Invasion of the paper towel roll.

I was laying on a dining room chair the other day, minding my own business, when out of nowhere an empty paper towel roll attacked me! Before I was even aware of reacting, my killer feline instincts kicked in and I was at once in full battle mode. As fierce protector of the household, I couldn't allow this intruder any ground. It was a fight to the death. Only one of us could make it out alive, and it was my job to make sure that it was I who lived to fight another day....

Fan mail.

I am a modest cat. Well, maybe modest isn't the right word. What do you call it when you have an unerring sense of self importance unshaken by others' doubt of your awesomeness and you can't help but acknowledge that you are without a doubt this century's most valued treasure?

Well, modest or not, my rise to fame has been quite recent. Even a cat with such a healthy amount of self esteem and dignity as I may now and then be shocked and quite happily surprised to discover that my fan base is indeed present and full of adoration (any why shouldn't they be?). Just over the past week or so I have received two separate, non-commissioned pieces of literary homage to my humble self, and I present them here for you gaze upon. I hope that you will enjoy them as I have.

The first is from my dear friend, Kim:

"I'm in love with a kitty with eyes of blue,
He's got me fooled, this much is true.
He seems to be so sweet and kind,
Proof that my love for him is blind.
I don't even see all that he does wrong.
That's why I immortalize him in song.

Come play with me, Arthur, and I'll be your friend.
I bet you wish your song would never end.
You make us all so happy with the things you do.
I bet you can even do "cute" on cue!"

Quite marvelous, isn't it? Thank you, Kim.

The second is from my dear friend, Carolyn:

"AN ODE TO KING ARTHUR OF CANADA
There once was a kitty named Arthur;
A Canadian kitty with white fur;
He cleaned in the sun,
Taught his people to run,
And Fetch what he m-e-o-w-e-d his heart 'fer!!!"

Lovely, don't you think? Thank you, Carolyn.

And there you have it! My first pieces of fan mail. Many more to come, I'm sure.

One-cat show.

As I mentioned previously, I am a one-cat show. I photograph best when I and I alone am the star. Most cats will either ignore a camera or run away from one, but I am drawn to them as a moth to a flame. My performance in front of a lens is nothing short of genius and it would be a crime to deprive the world of such creativity and entertainment. In the spirit of sharing, I present to you one of my most recent and favourite shots.

They call her Sarah.

I just call her, "You there!" or "Hey, you!" Not that she always responds to either. She can be quite obtuse sometimes. And humans think they have a higher intellect. Ha! I'm not saying that she isn't a good caretaker, in fact she has many positive attributes, but let's face it, there's always room for improvement.

The job description for my perfect person is really rather simple. Someone who cares devotedly about my wellbeing, someone who is available to me 24 hours a day, someone with a keen intuition to my communications, someone with a liberal hand with the food, and someone who will keep me company while I sleep without being overly affectionate. It really isn't much to ask, is it? I don't think so.

Luckily for me, I found someone who quite nearly fits the bill. You may remember her as the slightly taller girl who took me home, and it was her birthday cake in which I indulged just a few days ago. She does things like that, leaving food out for me. It's sort of a bonus, really. The other humans figure she's just forgetful, but I know the truth. No one would leave food out that often if it weren't on purpose for me.

In return for these services, I put up with the sometimes strange things that she puts me through. Like smushing me into a photograph that I wanted no part in (I photograph better alone, I'm a one-cat show), or the 'bath' that she gives me every night with a facecloth. I don't pretend to understand these behaviours. As long as I'm rewarded with treats, I can be a good sport.... usually.

The Cheesecake.

As you may have noticed in my profile, one of my main interests is unattended food and drinks. So you can imagine my delight when a fresh, warm cheesecake was left out on the dining room table as I happened by. I hopped up to explore further but was sadly spotted in my reconnaissance efforts and rudely shoved away. No matter... there are always other chances.

I carefully bided my time, keeping a casual eye on the delectable treat. This cake was quite incredibly not created for me and my sophisticated palate, but rather for my person and her birthday. Therefore it wasn't going to be handed to me, I had to get it for myself. Luckily for me, the birthday meant that there were activities occurring which took the people out of the kitchen and dining room, leaving that rich, luscious snack completely unattended... my favourite way to find them. A patient cat is well rewarded.

I snuck up onto the dining room table, crept carefully over to the cooling rack, and treated myself to a generous helping of the scrumptious treat. Oh, heaven, this is what you must taste like...

Needless to say, the people are not as thrilled with my talents for scavenging as I am, and there was quite an uproar when they discovered that foolishly leaving such a delicacy alone had laid it victim to my ways. But believing that I, like most lowly pets, have only a five minute memory, they were remarkably easy on me. Foolish humans.

You can see in the photo above the nice sized hole that I made.

A new home.

After two weeks of trying my best to be a good feline companion to the man, there came a knock at the door. Prior visitors to the house had held no appeal to me, and since there wasn't a clear path to the door (being born in a barn, I was perpetually in the quest of some outdoor time) I instead opted to hide under the bed and observe the interaction from a dark corner.

Three people entered. A tall man, a small girl and a slightly taller girl who peered around as if searching something out. Call it feline intuition, but I knew immediately that they were not here for the old man, and since no others took shelter in that little home they could only have come for me. I dashed out from under the bed and skittered around on all four feet with my tail spiked and ready for action. Displaying my talents for quick movement, I dodged a few bits of furniture and made a pass by the lovely new people. The two girls bent down to catch me, but I was too fast for them and plowed gracelessly into a wall.

The people spoke amongst themselves for a few minutes, while the tall girl, clearly taking note of my adorable charm, shook a set of keys in the hopes of enticing me closer. Perhaps no escape to the outdoors was needed, I thought. I would simply leave with these people who so clearly intended me to go with them.

The meeting ended, the people headed for the door, and I followed, tail high and proud. Then suddenly the door closed on my tender nose and the people were gone. I was somewhat confused, as I'm sure you can imagine. I had been so sure that they were my destined ones.

I spent a troubled half hour pondering my future, before there came again a knocking on that humble door. In came those same people again, and this time they scooped me up and carried me out with them. Though I was sad to say good bye to the man, I was glad to have these girls to play with, they seemed very kind. The explanation I was given for the wait was some ridiculous nonsense along the lines of checking with their mother that I was suitable. As if there could be question! Hmph.

Stuffed inside a sweatshirt, I was taken to the vet, given a warm bath and fed big meal. The slightly taller girl concentrated much effort upon me to ensure that I was cleaned thoroughly with a wash cloth and had a comfortable place to sleep. It was a nice big house full of adoring people. I felt very at home with these people and silently thanked the old man for choosing such a lovely family for me.

Introduction to King Arthur.

I was born but a simple barn cat. Many siblings had I. And only so many food receptacles on poor mummy. Food and life were paramount, I wasn't going to get my needs met by accident. Some would say that I was pushy.... perhaps they are right. Whatever you call it, I made sure that I was amply fed, and that's all that matters, after all. A well fed cat is a happy cat.

After six weeks in the barn, I was adopted by an elderly man who lived alone in a small house in a small town. He wanted a companion and chose me from the litter for my spunk and charm. He named me Top Knotch in reference to the dark spot on top of my head and his high esteem for my person. He seemed to be in poor health and had braces on his legs which made loud noises as he walked. Though he seemed to care for me a great deal, he was unable to provide for me in the way that he knew a cat of my stature required.

After two weeks together, he called upon a trusted acquaintance of his to come and take me away to a household that was better set up for the care of a cat.

To be continued.....