Stella of the Rooftops

Meow to all my followers, especially you precocious kittens! Omiti, your chronicler is back on task, with a special surprise treat for you! Yes, yes, I can almost see your eyes widen and your ears perk up as though to the music of treats tumbling about deliciously around a closed bag! So settle down: I have a rare interview with Stella of the rooftops! Yes, the very legend your mothers purred you in lullabies, whose sight is as rare as a cat fishing.

OMITI: Thank you for joining us today, Stella! We all realize you are most awfully, most mysteriously busy.

STELLA: I accept your commendations most graciously with this paw lick and blink. Do convey said acceptance to your audience.

OMITI: So. You, Stella, define yourself as un-belonging inside a human shelter. Is that a correct descriptor?

STELLA: Quite correct! As you all know, we felines resist belonging, though we are not naturally averse to perambulating familiar circumferences and owning spaces. I must be a more evolved being, since I also resist closed in spatials; one never knows how stable those vertical boundaries might be, and when they might come down, when that trap might spring!

OMITI: So no human belongs to either, then, Stella? I know, I know how strange this concept must sound to all us, urban felines, used as we are to human servitude and constant presence.

STELLA: Oh no, Omiti! I wouldn't quite say THAT! I do own a human. I visit her when she presents adulation and offerings. I am, after all, an urban feline.

OMITI: So you own your human but do not trust her shelter? Is that a correct descriptor, then?

STELLA: Precisely! What is  more, the rooftops present an interesting challenge for my grace and agility. The top of human shelters provide an ideal space for a hunter, an athlete, an aesthetician, the complex fascinating personality like myself.

OMITI: I suppose you are right, Stella. We have never quite thought of it that way. I am sure I speak on behalf of a large slice of my audience when I consider roofs as places to visit briefly, much like the humans visit those grassy patches with their kittens, you know the ones with those strange slings and slides. But we always return to shelters, in case of disagreeable clouds and their hysterical dripping.

What about you, Stella? Ah! Your widened whiskers claim that you have an answer for us!

STELLA: Haha well read, Omiti! I certainly do have answer for your listeners.

Now a rooftop is not an easy structure to traverse and own, and I do not recommend it to the weak of eye and paw. It is a harsh landscape, but like all terrains, it has a logic, a poetry, if you will, all its own. For one who is extraordinarily nimble and strong of hip (like yours truly), there are many alcoves, caverns, chambers, dips, ledges, sills, and awnings one could choose from.

OMITI: Hmm. Certainly sounds wonderfully interesting. I will certainly suggest to our packs to consider rooftops as treks and training grounds.

So what is your least favorite thing about your life-style, Stella? You did mention earlier that this is not for every feline?

STELLA: This life is certainly not for everyone. There is, first of all exposure to elements and an awkward (if any) access to nourishment, unless one is willing to descend from the roofs. We felines like naps in the gentle sunlight, but the sun on rooftops is not gentle and one must find a convenient alcove to nap.

So I would say that my least favorite part of my chosen life style would be the inconvenience of reaching my plate the human keeps aside for me.

OMITI: That would certainly be inconvenient, wouldn't it, you cats and kittens? Such a circumstance would give me pause if ever the impulse to ascend the roofs were to strike! So consider and reconsider deliberately before stepping a paw on the roofs. That life is definitely not all swashbuckling adventure one hears of comfortably ensconced in our cat beds!

On a brighter note, then, what is your most favorite thing about your life style?

STELLA: I have to say it is watching the evening fall. I have followed this blog and I know how much we all enjoy watching the evening fall. Let me tell you this, however, you haven't really watched the evening until you have watched this phenomenon from the roofs.

You see that weather-vane on that white roof, but a few leaps from here? There is a perfect ledge just there, perfect shaped and sized for an evolved feline like myself, whose protean dimensions allow perfect fits, no matter the size of the ledge. Well. That is my favorite place to watch the sunset.

OMITI: Ah! So that shadow we see sometimes around the vane is no shadow then? Mystery solved, kittens!

