I hate the vacuum.

It is such a violent machine, sucking up and murdering all that gets in its way. At the first sight of the vacuum, I arch my back and stick my hairs straight out. This makes me look very intimidating. I shoot a dark glare toward the vacuum, hold eye contact, and then… run.

Though the vacuum follows me, it is much slower than me and is too stupid to travel in a straight line. Forward, backward, forward, backward… By the time it comes within 10 feet of where I hide (on top of the servants’ bed), I’ve been there long enough to fall asleep three times.

But I do not sleep. I wait. Despite its grinding noise and horrific vibration, I observe its every move to identify flaws. As I always say, there is no substitute for victory. Here’s what I’ve got on the evil machine: the vacuum will clog – and maybe break – if large materials (read: socks, batteries, puppies) are sucked inside. I also know that the he-servant will stop vacuuming after sucking up a piece of jewelry, and that the machine makes a burning smell when it is overwhelmed with too many of my hairs.

My attempts to vandalize and constipate the vacuum work about 20 percent of the time. Sound weak to you? Keep in mind that the vacuum’s attempts to eat me have never been successful. Add in the fact that I am a genius and constantly evolving to defeat the vacuum, and you can see I am well ahead. Always will be.

I’ve just walked across the stomach of the sleeping she-servant. She is usually easier to wake, and the hair in my goblet appears to be hers, anyway. I stood for at least 30 seconds on her ribcage, putting all of my weight on my two front paws. This hurts her, I can tell. Her face twisted with pain and she cracked open an eyelid to look at me.

Water, woman. Look into my eyes. Wash my goblet and get me water. Here, see how cute I am? How can you let me thirst like this? (I shifted my weight so most of it was on only one paw – she grimaced and reached up to push me.)

I nudged her hand with my face, which she usually thinks is a gesture of affection. No. This is not. I’m trying to show her how dry my nose is. I am clearly dehydrated. Were I a desert cat, I might understand the lack of drinking water. But this is not a desert, and I am not a desert cat.

The she-servant rolled over and did not get up. Must now attempt to wake the he-servant.

I walked across his pillow and stepped on his forehead. He hates this; I’ve heard him say so. Then I flopped down on his pillow and threw myself against his head as hard as I dared – I certainly don’t want to injure myself.

The he-servant batted at me, but I ducked. Idiot.

I got back up. Spun in a little circle, found the spot closest to his mouth and threw myself against his face, draping my tail across his eyes.

Success! The he-servant is sitting up now! He doesn’t look happy, but who cares! I’m not happy either!

Now get me some water, Snorezilla, and don’t expect me to thank you.

I’ve done my best to be devastatingly handsome so the party crowd will have something to celebrate. The servants don’t know it, but I’ve pretty much just saved the day. Without me, the guests would take one look at What Cat? and leave.

I’m napping until 8, when the guests arrive. Meanwhile, don’t touch me.

It’s terrible: The she-servant has been brushing my hair almost daily. I hate this on multiple levels.

First, she is wrecking it. I carefully style my hair so it will stick out in clumps that I find pleasing. When she brushes my hair, it looks smooth and very “pretty”. I am so glad you cannot see me as I type this, because I look like a freak.

Second, she removes the excess hairs I would normally ingest. I need these hairs to make hairballs; they serve me well. I am currently experiencing an extreme shortage on ingestible hair and am unable to form hairballs using my own hair. SO embarrassing.

When she brushes me, I use the snake strategy to escape. I drop my belly to the floor, stretch out, sink my front claws into the carpet and pull myself forward. I have to repeat this four times before the she-servant gives up, but it’s not soon enough. She leaves with a brush full of my hair, and I leave in humiliation.

The she-servant gives me delicious treats after she brushes me. I eat them in the hope that they’ll make me vomit. It never works.

10:30 a.m. Tuesday, September 22

As a pick-me-up, I’m allowing myself to ingest What Cat?’s hair wherever I find it. Since her hair is filthy black, it is easy to spot on the carpet. I have eaten 12 pieces already. This is not as effective as eating 12 of my own hairs, since she does not have the fortune of being as long-haired as I am.

Of course there is no real need to mention her shortcomings; I am superior to What Cat? in all things. It would be a waste of space and breath to list “all things”, but I’m sure you know it would include: beauty, intelligence, scheming, claw sharpness, speed, leaping ability, hairball formation, litter kicking, shoe peeing, napping, sunning, carpet shredding, and manipulation.

You’ve got to admit that you’re impressed.

Servants have just returned home from grocery shopping. Not a moment too soon – there were only a few crumbs of food left on my plate and I was probably about to get hungry. The servants expect me to eat the many pieces of food that fall off my plate, which shows how poorly they were raised. Of course I will not eat off the floor.

Just got a whiff of the new bag of cat food purchased by the servants. Yessss. It is my favorite. I’m thankful the servants are not making cutbacks due to the recession by buying me generic food. I am NOT a generic cat.

