Gergiev, academic cat

An advocate of my lovely cat told me the other night that Gergiev should receive an honorary doctorate if and when I manage to complete my PhD. Although I do not deny the contributions of my cat to my general well-being while suffering through the isolating academic venture of dissertating, I somehow do not think that this entitles her to a proper degree. Now should little Gergie begin to write chapters for me, I would undoubtedly reconsider . . . But now it is time for me to make a mocha and read some more Cooper before bed. Because somehow I suspect that my cat is not going to do my reading and writing for me.

Coming soon: cat as strawberry

Inspired by the book Why Paint Cats, I have decided to invest my summer stipend in having little Gergiev transformed into a work of art. I intend to have her painted as a strawberry in order to highlight the artificiality of plant/animal and food/feeder distinctions that plague our culture daily. It shall also reveal, with stunning clarity, that my cat's love of strawberries and strawberry-flavored confections is but an attempt on her behalf to express her feelings of connection with all of nature. Her cravings for strawberry yogurt are driven by an instinctual urge to become one with the symbolic strawberry that represents the natural world. It is time that the people of the world come to terms with the ridiculuous binaries and categorization that they use on a daily basis for mere convenience of communication. Such laziness is destroying the unity that can only be achieved through rigorous and enlightened thought--the sacred gift that academics offer to an often ungrateful and increasingly pragmatic world. I feel most honored that I may participate, in my small way, in this important artistic movement that promises to change the very foundation of our world.

Death comes to the arch-strawberry

Well, the lovely budding wild strawberries in the flowerbed outside my apartment were destroyed and removed today to make way for the more cultured petunias that shall soon take their place. My little cat shall have to procure strawberries elsewhere to make herself the strawberry yogurt that she so adores.

Brave Gergiev conquers new world . . . er, word

Ahhh . . . my little cat has coined a word: "unbeenknownest." Isn't that cute? Perhaps it is the feline equivalent of "unbeknownst." Or maybe it refers to the reflective or meditative state that she gets into sometimes that also seems to involve chewing upon the mouse cord. Or perhaps it refers to the intense, sporadic pouncing at the invisible, ghostly shadows that seem to torment her from time to time. But whatever its definition, it is brilliant and adorable. After all, how many words has YOUR cat discovered?

Poor little Gergiev, all alone . . .

Apparently, my little housecat Gergiev is lonely, pining for me to adopt a passel of kitties for her to amuse herself with. Unbeknownst to her, however, I have arranged for her to visit her feline cousin Domino in June while I am away at Daytona Beach. Hopefully, this will adequately satiate her loneliness. Until then, I shall endeavor to convince her that my life-size statue of Bastet, the Egyptian cat goddess, is indeed a very real cat.

Giant Rabbit Tale #1

Once upon a time, there was a little rabbit named Peterkin. Peterkin, being a clever little rabbit, liked to investigate new and exciting clover patches and so continually wandered further and further from his lovely briar patch home. One day, he stumbled across a most curious thing--a wild strawberry patch flourishing in the forest. Having never tasted a strawberry, Peterkin immediately plucked one to nibble upon. But just as Peterkin was enjoying his very first strawberry, a great shadow fell over him and he trembled in fear. Looking up, he found himself staring directly into the face of a giant rabbit, who bellowed, "Who dares to eat of the sacred strawberries of the Great Rabbit?" Peterkin was trembling too much to answer. "For this crime, I shall cast you into the great pit!" said the Great Rabbit as he reached his monstrous paw down to capture the small rabbit. But the paw of the Great Rabbit was so large that it took some time for him to move it and the swift young Peterkin took off running in terror. Eventually, he hopped all the way back to his lovely briar patch and vowed that he would forever be content with the delicate and tasty clover that flourished near his lovely home. As Peterkin aged, his tale of the Great Rabbit became known far and wide among the rabbit colony and served as a warning for little rabbits who longed to venture far away in search of the ever elusive better clover.

I must away

Once again, I must leave my beloved cat for a few days to visit her cousin Domino and said feline's human companions (who, it so happens, are also my parents). Hopefully when I return, she will not have trashed our lovely little apartment with souvenirs of wild partying and will no longer be prone to attacking my hair as though it were a toy. Perhaps if I write to her daily stories of giant rabbits, she shall not be tempted to run amuck in my absence.

Break on through to the other side . . .

So one day I return home and while attempting to maneuver the lock on the courtyard door with an armful of books, I hear the stately Gergiev meow at me. Startled, I remembered that I had left the window open and see her perched on the window ledge with her face pressed against the screen. For several days, Gergiev continues to so greet me upon my arrival. Then yesterday, I return home to find Gergiev perched on the outside portion of the window ledge. After collecting my escaped cat, I enter my apartment and discover, with horror, that my demure little cat has reduced my curtains to shreds and clawed her way through the screen . . . apparently for no better reason than to sit on the other side of the ledge. But perhaps this was all but a dream inspired by the Doors, and I shall return to my calm feline once again.

Just for the record: giant killer rabbits do *not* exist

There are no monster rabbits. Furthermore, rabbits are herbivores, not carnivores, so they do not kill anything . . . except maybe the occasional clover. I know that some of my lovely readers would like to believe in such fairy stories. For you, I recommend the tales of Bunnicula, the vampire bunny who emerges at midnight to drain the juice from celery stalks.

Real Jeni now only Jeni

You may have noticed that the fake Jeni has not posted in quite some time. You may also have noticed that the cat Gergiev responds to comments posted on my blog and not those posted by fake Jeni. Most suspicious.

Brave Gergiev permits invasion of lovely apartment

Despite owning a supposedly fearless cat, today I saw a bug run freely across my wall in her presence without penalty. Whatever am I to think of such a terrible violation of the nature of Cat? Her cousin Domino (the aforementioned tuxedo-colored feline) would never have allowed such a travesty. When Domino was but a kitten and I but a young college girl at home for summer break, I would fetch her from her bedroom at night to stalk and kill wayward spiders and other miscellaneous nightcrawlers who dared to violate the sanctity of our house. Much could the now-thoroughly-domesticed Gergiev learn from Domino the bug-hunter!

Chew on your own herbs!!

So my lovely cat does not appreciate the nice catnip plant I brought her, which, I might add, is the one plant I own that is truly flourishing. Instead I catch her chewing on my rosemary, the one plant that I really want to do well because I will actually use it. Sigh.

Felines of the World, Unite!

Before attempting advocacy, my feline companion, I'm afraid you must first raise awareness of the most abominable treatment that occurs daily to cats such as Lewis. Someone from the Fraternal Order of Police (or some organization to that effect) called me this morning soliciting a donation. I told him that I could not in good conscience donate any money to police officers who will not defend the unalienable right of cats to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And what was his response? He was completely confused. Had no idea what feline civil liberties were all about or why cats would need guaranteed access to trial by jury.

Everyone knows that dogs play poker, but how many people out there know that cats play pool? Exactly . . . this is the problem. So go forth, little Gergie, and educate the world about your wondrousness. Show those who would keep the Cat down the infinite talents of felines everywhere.