What they didn’t say was that Mocha is no ordinary cat, not by any means.
Never have I seen a kitten jump so high, or run so fast. Never have I encountered such a keen intellect in a cat his age. He is only three months old but reads at a sixth grade level.
He is witty and charming but has a bit of a temper. And whatever you do, don’t trust him with your marbles as he is bound to steal them and put them in your shoes for you to discover later.
I don’t know who his mother was exactly. The adoption agency won’t tell me. I have a feeling she was born of noble blood and so was Mocha by the size of his ego and of his bank account. I didn’t know that kittens came with their own stock portfolio’s but apparently this one does. Once we took him home he immediately got on the phone and called his broker and then his accountant. I didn’t know cats had accountants.
I have a feeling that Mocha is money obsessed and it’s not good for him. He is a bit artificial and frankly snobby with the other cats that have come by and welcomed him to the neighborhood.
And he keeps buying things! Like fancy pet furniture and cases of canned Mackerel. I don’t know where to put it all.
He goes down everyday to Starbucks and gets himself the Vente size Java Chip at Starbucks, he loves it there. And they love him! They have named a drink after him, just shows how persuasive he is!
In fact he is paying me to write this fascinating and favorable post about him. Money does talk and since I am temporarily unemployed the money comes in handy. So watch for more stories about his antics. Maybe next time we can find out how he got such a silly name.
Adventures in Mocha
The voodoo priest and all his powders were as nothing compared to espresso, cappuccino, and mocha, which are stronger than all the religions of the world combined, and perhaps stronger than the human soul itself.
The modern mocha is a bittersweet concoction of imperialism, genocide, invention, and consumerism served with whipped cream on top
This is a scene from the upcoming musical remake of the Science Fiction classic 2001: A Space Odyssey. It features an all-star all cat cast and is directed by and stars my famous feline Mario. I know what you are thinking: How can a cat direct a movie? I thought that myself at first but when he explained to me that he had attended “directoring school” in one of his previous nine lives and that he was, and I quote, “Golden” I felt he may be onto something. I mean he isn’t famous for nothing.
I had the impression from him that this would be easy but it has been anything but easy. Cats never do what you want them to do, even the so called “professionals”. They are demanding and picky. The cast members would send me out for tuna sandwiches and almost every single time they were dissatisfied with the quality of the fish and would meow mercilessly until I returned to the restaurant and demanded better. Half the delis in town thought I was a nut.
These actor types, what prima donnas…and the director himself you ask? What a hot head. He was driven by some sort of vision but what that vision was, I had no idea.
Mario had no sympathy for me and no time. Whenever I tried to talk any reason with him he would suddenly get up from his easy chair and utter in his heavily accented husky voice: “This conversation can serve no purpose anymore, goodbye” and sashay out.
The power has gone to his head I tell you. ( He’s gone quite mad you know)
Mario would stay up late at night practicing his dance moves and sing old bawdy sailor tunes from his past life as a ship’s cat. My goodness, those songs can get raunchy. The neighbors complained. The police have been out several times due to the loud music and the gang of mewing groupie cats that sit outside on the front lawn at all hours stupefied on what I think was very potent catnip.
Seriously I had my doubts. I mean the whole thing was filmed in our backyard and most of the sets were imaginary. I was never allowed back there during filming. I would go to the side gate and leave the tuna sandwiches. I had no idea…but it just goes to show why my Mario is as famous as he is…
The advance reviews have been “stellar”. I don’t get it, but the critics loved it. I hear it is a “tour de farce” and a “cinematicmeowsterpiece”. I can’t believe it but my cat’s movie will premier at the Canne Film Festival.
It’s just goes to show that you never know and don’t doubt the dreamer until you see the fruition of a dream.
“I’m already crazy. I’m a fearless person. I think it creeps up on you. I don’t think it can be stopped. If my destiny is to lose my mind because of fame, then that’s my destiny. But my passion still means more than anything.” ~Lady Gaga
My famous cat Mario is beside himself. He fears his fame is fleeting and soon he’ll be forgotten. I was shocked. My cat never talks this way; he has been always a positive force, what happened to his great lion-like confidence?
Apparently he’d noticed his page-rankings were down. He had Googled himself multiple times over the past few weeks and had been disappointed by the results. I laughed and cited his numerous accomplishments, awards and medals.
In a light hissy tone he ranted on and on about link analysis algorithms and numerical weighting. He then he spewed out formulas and equations. Honestly I was lost there.
He complained that his new book “Napping for the Sophisticated” hasn’t been selling and that he’s sick of “playing some fool human’s pet in tawdry pet food commercials.”
