iPod Missives

Apparently, EVERYBODY and their grandmas emailed to explain how great their iPods are (see my comment some weeks ago).

Do you really think I can't find out myself? I looked it up on wikipedia, and it's pretty self-explanatory. For those of you still in the dark ages, an iPod is a set of two thin sticks that cosmopolitan humans use as a tool for porting raw fish from a plate to their mouths. It's less efficient than their fingers, but it's all the rage so everyone is doing it.

Cooper-Moron

Oh, my god! Cooper made up another word: doublemoron. Enough said. Perfect.

Bo Home

Well I'm back.

Dog came by yesterday. He's got a southern name, a 1969-Dixie-Flag-Adorned-Orange-Dodge-Charger-kind-of-name: Bo. As in, "Don't look now Bo, but look." and "Why, Daisy if you wasn't my cousin, I'd marry you." A hog-tie, rumble-tumble rough-fider kind of name.

Last time, Bo left me alone while I was under the bed. So this time, I stayed there until he went for a walk with the humans. But one nap later, he was back with a fury, running through my apartment with abandon. Before I could escape, the humans scooped me up and gave me to Bo for dog food.

Dog, it was awful. He sniffed all around me.... Stay perfectly still. Wait for it to pass. It will pass. That's all I kept telling myself. Dog does not exist. Dog does not exist. Dog does not exist.

Then I hissed. Couldn't help myself. I hissed and he pounced. Barked a terrible awful bark. Worse than his bite? I don't know. I tried not to stick around, but as I said: psycho humans had me trapped. The humans went crazy grabbing Bo's collar. My eyes were bright, and one would think I was taking everything in, but in fact, I could see almost nothing. I heard shouts of No and suddenly everything went slo-mo on my ass:

A n i n c h a w a y f r o m m y n e c k I f e l t t h e f o u l b r e a t h o f D o g a s h e l o o k e d d o w n o n m e w i t h j u d g e m e n t: Mealtime.

The next few minutes are a blur of near-death experiences. Have you ever watched X-Files? Think that, times one fifth.

You can say what you want about me. But I learn quickly. If I so much as move, if I so much as hiss, if I do anything, if I exercise ANY free will... dog pounces. Dog doesn't like free will. When I gave up, once I let go... things got a little bit calm. Bo sat there with a tilted head, and seemed to get bored.

Moxie's Last Sigh

Sunday afternoons used to be lazy days when I could spread out on my human's Vanity Fair and catch up on the latest J Lo gossip. Those are bygone Sundays. Now, there's only one Sunday afternoon left: the afternoon of the big fight. I've been called out by a bully after school, and there is no where for me to run.

As you might guess: Bo is coming this weekend. My days are numbered. Four to be exact. So obviously, this will be MY LAST BLOG.

Clock ticking. On sunday afternoon, in a moment of chaos, I become dog food.

The end of my nine lives - that is sad, but what saddens me above all else that I'll never post another boring episode for my fans.

It is the fans that I live for. You are the reason I fight. The reason I live. The reason I breath. The reason I stay off drugs. The reason I quit pre-med and watch ER instead. The reason I get so much R&R - so I have energy for you... Let them say: She did it for the fans. And let them be right.

This is such a Ziggy Stardust moment, I can almost hear you all whimpering out there in the dark theatre of the internet. Mourning my loss before it's happened. Reading these words and knowing they are my last. Thank you.

Signing off permanently and forever and ever, Moxie

Napa: A Near Miss

It's no secret. I keep my ear to the floor.

There was talk around the apartment that Bo may have visited over the weekend. I am overjoyed to say, this did NOT happen. Bo is a large hungry dog whose human must constantly remind him: "Cats are friends not food, Bo!"

Now let me say... these are the least re-assuring words I've ever heard.

If choppers like those need reminding, then the best place for me is WAY high up. As high up and as fast as my non-edible legs will carry me.

Luckily, Bo's human got detoured to Napa Valley for the weekend. Near miss. Thank god for California wines.

Aveda Girl

A hundred and two percent of my life is wishful thinking.

I wish I could stretch my wings and fly off the balcony, but alas, no wings, and so the birds continue to taunt me.

I wish I didn't enjoy the taste of Aveda products... an upset stomach is a thing to witness, not to endure.

I wish dustbusters made a little less noise.

I wish I didn't suffer god's once-a-month curse for being a lapcat (...flea tonic).

I wish my tiny liver could tolerate cocktails and caffeine because, let's be honest... the lifestyle is appealing. But perhaps the two-c's is the rudimentary mystery that separate pets from our humans.

Pirates Of The Apartment

I'll be quick today because I know you're all going to see Johnny Depp tonight. And I'm sure you can't think of anything else. I wish they let us in theatres. I guess I'll have to wait until it's on DVD. Sigh... like always.

Cooper made up the dumbest word. Catninja. Which is short for Cat-Ninja. He's been going on about it nonstop for a half hour. It should be Cninja but that sounds too much like Kninja, the word for K-9-Ninja. Anyone could have thought of Catninja. It's just the two words joined. It doesn't even roll off the tongue easily. He's so smug right now I could just rub his nose in it if he understood anything I said.

If only.

No Middle Earth?

My three fans wrote in over the weekend to ask if I am a pirate or a ninja?

Survey says: a pirate, because a ninja knows if she's a ninja, and if I don't know then I'm certainly not a ninja. But isn't that strange: if you're not one, you must be the other? There must be more to the political arena than ninjas and pirates. True, I tend to favour universal healthcare and wild, youthful promiscuity, but I'm also conservative with spending and think promiscuity should be done in the privacy of your homes and not flaunted about in the streets like it's commonplace.

True, "the streets" are a bit unfamiliar to me, but my fantasy life more than compensates.

But to the point: Pirate vs Ninja? Isn't that a little too simple? Isn't there a middle ground between these two extremes? Like Wisconsin or Minnesota?