Allô!
It's me, Matisse. The large dumb one is napping now. Ha, he always naps, but not like I do. He drools and twitches, chasing squirrels in his dreams and then slobbering them to death. I take catnaps, one eye open, ready for danger. He plops down anywhere he can trip an unwary two-legger: on a hallway rug, at the the side of the bed, on the bath mat (especially in the wee hours when the two-legger may venture into its catbox to relieve itself).
I pick my nap spots with the care and the precision of the Foreign Legion. I blend in with my surroundings, I shroud myself with secrecy, perhaps crawling under a bedspread pretending I am a misplaced pillow. I have been known to work my way under throws draped over easy chairs, imitating a rumple in the fabric. The attached photo shows my dismay at being revealed. Moments after the picture was taken, I vanished into thin air, leaving the two-legger to wonder "was that an unworldly vision or a stealthy Ninja cat I thought I saw?"
You may wonder why I am blogging on the dumb blonde's site. He is sleeping, and I need to set the record right. I run this house but give the two-leggers the illusion of control. I don't bother giving Augie any illusions, he'd forget them, anyhow. He says I have nasty little claws. Pshaw. I have well-maintained precision retractable shredding devices, tuned by careful and repeated honing on my scratching post, or the hairless one's favorite overstuffed chair, or the dim canine's nose when he shows lack of respect for my personal space.
And he says I have fish breath. I'll take that as a compliment. He has fetid kibble breath, at the best of times. And he drools. And he licks the windows on the French doors. I take particular offense to that. My people did not invent panoramic casements to be covered in Labrador spittle. And Labrador, let's dig into that a bit.
He hails from Newfoundland and Labrador. English colonies. And home to large slobbery dogs. It figures. Not Québec, a svelte, sophisticated Franco-themed province adjoining Newfoundland and Labrador. In Québec you find sophisticated breeds of French origin, like me, including the Beauceron, Braque de l’Ariège, Griffon Bleu de Gascogne, Petit Basset Griffon Vendéen, Gascon Saintongeois, Berger Picard. Breeds that don't sneeze on windows. Mon Dieu, if only I let the two-leggers pick a more sophisticated breed, I wouldn't have to bow my head in shame every time a visitor notices the dog spittle on the porte-fenêtre. Sorry, my French slips out occasionally. The French doors. Or, as Augie calls them, handkerchiefs.
Well, I bid you adieu, I must ready myself for un petit somme. Or as they say in Mystic, a catnap.
Matisse
