3:30 p.m. Sunday, March 1, 2009

My servants just returned from the store with an excellent new purchase. They replaced my small, outdated litter box with a gigantic state-of-the-art litter house. It’s not the Cat Box 9000 that I asked for, but it will do. This one holds much more litter! It is so big that when I kick the litter around, it echoes. I like to do this because it sounds like the cat gods are applauding my strength and agility. It’s nice to know that they’ve noticed.

4 p.m. Sunday, March 1, 2009

New litter house has been soiled. No longer any good. I hate it.

4:45 p.m. Sunday, March 1, 2009

Just discovered a new way to preserve my immortality! The she-servant is making cookies (and completely ignoring me, as you know she does) and was placing flat circles of dough on metal sheet about the size of my new litter house. When she’d placed a dozen unbaked cookies on the sheet, one of my hairs pricked me and I sensed my own ability to be evil.

I looked at the she-servant. She looked past me like I was a common alley cat. I hesitated as long as I could (ONEoneTHOUSAND!!TWO! JUMP!) and leapt onto the metal sheet, spreading my limbs as I soared. My front left paw landed squarely on a cookie. My front right paw landed half on another.

Finally she saw me! Finally she cared about where I am and what I’m doing! She screamed and the he-servant came puffing over. He chastised me, but I do not care. When the she-servant bakes those cookies, my paw prints will be preserved. I am certain the Smithsonian will want to keep the cookies on permanent display, next to my largest-ever hairball and all the shoes I’ve peed in.

5 p.m. Sunday, March 1, 2009

Bleh. I just finished kicking around in my litter house to get the gross cookie off my feet. It was disgusting and I feel unclean after touching them. I do not fear salmonella; my constitution can ward off any disease. Neither do I regret my decision to leap onto the cookies. In fact, I think this may have been one of my most successful days – ever.