My translation matrix works for print text and telepathy from me but for air-wave transmission of them, it can be quite obviously deficient. All their words sound the same. They can hardly have evidence of a sophisticated brain with such a narrow vocal range and small vocabulary, the bulk of which goes somethhing like algudluvuluvutuwarugoinlovuiluv… Dabble-babble. From my unblinking-blue-eye oracle research I find that there are records of quite complex hairless tall languages but such syntax I have no firsthand evidence for.

To be healthy, one must keep on ones toes. [That’s admittedly easier for someone like me than for most of my readers who are simian. ]

Part of that dexterity of body-mind comes from exercising psychic dimensional travel (destinations are largely classified to pre-dimensional travelling species).

Part of that agility comes from taking capers around with flap scraps of paper to lift and tap, to balls to wap, nubbie balls to calculate the trajectory of in a game much like “billiards” as I work out the trigonometry on the fly.

In the case of balls mysteriously being unretrieved from their lodging place under the soft-canned-foot-storage-unit, we have to settle for a back up of those unpredictable foot movements. That has the side bonus of yielding the most amusing of yelps and ungainly celtic highland fling as they try to avoid stepping on us.

Of course, in the case of Ms. Zhou, the athletes footwork leans mostly towards sleep twitches and circuits between toileting and the “toilet” that dispenses fresh water. When she is pouncing on hairless tall fancy footwork, it is more often a matter of dissociating the way-de-hock-up there head with large nose and the relatively remote hugemungus-lay-back-on-your-dewclaw-why-don’t-you feet. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have feet of my own to wash.

Mror later and for all times forseeable.

When Alice in Wonderland said, “I wish you wouldn’t keep appearing and vanishing so suddenly; you make one quite giddy.” the cat being accomodating to a fault as cats are, acquiesced to her request.

“All right,” said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained some time after the rest of it had gone.

Contrary to popular belief and what our senses would seem to tell us, a cat cannot actually disappear as Louis Carroll said. His account is not credible. For one, who grins? Absolute rattycock. His Cheshire Cat is actually a work of fiction. But as with most fiction, there is a grain of truth.

We can be quite subtle. Can be surreptitious, move on feather-soft feet, nimbly avoiding most sliding glass doors and landing as a gymanast on the backs of chairs without, most of the time, overshooting the mark and landing on our nonchalant tail in the air derriere. We can watch for opportunities adn take the best possible instant to capitalize on, in a flash of loose uncatchable skin, be from A to B before Subjects have even perceived an alternate use for say, the pretty bird that would also make a lovely lunch in a snap!

We also are gifted at making ourselves quite small. It’s a little known fact that as a snake can unhinge its jaw and make almost anything pass between its teeth, we can collapse our skull in, nesting like sugar bowls and get ourself into almost any small space. If our muzzle can fit we can stretch and wiggle to get the rest of us through.

Beyond this, we of course, are quite clever, not overusing our abilities by toying with TVs, clothes and cupboards like raccoons and monkeys do. Few of us gloat in the glut of our natural gut-intelligence. We don’t squander our abilities just for fun but only when it would serve us best.

Our greatest cloak of invisibility is our mystique, our image. Image is nothing if flogged until the inherant transparency and flaws come to light by so many examinations. By this I mean, we are not all geniuses– Take my colleague for example. (Please. She is vexing. But housebroken. Well trained in audiology, REM sleep and dream analysis. Doesn’t smoke. Can you make her disappear? )

(Of course, I’m kidding Ms. Zhou. satire. A terrible hairless tall habit I seem to be picking up. I’m sure Butterball got it.)

Ms. Zhou knows where her prescribed corridor falls during the evening and night hours. I have allowed her to roam with greater freedom than ever. She may come freely out of her closet so far as she does not interfere with my freedom of movement. During daylight hours I have permitted her to share sunspots and window ledges. I have been more than generous. She should not abuse that and think she can be in the couch room during my hours.

I do not go on the bed during her time there. I allow her full afternoon sun on the bed. I will not have her presuming she can eat before I do, have a bigger chunk of tuna. Who knows where that course will end? No where good I’m sure. She must not only get too big for her frame but also for her subservient role.

She has been attitude readjusted. Right on the top of her head. And side of her muzzle. And with only the most minute amount of blood was required to be meted from her ear. To save face she responded hissily but in retreat only. Back to the closet Ms. Uppity Colleague. Until I say so.

I may be making a nuisance of myself, interfering with the study subjects as I do but then what’s a good study if not one with the data spiked up a bit with interfering here and there. Can’t have them running the same rat maze. They need more environmental enrichment around home to bump up the data on their interspecies attitudes.

