her appearance. I think she looks quite silly -- and her behavior is even less admirable, as she scratches furniture and refuses to sit on laps or cuddle for more than a minute before she rushes off on her next destructive mission.

We shall see whether she can contain herself when the pretty dangly things are placed on the tree. I doubt it.

December Melancholy

A green tree has been carried into the house and now sits in the front room, surrounded by boxes. I dimly recollect that something similar occured last year, but my mind is clouded by the presence of the young one. I can no longer refer to her as the small one, as she is quite large and appears even larger because of her long fur. She has usurped my place in the household; I have heard mistress comment favorably upon the mane and pantaloons that Bobo now displays. Of course, such adornments are quite superficial, and give Bobo a surface attractiveness only.

Although her appearance may be attractive, at least to humans, her behavior is most certainly unattractive. The young one waits for me at the door when I return from my constitutional out of doors, then pounces the minute I begin to cross the threshold. She then leaps upon my back as I attempt to make my way to the feeding area. And while I eat, she tweaks my ears in her effort to move me from my dish.

If it were not so cold without, I would seek new lodgings, as this has become intolerable. However, spring must come once again, and I will reevaluate my position at that time. Meanwhile, I shall enjoy the refreshing smell of the tree in the front room and the warmth of my hiding place behind the desk in the chamber occupied by mistress and adult male.

This is no life for a noble beast such as myself.

Turkey time

The creature has begun to contribute to the operation of the household. For example, in the past week, a wild turkey has been visiting the neighborhood, scratching under the neighbor's birdfeeder and adding some interesting challenges to my otherwise humdrum existence. The young one -- I can hardly call her the small one anymore, as she is almost as large as I -- has demonstrated her stupid courage and her childish energy when approaching the bird. It still still much larger than either of us, with a deadly looking beak. But the other day, with myself on one side of the beast and Bobo on the other, we managed to drive it away. It doesn't fly, but it can run very quickly, spreading its wings for balance.

Unfortunately, because Bobo is not terribly bright, I cannot rely on her to assist me regularly in providing this entertainment. I am afraid that the previous example of coordinated effort was simply a happy accident. But we shall see.

Cat in the tree

The small one known as Bobo has once again revealed herself to be unfit for associating with humans, causing them much anxiety and expense. I have spent most of the beautiful summer months huddled under the automobile, grease dripping upon my striking fur coat, in my efforts to avoid the creature. The creature, in contrast, has been coddled and made much of, and has been allowed to take my place under mistress's bed, pounce upon me at will and generally make my life miserable. I could kill her, and have often threatened to do so with low, throaty growls and scratches, but to no avail.

Yesterday, the creature was trapped in a tree with long, green, needle-like ornaments. When she finally understood how to remove herself from the tree (as I have noted before, this feline is of particularly low intelligence), she was covered in a sticky substance. I heard mistress mutter something about pine pitch. The creature exhausted herself trying to lick it off, to no avail. Had it been I, it would have been but moment's work to remove the mess, as I have neat, practical fur. However, the creature's very long fur is not a suitable companion for this sticky substance. In a word, she is a mess.

I overheard mistress making an appointment with the veterinary clinic to have the creature's fur clipped and the mess removed. She inquired in a worried-sounding voice about the cost of this operation. I am sure that a few more incidents of this type will bring her to her senses and cause Bobo to be removed from the household.

And who chased the creature up the tree? I'm not telling.

I am satisfied

I am elated. The creature has finally revealed herself to mistress as a violent destroyer of property. Of course, I could have provides mistress with this information many months ago. However, I was not consulted, and had to let the natural destructive instincts of the young one reveal themselves in due course.

In short, the creature clawed the lovely light gray carpet in mistress's chamber. Or (I am quick to amend my statement) right outside the chamber. Mistress closes her door at night to prevent the creature from entering and disturbing her rest with its antics. In a childish fit of pique -- I cannot imagine why else she would do this -- the creature, in her efforts to enter the room despite the closed door, dug into the carpet at the bottom of the closed door, making a pile of carpet fibers and strings.

