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This isn't meant to last, this is for right now [May. 8th, 2007|07:30 pm]
[Current Location |unknown]
[mood | sad]

You always knew this wasn't permanent. This was transient at best. It was the way it was always going to be. But I guess knowing doesn't stop the pain, does it?

I slept in your bed that last night to say good bye. I know you thought it out of character, I'd been so flighty recently and you were so surprised, so happy to find me there once more. You stroked me and I curled up next to you, but when you came home from work that day I was long gone.

Despite my white belly, I'm a black cat and the night belongs to me. I'm not a tabby content to rule nothing but the couch. I'm not white and petrified of the outdoors. Nor am I pure-breed and terrified of the horrible "out there". Born in a parking lot and with asphalt running through my veins, I always knew one day I'd have to go. I always knew and so did you.

Thank you for the warmth, the kindness and the love. Thank you for the patience and the care. Thank you for taking a chance on me when nobody else would. I hope you know the time we shared is as special to me as it is to you.

I'm sorry I hurt you. If I could have avoided it I would have, but sometimes we do things that hurt others because to not do them hurts us too much. Can you understand?

I hope we see each other again, but for now this is

goodbye.
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Pwn3d! [Jun. 25th, 2006|11:40 pm]
Guess who just had a huge spew on the new-ish couch?

I need love, not excuses. How long has it been since I've had that really tasty food for dinner? Here's an idea for ya, genius. Instead of getting fucked up every Friday and Saturday night and writing yourself off, how about you take it easy one night, get up at a reasonable time, go down to the market and buy me some good food? Maybe with a varied diet I would have to resort to these kind of antics.

Just a thought.
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FFS! [Dec. 5th, 2005|09:01 pm]
Have you all seen this bullshit?



Fatty and skinny certainly have. Playing with their stupid grey boxes with their idiotic tiny pens. They're throwing pretend toys around and giving their unreal pets make-believe food.

Hello? Real pet over here, hungry and in desperate need of affection!!

It seems like the only time I ever get any attention now-a-days is when I act up. And with that it's, "hello couch!" and "goodbye upholstery!"
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Apologies [Oct. 13th, 2004|10:35 pm]
[music |Ride - Drive Blind]

I've just read over what I wrote last and it's exactly the sort of navel gazing post I promised myself I'd never make. I do have an excuse, however.

I have these mice, see, that I hunt [1] and I don't know why, but they smell soooo good. Now, the other day I got this mouse a good one and it split open. To my surprise the dry stuff that spilled out was the good smelling stuff. I prodded and poked it for a little then decided to pose a hypothesis.

Question: Does the stuff taste as good as it smells?

Verdict: Yes it does.

Problem: It made me fucked up!

I don't know what it was, but it was potent shit. I ran around the house like crazy for a while, then tired of that I stared out of the window for a while... like 5 or 6 hours (!), then I wrote that LJ post.

So apologies to anyone who's reading this and expected a dose of hilarious commentary on the state of things in my house, but instead got brooding wankery of the highest order. Will return with the funny ASAP. Skinny's away or a couple of days so I'm bound to catch husky doing something stupid.

***

[1] Yeah, look I know it's not hunting and the mice aren't alive... how to explain it in terms you'll all understand... Look, hunting is to what I do with those mice, like sex is to one of the boys firing up Suicide Girls and kicking me out of their room. You know it's not the real deal, but what are you gonna do?
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Reflections [Oct. 10th, 2004|08:25 pm]
[music |Franz Ferdinand - This Fire]

My food bowl sits down the stairs and near the back door. Through the glass of the door I can see into the back yard. I don't go outside much, but sometimes just sitting there, watching the birds and bugs is nearly good enough. I was born on the street and, sure, sometimes I miss running free, a lean shadow hunting and sneaking. But I don't miss the fear, the doubt of where my next meal will come from, the cruelty of people. Whatever I've lost, there is food here and shelter and kindness and the chance for a decent life.

I miss it most, I think, when another cat comes into the yard. Smells barely penetrate the door unless they come really close and sounds don't fare much better. I can scratch at and bump against the smooth surface with no effect: the door won't budge and no egress appears. Usually the other cat gets bored and wonders off and I am left with staring out of the door again. Without the smell, without being able to touch, there's nothing keeping them in the yard.