Mario confided in me that his secret dream is to be the star of his own talk show. He wants to bring back the glamour and as he put it: “The Va va va voom of old downtown Burbank back into late night T.V. just like his idol Johnny Carson. He said he needed to “create a stir online to garner support and create a buzz”.
I offered to write a blog post about him and he laughed at me with disdain for suggesting such a thing. He brought up the fact that my readers are few, a devoted few( thanks guys) but a few nonetheless.
He said we need to hire a production team to make an overly dramatic and wildly expensive but tasteful You tube video about his napping habits. He showed me this pic of him I took last summer. He called it “golden” and asked how could anyone human or cat “resist this cuteness?”
He also wants a publicist “that knows what they’re doing” and a secretary to keep all his projects together for him. He demanded money to pay these “over-priced but well worth it professionals”.
He went so far as to suggest he could pull a wild stunt possibly involving himself and that other cat Spotsy who he calls White Fang in some sort of well-documented and digitally enhanced posturing incident where Mario wins a place atop all the furniture ( yeah right) while The Fang is delegated outside.
In a fit of hysteria he told the tale about the cat down the street who flushed the toilet all day long while his human servants were off “working”. Eventually he become so famous for this one simple act a news crew showed up and filmed him.
“He now has his own pilot coming out this fall on NBC.” Mario wailed in a mournful and pathetic mew.
Like I said, I had never seen Mario like this. My poor loving and faithful friend was reduced to a sad and desperate victim of that bitch goddess, fame.
Follow your bliss Mario, I said in no uncertain terms, he rolled his eyes knowing it was just me quoting Joseph Campbell again. There is a reason I do this. I brought up the fact that his true love is music, which it is and that if he diligently and deliberately pursued this love, all that he desired will come to him. As some of you may or may not know, Mario is a fabulous vocalist. He has the soul of Cat Stevens with all the pizzazz of a young Catty Purry. His lack of confidence holds him back, it’s something we share, that and pure laziness.
Your family loves you and that’s all that really matters Mario, I told him. Fame is supposed to be fleeting, love is not.
We spoke on throughout the afternoon. Mario entertained us with a medley of his favorite show tunes and we twittered away the rest of the day lost in a sweet and legal marijuana haze his musician friends contributed to the packed room of neighborhood cats and trippy neighborhood people. We drank tea and enjoyed the music and that is what it’s all about.
“The world is a wonderfully weird place, consensual reality is significantly flawed, no institution can be trusted, certainty is a mirage, security a delusion, and the tyranny of the dull mind forever threatens — but our lives are not as limited as we think they are, all things are possible, laughter is holier than piety, freedom is sweeter than fame, and in the end it’s love and love alone that really matters.” ~Tom Robbins
(UPDATE: Mario will soon be coming out with a new album. A bluesy reggae pop sound he’s been working on. I’ll keep you all posted)
To me nothing is sexier than a man with a cat. Yes, you heard that right; I like guys who like cats. These men are not afraid to show their kinder and gentler side. These are masculine men, rugged men, intelligent men with big muscles and facial hair. These brave men ignore the taunts and teases from other men, men who say that “real men” only have tough kick-ass pets like Pit Bulls, Snakes and Roosters with attitudes but not cute and cuddly cats, but these men, these “cat men” know the truth. That any real man worth his salt is compassionate and loving and likes a good petting every once in a while. So without any further ado I give you.
Of Cats and Men
Marlon Brando with His Cat at Home
The cat was an outstanding poet but lacked the fingers to type. Marlon provided those fingers and…
A while back in a previous post I touched briefly on my uncanny almost supernatural power over cats; it is a part of me that I am just now officially sharing with the world. Since bringing it up in “I Speak for the Cats” I have been inundated with endless queries as to the specifics of this power. I don’t know why I’ve been reluctant about sharing the story about this “gift’ I have. I am quite proud of it. I mean…
…it IS about cats.
Ever since I remember cats have had a thing about me and I have had a thing about them… And I’ve always had a cat, or should I say the cat had me. They’ve always been there and can I let you in on a little secret?
I’m their favorite human of all the humans–I hate to break it to you but yes, it’s me!
I know what you are thinking…
How did I get this fantastic power and and where can you get it?
I know how you feel and I wish I knew. It seems I was born this way. Of course I am pleased by this; to be adored by such an adoring animal is one of the best feelings in the world!
It could be that I speak their language. It was difficult to learn. Did you know there are 34 different mews for the word “nap”?
I do understand them and I really like them. I am an obedient human in many ways; I keep the Friskies coming with a few treats on the side. I can give a good chin rub but beyond all that I am not anything special. Honestly, I don’t know why cats like me so much. I wish I could take credit for it but really, it is just dumb luck.
