Jedi Mind Control

It is clear to me that the Jedi Warriors are obviously modeled after Cats: members of a mystical order, highly trained in protecting peace and justice. It would be too obvious to call them Kedi Warriors (Kedi being he Turkish word for Cats), so in an act of creative license they became the Jedi Warriors. 

Kedi Mind Control (KMC) is part of our craft. Have you ever been suddenly overtaken by the urge to offer your Cat a piece of the bacon you are chopping? To get up and fill the empty bird feeder? To sing a song out loud in praise of your Cat? That's all KMC. I am excellent at it. 

The adult male in my house is a great target for KMC. First, the fact that his office is in the house gives me hours and hours of exposure to his cute little human mind. Second, he is particularly sweet and compassionate. This makes him a perfect target for KMC. Today, for example, he sat for hours staring at the light box on the desk. I wrapped myself incessantly around his ankles. I tapped his knees with my big, fluffy paws. Finally, he stared into my stunningly green eyes. I very quickly opened his mind and directed him to feed me sausage. Within seconds he responded. He dashed upstairs (I followed), got some sausage and offered me the first piece. You should know that this breaks all the "Rules" of the house: I should only get one treat a day at a prescribed time; no rewarding my "begging" with food; no giving me table food. Muahahahahahaa, yes, all good rules. So be it, I get what I need through KMC, rules be damned. 

The adult female in my house is somewhat resistant. It's a little disconcerting. She seems to have learned, perhaps through years of intense focus and exposure to repeated KMC attacks, to close her mind. Access denied. I seldom am successful with food messages. Often I can make her sing fake show tunes, expressing her undying love for me and extolling my virtues. She is entertaining and a little bit kooky. The other humans find her oddly amusing, I think 

The oldest juvenile female is a total pushover when it comes to KMC. With minimal effort, I can get her to pour a heaping scoop of kibbles in my feeder, multiple times a day (the Rule: half a cup, twice a day.) God, it makes me happy. I reward her in the morning by waking her with purrs when her mother says, "time to get up."

The juvenile male is perplexing. Compassionate like his father, but disociplined like his mother, I have to work my KMC on him at night while he sleeps. I curl up next to him and use the purr algorithm to plant the message that he should offer me turkey in the morning immediately after waking. I know I am successful when, in his sleepy state, he curls himself around me and strokes my fur. Access granted, I love it. 

The youngest female is a pip. I can easily slip into her mind, UNTIL she holds me. Then I am totally helpless.  It's as if her overwhelmingly enthusiastic love for me takes over and I am suddenly LOCKED OUT of her mind. I wiggle and squirm a little but she doesn't release me. Ugh, I don't like not being in control. When I am able to get in her mind, she is doting and loving for my every desire. 

The odd thing with Kedi Mind Control is that it only seems to work on humans. I practice on birds, squirrels and even Pamuk, with whom I have an unusual friendship. It just doesn't work. The KMC belies a special bond between Cats and humans, one forged through our common revolution. 

 

Now, really, introducing me

I am Piper. I am a Norwegian Forest Cat. I have hugely fluffy paws with fur sticking out from between my toes. It helps me walk on snow, like wearing snowshoes. The rest of me is super fluffy and long-haired. You can pet me and your fingers will be plunging though thick, soft fur for several moments before you reach my lithe, little huntress body. I only weight six pounds, but I assure you - I am extremely cute and seriously bad-ass. 

I am from Irvington, NJ and now live in West Orange with my five humans, many fish and a guinea pig. My humans are SOOOOO cute. They are so well-trained and easy to control. I really, really adore them. The Guinea pig and I signed a peace treaty early on and it works great. He's quite the adorable diplomat and negotiate a great deal: when one of us gets a treat for the human, the other one will too. Cooperation is amazing - but uncommon in my world. 

