yes, it’s your truly in the fur. One of the simians helped bring this pic to you.

Beau’s got a blog too. Beau’s a beautiful long-eared cat but there’s brains behind that pretty face as proven by his choice to blog, and the inclusion of the pet bill of rights along with news, cat facts and whatnot over the toe-number of pages. He’s a friend of Muddy Paws. You might want to go give a proper butt-sniffing greeting, or failing that for the human readers, just a read of the blog.

I’m not sure I like my new simian codename of fuzzbucket. But then, they’ll probably drop it before long just as I’ve dropped the exagerrating their hairlessness of mostly scanitly haired body. After all they do tend to look like a comical creature, like a fattened up shaved horse with those long legs but remarkably shortened toe bones.

I have been routed back from the morning sun chair as a consequence of my forced incursion off-hours through the heart of my colleague’s territory. She allowed me to retain the afternoon window-sill, in part because her weight doesn’t allow her to make the leap to remove me and use it herself.

Let go!!!!

Listen to the body language simian! I’m not wrestling to get out of your arms for no reason. Simians, you haven’t a clue what your getting yourself into! Or more importantly, what you’re getting *me* into with your blithe glide through this space as if you own it. And you wonder why I worry about you crossing the street without a charperone?

I pass over there by that wall each time to get to the food for a reason. It is mutually agreed on common no strike zone. Do you know how long it took to achieve the border peace we have here!? Do you have any idea how long it too to establish our schedule of time sharing this domain and territorial zones?!

And here you go carrying me at this time of day over there. If I struggle enough to prove my non-compliance with your heavy-handed measures I may not need to be put in my place later.

Oh, now that’s an interesting sensation. When I get all weighhtless, pressing my zigzagged form up against the atmosphere and all the smells do this rainbow-torching arcs and a sort of sonic virbration feedback comes at me like purrs on fur curling my whiskers with the intense waves of proximity readings off the the other zigzagged floating forms as we turn into a cumulous cloud mass of fluffed hair, levetating on waves of karmic strength as one cosmic breath. I do love visiting this dimension.

There are so many wonderful things to read that these tall hairlesses have ceded over to the internet like Flippy’s page with the aptly named CATalogue (emphasis mine) of useful articles to the tall hairlesses.

I soil the litter. You clean the litter.
The litter is too dirty to use I just dump on top and will not stir.
The choice is up to you.
You know the smell effects

the sun has laid its warm palm
on my hip, slides it slowly
dips over my tail, along
the straight rail of it
heading with my thoughts
towards the ice box

I hear splattering clops
rain patters the window
I half raise my chin
press back my second eyelids
see the kitten paw prints
of rain drops against glass
and the sun streaming through
unpeturbed by wet. funny day,
rain pushing in like that

I have been thinking of taking up new language study. My resident vocologist has been giving me tips in the lower moan range of wingeing and ejaculating barks but I’ll admit I’m not a very good study. I have the ears but not the heart for it.

The simians have been away a great deal lately. They have been courteous (and my kind does value courtesy) with attending to putting food on Mror’s altar for the strengthening of our bodies.

But so far as giving me hours to observe them that’s more of a tail in the door of my plans. How am I to send my findings if I can’t find them?

(The thick notes get sent on to the 8th dimension directly. I don’t bore you with those highly repetitive details of how they move in space, offgas, escalate body temperatures, digest, the patterns of heart rates adn brain waves, changes in electromagnetism and hormonal flux, proxemics, bark, bark, bark ad bark)

There’s only so many hours one can harrass a colleague without tipping her over into more than one sense of madness.