The World Is Shrinking...

The world is getting smaller.

When I first came to live with my human, everything in her house was so big... The bed stretched out like an endless plain where fearsome beasts lay in wait. The bookcases towered above me like giant trees. Running around the house was like exploring a vast jungle, full of unknown dangers. And the humans themselves... well, they were so tall... It was enough to make even a brave feline such as myself feel quite nervous, not to mention tiny .


Fortunately I am a fearless Monster, so it did not take me long to start exploring every nook and cranny of the house. Once I had familiarized myself with it, I became quite comfortable with its size. I even began to take for granted that everything in the world was so much bigger than I was.

But as time went by, things started to change around me. I think I was about a year old when I noticed that the world was shrinking.

My favourite hiding place used to be inside the lampshade on my human's desk. I found it soon after I came to live with her, while exploring my new domain. On top of her desk there was a tall lamp with a white lampshade. One day I decided to investigate it. I jumped up onto the stack of CD holders next to the lamp and I looked inside the lampshade. And I discovered a most marvelous thing! With my head inside the lampshade, when I looked around, I was completely surrounded by white fabric. I couldn't see the room anymore! Which meant, of course, that no one could see me, either! How wonderful! What a great hiding place!

After discovering this perfect hidey-hole, I started using it almost every day. I would climb up onto the CD holders, put my head inside the lampshade, and disappear. I could hear my human looking for me, talking to herself: "I wonder where the little monster is... I don't see him anywhere. Here's my desk, here's my lamp, but where is he?" I would hide there under the lampshade, and then, when she least expected it, I would jump out of hiding, run up to her, swat her ankle with my front paw and then run off, with her in hot pursuit.

Then suddenly one evening, I discovered that the CD holders had gotten too small! I tried jumping onto them as usual, but they had shrunk and I couldn't keep my balance on top of them. I dug in my claws trying to hold on, but they toppled right under my paws with a loud clatter, dumping me to the floor and scattering CDs all over (and under) the desk! How upsetting! How undignified! My human seemed to think so too, because she jumped up and ran to the desk, picking up CDs and holders and muttering angrily under her breath, obviously scolding the CD holders for making me fall. She was so mad at the CD holders that she exiled them to the top shelf of a bookcase, where they wouldn't be able to dump me to the floor again.

I was upset that I had lost my hiding place. The lampshade was too high for me to reach without standing on the CD holders. But I discovered that not only had the CD holders shrunk, but the lamp had gotten shorter as well. I was able to reach the lampshade easily, just by standing next to the lamp. How fortunate! I could still use the lampshade to play "hide and pounce" with my human.

Everything was fine for a few more months, until one day I found that the lampshade had shrunk, too! I could not hide my entire head inside anymore! When I stuck my head under the lampshade, I could still see my human! So she would be able to see me, too! I could no longer disappear and attack her when she least expected it. My wonderful hiding place was gone.

It was after this loss that I started to look around me more carefully, and I began to notice that other parts of the house were shrinking too.

My human's entire desk had gotten smaller. I used to be able to take nice long naps there, using her notebooks as a pillow... Then the desk shrank, and so did the notebooks. There wasn't enough room for me to stretch out anymore. My back legs kept falling over the edge and pressing random keys on my human's keyboard, which she didn't seem to like. My tail kept hitting the buttons of her computer mouse (not a real mouse, alas!), which she said was opening windows. I'm not sure what she meant by that - there is only one window in my human's bedroom, and even though she complained that my tail had opened it, I could clearly see that it was still closed...

Next was my carrier. It shrank seemingly overnight. My human tried to put me in it one day, and she couldn't zip up the top. And I wasn't even trying to stop her from closing it! I thought that this at least was one instance where the shrinking of the world had worked to my advantage. If I couldn't fit inside the carrier, she couldn't take me out of the house, which meant no more visits to the evil vet! It was almost worth it to lose my hiding place if I would never again fall into TED's clutches. Unfortunately, instead of leaving well enough alone, my human just went out and got me a new carrier. Extra Large size.

