Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

"Most of all, we Americans need to keep a leash on our own radicals. They are not working in our interests any more than Bin Laden is working in the interests of ordinary Muslims. The extremists on both sides serve each other, not the people they claim to represent." -- "Pericles", "Terrorist Strategy 101: a quiz", 2004-11-09

This was going to be two paragraphs, but I guess I had more cat-cuteness stored up than I'd realized when I started.

The outermost layer on the bed in the green bedroom is not the very pretty comforter my mother gave me (as part of a sheets + pillowcases + ruffle + shams set), but a nondescript white blanket with a slightly rough texture, because that seems easier to clean the cat fur off of, and I don't care if Perrine claws it once in a while. Today I decided it was time to wash it, and noticed that after a pass through the washing machine the fur was still stuck to it, but had clumped a lot more so that it was easy to pluck off.

I was all set to title this entry "felted cat" (even though the fluff didn't quite make it all the way to being felt), but then I realized that a fair number of my own hairs (mostly whiskers, I think) are mixed in as well. So it's a feline-human blended fabric.

And no, I am not going to save it up to try to make something out of it; I just observed it with a mixture of curiosity, amusement, and "ew", and threw it away. Let's see what the dryer does to whatever bits I missed.

A little earlier Perrine was sitting on my lap and I had a hand tucked against her belly to warm my fingers (cold weather has finally come back to Baltimore). She's usually a bit protective of her belly (like many other cats), or at least gives me dirty looks, but once in a while she's happy to be stroked there. This time she scowled at me for taking my hand away to type. She's in a very "touch me!" mood this afternoon.

But when I got up to move the car, she stopped me on the stairs to play "swat" through the railing, and I screwed up and caught a claw on the palm of my hand. Not enough to draw blood -- nor even enough to leave a little white mark! -- but it's still an itchy place for an allergic person to get poked. (My lungs seem to be coping okay with Perrine, but my skin still reacts when I get scratched by her. Itchy itchy itchy.)

Saturday as I was getting ready to leave to play a gig, Perrine was very enthusastically trying to lure me into playing with her instead of leaving. (I think she does that on purpose, since it often starts as I'm putting clothes on after a shower.) She did something new: instead of just giving me "chase me" or "I'm stalking you" body language, or trying to lead me someplace to play "swat", she launched herself across the room at me! Not the darting out from under something to swat my ankle, like she does in the bathroom, but a full-on hunting leap. The only way I could tell she was playing is that she missed (and given the angle and distance, the only way she could've missed was intentionally). It was impressive, but I'm glad she didn't do that to my somewhat-intimidated-by-cats guest last week. It also didn't work. I apologized for not having time to play and continued to get ready for the gig.

But I made it up to her by chasing her around the house for a little while yesterday. I've noticed that it makes no difference whether I coo, "come here, sweetie," or roar, "I Am The Great Cat-Eating Giant" -- if she wants to be petted she comes toward me and does that sea-serpent move, and if she wants to be chased she gives the "chase me" sign and runs away. But Perrine is hardly unique in this, of course. 'Tis but one of the common interpretations of The Way Of The Cat.

This morning there were plenty of birds outside the bedroom window to keep her entertained as I gradually woke up. I did not reach the camera in time to catch her halfway up the window though. (I had one on the bed, loaded and ready, for just such a moment.).

In unrelated news, I'll be unreachable by phone for a bit. (Ran out of prepaid airtime.) But Verizon has been very good about sending me plenty of "You missed a call or a text message because you're broke, now go spend money" text messages. (Why was the phone turned on? Because the alarm on it is louder than the one on my PDA, and unlike my previous phone, this one does not function as an alarm clock when it's switched off. But the next reminder is set for Friday morning, so I can go ahead and shut it up for now.)

I received some very useful donations from friends in the past few weeks, which have allowed me to keep the electricity, gas, modem landline, and auto insurance going, and bought me some groceries, all of which seemed rather more urgent than buying more airtime (especially since I thoought I'd make the last phone card stretch to the end of the month until I got a call from a Very Insistent friend who used up the end of it at a rather inopportune time *sigh*), and for which I am extremely grateful. Thanks, folks. As bad as things often look, I'd be in much worse shape without y'all. Thanks very, very much.

Under the desk that I'm using as a sort-of-credenza in the office, there's a large pile of plastic bags, bubble wrap, and foam.

This afternoon, that pile emits rustling noises and jiggles slightly every once in a while. A silver-tabby tail protruded from it briefly, but now that's vanished.

It's probably going to make a spectacular mess when she jumps out again, but I'm too overcome with Teh Cuteness to worry about that yet.

ETA: OMG, the right side of the pile just grew a pair of eyes with more plastic bags on top! Oh, the cuteness, the cuteness, it slays me! Aiiieeee! Whoops, gone again.