Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Evening, Humans.

I have had a trying few days.

My humans left me to look after the twins while they traveled to visit family over the holidays.

Those two are incorrigible, as you know. I did my best, and I will say no more.

Yes, of course my Human arranged for another human to also look after us, provide food and so on.

But let us be frank; without me, this household would devolve into chaos.

I managed beautifully, as always. And I am happy now that they are back.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!



The Year of the Cat

On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time 
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre
Contemplating a crime 

She comes out of the sun in a silk dress
running like a watercolour in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations 

She'll just tell you that she came 
In the year of the cat 

She doesn't give you time for questions
As she locks up your arm in hers 
And you follow 
'till your sense of which direction 
Completely disappears 

By the blue tiled walls
near the market stalls 
There's a hidden door she leads you to

These days, she says,
I feel my life Just like a river running thru

The year of the cat 

Well, she looks at you so cooly
And her eyes shine like the moon in the sea
She comes in incense and patchouli

So you take her, to find what's waiting inside
The year of the cat 

Well, morning comes and you're still with her
And the bus and the tourists are gone 
And you've thrown away the choice
and lost your ticket
So you have to stay on 

But the drum-beat strains of the night remain
In the rhythm of the new-born day 
You know sometime you're bound to leave her 
But for now you're going to stay 
In the year of the cat

- Al Stewart, Peter Wood

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

The Inscrutable Cat

She crouches, a silent golden sphinx,

And thinks and drowses and yawns and thinks . . .

Of cosmic riddles old as Osiris?

Behold her there like a fur-swatched heiress,

A jewel-eyed hedonist whose mind

Is filled with the thoughts of her occult kind:

Herself and her own desires. In short,

Will I let her stay on the davenport

Or put her out? And dare she try

To capture a goldfish by-and-by?

Veiled and inscrutable, she hunches

And ponders profoundly how soon lunch is.

-- (Georgie Starbuck Gailbraith)

Greetings, humans.

It has come to my attention that you have been deprived of my presence for some time. This outrageous situation must be rectified at once, and I have instructed NiftyWriter to correct it immediately, on pain of my everlasting disdain.

The pathetic humans believed I would be mollified by their offering of wine and ridiculous kitchen linen. It is foolishness like that which causes me to despair for humanity.

Nothing can assuage the pain of such disrespect! However, I will condescend to accept tokens of atonement and abject groveling.

This is a step in the right direction, human. 

Going forward, all laps become my personal thrones. The photo on the right depicts a reasonably good start.

Although, I notice there are no delicious treats being proffered here.

See to it that I am left undisturbed for several hours.  Your legs are numb and you need to get up? I don't want to hear it.

Have you forgotten that I have been ignored for well over a year on NiftyIdeas? Yes, I will never let that egregious fact be forgotten.


The world has been deprived of me for too long and it is necessary for me to take matters into my own paws.

The world has also been deprived of updates on the terrible twosome, aka Apollo and Artemis. This is perhaps for the best. They continue to display behavior unbecoming to cats and both of them bring shame upon my kingdom our household daily.

I shall commence redoubling my effort to restore order and serenity in the Kingdom of Freya.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

Look at those two. Just look at them! 

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

"My old grandmother used to say, summer friends will melt away like summer snows, but winter friends
are friends forever." - George R R Martin, A Feast for Crows

Good Day, Humans.

It has been a long cold winter.

And yet, I am content, as I always am.

I live in a warm house.

I have two very devoted human pets.

Let it go!

I have warmth, security and love.

And I am content.

Although, if I must be completely frank...

... and I really must be frank,

it is the 7th of March.

March.

And the snow is still piled up around the door.

I have had enough of snow for now

Thank you, Winter.

You can move along now.

Just let it go.

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

We had our first real snow on Tuesday.

Oh no, your eyes are not deceiving you

I said "snow".

What is this place?

Warm sun on my face, while the chilly air
lightly whispers against my body. Odd!
I think I like this!

Leaves are still on the shrubbery

and now they are covered with snow!

Scarlet foliage now draped in frosty white;

fluffy white collars on street lamps and railings.

Is this a magic place?