Everything went downhill from there.

I could still fit into my favourite chair... mostly... but only if I left my tail hanging down.










The TV became so small that I could barely keep my balance when standing on it.















The dresser under the window in my human's bedroom shrank to half its original length.














And when had the top of my cat tree become so cramped? Where was I supposed to put my back paws? Not to mention my tail?

Clearly something had to be done, before all my sleeping places and hidey-holes shrank into nothingness. So I took steps. I had heard my human talking about "mind over matter", so I decided to apply this to the shrinking world problem. For hours, I sat on top of my cat tree with my eyes closed, picturing the objects in the room, willing them to stop shrinking. At first, nothing happened. Things kept on getting smaller. But I persevered. And eventually, I started to notice results. At first I just managed to stop the world from getting even smaller. But after 2-3 years of constant effort, I noticed that my willpower had actually reversed some of the shrinking. Not by much, alas. I still can't hide under the lampshade. But I can get into smaller places again - just barely.
My human, of course, is oblivious. She thinks that I can fit into my old carrier again because she put me on a diet. She has no idea that I am keeping the entire world from shrinking, by willpower alone. This requires a lot of energy, which is why I am always hungry and asking her for more food. But does she listen? No, of course not! Humans!

The Silver Lining

After I posted my tale of woe about the overly strict diet my human subjected me to, I decided that, in all fairness, I should also tell you about the good things that came out of that ordeal.


I must admit that, while staring at my empty food tray for hours at a time was a very traumatic experience, it was all worth it in the end. I felt very good after losing the extra weight. My new lightness was exhilarating, and it made me much more active and energetic. I am not sure that my human had completely anticipated the effect my newfound energy would have on the house, though...















My appearance also improved a lot. I am still fluffy, of course, but I am no longer fluffy.


There are other benefits as well:


While washing myself, I can once again reach every part of my body.







I can fit into tiny spaces, and lounge on (mostly empty) bookshelves.
















I can hide among shopping bags, or inside paper bags.















I can hide inside other bags as well... or under other bags...

















I can fit inside big boxes ...













...and inside small boxes too...













...and as for those really tiny boxes, I can... well, OK, I can't fit into those. What do you think I am, a 2-week old kitten?





So, as you can see, dieting is not all bad. After losing weight you feel more adventurous, you cause more trouble, and you are able to squeeze into many new hiding places, which is very useful when your human comes home and sees what new mischief you've been up to in her absence.

On the Importance of Food

Let me tell you my life's motto: eat, eat, and eat again, for tomorrow you may find yourself on a diet. It is a hard-earned lesson that life has taught me through much suffering and deprivation.

When I was a kitten, I didn't have a care in the world. I played with my toys all day long, I galloped around the house, I woke my human several times during the night so that she would pet me while I snacked on my bowl of dry food. My food bowl was never empty. Life was good.

Before I knew it, a year had passed, and it was time for the annual TED visit. For those of you kitties out there who've been lucky enough never to meet this sinister individual, TED stands for The Evil Doctor. It's a human who will manhandle you, poke you with needles, force open your mouth to look at your teeth, and will generally inflict various indignities upon your person. And all with the full consent and cooperation of your own human!

As I was saying, my human took me to my annual TED visit. At that time I was only a little over a year old. A teenager, with a normal teenager's energy and appetite. Or so my human and I thought. We soon found out we were mistaken. TED put me on the scale and exclaimed: "He weighs 7.75 kg!" (That's about 17 pounds to you North American kitties.) She was quite upset and told my human that my ideal weight was 6 kg (about 13 pounds). She ordered my human to put me on a diet. I didn't know what the word "diet" meant, but I did not like the sound of it. It gave me a kind of hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I was soon to discover how right I was to fear the evil word. After that fateful TED visit, on the recommendation of the evil vet, my human started depriving me of food!!! She would only give me 1/3 cup of dry food per meal. At 3 meals a day, that meant I had to live on one measly cup of food per day! That wasn't enough to even fill my food bowl! How can a growing boycat live on that, I ask you?