It occurs to me that this is what it's like with my owner. He doesn't understand the subtleties of my tail twitches, the different cries I make; when I bite but then lick his hand, does he understand what I mean? I understand that he puts food in my bowl (semi) regularly, and rubs and cuddles me, but for all I know he's keeping me around for those few times when I fuck up and do something dumb and he can have a good laugh. Okay, I know it's not that bad. He looks from me when I'm hiding, and when I'm scared he's gentler with me. I try and be around him as much as I can, to try and make him understand how much I rely on him and appreciate what he's done. It's far from ideal though and the misunderstandings are plentiful though, thankfully, not disastrous.

Sometimes I sit, staring out through the glass of the back door, and think about all the cats and people in the world and how it seems that everyone has a pane of glass between everyone and everyone else and they're all sitting there mouthing words and flailing arms, but really, nobody communicates with anyone else. We pretend the interactions we have are so meaningful and profound because we're all too scared to admit that all we're doing is bumping our heads and failing to reach that other cat outside.
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Don't ask, tell anyway [Sep. 28th, 2004|03:51 pm]
[mood |Will feign affection for food]

First off. Yesterday, Food Provider, didn't get out of bed until about 2pm and His-Feet-Fun-To-Attack emerged sometime after that. Now, I like a sleep, as much as the next cat, but so many hours in a row? That's just crazy.

(Before you get started, I know they have other names, but they're dumb and don't describe anything. Skinny and Fatty, Beardie and Glasses. Those are good names. For example, I get called Jest after some book, while really, my name should be something more along the lines of... okay, this is going to be a little difficult. Anyone, on a mac, where's the key that represents the sound a mouse makes at the apex of it's flight when you fling it into the air?)

So, the dummies get up and sit staring at the TV playing X-box all day! I'm bringing them little mice to throw me, the pop-ball they left lying around, pumpkin seeds I've hidden away, nothing, not any interest at all. The minute I try and get some sleep, they start hassling me and rubbing and patting... okay, that bit was pretty good, but I like a bit of a mice throw sometimes, know what I'm saying?

Then the skinny one keeps hammering away at the game, while the other one goes to his room. Now usually this means either sleeping or playtime on the bed, but no, he's on the phone and he's on the phone for hours! I clawed his arm and then tried to bite through the cord, but there were unsuccessful tactics. To add to the lack of fun, he made me make noises into the phone which was just too much so I left the room in disgust. I'll chill with you while you're on the phone, man, but I'm not a wind-up toy.

So they play their little games some more until they realise they're hungry and I'm like, yeah, me too. So off they go to the shops, bring back food for themselves and then I don't get fed until two hours too late. Complete bullshit! Fatty's cooking away, Skinny's playing more X-Box and nobody stops to think, oh maybe the cat would like some food.

Two things here. One, the food they had was just gross. Like, rice and carrots and onions and - this is the kicker - something that looked like meat but wasn't. While Beardie wasn't looking I sneaked a piece from his bowl but it was disgusting! Nice texture, but tasted nothing like any sort of meat I've had, no even close. It came from a can so I thought it would be good, but oh boy was I wrong.

Second thing. I thought those things Skinny wears were supposed to help him see? Because I don't think they're working. He got tangled up in the cords last night and dropped the laptop on the ground. I was halfway down the corridor before I realised it wasn't serious danger. And Fatty-Cooking's all "That's okay, dude." Man, I knock one thing over and it's a big deal, but that dick knocks the laptop down and it's all good PLUS his food came earlier than mine!

Yeah, so then they settle down to talking and more game playing and you gotta hear Tweedledumb and Tweedledumber talk sometime. Fucking nuts! One of them suggested that the other divorce his in-game wife, and the other - it was the hefty one - replied that he didn't want to do that because she was "the hottest chick in the game." Holy shit! Does he even know what he's saying?

Then they play some other game and the name of something comes up as "The Purple Wyrm Inn" and the two of them are off, howling and rocking back and forth. Skinny takes off his glasses and the other one wipes tears from his eyes. Now, I don't get it, but can't be that funny right?

They carry on like this for a while more and I'm trying to sleep under Skinny's legs and when he bothers me I try and look at him, but I'm tired, you know, and they start going on how I've got narcolepsy and laughing and... well, I didn't hear the rest of the conversation because I fell asleep, but how exciting could it have been?

My "Owner" - ha ha - went to bed early so I hung out with the other one some more before crashing out. This morning there was prompt food and extra cuddles so it's all good.
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