9:00 p.m., Sunday, June 17, 2007 

I am glancing around my kingdom. It is small and poorly lit, but I have no need of lights to see. From my perch atop the piano, I am like the Lion King. I prefer to stand on the table, but only when my owner can see. It causes her great distress. She is not here at the moment, so the piano will do.

My work here is going well, I note. The carpet, which is a non-tabby color and has absolutely no stripes, is well-spotted with clumps of my hair. I’ve placed them strategically throughout the room so it appears to have been done by accident. Trust me, I don’t have “accidents.”

9:32 p.m., Sunday, June 17, 2007

My person just returned home. She’d been gone more than 48 hours and sent no one to visit me. When she opened the door to come inside, I caught a sniff of the precious outdoors and heard birds chirping. I lunged for freedom but she fended me off with her right foot. I hate that.

Now she is unpacking. She has already placed her shoes by the door, the same ones she was wearing when she blocked my exit. They are ugly. Since she was too preoccupied to check my litterbox, I relieved myself in her right shoe. The soft leather is surprisingly absorbent and the smell does not travel far. She does not seem to notice.

She is not paying a great deal of attention to me, as usual, except when I jump on the table. I did that twice in the last two minutes. She’ll probably be more observant when she sees what I’ve done to her shoe.

7:50 a.m. Monday, June 18, 2007

I was very handsome this morning. I did all the things a cat can do to earn praise from a person. Of course it worked perfectly. She picked me up – putting me high enough to view my entire kingdom – and hugged me. I heard her tell me she loves me and I scoffed. Of course she does. I made sure to leave hair all over her work clothes. I think she even got one in her mouth. She put me down to pick it off her tongue.

As she neared her shoes, I got excited. She still doesn’t seem to have picked up on the lesson I left in her shoe, but now she will have no choice. I lingered behind as she slipped her feet into the shoes. She took one step and halted. My owner took off her right shoe and I watched her smell it. She looked at me. I pretended not to notice. She appeared furious, but like she had new respect for me. I love that. 

The lesson: Respect the cat.