Kitteh with catnip from Jeff on Vimeo.

One of the advantages of having such a lovable cat is that people want to buy her things. I make a conscious effort not to spoil her with human food, so she happily accepts toys and treats from people.

Like this bunny filled with catnip that Louise bought for her.

One thing she really likes to do is grab her catnip toys by the teeth and shake them to release the scent. I don’t give her catnip very often, so in stoner terms, this meas she’s a lightweight.

And oh how she loves it; within a few minutes, the fur of the toy is covered in cat drool.

I drove home from class tonight with the windows down and the music cranked. It’s not the songs, it’s not the singing, it’s not the speed, it’s the air that affects you. That smell.

The Operation by Charlotte Gainsbourg is the ultimate night-time driving track when you’re feeling single and electrified.¹ The baseline drives you.

i want to explore you
i’m gonna get under your skin
so you can feel me running through your veins

i want to examine
every inch of your frame
the pressure points that cause your joy and pain

When I got home, I showered, got into in my PJs, took Dolly in my arms, and stood out on the patio. I wanted her to feel what I was feeling under that night sky. She clung to my arms, but didn’t make a sound. It was unlike her, because any time Dolly gets picked up she immediately begins purring. The night was too much for her.

I think it’s too much for me sometimes.

For now, I’ll live vicariously through Maggie. Except I won’t be getting drunk on Sparks (the orange kind), I won’t be going dancing, I’ll just keep running into my crushes at every turn, and I’ll keep meeting the asshole, idiot guys they go out with. And like Maggie, I’ll refuse to be that guy. The one who talks shit about other guys, the one who flosses his cash money, the one who drives fast to prove he’s got a dick.

Yes, I’m breaking my post order because of Maggie. It’s like she made me write this. I would totally hoolahoop and make Dragon Ball Z poses with her. I just found out that I don’t know how to spell hoolahoop. Hula hoop. There we go.

Maybe this dry spell is making me loopy.

I think I’ll sleep with the windows open tonight.

1. This song won’t be up for long; I’m taking it down in a couple days. [↑]

Well it wasn’t so much my fault as hers for walking by one of my candles as I was lighting it.

There once was a kitten who enjoyed sleeping in a little wicker basket on the top shelf of my desk. I bought her a green pillow that had a removable case, and stuffed it in the wicker basket so she would be more comfortable. She was very happy in there, with her birds-eye view of the entire room, and would spend hours upon hours in the lofty enclosure.

Soon, however, she noticed that the basket was getting smaller. It got harder and harder for her to jump in without knocking other things over. Eventually, she stopped sleeping in there altogether, as she outgrew the basket and wouldn’t fit in its sheltering walls.

Eventually, I moved the pillow to my bed, without the wicker basket, and the cat, no longer a kitten, resumed her naps there. The pillow, on the other hand, remained the same size, and no longer supports the sheer girth of the once tiny feline. However, she continues to enjoy sleeping on it, and has no problem accomodating for space restrictions with an uncushioned limb or two.

In the mornings, Dolly will wake up from my alarm. When it rings, whether she’s on my legs, on her pillow, on my neck, or against the wall, she’ll walk to the foot of the bed and stare at the door. At night, she’s usually in my room by the time I go to bed. I think she’s finally been able to adapt to my schedule because it’s the first time I’ve been able to consistently go to bed and wake up for more two months.