What You Don't Know

I hear them say at the end of every day, "You know, she maybe moved from my bed to your window once or twice...she has such a hard life."

That's what you see. Do you have any idea what I see, and hear? Who would've thought there'd be so much otherwise concealed information for the taking out there, and we don't even live in an exciting neighborhood.

I noticed it one day shortly after I'd woken up. My girl finished getting ready, moving through her morning routine, and headed out the door to her job. I can expect her back home precisely by 4:45 each afternoon. Once that door latched, it was my turn to go to work.

It became what it is now after a bird told me that Sylvia Pardger from down the street was worried about the possibility of rain that day. I hate rain, though you might be interested to know that her concern was for the memory simulator machine she'd been working on in her garage the whole winter. It has to be outside in her backyard now to get a stronger signal. This machine she created is more like a time-machine, since you get to step into the memory and engage your senses, though no one sees you. Okay, so I was told not to use the term "time-machine"- because it’s for memories, right? Come on keep up, memories happen in the past, they can't exist in the future. But anyway, that was just yesterday!

Then there’re the little bandits who run rampant around the block, you know, the squirrels. At least the birds don’t taunt like they do, scampering up the yard, sometimes right up to a ground-level window. They’ll stand for a minute, jerk their tail a little, knowing that they have information I don’t, but I need. They’ll take a few leaps away from the window and share the details with a friend of theirs, but they don’t realize the powerful sense of hearing my kind has. Suckers!

I'll admit I have to give all my little minions some credit for what I can share. I like it indoors. I've tried spending time in "the great outdoors". I don't get the hub-bub, there're too many loud noises, and too much wind, too much action and too much to concentrate on. You can't concentrate on any one thing! Also, I have my reputation to keep up. I like to look my best and that means I don't like getting leaves and other junk on me. What's the point? I scoff at the weirdos who want to spend time out there whatever thing you are. But back to my aspirations and potential fame.

Imagine what else could be out there that the neighborhood gossips would like to hear! I even have decent grammar and punctuation knowledge because my girl is such a grammar police and I listen- okay, I’m actually not sure if that’s the proper way to use that phrase or not. My girl has always had an eye for that kind of stuff. Okay, honestly, I haven't been with her that long. But while we may not have spent much time together, I can see the evidence of the value she's placed on it. Get over it already, not everyone is, nor wants to be, as much of a stickler about it as you do!

I'll reel it back and get off my soapbox- yet another phrase I've heard used many times by her. I don't want to scare you away if anyone finds this entry before my first article is published. I'm totally sane, I promise, and I have valuable, credible information. The only parts that can get a little dicey I've learned are the bits and pieces from the ducks that occasionally visit from the nearby parks. I'm not sure if there's something in the water they're drinking or if a couple have had something else besides bread crumbs thrown at them. I can't believe everything they quack about. They were saying the other day they've heard rumors that those I've seen running around aren't actually running from anything, but running for fun. Who just runs to run? I can't print that! Like I said before, I have a reputation, and that reputation also consists of my integrity.

Now the turkeys on the other hand, they have the best information. Sure they strut their stuff most of the time and act like they're the top of the gaggle- maybe they are- but you can trust everything a turkey says. A couple looking around for a spot to nest were around our place not too long ago and told me that cars veer away from them when driving by because if you touch even one of their feathers that they fan out, they can turn you into a fly! I don't know about you but I don't want to get squashed. It wouldn't take much for me, I'm already small enough as it is.

All I need now is to find the power button on my girl’s computer for when she’s not home to type up the story. I've actually gotten pretty good in dexterity- I think that's the word. It all comes from the gentle pokes and nudges I give my girl when it's time- when I say it's time- to get up in the morning. The best part is she would never suspect any other reason for the pokes! She usually just gives me a smile- to which I respond with an innocent blank stare into her soul- and then gives me a gentle scratch in between my shoulder-blades, or carefully pushes me away for another 5 minutes. And each time that she moves the mouse on her screen and thinks I'm trying to catch it, I've actually been learning the combinations of finger-strokes needed to open a document and access her passwords for different websites! How dumb do you think I am? As you have noticed from my writing here and now, I'm actually quite simply observant. The one other thing is figuring out how I should sign the article. Do I sign it as “Your Feline Friend: Lily, the Cat”? No, too corny, too revealing.