6:15 p.m. Friday, May 1

You’re probably wondering when I’m going to tell you about the new cat the servants placed in my kingdom. What do you mean? What cat? I do not acknowledge the presence of another cat, no matter how many times I’ve seen her.

I stalk this cat (what cat?) all day. She is jet black, scrawny, and smells like an animal shelter. Ugh… makes me shudder.

I could kill her (kill who?) so easily. I call her “What Cat?” The servants call her “Queen Ester” – which makes my blood boil. There is NO queen in this kingdom. There is only me, His Royal Highness Howie.

But what am I talking about. This cat does not exist.

I hate her.

6:40 p.m. Friday, May 1

Just heard What Cat? meow… it caused me to convulse and purge a hairball.

6:41 p.m. Friday, May 1

She-servant is cleaning up my hairball. It’s a pretty good one, with lots of excess fluid around it. Bet she regrets getting What Cat? now.

7:10 p.m. Friday, May 1

I am in What Cat?’s room. I raced at her, looking as much like a mountain lion as I ever could. She was terrified and is now hiding under the futon. I am laying on the futon. What Cat? I see no cat.

8:40 p.m. Friday, May 1

After a good snooze on the futon, I ate some of What Cat?’s food and peed in her litter box.

Now that I think about it, this isn’t such a bad set-up. There’s an extra of everything – extra food dish, water bowl, and litter box. Why haven’t the servants pampered me like this already?

I will one-up them. I’ll request food, water and a litter box in each room. Retroactively! Put it there yesterday – or last year! And keep it fresh!

Of course, there may also be an extra cat in my kingdom…

What cat?

Noon Sunday, December 13, 2008

There it is.

There it is again.

And there… swimming behind the plant now… it’s the most amazingly large but horribly ugly fish I have ever seen. It looks like giant poop with fins. I am mesmerized.

The servants must have put it in the fish tank during my 10 o’clock nap, or my 10:30 nap, or my 11:15 nap. Because it wasn’t there before I settled in for my naps, and it is there now. I have been studying it for the last 10 minutes. It is possible that I am drooling, but that would be undignified. Therefore the wet sensation in the hairs under my chin must be caused by an unexplained change in atmospheric pressure. I know more about that than you do.

1 p.m. Sunday, December 13, 2008

I must eat this poop fish. It looks so meaty… so tender… it will be so delicious in my mouth.

I cannot leave my post in front of the fish tank. My hunger for this fish is consuming me.

Servants are watching.

Must not show weakness.

Must not show weakness.

1:15 p.m. Sunday, December 13, 2008

Oooh, my paw is wet, paw is wet!!

I found a gap in the lid of the tank. It is large enough for me to pass my paw through, but too small for my face. Naturally I sent my paw through it to get a sense of the challenge. Now it is wet. Disaster! I won’t live!! It burns, it hurts, and it clumps my hair!!! Help!!!! MOM!!!!!

Oh, look! A secret stash of catnip.  Nature’s favorite band-aid. Excuse me.

The front door closed at 4 p.m. today and both my servants were gone. Since I do not recall granting them permission to leave this weekend, I am sure they are out buying items for my kingdom. It’s getting rather shabby in here. I’d like a new litter box that cleans automatically, since my servants are too lazy for regular cleanings. I also need more catnip. My supply will last only another five days. I will need much more to get through the holiday season.

Lastly, I hope they bring home a couch that looks good with tabby. I would like to nap on the couch more regularly, but am repulsed by the current couch’s non-tabby design pattern.

You’ll find it interesting to learn that my favorite place to sleep is in the sun, or on the he-servant’s chair, or on the servants’ bed, or on top of the piano, or on my scratch pad, or in front of the television, or under the futon, or in that secret place where I hide and the servants can never find me. I can almost always be found in one of those places, except the last place… I am never found there.

3 a.m. Saturday, October 25, 2008

My concern that the servants have defected is mounting.

The door has not reopened, and no new purchases have been delivered to my kingdom. If they don’t return within my next four naps, I’m going to begin looking for new servants.

10 a.m. Saturday, October 25, 2008

I am hiding in the place where I am never found. There is an intruder in my kingdom. I know he is not one of my servants – he is taller than either of them and he is not fat. I am analyzing him to see if there is enough meat on his bones to be worth killing.

10:04 a.m. Saturday, October 25, 2008

Negative; intruder is not worth killing. Not only has he brought me catnip, he has also cleaned out my litter box. Now he is calling for me by name, which proves that I am famous.

10:06 a.m. Saturday, October 25, 2008

Do not consider it a sign of weakness that I came out of my hiding spot at the intruder’s request. I’m sure you would come out of hiding, too, if someone said “Come here, you beautiful person. I want to give you a hug.”

When he was petting me, the intruder promised to come back every day. This is excellent news. I don’t know how long my servants will be gone, but I vote to banish them forever. This new servant takes better care of me and is not fat, so I know he will never try to eat me. I look forward to tomorrow.