My yard, of course is the hip hangout for all the popular and “with it” cats of the neighborhood. They like to nap in the back bushes or follow me around while I work in the garden. It was strange at first but I enjoy the company. And my cat Mario seems okay with it all..in fact he seems quite proud.
But there is something else… I have heard the talk of late; the whispered purrs and silent meows….their ringleader…the one they call Spotsy, often looks in my window. I get the feeling he wants something….it’s the same look I get from MM around dinnertime but even more so…
I do want to mention despite how strange and wonderful this whole thing sounds it is not all fun and laughs and signing autographs. Some of these cats can get quite insistent and a way only cats can. I sometimes find them inside my house, having snuck in the backdoor. They wander around and then leave. We have gotten used to this including my son who has woken up a few times with a strange cat in his room just staring at him.
I often take walks through my neighborhood. I like to walk. I like it so much that I take walks in other neighborhoods too. No matter where I am cats will come out of nowhere running to me and in most cases mewing up a storm. Some roll onto their backs, others purr…all want to be petted and I am careful not to encourage them too much lest they follow me home.
I used to think this sort of thing happened to everyone but over the years I have seen some surprised reactions. I was once accused of “hiding tuna in my pocket to excite cats just to freak everyone out”.
Honestly, if I were to hide any sort of foodstuff in my pocket it would be chocolate. Anyone who knows me knows that.
And anyone with a cat who knows me knows that their cat likes me better. This happens time and time again whenever I go over to someone’s house and meet their cat. It’s just like that and it is embarrassing for all. Cats can be overwhelmingly affectionate especially the ones whose owners have deemed unfriendly. It’s these sorts of cats that are the most love-starved. Whatever the case, it is known immediately that the cat prefers me and that is made clear in no uncertain terms.
I once was presented with a live mouse at a dinner party of a co-worker whose cat thought it a loving tribute.
I did too….and it was delicious. The dinner I mean. The mouse? I don’t know what the mouse thought, the cat took off with it out the back door after it’s mistress screamed at the poor thing.
Well…I confess I made up the part about the mouse but the rest of it is true. Ask MM. He has witnessed my power over cats many times. Whenever it happens he shakes his head and doesn’t say a word. It’s a good thing he puts up with me and all my eccentricities.
Me and my endless ideas that don’t make a dime; I am thinking of starting a group. A performing acrobatic troupe comprised of…you guessed it, cats.
We would train very hard, the cats and I. Then months from now…you will be watching a well-known cable variety program and you’ll see us and you will say “Wow! How did she get this wonderful troupe of performing cats and where can I get one?
I know what you are really thinking… This poor fool is primed to become one of those cat ladies who live with like 50 cats…the ones that you see on the news from time to time….
I want to assure you while I am Cat Woman I am not a cat lady. The cats of course will live in their own homes and I will pay them for their performances. Whatever the going rate is for cats. I may be nuts but I am not crazy…
And so I hope this answers some of the questions about my power of cats. Yes, it is a great responsibility but the rewards are well worth it….
The miracle of life lies out there teeming in the dark rich earth. I can feel it. I can sense it and it is a wondrous thing. No matter how many times I see a tiny sprout emerge from the soil I am awestruck at such beautiful complexity inhibiting such lovely simplicity. Everything has it’s place, it’s purpose. Exquisite harmony and balance reins supreme…or at least it used to.
I have spent much of my 44 summers enthralled in the wilds of an urban garden; laying in the grass staring up at the imaginative clouds, cavorting with the butterflies and communing with the bees. As a young girl I felt a kinship with nature that has only intensified with age. I feel in tune with the earth and with all living things and I have always had a special affinity for the natural world and all the beautiful shapes and colors of life on our amazing planet.
It has been only natural for me to embrace gardening as one of my passionate pastimes.
As an adult I have spent countless hours in glorious toil in the backyard sun, digging and planting and weeding and planning. I have transformed a weedy double lot into what I refer to as my sanctuary, my retreat from the artificial inside. I feel safe there and so do many of the urban wildlife that visit. The neighborhood cats especially like it here and it isn’t uncommon for me to have a clan of disinterested felines “cheering me on”.
I am a great observer. It is another one of my pastimes; watching and observing and drawing conclusions….and I am a great watcher of the earth and I don’t have to tell you how sick it is.
How sick our mother is. Our planet Earth. Our only home is ill. She is dying. The signs are all around. Some people don’t want you to believe that because they are more interested in the status quo but if we don’t change our ways there will be no status at all.
It seems so far away; all this unbalance, this poison that eats away. It is all around us, in our plastics and pesticides, in our gas- guzzling machines and in our diet colas. It hasn’t hit most of us yet…not really, but can you hear the rumblings? I can. I do as I sit in my garden; my sanctuary.