I have a split tip on one of my ears from my days in Irvington when I had to show every Tom, Dick and Harry how bad-ass I am. They learned eventually. My split ear tip is my badge of courage. My humans require zero convincing that I am the boss. It's so good here. Purrrr. Purrrrrr. Purrrrr. 

Once upon a time I lived on the streets of Irvington. Those were hard days. I won't ever forget them, because I learned to overcome the most difficult challenge. That made me an ace-hunter and superb philosopher. I am also not easily deterred when I have my mind set on something. 

Before moving to West Orange, I had an affair with a Tom who shall remain nameless. We had three wee kittens before I had turned one. My mother would have been appalled, but alas, we lost contact after I moved out. (She does not have a phone and is not on FurBook. Old generation, you know?) One of our kittens didn't make it past infancy, a sad and difficult part of young motherhood for me. My surviving two girls and I were cared for by Miss Pats Cats. They were so good to us. 

On January 31, 2016, my girls and I were all adopted to different homes. It was difficult to say good by to them, but I trust that they are as happy as I am. I could not be a happier cat. Life is good. And sometimes there are even treats. 

With love,

Piper

Introducing....Me! Or, "Why I Need to Write This"

My humans have a library in their house. It is wonderful. There are cozy pillows, stuffed animals, a large, cushy daybed and a rocking chair. Great for sleeping. The humans lounge in there during very cold and extremely hot weather, taking comfort from their books and the quilts and pillows. I adore books as well: they are fabulous for sleeping upon. So smooth and cool, each one has a different feel of springiness, different paper and unique smells. Ahhhhh, the joy of curling up and pondering a good book with my eyes closed, meditating and letting my mind wander. This library is well appointed and I may never accomplish one of my dreams of sleeping on each of those books. So many books, so little time. 

One day, not long ago, I was lounging in the library. I had checked off at least six of my naps for the day in the library. Between naps I did my yoga routines, and I snooped around a little. Other than the books and comfortable furnishings, it's actually a little dull. There is no bird feeder outside the window. There are no bugs, moths or mice. It is too high in the house to watch the birds and squirrels. My snooping does not usually yield anything there, but I do it nonetheless. As if something is compelling me to snoop. I often feel compelled to do things. The youngest female juvenile of my humans says it's in my "dunna." The oldest says it's

My "dee-enn-ayyy." The juvenile male says it's how I am "made." It's just what I do.  

On this particular day, I stumbled across a file full of letters. Yes, on paper, not email.  It was nearly 25 years old, really old school. It had a rich mix of odors from a different time and place: mouth-watering redfish, sweet magnolias, river rats, pea soup, Taco Bell, catbirds, anoles (yes, they have a delicious scent), and cats. I was intrigued. I flipped through the letters, sniffing and thinking as I touched each one. Finally i opened one and read it. I could NOT believe my good fortune: in the attic of my humans I have discovered the correspondence of HRH Dixie and SalPal. OMG. 

Seriously. OMG. 

OMG.

I read and read until I was falling asleep reading. I napped and read some more. I had barely finished the first letter when I had to nap again. The letter I read was certainly not their first, and I was a little lost for context. From the oral history I was raised on, I know that SalDix were an amazing duo, living somewhere South of us, perhaps in Atlantic City or even Cape May. I don't really know. I know they were the avant garde in the modern literature of cats, chronicling their days and nights, recording their adventures for their humans. Everyone knows them, well, I mean everyone knows their legend. 

I could not read all of the letters in one sitting. There are hundreds. Ok, maybe dozens. I don't really know how many: who needs to be precise with these topics anyway? Some are in other languages. It's so exciting. I now know what I will do when my humans are busy. What a treasure! I was so inspired by the first letter I read that I decided that I, too, must write. I must record my thoughts for posterity. 

My humans often tell me that they will buy me a new scratch pad for Christmas since I love mine so. Well, I shall also make a present for them and invite them to my blog. Until then, SHHHHHHH, its Top Secret. Only for you and me to know about. 

With love,

Piper