One more question for you, Stella. Would you move in with your human in her shelter? Do you see that happening at all?

STELLA: Certainly not! Sometimes, it IS tempting to steal in and live a few days in her shelter. But that would be conceding defeat to the human, wouldn't it? She has been trying to coax me for more moon revolutions than is decent. When I do visit her, the air around her head stinks of self-congratulation. I find that personally offensive.

What is more, I like my kingdom on the roofs. It is more familiar to me than that litter box my human stubbornly holds for me.

OMITI: Well, there you have Stella's answer in no uncertain terms! And with that characteristic of her tail swish, she is gone, back to her kingdom of rooftops.

That's all for today, my feline friends and their faithful followers! This is Omiti, your feline chronicler, signing off.

Meow for Now!
 

Ills We Are Heir To

There are few things that annoy our species more than being taunted. All you precocious kittens, take heed: do not feel shy about showing awareness, displeasure, even rage if ever even a shadow of a taunt ventures in your presence. Yes, I can sense your eyes widening: you fear you might have missed taunts directed at you; never fear! Omiti is here! This post is designed to help you recognize and react to taunts and other kinds of unforgivable mockery.

First and foremost, never forget that we, felines, are the most worship-worthy of beings; as such, we inspire awe and fear in all lesser beings. Always keep your eyes at full blast, whiskers starched, standing at attention, perpendicular to the Earth and Sky, and sharp molars peeking out, to always threaten. If you are mid-nap, program ears and tail to twitch enough to keep the world around you on its toes. All waking hours should be devoted to maximizing the glare, for much mockery abounds.

A particularly cruel kind of mockery comes from our High Priests, the humans, with whom we deign to co-habit, thinking to spread our benevolent presence to enrich their lives. The mistaken human calls this "The Play." This is a rather involved ritual, which is often mistaken, especially by innocent, affectionate kittens. The human beckons us, and then we see, not our pet human but a prey, yet not exactly smelling like any prey; our scientific nature compels us to investigate this new species, and we all know that that first step for this investigation is capture of subject, which proves most elusive. Sometimes, another kind of prey squeaks and rolls around, making a strange sound which needs to be curbed and conquered. Again, pursuit becomes imperative; however, capture of this proves too easy, which should make you wary of the circumstance.

Yes, this is a taunt. This ritual does not end in prey being sacrificed to us. Not at all. Once we capture this being, it is snatched away by a supernatural force and we are left bereft, and as a peace offering, a bowl of our usual fare is proffered. Partake of no more than a couple of mouthfuls, just enough to keep your strength up. You will undoubtedly become more aware of chortles and giggles, a sure sign that you've been had. Never forget this. I always trail an undertone of a growl as I stalk away from the proffered appeasement.

However, this is not the only mockery. Being the top of the food chain implies that we are the object of envy and resentment, and we each have our own individual tormentors. For instance, there is a squirrel who lives somewhere in the tree in my territory (meticulous cognisance of said tree has not yet revealed her hidey-hole; investigation ongoing), who resents me and has a ready litany of unkind comments phrased in most unimaginably obscene language, such that would make wharf cats spit and hiss in shock. This squirrel needs no provoking; she just has to see me being adored by the Sun, and she begins.

I am sure you have some being of similarly low character tormenting your peace. There is a process to handling this. First, I let the squirrel have her say; I even pretend to pay heed, and add just the correct hue of condescension to the tilt of my ear. My condescension, of course, is lost on her and she continues, adding annoying bobbing of her head and twitching of her tail as punctuation. At this point, I stop listening and pointedly look away, sometimes even showing her my back, in case she is feeling particularly stupid or dense for hints about how pointless I find her barrage. Of course, being naturally dim (so dim that you precocious kittens cannot imagine), she just gets louder. At this juncture, it is important to show who is who. I find it most effective when I can catch her eye and glare her down so she scurries away after a couple of feeble attempts. Sometimes, however, more drastic steps are needed. You can stretch yourself tall and show your scimitar claws, growl and yawn simultaneously to exhibit those cruel teeth, or threaten to slap, to smash the irritation out of existence.