For my next stress test I think I’ll leave the vomit on the trajectory to the bathroom. May as well use my physical weakness as my research strength.

I must say, I have been feeling much more like my old self since that salmon started coming around. It has a rather suspect taste (replicator inaacuracy?) but when we’re talking that much omega fatty acid goodness, one can dismiss a little less than premium taste.

In acting on my diligent nature as a responsible feline citizen I feel it is my duty and pleasure to spread the word on Little Known Feline Ailments in order to prevent the occurance wherever possible. Here is an excerpt but I urge you to read in full the report on clinical symptoms to be alert for.

For those lax in clicking, (those long digits must tire so!) here is a sample of a key LKFA, namely IRRITABLE LAP SYNDROME

“Symptoms: The cat appears unable to settle comfortably on laps, instead treading, kneading, rearranging itself, fidgeting, vocalizing, getting up and turning around, falling off lap and getting back on again, attacking magazines, needlework, computer keyboard, telephone, etc.

Treatment: Immediate treatment is essential. Drop whatever you are doing (literally if need be) and give 100% attention to the sufferer otherwise symptoms may escalate and become quite distressing to the lap-owner. Only prolonged attention will cure an attack of Irritable Lap Syndrome. Like Collapsible Legs this syndrome is incurable, although attacks may be effectively treated as and when they occur.”

Have I ever mentioned that my live-in-colleague, Ms. Zhou, minored in audiology?

So, as I tickle the meniscus, she tickles their auditory range starting with what, text-book, is outside their natural reach. She works her way through the scale hopping from octave to octave, seeing which notes register best, and making sidenotes of which notes seem to correlate best to what they understand as tuna or water, kibble or sand.

Knowing how fast the health can change with these subjects, especially considering all the question marks about their lifestyles, it is best to keep our own tabs on their health. She does this diligently daily at 7:30 am weekdays and 9 am weekends, adjusting for the northern latitudes and shifting it seasonally. So far they seem to be maintaining a constant level of auditory acuity but they are not alwways the most cooperative subjects and sometimes ignore the clinical prompts. They seem especially unlikely to respond with their babble-kit talk in the 8 a.m. range.

We do what we can to learn, despite obstables. They are not an absolute control group; it is trickier than some assignments. You may remember the exchange I had at the doctor’s office with that other white feline. In her household, there is a hairless kit. She can monitor it 24/7. That’s a definite plus. Ours we get, effectually, only about 12/6. We never know where they’ve been or what they’ve been doing beyond what we can surmise from the bouquet of smoke, clashing perfumes, musks and colognes picked up on their clothes from hairless talls nearby. While it is an engaging puzzle to try to sort out the food and body smells that they have brought home with them and determine the age of the residual odors, at this point, the data yields little but the pleasure of the analysis itself.

Let’s not discrimiate on the basis of furr Cat applying the pet Shop

The hairless tom can verbal or muscle the other subject into a good arrangement for cuddling but for myself, I take what I can get.

If she sits on the tall chair, her legs slant and eventually once relaxed, I slide off. Waking into mid-descent scramble is not ideal obviously. I can eyeball her and see if she will automatically shift herself into a good laptop position or else wedge an arm to prevent me from falling off the sharp slope of pitch.

When she sits cross-legged, I can nest in more but her muscles are harder and boney. It’s hard to get a good position that evenly distributes my weight and ensures good contact with her for symbiotic exchange.

If she sits straightlegged on the couch with her feet due south, I can sit on her softer arrangement of legs and watch for incoming pigeons. This is optimal but even with optimal there is a certain amount of turning around and getting the neck so that it doesn’t crimp a nerve, on me I mean. I call this my lap dance and I feel it sets the mood for further unity achieved through the stroke-purr exchange.

This exchange seems exceptionally useful these days as she seems particularly peaked. An hour or two of my special homeopathic deep penetration purr, and we both symbiotically gain something extra in our day. Beyond company, grooming and massage myself, I can shunt less energy to core heating while sitting on the reflective heating surface that she is.

The study subjects are sprawled out under their covers between dreams. They look like such cute pets like this with only their heads showing, slack jaws leaving their tongues out to dry or drool. Their snores if you turn your ears just right can almost be imagined as a purr.

I let myself down carefully from my toiletry run and inpection round. My hips are aching. It comes and goes. I am an xenobiologist, not physician but I’d hazard to say that it’s a touch of arthritis and a rough massage of fatigue from incisors to the last vertibrae of my tail. Maybe I should cut back on my shadow catithenics for a couple days. The body is wonderous that it goes at all at my age.