Mistress was quite upset, although not as upset as she should have been. I suspect that the creature is still being forgiven its sins because of its relative youth--a most unfair set of circumstance.

And I overheard mistress muttering that the carpet will need to be removed and replaced by a wooden floor. That would be a great mistake, as the wooden floor will be chilly, despite any rugs placed upon it. And, most important, it will not look as elegant. The current contrast between my dark gray fur and the light gray carpet is most pleasing. I will need to find a new way to display my charms.

I reach the breaking point

I have been banished to the outside. The creature suffered a wound to her front paw and must remain within the house while she recovers. Adult male and mistress believe that I caused the wound. They are supported in this by the veterinarian whom they consulted when the creature refused to walk, eat or drink. He surmised that the infection that set in was caused by a bite to the leg, and he told them that the bite came from a cat.

Am I the guilty party? No one knows, and I'm not telling. And although adult male and mistress are most distressed about the creature's injury, I must confess that I am not saddened by the disability of the young one.

From bad to worse

I have not had the heart to record my thoughts in recent weeks. The introduction of the creature known as Bobo has made my life miserable. She (and I was right -- Bobo is a female) pounces upon my tail, rushes up to me at full speed, dances about as I am trying to eat or sleep and has now invaded my formerly private space under the bed occupied by mistress and adult male. This used to be my nighttime haven; it is now merely an extension of the nursery that keeps expanding as Bobo grows.

And she is growing. But I am still much larger by many pounds, and I do not hesitate to show her my displeasure frequently. When I hiss or swat her with my paw, she rolls around or retreats for a few seconds, then returns. On occasion, I have been forced to nip her ears or paws. Even then, she seems not to understand that I very seldom wish to play with her. She clearly is of inferior intellect.

The creature continues to challenge

The creature -- I still cannot bring myself to say his name -- has added a layer of mystery to his already doubtfull qualities. I have overheard mistress saying that she thinks he is actually a girl. This does not bode well, as a palace cannot have two queens. At present, the young one is too young for me to discern his gender. We will just have to wait and see.

Although my life has changed in many unpleasant ways, the infant can be amusing. Last evening, for example, I toyed with him, batting him gently aside as he rushed toward me. He seemed to enjoy being tossed across the room, as he kept returning, arching his back and sticking his tiny paw out from under the bedskirt so that I could play with it. However, he pushed me too far this morning, being so bold as to eat from my dish. There are limits to my patience.

And I sometimes need to feel that I am protected from the advances of the small one. The young master who brought the creature home has, among the litter in his chamber, a small box that apparently once contained shoes. it is a snug fit for me, but comforting.

My World Turned Upside Down

My life has changed in a most disturbing way. One of the young masters brought an interloper into the household -- a tiny furball of a cat with long hair and orange and black spots. He named it Bobo.

Bobo (and, I hasten to add, the name is most apt--a stupid sort of name for a stupid sort of creature) has no respect for position and seniority. Despite my most terrifying hisses and snarls, the infant insists on approaching me, following me about and once even daring to play with my tail. The indignity is most dreadful. It is all I can do to prevent myself from sitting on him or rearrnging his simpering face with my claws.

I have taken to hiding under mistress's bed, where the creature has not yet ventured. I believe I have been loyal and most affectionate, but clearly I have offended in some way. Why else would they turn their attentions to another?

Although I would like to solve this mystery, I am exhausted by having to remain constantly alert. The small one -- I can hardly bring myself to say his name -- moves quickly, surprising me in a most unpleasant way. His cries when seeking the attention of the humans are piercing and extremely irritating. In short, the last few days have been very trying,

I am hungry

This is not I, your humble housecat. It is a portrait of some poor and overfed animal whom I do not know. I, on the other hand, am robust and stout, in the best sense of both words.

Mistress and the young masters have conspired to starve me. They have created a calendar on which anyone who feeds me is required to enter the time and amount of food provided. The only sympathetic ear in the entire household is the adult male, who continues to respond to my plaintive cries. He does not always record the food he gives me, which fools the others into feeding me again. It is not a reliable system for obtaining adequate nourishment, but it is the only system I have.