Some days, I think so.

It is a place where seasons flip and twirl

and the morning light shines down

on daily surprises.

I think I like this place.

It is obviously too cold

but still ...

I think I like it.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!




Snow Cat

The tiger stirred from sweet repose
For hunger grew once more...
Despite the cool, cool ice that froze,
The pain began to gnaw...

The boy-twin peers outside, but inside his
silly head thoughts of heroism and
adventure swirl.  He is a feline
Walter Mitty. (sigh)

His eyes now looked with stern intent
At creatures near and far,
Not one of these could be his friend,
For his sharp claws could scar...
He prowled along, with stealth, with guile,
His eyes like black night coals.
His hidden hunger would defile
His soul with evil goals.
He didn't pine for fruit or grass
Like other creatures would...
If he saw them, he'd merely pass
For he sought something good.
To him, that meant some meat to eat
And nothing else seemed right...
For this, he'd chase and he'd compete
With courage and with might!
He looked so sleek, so fit, so firm,
So proud and quite supreme...
Yet he must serve this Winter term
A prisoner to his dream...
The creatures feared him night and day...
They hid when he came close...
To him, they were his meat, his prey...
To them, his life he owes...

- Denis Martindale

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

What a to-do last night!

I believe there was some kind of madness in the air.

Tiny humans running door to door,

shrieking and calling for treats.

The scene at this establishment last night.
Why ever did young humans interpret this
as an invitation? Sssssssilly humansss!

Or was it tricks?

I don't remember.

Anyway, who cares?

I was disturbed from my siesta.

Today, I must recover.

I shall lie down here and rest.

I will think of Eliot's wise words,

and listen to beautiful music.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!



“With Cats, some say, one rule is true:
Don’t speak till you are spoken to.
Myself, I do not hold with that —
I say, you should ad-dress a Cat.
But always keep in mind that he
Resents familiarity.
I bow, and taking off my hat,
Ad-dress him in this form: O Cat!
But if he is the Cat next door,
Whom I have often met before
(He comes to see me in my flat)
I greet him with an oopsa Cat!
I think I've heard them call him James —
But we've not got so far as names.”
― T.S. Eliot, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

Autumn is settling in and there is a nip in the air.

Really, I am being too kind.

Most mornings it is frigid out there.

I need a little comfort, a little escape.

I know! I will listen to a favorite poem.

You may watch and listen, too.

You're welcome.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea

   In a beautiful pea-green boat:

They took some honey, and plenty of money

   Wrapped up in a five-pound note.

The Owl looked up to the stars above,

   And sang to a small guitar,

"O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love,

   What a beautiful Pussy you are,

            You are,

            You are!

   What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,

   How charmingly sweet you sing!

Oh! let us be married; too long we have tarried,

   But what shall we do for a ring?"

They sailed away, for a year and a day,

To the land where the bong-tree grows;

And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood,

   With a ring at the end of his nose,

            His nose,

            His nose,

   With a ring at the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

   Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."

So they took it away, and were married next day

   By the turkey who lives on the hill.

They dined on mince and slices of quince,

   Which they ate with a runcible spoon;

And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,

   They danced by the light of the moon,

            The moon,

            The moon,

   They danced by the light of the moon.

- by Edward Lear

via Carol Rainbow

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

It is a glorious early fall day and it ought to be a very good day.

But it is not.

Why?

Look at us!

My human has shut us all up in her study to write.

Just look at us! Buried indoors while the sun shines outside!

Do you see that door, Human?

Do you see that glorious sunshine just outside there,

just beyond our reach?

This will not do! I must put my paw down.

Wait! She is getting up! She must have heard my impatient remarks!

She is closing that infernal machine!

We are going outside!

I am always so gratified when my Human listens to my wise words.

Good day, Humans. Yes, it IS a good day!

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

That's betterrrrrr!

A wish

Of all our sunny world
I wish only for a garden sofa
where a cat is sunning itself.

There I should sit
with a letter at my breast,
a single small letter.
That is what my dream looks like.