This is not to say that there are no more than a couple of beings that mock us thus; there are, of course, many more. There is the woodpecker, for instance, who has been pointlessly knocking on the same spot for the past few days; there are those jackdaws that blatantly laugh hideously and hysterically for no apparent reason, and fly away after flinging around a few rude insults; I could go on. But you get the point.

After a hundred thousand lifetimes, a being is granted the lofty status of being feline. This state of being is attendant to many vexations, which must be borne with aplomb and addressed with dignity and proper ritual. I am unable to address each of these distressing indignation here. I encourage you to post your own tribulations, and may hap, we can provide validation and comfort to each other as we share the glories and grievances of being feline.





 

The Nap

 This is Omiti, your cat reporter, with a big MEOW to my faithful feline readers! Today, our topic concerns one of the pivotal experiences of being feline, the Nap. All our activities culminate in this, and it forms the very nexus of our day.

Now a lot of my readers cohabit with different species, who fail to grasp the importance of a nap, and are likely to treat it with unforgivable nonchalance. This post goes out to you, to ensure that you do not forget: there is nothing nonchalant about the nap. The nap must be treated with utmost solemnity. But there are several factors to be addressed before you settle down and engage in it.

Have you felt unexpected somnolence creep up on your eyelids? Say, you are directing a silent monologue at your human, and mid-monologue, have you been horrified, surprised by a sudden yawn? The nap, if ignored or unaddressed, can jump on you and defeat you, in just such a manner. It must be tamed so it does your bidding, very much like the tamed opposable thumbs of your human pet. It is most, most undignified to nod off without meaning to; after all, you have a world to manage! Preparation for this most holy of activities can be split up into three parts, the purification, the warming, and the blinking.

The first thing to do is to include a deliberation in the nap: if you invite the nap, give it its due, then I assure you, it will not interrupt your monologues, stalking, any of your other duties. After all, this is not the only dimension you inhabit and rule, and the nap, as you very well know, is the only safe portal to other dimensions, which also need your presence to be managed.

Now, let us get started. First, let us check ourselves: is there any hollowness anywhere in our being? An able governor tolerates no hollowness. To be on the safe side, I suggest you visit your nibbling space, in case the nap takes longer. Now that you have filled your being with good warmth, you will need to destroy circumstantial evidence that may have attached itself to your noble being: begin a careful wiping down, starting from the top tip of your left ear, ending with your right fore paw. This process is holy to our species (this for those precocious kittens perusing this for their betterment); this is our purification ritual that also has the additional benefit of increasing concentration, especially during the nap.

Now that the purification is achieved, search out a space where some golden warmth has spilled, preferably on a soft, pliable, yet firm perch. Your human pet might call this "sunning," but actually, this is the second step of the ritual that leads to the nap. We felines call it warming; you might have noticed a few human pets who sometimes light little fire for a variety of  pointless reasons. We felines do not need to light little fires, since we have knowledge of the large fire in the sky that pays homage to us in form of spilling much golden warmth which we may avail ourselves of, anywhere we notice it. Now, you restless kittens, this is not to say that any time you notice a patch of sunlight, you must plop yourself down for some shuteye. Not at all! You must first test this warmth. You want to sketch the outlines of the warm space by circumbulating it, sketching increasingly smaller circles until you end up in the exact mid point. Test this mid point from all cardinal directions, and as you do, test the level of warmth on your head, back, and down the tail.

The third part of this important ritual culminates in long blinks. First, you must arrange yourself on the warm space to maximize the warmth on top of your head and down your back. If you move your head a little south, and just a little east, this will ensure the sunlight settling on your head spread it perfectly down the back, ensuring comfort of the body while the spirit is out. Once the perfect arrangement is achieved, you must squint to look within. Check all systems. Now set the automatons: the flick of the tail every 3 minutes, the alternate ear twitch every 87 seconds, and a millimeter of claw extension every 7 seconds. Do not forget to switch on the shiver that runs down your back every 3 & 1/2 minutes.

