Miss Liberty III: Am I not Pretty?

Old Graybeard won't leave me alone. I was trying to take a nap, but there he was, proudly pointing his Canon EOS 5D at me, claiming he was doing me a favor by not using the flash. Then it was click and click and click until I had to leave that comfy seat for a more private place upstairs.

But you might wonder, how did he get enough light for the photo without using a flash? 400 ISO. Grainy result.

A Princess such as I deserves better.

Miss Liberty II: In which I explain Duty and Civilization

Today's topic is duty. Few creatures other than cats understand duty. They confuse it with many other activities that have nothing to do with duty: work, paying bills, dying before your time, worrying about work, worrying about paying bills, worrying about dying before your time, you name it.

The fact of the matter is, we living beings have only a few real duties, and the more time spent doing only those real duties, the better. We cats excel, of course. (And believe it or not, dogs aren't bad.)

So here are the only duties we living beings have:

1. Eat
2. Drink
3. Sleep
4. Bathe
5. Play
6. Reproduce (optional)
7. Urinate
8. Defecate (humans call this "duty," both the act and the result).

So even *humans* understand on some level.

Of course, they are fascinated with duty (pardon my language, but this is the exact way humans put it – I've heard them many a time). Example: I carefully do my duty and then cover it; along comes a human to dig it out! Can't they see I buried it?

And have you ever seen them following a dog around in the city, waiting for the poor beast to do his duty so they can pick it up? Granted, dogs haven't the sense to cover their own duty (again, pardon the term), but to be so anal about getting the duty, examining it (it's duty, for heaven's sake! what are they trying to see?), putting it into a plastic bag and then throwing it into large round barrels along the street! I mean, really.

It's disgusting, but what is worse was the shape of humanity when cats first decided we would grace them with our presence. What savages they were! They didn't even realize their duty had a rather strong odor! (Granted, they are rather challenged as a species when it comes to their poor sense of smell, so perhaps they never noticed?)

Whatever. We cats *did* notice, and as is well known all over the feline world, this led to our civilizing humans.

For the fact is, when we began allowing them to serve us, they were nothing more than pack animals, barely better organized than feral dogs. They ranged from place to place, killing and eating, as even civilized beings would do. They had learned to control fire to some extent, which was a good trick as long as they didn't burn themselves. (We cats have no need for fire generally, but should we wish to have any, a human can be purrsuaded to provide it.) Having neither claws nor fangs to speak of, humans had to devise other means of killing, and in this they proved very clever.

But it was we cats who showed them by our sterling example that their duty stinks and that it should be disposed of properly. Over the centuries, our partnership has proved acceptable to us cats.

To you cats reading this, I recommend adopting a pair of grays if you are interested in acquiring the services of humans for your own needs. They will treat you very well, so long as you continue to cover your duty.

The photo atop this post is proof of that. It's the *litter box* my grays provided me. That's right: it's a litter box, a place for duty, and it's one fit for a Princess, which is only appropriate, considering, no? It was in place before I arrived. Best thing about it? No one can tell whether or not your duty stinks since the smell stays inside.

(No matter: I bury mine regardless. Good habit to keep just in case.)

This luxurious accommodation is known as the "Booda Dome Cleanstep Cat Box." Sells for under $30.

"Booda Dome." Remind you of anything? The Buddha perhaps? We cats also have a Buddha nature, though we do like to kill and eat things made of meat. That's just one more reason we teach the importance of burying one's waste.

Old Graybeard cleans it out everyday (told you humans are obsessed with duty!). Maybe your humans would like to get one for you? If so, have them click the picture below:



Now that's a great example of true civilization.

Kingsley 1: I walk the waterfront

The name's Kingsley. Kingsley Brown.. That's me in the photo.

Unlike herself, the cat (aka, Miss Liberty), I have real work to do. Every morning. Sometimes more than once a day.

First thing after I wake up and shake myself, Old Graybeard takes me out to walk the waterfront. Important work. Loads of other dogs help out. We leave peemail behind. Or we meet nose to tail.

But mostly, we walk the waterfront all the way down to the Hoboken Terminal. That's over a mile, enough for Old Graybeard to break a sweat and for me to get my tongue dangling.

Sure beats lying around the house doing nothing (or waiting to ambush a perfectly innocent dog who's only minding his own business, like someone we all know).

We live in Hoboken, New Jersey. Might as well be the sixth borough of New York City. Known as the "Mile Square City." Just across the the Hudson River from Manhattan. Nice view, if you like that kind of thing.

I've been to Manhattan in the bus that goes under the river through the Lincoln Tunnel. That's OK, but you end up at the Port Authority Bus Station on 42nd and 8th, about as busy a place as you can imagine. Too much noise. Smells all jumbled up on top of each other. No time to sniff much of anything. *And* I have to be carried around in a Sherpa Pet Carrier.

Humiliating. Old Graybeard can barely carry it. Rough ride at best. Who needs it? I'd much rather walk.

I've also been across in the ferry, which is about as good as it gets. Old Graybeard carries me in his arms. My opinion, the only way to be carried. We ride. The ferry bumps up and down. We watch the water together. What fun!

Get out at Pier 79. Stroll up the loud smelly walkway of Hudson River Park to Riverside Park. Walk as far as 104th Street and then across to the Great Hill in Central Park.

What a place!! Dogs don't have to wear leashes!! I run around like crazy!! Catch me if you can!! No dog can catch me!!!

Then Old Graybeard calls me. Back on the leash. We walk back down along the Hudson.

Now that's the way to spend the day!

Miss Liberty I: In which I reveal myself

Miss Liberty here. In the photo above, I am the beautiful cat licking her lips.

That's Kingsley looking over my shoulder. He's a dog. I don't know why my servants keep him around, though he can be fun to tease. Perhaps that's his purpose.

He's wrapped up in his Snuggie. I think pink fits him well, don't you?

He loves to burrow under things, especially his Snuggie. Typical dog.