Je suis desole, mes amis, that I haven't updated in so long. I blame my human, of course. This is just a brief update on our lives. My plot for human destruction, my holiday musings, and my fitness guide will all be posted in upcoming days and weeks.
I've recently moved into a new apartment, bringing my person along as a kind gesture of interspecies diplomacy. Unfortunately, she didn't realize that she was my guest and she, too, invited a human guest. Now I accidentally live in a small house with Amy AND Aunt Sarah. This is less than ideal. There are twice as many feet to dodge, twice the battles for space on the couch, and twice as many hands to forcibly remove me from the stovetop. They're so oppressive, I could scream. Which I do, and quite often. Usually while Amy is asleep, and ideally while Sarah is not expecting it. Last night I got the two-for-one combo, and managed to irritate both humans. My plan is working.
In my nine-ish month life (my birthdate is still unknown, and legally documented as simply "fevrier 2015," a mere guess), I've now lived in six places. I spent a couple months with my family in Koukin, then I spent a few weeks in Amy's house in Koukin, then a month in a kennel in Ouaga (my own personal 'John McCain in Vietnam' situation), two weeks in Howell, NJ, two months in Hell's Kitchen, and now a few months here on 34th Street. And Amy wonders why I'm so territorial, and independent...
I will say, having Aunt Sarah around is nice, though. Not only is she an unsuspecting target for me to hunt and generally disrespect, but I've recruited her to become my athletic trainer. I am trying very hard not to become an African stereotype, but I must admit that I'm unnaturally good at track and field, and footballs (both the real one, and the cheap American imitation). I can sprint so fast that Sarah doesn't even realize I've entered her room and hidden amid her dirty clothes - and only in the time it took her to go fill up her water bottle - and I can proudly leap all the way up onto Amy's throne-like bed with room to spare, room I usually use to land on Amy's face.
It was this skill which led to my short-term disability. I was excitedly climbing the house when I "mistakenly" knocked a terrarium off the top shelf. (Amy added those quotation marks of her own accord. She insists it was an act of revenge, planned since the day she wouldn't let me eat the succulents in said terrarium because of risks of "poison" and "death." Whatever. It was an "accident.") It was thick glass, so when it shattered there was no escaping the shrapnel. It was one of the most harrowing experiences of my short life. I tried to flee, but was struck in the shoulder by a piece of glass. I tried to hide my injury, but Aunt Sarah noticed the blood, and the rest is history. I had to deal with everything from Amy's failed Feline First Aid, to sedation, to antibiotics, to having my whole shoulder shaved clean. It was humiliating. it's all healed up now, except for the unsightly scar and shaved bits, but I certainly learned my lesson re:high jump.
So I learned a new sport. I was given an American football by my Grandma in what I can only assume was a discriminatory way to forcibly assimilate me into the uber-American Hartzell family. I was reluctant at first, and chose to pointedly use it to play football the way I learned in Burkina -- swiftly, skillfully, and alone. But with some help from my personal trainer, I've developed a real skill for catching the football and running long. My vertical lift is almost four feet, and I can catch the ball in my hands -- none of this kanine mouth-catching frisbee crap. Amy calls me an "ideal wide receiver," but I like to think I'm quite narrow. This rudeness is why I exclude Amy from the game. That, and she's bad at everything.
But as much as I enjoy playing with / taunting Aunt Sarah, I far prefer the time I share with Amy when Sarah is off at l'ecole.
Amy has been having a rough time lately, I think. Since we got home, she's been denied from countless jobs, had to move twice, run out of money, seen all her friends happily succeed, suffered many anxiety attacks, and lost her Grandpa. (I liked him a lot, it was hard for all of us. We emailed sometimes. He had a cat that looked just like me, J.K. - Jim's Kitty - and therefore he understood me on a much more spiritual level. But c'est la vie.) She tries not to complain, but she does. So I cut her some slack, and let her throw the football every now and then.
