The chosen title of this space refers to catnip. Now as far as I understand the etymology of this word I have learned from the Hairless Talls, nip is to lightly bite but also means to do a small amount or to visit for a short side-errand. This further demonstrates why this “language” is so far to learn. The antecedents are mired in multiplicity. Readers probably are familiar with this hallucinogenic substance.

Wisely they semm to have made this a controlled substance. Colleagues in a number of dimensions have reported on this subject. Some of my kind seem to be profoundly weak to it reporting a most undignified staggering and urge to roll so as to coat one’s hair with the active ingredient thereby giving a further excitement to future groomings. The addictive properties for some can ruin lives. We know of one xenobiologist whose career ended in ruins as she forsook research, as well as her own infants which she abandoned all for the pusuit of this “little bite” Sad indeed.

For myself, I am a social nipper. I do find myself somewhat lifted by the oils. That the Hairless Talls should have an industry to harvest and package the substance is somewhat worrisome. Do they understand the health risks involved in what they play with? Knowing that they willfully consume citrus it is somewhat in doubt.

Time for my catithenics. Until next time..paws and consider.

I believe there is a Hairless Tall expression to the effect of: my species has 9 lives. It’s interesting that they too seem to have a desire to try to make a system of knowledge concerning us. They are wrong of course as they are about most things but that they make an effort with their extremely limited intellect is endearing.

In fact, we have 8 dimensions which we can inhabit. When the humans think we “cat nap” we are actually entering the psychic realm of one of the oracles to visit with alternative adventures.

They do seem to have coincidentally made what would be an astute observation if correct. If they had in fact observed enough data, they might achieve understanding. But then that is the case with any observation, isn’t it? I seem to be waxing philosophic these days but my raw data of notes contain my more factual observations and they are already sent to my superiors. While the Hairless Talls are out, and my having completed my observation notes, analysis, olifactory collection, I have time for such a use of time. I deserve it.

Mrooh knows that *I* do my share in working hours unlike some field researchers I could mention. I think I shall rename my colleague, she-who-is-birthed-of-closet as she seems to spend the majority of her time inside the confines of the closed cupboard for the human fur alternatives.

I guess I could mention that I don’t type this directly. My first language is 3rd dimension feline and I only uplink psychically to blogger with a translation matrix more sophisicated than babblefish.

Sometimes when my subjects talk I understand but their language is a harsh rasping jolting sort of sound. One word seems to mamp to dozens of notions. With their lack of awareness of their own telepathic abilities, and although they address my colleague and I often, sometimes I think we communicate best through eye contact and proximity. They aren’t the brightest kit in the kaboodle but they are learning. We are making a sort of pidgen method.

And to be honest, I’ll admit, I am starting to grow fond of these study subjects. They move suddenly, spastically at an alarming rate and roar by times. They have baffling dietary habits. They penchant for changing their identifying outer fur and scent leaves me bemused. Yet, there may be some if not, depth to intelligence, depth to their individual characters, some value as savient beings.

The study group leaves for parts unknown most mornings. On no discernable pattern does Sandy stay until nap period 2 before leaving. The last time they came back with the smell of smoke and meat on their clothes. At other times they have returned with the residue of heavy exercise. Occasionally with the fragrance of good flower digging beds on their pant legs.

I have investigated the hall where they depart into but found no door type scaled so that my strength can open them to pursue the matter futher.  

I had assumed the rearrangement of hard and soft high and low cat bed types, and the boxes were sensory stimulation for my purposes in their absence but now it seems there was more afoot.

As unsettled as I am, with my slacker of a colleague practically beside herself, I can make my usual astute observations.

When I was taken into the loud covered riding vaccum object, I had assumed at the time I was being taken for another rectal probe or immunization but as it turned out I was brought to this new environment.

It is difficult to reconstruct their route from what I have seen as I was brought by my study subjects all but sedated in a closed container without a mean to see. My complaints were met with that irregular purring tone they have when they wish to convey their presence. A contact call of sorts I have determined. 

Much of the cat beds are present here with our markings still largely intact, smeared by hairless tall ones sweat glands but otherwise undamaged. The dimensions of the new study facility seem adequate. Good sunny window access with a section of window where I can even observe unseen while sitting in a soul regenerative sun patch. Overall, adequate.

My name is Valdebar and I am a compulsive licker. 
I groom myself as any decent fit feline does and my roommate too because of her overeating, she can’t reach her own behind,or hips for that matter. This is reasonable, socially acceptable. Although it does have as a result that I vomit hairballs far more than the average cat. I can live with that if my tall hairless study group can tolerate it. But of late I’ve found this self-comforting method seems to have grown so that I feel a need to groom not just myself but most anything presented near my nose. Leg joints, of tall hairless I will call by function, Sandbox maintenance worker, Sandy for short, and food and water receptical crew, who I’ll call Wat for short. So Wat and Sandy are now becoming an extension of my grooming regimen.Sometimes I find myself watching them as they sleep and fight off the urge to groom them. (They do smell so. It must be the horrid diet!) Sometimes I can’t stop myself and I lick a toe or nose. Sometimes I find myself licking a covering that they have worn, or bedding. I am Valdbar and I admit I have a problem.

They take my metal food vessel and shake the manna into it but out in the living room. I go to my usual dispensing spot and though I know the rattle is coming from elsewhere I just can’t compute it fast enough and blondie here got me in such a tizzy with her excited food calls that I couldn’t pull myself out of her excitement long enough to realize long-legs wasn’t standing in the proper coordinates to bend down with the food.

Cursed are these hardwired habits. Do they think I’m one of Pavlov’s dogs?

It’s all so embarrassing.

 If they want to play with me, they know how to use those clever dewpaws of those and make themselves useful:pull open a drawer and throw a ball.

The upright furless ones were making movements to leave the abode. I quickly put an end to that by magic turning the three times on the legs of one and began purring a chant. Now I have their company even if the large glowing eye does hold their attention.
 Valdebar