Now, cloak your eyes with a film that fools all who look at you into believing that they are being watched, but that protect you from actual sight. Now help the outside world get acclimatized to your absence with incremental blinks, blinks that have increasingly longer intervals in between. Soon, the body will be held in suspended stasis, but the beings around you will be kept at bay with the automatons you will have in progress.

Begin using your blinks well; don't waste this delicate time, the threshold of the actual nap. Establish your visage with increasingly more substance in the alternate dimension, which has beckoned your presence through the nap. You will know that you have achieved full nap status when your ear tops droop in one world as they straighten tall and proud in the other world.

If your human pet were to see you during the nap, you should retain your regal bearing and look like a being not to be taken lightly, whose responsibilities do not end even as you sleep. You will look as though you are concentrating (which you are), and that napping is serious, hard work (which it is).

After all, we felines know that there is no real rest for superior beings on whom the very balance of the cosmos rests. We have many worlds to manage and I urge you to take as many naps as you can to ensure perfect balance of all worlds.
 

Watching Even-Fall

Hello Fellow Felines,

This is Omiti, your Window Watcher reporting in. Today, I wish to address the singular art of watching the evening fall. I know that this watching forms the central part of your routine, so I feel that it is proper that I begin my blog with proper homage to this important activity.

First, let me begin by conceding that watching the evening fall is an activity we begin before we are conscious of ourselves, before we realise the full potential of our glorious beings. It is something we do before we know that we do it, even as kittens; however, it takes a mature feline to fully appreciate the finesse required for this art.

So let us prepare to watch. For this, it is essential to find a window frame, rooftop, a sturdy branch, or (my favorite) a fence to perch on. Sharing the watching space is taboo to our kind; only one cat may occupy a single frame, a rooftop square, branch, or a fence post. Make sure that your spot affords an adequate view, which includes the sky, the middle, and the floor or the ground. The middle, of course, is the most essential part, since you will fix your eyes on it through most of the process. So you might want to ensure that there is enough free space, with no leaves, branches, walls, poles, or other obstructions; this will help you see all the varying grays that will shift with the changing lights. At the same time, you do not want ONLY blank space, as this might do nothing more than induce heavy somnolence, which will not serve.

Once you find the perfect space, I strongly suggest that you claim it. The best spaces are the ones claimed by someone else (hence vouching for their quality), marked with a piece of paper, an empty plastic bag, or failing that, a cushion (though papers and plastic bags are highly desired). If another being occupies it, that being must be evacuated. There are a few effective ways of achieving this. If it is a canine, it can be evacuated with a few startling yowls, threats, and hisses. If it is human, another methodology must be adapted, as threats and yowls will have no desirable effect and might even cause an unwelcome burst of cold moistness (which must be avoided at all costs). To determine the correct methodology, sniff the spot from all angles; in extreme circumstances, when the kind of the occupant cannot be conclusively determined, slight tasting is allowed. If the occupant is human, you must lie down and spread yourself most vastly. A certain amount of clucking is to be expected. Just stand your ground (puns intended for smarter felines) and the space shall be yours.

Now sit up on your haunches, for better observation.  Flex ears and yawn deeply to drawn in all the oxygen in approximately 4 feet radius around you (this might take a couple of yawns, for all you precocious kittens reading this). This will preclude the need for breathing while watching, a most distracting thing. Send a slight tremor down your being, to check all systems and free the tail (programming the tail for an swish every half minute might be required to warn away all who venture near).

Once the posture is assumed, fix your gaze on the lightest shade of gray in front of you, and watch it dance without  moving your pupils. This will enable you to watch the evening fall from the sky and the curious effects caused by this on the neighboring houses, rodents, humans, grass blades, bugs, and the rest of lesser beings inhabiting the lower rungs of the evolutionary ladder. Fixing an unwavering gaze will convey your utter indifference to their petty existence, at the same time, establish your unarguable superiority over them.

Maintain this posture until the divine music of an opening can summons.

Next time, then, fellow felines, with more on the life of an urbane sophisticate!