I have endeavored to remove the top of the receptacle in which they keep my food. I have not been successful so far, but I will continue to try.

I am Expelled from the House

Mistress has once again revealed her lack of consistency. Just when I believed that she would acceed to my every whim, she threw me out the door. And this time she did not listen to my cries from the doorstep. It was insulting to a cat of my sensitivity and loyalty.

It was a sunny day, although chilly. Some of the ice had begun to melt, and there were two very strange, large bird-like creatures lurking.Because they were bigger even than I, I watched them carefully from a distance. They pecked at the ground and the seeds that the neighbor leaves, constantly moving as they ate. They did not seemed alarmed by my presence or by the appearance of one of the young masters who came outside and drove off in an automobile.

I believe they are called turkeys.

I am Entertained

Mistress and adult male spent some time this morning fixing the draperies in the living room. The length of fabric had fallen from the hooks that secured them to the rod above the windows. Mistress sat in the chair and directed adult male, who is of great height and thus able to reach the tops of the windows. While he worked, I sat on the window sill, admiring the winter sun outside and attempting to climb the draperies as they hung down while he adjusted the hardware. It was a change from my usual routine, which has become somewhat predictable.

I am Very Lonely

Mistress, the adult male and the young masters left me. They abandoned me on one of the coldest days. They left the house cold, too. I was so anxious that I explored the house very carefully, hoping to find one of them hidden in some room that I had not yet discovered. Unfortunately, all the rooms were as I had seen them before. There were no extra rooms, no family. I did, however, note that one of the floors, normally a cold, hard flooor of red tile, was inexplicably warm. They must have devised this to comfort me while they were gone.

They did arrange for a young lady -- they refer to her as "Rose" -- to visit the house once each day to provide me with food and water. But that is small compensation for the emotional anguish that I suffered. The identification of the warm floor, however, was an unanticipated bright spot.

And when they returned, some days later, I made certain that they knew exactly how sorely I had missed them.

I Have My Claws Clipped

Today mistress clipped my claws. This is not as big an event as it might appear, as she does this two or three times a week. She cuts one or two of my beautifully sharpened (on the basement stair carpet) claws each time. Her strategy, and a good one, is to approach me whilst I am asleep. By the time I have awakened enough to protest, she has pressed on my front toes to extend the claws and has quickly snipped. By the time I try to revolt, she is done.

It's a very clever strategem. I do not recommend it.

I Find a Warm Place

The humans have attempted to force me outside. This requires them to open both inside and outside doors, lift me (not easily accomplished), and toss me inelegantly out into the snow. They had the temerity to mention the cat next door, Foxy, a low creature but who looks very much like me. This is his only redeeming feature. Apparently Foxy likes to sit on the plowed driveway. The humans seem to believe that because Foxy is stupid enough to enjoy this, I should, too.

They do not appreciate my tender and sensitive feet or my unprotected ears. In any event, on the few occasions when they have succeeded in ejecting me from the house, I have merely remained by the door, crying in my most piteous voice. They relent quickly.

It is cold. The humans have a system for heating the house that they carefully monitor, keeping the temperature barely tolerable, even for a cat with my ample weight and coat. So I searched throughout the house to find a warm spot and was clever enough to locate the best possible place.

Mistress had constructed a bed for me near hers. It lies between a very hot thing -- they call it a radiator -- and a piece of furniture. However, at first the bed smelled like another cat. I suspect that she simply reused the bedding that had once belonged to the inferior felines who lived here before I moved to this place. At first I refused to use the bed. But then mistress placed two lovely wool sweaters on top of the bed. This dimished the smell of the unknown beast to the point where I could rest upon the sweaters. And now my smell -- far superior to that of the previous feline -- dominates the air around my bed. I like to rest here of an afternoon or evening, when the humans are at home and have increased the amount of heat produced by their system, making the radiator by my bed wonderfully warm.