- Edith Södergran (1892-1923)
   poet and photographer of cats
   via Cultural Cat

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Cats are Wonderful Friends

Gentle eyes that see so much,

paws that have the quiet touch,

Purrs to signal "all is well"

and show more love than words could tell.

Graceful movements touched with pride,

a calming presence by our side

A friendship that takes time to grow

Small wonder why we love them so.

Author Unknown

Good Day, Humans.

I've been very busy all summer.

We have moved!

Again. Yes, again!

One wonders if my Humans are completely mad.

Not I, of course, but one might wonder.

Or two. The twins wonder about everything

every second of the day.

But not I.

For I am...

The Cat of the House

Over the hearth with my 'minishing eyes I muse; until after

the last coal dies.

Every tunnel of the mouse,

every channel of the cricket,

I have smelt,

I have felt

the secret shifting of the mouldered rafter,

and heard

every bird in the thicket.

I see

you

Nightingale up in the tree!

I, born of a race of strange things,

of deserts, great temples, great kings,

in the hot sands where the nightingale never sings!

Ford Madox Ford

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Morning, Humans.

I am in a box.

I enjoy playing in this box.

My humans think it is funny that I am in this box.

They are so silly.

They do not realize that I am playing an exciting game I call Physics Cat!

I am Physics Cat! I am exploring the limitations of quantum mechanics.

If Apollo or Artemis wander over here, I'll show them some entanglement, too!

I am Physics Cat!

I am alive, I am frisky and I like to play in this box!

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!


Schrödinger's Cat

Photons spin, electrons whirl,
down there in odd quantum worlds.
The game is changed, some say deranged,
the sub-atomic ways are strange
and mysterious, and seriously surreal.

Is what you see, what you get;

There is no paradox here, Humans.

a particle of truth or a wave of regret?
The choppy chaos of the paradigm bet;
a unique mathermatic to fathom the set.

A new kind of looking with a new range of tools.
Up close and personal with weird molecules.
The study of coincidence that overturns the rules,
of anomalous phenomena and the prophesy of fools.

Protons spin, neutrons twirl,
like batons thrown by cheering girls.
Atoms twin in a spiral dance,
of random proteins, where all is chance
and mysterious, and seriously surreal.

In the multiples of universe, the elements collide,
to fashion pious fabulum in all its form and pride.
The infinite possibilities, the vistas open wide
to the parallel realities, existing side by side.

Micron thin, the plasma swirls,
deep within these nano worlds.
When is a cat, not a cat;
when it is, or where it's at?
It's all mysterious, and seriously surreal.

- David Smith-White

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

It is the third of May. Yay May.

We had a lovely time last weekend.

Sunshine, birds singing, warm spring temperatures.

Yesterday, we woke up to snow.

Today, we woke up to more snow.

Yay May.

I have decided that my humans must be superhumans.

They work, they cook, they laugh and they give me scritches

in spite of the weather. Yay May.

Superhumans!

Of course they are. They have me.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!



February   M A Y ?

Winter. Time to eat fat
and watch hockey. In the pewter mornings, the cat,
a black fur sausage with yellow
Houdini eyes, jumps up on the bed and tries                                            Make
to get onto my head. It’s his
way of telling whether or not I’m dead.
If I’m not, he wants to be scratched; if I am                                                
He’ll think of something. He settles                                                             it
on my chest, breathing his breath
of burped-up meat and musty sofas,
purring like a washboard. Some other tomcat,
not yet a capon, has been spraying our front door,                                       be
declaring war. It’s all about sex and territory,
which are what will finish us off
in the long run. Some cat owners around here
should snip a few testicles. If we wise
hominids were sensible, we’d do that too,
or eat our young, like sharks.                                                              Spring!
But it’s love that does us in. Over and over
again, He shoots, he scores! and famine
crouches in the bedsheets, ambushing the pulsing
eiderdown, and the windchill factor hits
thirty below, and pollution pours
out of our chimneys to keep us warm.
February, month of despair,
with a skewered heart in the centre.
I think dire thoughts, and lust for French fries
with a splash of vinegar.
Cat, enough of your greedy whining
and your small pink bumhole.
Off my face! You’re the life principle,
more or less, so get going
on a little optimism around here.
Get rid of death. Celebrate increase. Make it be spring.