And it's not like I was that big. True, when I walked my tummy would sway from side to side, and when I lay down I looked like a big, fuzzy, kitty-shaped inflatable beach toy... And it was getting a bit difficult for me reach some parts of my fur while I was washing myself... But I wasn't fat! I was just big-boned and... fluffy. Yes, that's the word! I was fluffy! It was just my long fur which was making me look bigger! Honest! And the vet's scale was probably broken, anyway! Broken, I tell you!

I don't need a diet! Give me more food! Food! Food! Food!

Alas, my human did not listen to my numerous logical arguments in favour of keeping my bowl constantly full. She did not crumble at my piteous pleas for more food. Even when I howled loudly in her ear just as she was drifting off to sleep, or when I led her to my sadly empty food bowl and looked at her with pleading eyes, she did not relent.

Goodbye, overflowing bowl of kibble! Goodbye, midnight snacks of canned Iams! Goodbye, tasty bits of human food sneaked under the dinner table! I hardly knew ye...

I will spare you the many horrible details of my dieting ordeal. Suffice it to say that, if indeed suffering builds character, I must be the cat with the finest character in the history of the feline race. It was not all bad, however. Fortunately for me, there were other people living in the house besides my unrelenting human. Some of them were much more tenderhearted, and could be prevailed upon to provide me with snacks behind my human's back. Through much trial and error, I developed several fool-proof methods for supplementing my diet, which served me so well that it took me over 3 years to lose enough weight to satisfy TED. (I will share with you my proven strategies for getting food from unwilling humans in my next posting.)

I know that a lot of us cats like to pretend that we are picky eaters. It is a way to keep humans on their toes, to prevent them from taking us for granted. It is a way to show our superiority over the d-things (d*gs), who will eat anything and everything. That is all well and good. But my advice to you, cats and kittens, is this: eat! Eat as much as you can, as often as you can. Eat until you're so full you can barely move. Eat until you fall asleep with your face in the food bowl.

You never know when your human might decide to put you on a diet, whether you think you need it or not.

Introducing the Little Monster

Today is my sixth birthday. I have decided to mark the occasion by starting my own blog. After living a life of leisure and enjoyment for six long years, I believe that it is time I started to give something back. I hope that cats and kittens everywhere will benefit from my musings on life and the art of managing your humans.

Let me introduce myself. I am a tuxedo boy-kitty, and my name is Ashley. My human named me after a character in Gone With the Wind. It has taken me a few years, but I have finally forgiven her for this. Yes, it has caused me repeated embarrassment to be referred to as "she" by every human who hears my name for the first time. But, as I have grown older and wiser, I have come to realize that unlike us cats, humans make mistakes. As the superior species, we have to show understanding and tolerance towards the more disadvantaged humans. So I have forgiven my human for saddling me with a girl's name.

Of course, I have always refused to answer to the name of Ashley. Instead, I have trained my human to call me by other names, more suitable to my feline dignity. Mostly I answer to Kotyo, which means "boy kitty" in my human's native language. I am also referred to as Cujo or Beastie, as well as "the Little Monster". This last name is closest to how I see myself, so this is how I will sign my blog posts. Although even with this name, my human showed her cluelessness. Little Monster? Little? I ask you, do I look little to you?

Sigh... Humans! No matter how well you train them, they always manage to get things wrong.

As I said before, today is my birthday. In celebration of the event, my human is serving me a gourmet dinner. In addition to my usual serving of duck, I get a nice tasty fish, and for dessert, my absolute favourite: cucumber peels. My human tells me that in her experience, I am unique in my love of the crunchy, juicy, wonderfully refreshing green strips of cucumber peel. Of course, she also says that my obsession with cucumber peels shows that I must have been a rabbit in a previous life... And then she wonders why I sometimes scratch or bite her "for no apparent reason". As I said before - humans! They always put their foot in their mouth, but what would we cats do without them? Someone has to be there to use the can opener and to clean the litter box...

Well, that's enough of an introduction for now. I smell fish... time for my birthday dinner!