Had you thought der Dekan and I disappeared off the planet? No, but we were really busy. We had to eat, we had to nap a lot, play sometimes, fight every, now and then - and most important of all we found a hobby that we can both agree on. It's cheap, it's fun, it's easy and you can do it all around the clock.
I'm of course talking about driving Mom to ultimate madness. It's not that we don't like her, she's quite useful as a can opener, she does our boxes, she makes quite a good bed for lounging (especially if she falls asleep and doesn't move), she reads to us which can be pretty relaxing, she pets us, and she catches our beauty in pictures (den Dekan more than me because my pictures tend to be blurry if the light isn't right and she hates how flash makes my gorgeous fur look all wrong while it really brings out his stripes nicely) and, even more important, knows which pictures of me to delete (who cares if she shows the goofiest, least flattering pictures of the brat, mugshots are rarely good).
First of all, I'm really pushing my art career at the moment.
Let Mom call me a vandal, I don't care. Here's just a small reminder of my inspiration, I never pose like that with my artwork to keep a bit of the Banksy touch.
Der Dekan has pretty much given up on this kind of art installation, by the way. Obviously he had to acknowledge that I'm so much better than he is. He's more into
I am taking this further than der Dekan, though, in frequency for example which is of course a comment on the many Sisyphos tasks humans are dealing with throughout their lives, such as laundry, vacuuming, cleaning, grocery shopping, etc.
To be clear, they are doing some of them happily because they know we allow them do those for our wellbeing - choosing the best food (which we will like and then refuse and then like again), creating a safe but inspiring environment for us to develop our many amazing talents, but also litterboxes for example (although sometimes I wonder if that is more of a weird obsession and I'm thinking about writing my thesis about that).
For Mom, one is obviously kicking back the baseboards with her foot while mumbling to herself, no doubt about the flawless execution of not ripping out just the short, but also the long board. Extra touches are to pull them out far enough to either knock over one or several of the door stoppers or leave them slanted which looks very good if I may say so myself.
I'm quite grateful she took over that duty because if she didn't put them back, I couldn't rip them out again, right? About a minimum of three times a day, with the record probably at about six or seven.
You can tell I'm working very hard on this.
Another way to make Mom panic is to eat something you shouldn't it. Like bats.
If you have been around for a while, you may remember my complicated relationship with bats. No, I didn't follow Ozzy Osbourne's example, I'm talking about felt bats (or actually any other felt pieces).
Mom never fails to show me this picture of my former BFF and she keeps pointing out that two days are not "forever". So petty.
Well, she gave me "another chance at proving I'm a responsible and mature cat".
I won't be saying any more without my lawyer except that I had fun hearing Mom yell for me to stop licking the new bat to death. She says she doesn't want me to swallow the felt that gets stuck on my tongue. Pfff.
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| By the way, no need to worry about the missing hair on the back of my legs, it comes and goes. |
Unfortunately, Mom has taken measures to fight back in the most cruel and humiliating way. All I'm saying is "vet".
But that, my dear readers, is a story for another time ...