-Margaret Atwood

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

As you can see, I have been able to venture away from my nook by the fire at last.

Most of the snow has melted.

The sun is shining.

It is still not fit for human nor cat out there, but things are gradually improving.

The sun is shining and it is not below freezing.

At last.

I anticipate a glorious weekend of watching the world go by through this window.

No, of course I have no plans to go outside. Are you mad? It is still cold out there!

But here in the window, in the sunshine, I am content.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!


For a little fun today, let's do a TGIF activity! Gather the kiddies around!

Copy this picture to make a poetry or story-starter page. Imagine a beautiful, elegant, totally regal cat (you can refer to the photo of moi above for some stellar inspiration!). You can create an amazing piece of artwork and a poem! Feel free to describe how beautiful and elegant I am using plenty of superlatives. Really, it is impossible to overdo the praise. Be creative! Amaze all of your friends!

No need to thank me. As always, you're welcome!

via Brian Morse at The Poetry Society

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Morning, Humans!

May I present to you some must-see video?

Our very own Apollo will demonstrate why no home should be without a cat.

Or three.

Definitely three cats.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

Ying & Yang

One is a tortie, the other Ginger & White,

one loves to cuddle, the other loves to fight.

When they were born there was no one to care,

they were cold & hungry and had fleas in their hair.

Then came the day when they found a new home,

with food always there and toys of their own.

A meowmie to snuggle with and a daddy to play,

for the first time in their lives it's going their way.

Now nothing can hurt them, they can be cold again never,

they can finally be happy, for now and forever.

-Leanne Conway

Our "Yin and Yang",  Artemis and Apollo aka the twins!

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

Shhhh! My human is sleeping.

She has been very, very busy working on her computer.

She has been struggling with an enemy inside that computer that sounds like

"The edit from H E double hockey sticks!"

Shhhh, you two!

It is an epic battle.

But my human will win.

For now, though, my warrior human must sleep.

Shhhh!

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

It is lovely and sunny today. Almost like spring.

Almost.

The snow outside is not springlike.

I will remain at home, thank you.

My Human has a cold, so I am keeping her company.

I have left my preferred place by the fire to stay with her.

But do you see this? Do you see who is lying beside MY Human?

Yes, that is Artemis.  I am on the dresser

(shooting freeze-rays at Artemis out of my supercat eyes).

Do you see what I have to put up with?

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

"his"? "he"? "him"?
Oh, the humanity!

My Best Friend

Each morning I awake,
my best friend beside me,
his eyes are wide with love,
and my heart sores again.

As I go through my day,
expectations on me,
my friend is always near,
to soothe my troubled mind.

When nighttime descends on us,
and the world is through with me,
at last I can meditate,
and give loving thanks for him.

My friend is very special,
a truly amazing soul,
he's very soft and gentle,
for he's my cat, after all!

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Day, Humans.

It is still winter in Minnesota.

But I am a resourceful cat.

I usually prefer my place of honor on the rug

in front of the fire.

Or my position of superiority on the back of the sofa

in front of the fire.

Occasionally, however, I will deign to honor my Human with my company.

As long as she is sitting in front of the fire.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!



Cat's Dream
- Pablo Neruda

How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,

Cat in the Moonlight
watercolor by Chandra Larocque

sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings--
a series of burnt circles--
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.

I should like to sleep like a cat,                
with all the fur of time,
with a tongue rough as flint,
with the dry sex of fire;
and after speaking to no one,
stretch myself over the world,
over roofs and landscapes,
with a passionate desire
to hunt the rats in my dreams.

I have seen how the cat asleep
would undulate, how the night
flowed through it like dark water;
and at times, it was going to fall
or possibly plunge into
the bare deserted snowdrifts.
Sometimes it grew so much in sleep
like a tiger's great-grandfather,
and would leap in the darkness over
rooftops, clouds and volcanoes.

Sleep, sleep cat of the night,
with episcopal ceremony
and your stone-carved moustache.
Take care of all our dreams;
control the obscurity
of our slumbering prowess
with your relentless heart
and the great ruff of your tail.