I sit in a prime spot next to a huge swath of brightly colored California poppies. They are one of the stars of the garden at this time of year and a favorite among the bees, including my favorite, the honey bee. I remember a time when they would be in beautiful abundance; busily buzzing from one flower to the next. I have noticed them slowly start to vanish…little by little; just a trickle at first but now it grows more obvious every year. My eyes scan the flowers and I only see a clumsy black bumble. I patiently wait…I don’t see a honeybee. I scan the grass at the clover I allow to grow, still no honeybee. The sun is out on an 80 degree day in June and where are they?
Ahhh there’s one. One honeybee and two bumbles…
Perhaps it is still to early for them…perhaps I didn’t wait long enough…I will go out and look tomorrow for another one…
More stuff to ponder…
Just me Nancy reporting from the urban wilds of my backyard…SMILE! Have a good one and remember what our friend Anne Frank said:
“Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.” ― Anne Frank
Sometimes that is all we can do…
(And one more thing: please no more pesticides. I know YOU don’t use them but for anyone who may. Please as a personal favor for me…stop.)
“The natural world belongs to us all and it is vanishing at an alarming rate. We the people of this planet have a responsibility to the generations that come after us. I believe we gardeners have a special and vital role to play in the protection of our dwindling natural assets.”
“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast”
― Lewis Carroll
Have you ever allowed yourself to be caught up in flights of fancy? Do you savor spontaneous moments, taking delight in the quaint and unusual? Then perhaps you have partaken of the sweet nectar called whimsy.
I partake quite often as it seems; my thirst is seldom sated. I suppose at times just plain reality can get boring and it certainly gets less stressful having somewhere fun in my imagination to wander to. This is helpful to me. I like to taste each tiny bit of delightfulness that comes my way….fortunately there is a tremendous amount in this world to delight in. I often find that it is in the small and mundane moments where I can find these sweet little pockets of joy. I believe there are deep veins of happiness out there….or in there just waiting to be discovered and appreciated.
Just the other day while I was singing along to the radio and washing the dishes my cat spontaneously jumps up and sits on the edge of the sink. He gazes up at me with an earnest intentness seldom seen in cats, at least that is what I imagine it is as I gaze back into those big green eyes. He doesn’t seem to notice the water droplets misting his black coat. I call him a crazy cat like I do in my sing-song childlike voice I reserve for animals and babies. I am delighting in the ridiculousness of the moment when MM comes in…the look on his face was priceless…this makes me laugh.
On certain afternoons in sunny spring I have been known to go down to the nearby park for a swing, stopping to smell the roses. I often talk to the urban animals I meet along my way, the crows especially since they tend to answer me back with caw caw but squirrels and cats and other birds too are also fun to talk to. Thinking about it; I talk to plants as well, trees mostly. They are really quite friendly and so knowledgeable too.
To the outside observer I may seem to have lost my marbles but his is how I keep my marbles intact: through whimsy and imagination.
I will at times travel to various exotic locations in impromptu flight of fancy. These turn out to be for the most part: sandy beaches and enchanted forests and luxury hotel suites with excellent room service, great deserts and fantastic views…as these are the places my imagination prefers.
Your imagination probably takes you to different spots, some very interesting ones I bet….
Whimsy is a natural high and it’s free. It lives inside us all. It cavorts with the inner child in the recesses of the imagination. Whimsy is kinda’ bummed out that it isn’t given the respect that it’s due. One could argue as to the needlessness of whimsy but I contend that it is that very needlessness of whimsy that causes it to be important. It doesn’t take much to spare a little room for the unnecessary, whimsy included…in fact whimsy is so light and fluffy it hardly takes up any room at all.
Whimsy not only feels good, it can make those around us feel good too. Most of us can relate to the absurd from time to time. Children love it. We adults tend to put that sort of thing aside for more mature pursuits and poor old whimsy is locked in the back of the closet never to be shown the light of day again. I think a lot people are fearful of looking like a fool or insane. Society generally frowns on the eccentric. Instead of caving to societal pressure I am taking this as a sign that I should embrace my eccentricities more fully and more publicly. The more of us “crazies” out there, the more acceptable it will to become to be one.
It is up to us mavericks to set the tone and say to the world: It’s okay to be silly, in fact it’s amazingly fun… and dammit why lose out on all the fun because one enters into the dreaded “adulthood”? The act of fancifulness is sometimes seen as irresponsible. The world needs dreamers to dream the dreams that show us that reality is not always what we see and it really doesn’t have to be. Reality is what we make of it.
Wishing you a really fantastical day!
“Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.”
― Anaïs Nin