Because she's home all day, we spend a lot of ideal naptimes together. This foreign country is freakishly cold, and I desperately rely on the warmth of a human to survive. I call it survival, she calls it snuggling. Either way, Amy seems to enjoy it, so I indulge her. Plus it's an excuse to watch television. I love to watch tv! Ever since Amy and I watched Desperate Housewives every night during our first week together, I've been hooked. I watch so attentively, it freaks the humans out. Yesterday, on Alias, there was even a helicopter! I loved it!! They're SO AWESOME! I even ran all the way up onto the tv table so I could watch it up close. I was totally transfixed.
Besides, snuggling up with Amy gets her exactly where I want her.
She's started buying me better food, and she inadvertently served as my drug mule for a while. In a brief teenage rebellion, I was secretly drugging myself for several days before Aunt Sarah foiled my plan. I was soaking my catnip toys in my water, so simple hydration resulted in crazy energy and uncontrollable tantrums. It was awesome.
I'm going to try to post more often. I have more than enough to say. I try to dictate to Amy all day long, but she just says I'm "whining" or "wailing" or "meowing" too much.
Foolish girl.
Until later, my friends. Bark wuusgo la amiina.
 |
| I spend time with Aunt Sarah to make Amy jealous so she'll give me stuff to garner my favor.
It works every time.
|
In my nine-ish month life (my birthdate is still unknown, and legally documented as simply "fevrier 2015," a mere guess), I've now lived in six places. I spent a couple months with my family in Koukin, then I spent a few weeks in Amy's house in Koukin, then a month in a kennel in Ouaga (my own personal 'John McCain in Vietnam' situation), two weeks in Howell, NJ, two months in Hell's Kitchen, and now a few months here on 34th Street. And Amy wonders why I'm so territorial, and independent...
I will say, having Aunt Sarah around is nice, though. Not only is she an unsuspecting target for me to hunt and generally disrespect, but I've recruited her to become my athletic trainer. I am trying very hard not to become an African stereotype, but I must admit that I'm unnaturally good at track and field, and footballs (both the real one, and the cheap American imitation). I can sprint so fast that Sarah doesn't even realize I've entered her room and hidden amid her dirty clothes - and only in the time it took her to go fill up her water bottle - and I can proudly leap all the way up onto Amy's throne-like bed with room to spare, room I usually use to land on Amy's face.
 |
| My heinous injury. |
So I learned a new sport. I was given an American football by my Grandma in what I can only assume was a discriminatory way to forcibly assimilate me into the uber-American Hartzell family. I was reluctant at first, and chose to pointedly use it to play football the way I learned in Burkina -- swiftly, skillfully, and alone. But with some help from my personal trainer, I've developed a real skill for catching the football and running long. My vertical lift is almost four feet, and I can catch the ball in my hands -- none of this kanine mouth-catching frisbee crap. Amy calls me an "ideal wide receiver," but I like to think I'm quite narrow. This rudeness is why I exclude Amy from the game. That, and she's bad at everything.
 |
| I conquer football. |
But as much as I enjoy playing with / taunting Aunt Sarah, I far prefer the time I share with Amy when Sarah is off at l'ecole.
Amy has been having a rough time lately, I think. Since we got home, she's been denied from countless jobs, had to move twice, run out of money, seen all her friends happily succeed, suffered many anxiety attacks, and lost her Grandpa. (I liked him a lot, it was hard for all of us. We emailed sometimes. He had a cat that looked just like me, J.K. - Jim's Kitty - and therefore he understood me on a much more spiritual level. But c'est la vie.) She tries not to complain, but she does. So I cut her some slack, and let her throw the football every now and then.
 |
| Amy pretends she doesn't like it when I sleep on her face, but I know, deep down, she appreciates me. |
Besides, snuggling up with Amy gets her exactly where I want her.
She's started buying me better food, and she inadvertently served as my drug mule for a while. In a brief teenage rebellion, I was secretly drugging myself for several days before Aunt Sarah foiled my plan. I was soaking my catnip toys in my water, so simple hydration resulted in crazy energy and uncontrollable tantrums. It was awesome.
 |
| I'm just your typical teenage boy, with my priorities in check. Go Blue Devils! |
I'm going to try to post more often. I have more than enough to say. I try to dictate to Amy all day long, but she just says I'm "whining" or "wailing" or "meowing" too much.
Foolish girl.
Until later, my friends. Bark wuusgo la amiina.
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