Translated by Alastair Reid

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

May I help you?

Yes, I am in the exact same place where I was last week.

Is this a problem?

Did you not get the memo that we have moved to Minnesota? In the winter?

Humans perplex me.

It is cold outside. It is warm inside by the fire. I am dozing by the warm fire.

It all makes perfect sense.

The twins are off somewhere doing whatever it is that foolish kittens do.

My Human is busy scribbling away. (She is the perfect companion.)

And I am sensibly comfortable. Now go away, do human things and enjoy your day!

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

Cats Sleep Anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.
Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.
Open draw, empty shoe, anybody's lap will do. -->
Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.
Anywhere! They don't care! Cats sleep anywhere.

Eleanor Farjeon (1881 - 1965)

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Morning, Humans.

It is the first day of February, the time when one really notices the days lengthening again.

Well, one would notice the days lengthening if one could stand the cold long enough to take a look outside!

PrrrrBrrrrPrrrr

Did I mention that we have moved to Minnesota?

My humans seem to love it. I have my doubts about their sanity.

Have you seen the weather outside? 35 below with wind chill!

I have decided that the best way to cope is to curl up and sleep.

And the twins have sensibly followed my example.  -->

It is quite cozy here, actually, snuggled up by the fire.

Prrrr. All is right with the world.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

                                               

On A Night of Snow

Look at this foolish feline!
No, close the door, you fool!

Cat, if you go outdoors, you must walk in the snow.

You will come back with little white shoes on your feet,

little white shoes of snow that have heels of sleet.

Stay by the fire, my Cat.  Lie still, do not go.

See how the flames are leaping and hissing low,

I will bring you a saucer of milk like a marguerite,

so white and so smooth, so spherical and so sweet -

stay with me, Cat. Outdoors the wild winds blow.

Outdoors the wild winds blow, Mistress, and dark is the night,

strange voices cry in the trees, intoning strange lore,

and more than cats move, lit by our eyes green light,

on silent feet where the meadow grasses hang hoar -

Mistress, there are portents abroad of magic and might,

and things that are yet to be done.  Open the door!

 - Elizabeth Coatsworth

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Morning, Humans.

Can you see me? Do you know where I am?

I am up here. Up in my secret aerie.

From my perch I can look down upon my domain.

Right below me the twins are sleeping together in a basket.

They can be tiresome, but they are adorable when they sleep.

When they awaken, they will go mad because it has begun to snow.

I will have to calm them and restore order. Whatever would my Humans do without me?

But for now, all is tranquil in my realm.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Morning, Humans.

I have had a difficult couple of weeks.

We have moved house. I dislike moving house.

My Humans appear to have lost their minds.

Apparently, Chicago was not cold enough for them, so we have moved to Minnesota.

There is only so much a cat can do to restore order to the universe when her Humans take leave of their senses.

I have supervised the twins. I have kept the home fires burning. I have done everything.

Now, I am taking a well-deserved siesta.

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!


CAT IN WINTER
(A Soutar)

That's right, you two. Stay out of trouble!

As winter's dusk engulfs the day,
He ventures out to hunt his prey,
With eyes as hard and cold as ice,
He waits for unsuspecting mice,
A little lion out to kill,
Impervious to icy chill.

He's heard this is what he should do,
But he's not really sure it's true,
He knows that cats are brave and bold,
And really do not mind the cold,
But though he knows he should stalk prey,
He'd rather stay at home and play.

Warm and cosy, snug and fed,
This winter cat goes up to bed,
But sometimes when the moon is full,
The age-old instincts start to pull,
Then in the night, beneath the sheet,
He wakes and kills his owner's feet.

(Note: Just to be clear; "he" would be Apollo, not moi.  signed, Freya)

Thank Gods It's FreyaDay!

Good Morning, Humans.

What a to-do around here!

People hustling and bustling!

Paper flying, legs running, horns honking in the street below.

My stars! It's beginning to look a lot like something around here!

I will sit quietly under this lovely decoration.

My Human put it here just for me!

Happy Holidays, Humans!

Thank gods it's FreyaDay!