8:59 p.m. Saturday, September 20, 2008

The he-servant is away tonight, so my options for vandalism and misdeeds are plenty. The she-servant is powerless to keep me from anything. With the he-servant gone, I can shred the carpet. I’ll drink from the toilet. Pee anywhere. And my favorite activity: I will hunt the she-servant.

Hunting the she-servant used to be a daily event before she brought home the he-servant. She would put her pajamas on and patter around the apartment. I would lurk until the moment was just right. Then, with all my might, I raced toward her. I lunged into her ankles and sunk my teeth into her calf. This was never pleasant for me, believe me. Rather than tasting of cheese, the way one would hope, she tasted human in the most disgusting way. Ugh; I always had to clean myself after the evening attack. If it weren’t for the way it made her respect and fear me, it wouldn’t be my all-time favorite activity.

There she is in the kitchen now, barefoot and dumb. She is finishing the dishes and anticipating a call from the he-servant. She is paying no attention to me, as usual, and I despise her for it. Should I pee? Attack? Pee? Attack?

Oh… excuse me… hairball…

6:13 p.m. Wednesday, July 30, 2008
My carpet experiments have had exciting developments, leading to two new discoveries:

1. Ripping at the carpet in a torrid frenzy releases many more pieces of carpet than a normal tug. In fact, a single pull at the carpet will only loosen one or two pieces. Rapid clutch-and-release action brings up an average of eight pieces per second.

2. The sound of carpet shredding brings servants running. Excellent discovery. I now do this in front of any closed door, because within two seconds (16 pieces of released carpet), a servant arrives to open the door.

I am still drafting a plot to keep these doors from closing. I will not be denied access to any part of my kingdom. Updates on this will come later.

5:47 p.m. Thursday, July 31, 2008
I just finished watching the NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams and am encouraged to hear that the salmonella outbreak has not been solved. This makes an intriguing add to my scientific studies. Here’s my plan:

The servants, who will eat anything, make perfect test subjects. For one week, I will dip dozens of my hairs in tomato juice. I will release the contaminated hairs into the kingdom, to eventually land on the servants’ food. Then I will watch carefully for signs of illness. It’s true that the slothful nature of my servants could conceal symptoms of illness, so I will carefully track how long they spend in the bathroom, the sounds from within the bathroom, and the odors that exude from the facility.

After a week studying tomatoes for salmonella, I will dip my hairs in chili pepper juice, which Brian said may also be a culprit. Observations will follow.

Lastly, I will spend a week using spinach juice, in case I am fortunate enough to find e.coli. The symptoms are similar to salmonella, which is disappointing. I prefer more dramatic results, but will settle for the delicious glory of general illness, should it strike the servants.

5 p.m., Friday, June 27, 2008
Something wonderful happened this afternoon.

At precisely 3 o’clock, the he-servant answered a knock at the door. There stood a pair of senior servants, whom the he-servant calls “parents.” Wearing grey hair and pastel clothing, the parents slowly entered my kingdom.

I instantly preferred them over my ordinary servants. My servants make sudden movements and terrible noises. They startle me awake daily with their careless thrashings. I could tell these new servants weren’t capable of sudden movements.

As a test, I wound my supple body between their ankles. Sure enough, they moved too slowly to trip over me. There’s an idea – servants you can’t trip! On one hand, that would make it harder to punish them, but on the other, I’d get more sleep. And since I prefer my own comfort even over the servants’ pain, I’ll take it.

10:20 p.m. Friday, June 27, 2008
I was very handsome this evening. I carefully cleaned myself after dinner in preparation for using my litter box. FYI, my time in the litter box was well spent.

Then I headed to the couch, where the senior servants were sitting. My original servants sat on the nearby loveseat.

“Come here, Howie,” my she-servant said. “Sit with me.”

“Come here, Howie,” the senior servants said. “Sit with us.”

With my big green eyes, I made eye contact with all four people. Then, looking at my original servants, I gracefully leapt to sit with the senior servants. Thus began The Snubbing.

The Snubbing is something I look forward to every time the servants have “guests.” It’s the painfully obvious decision I make to spend time only with the guests and never with my original servants. Do not cast judgment on me. The Snubbing is a regular part of maintaining servants, who otherwise tend to overestimate their importance.

9:15 a.m. Saturday, June 19
The servants are showing signs of jealousy. Instead of ignoring me this morning, the she-servant tried to pet me.  And instead of continuing his lazy habits, the he-servant cleaned my litter box and offered me catnip. I saw every move they made, and though I was drooling for a good hit of catnip, I strolled over to the senior servants. Then I yawned, stretched, and flopped at their feet.

They ate it up.

One of the senior servants was so taken by me, he offered me his brand new laptop. I laid on it immediately and am still there. It seems to have an internal heat source, which I appreciate, and is just the right size for my svelte body. I love this gift.

As icing on the cake, the senior servants pet and praise me for accepting their gift. This is the correct attitude to have.

I know the servants have noticed the model behavior of the guests; I can hear them talking about it in the kitchen. I pretend not to notice, but in truth, I’m so pleased I could purr. In fact I am purring. On days like this I truly love my life.