Meet Artemis

For every Yin, there must be a Yang. For every up, a down. You get the idea. You've been introduced to Clyde, now let me introduce Artemis. Artemis is 7 years old and is albino. She is also deaf. This makes for fun times. Albino cats tend to be deaf and their eyesight tends to be less than perfect. She possesses both of these traits. Our Artemis has other fun 'quirks', if you will. Her remaining sense are heightened, especially her sense of smell. This makes for some very amusing situations. For instance, the litterbox sends her into sensory overload. She will often get into the litterbox, do her kitty business, and then bolt like a bat out of hell from it, spraying kitty litter all over the place as she flees. This means one of two things I've concluded:

1. The smell of whatever she has created is just that foul.

Or

2. She expected to get in the litterbox and play around and was surprised when nature took its course.

Either way, it is definitely amusing. We learned early on that disciplining her was next to impossible, so when she does something wrong (like randomly leaves us a present for no apparent reason on our dining room floor) our recourse is to clean it up and hope her neurons keep her from doing it again for a while. In order to get her attention, we have to tap the floor. She has grasped the 'summoning fingers' and usually will respond with a grunty 'umph' when summoned.

This leads me to her 'meows'. They aren't like a normal cat's noises. They are unearthly. When she really gets going, it sounds like someone is killing a cat really closeby. Her death yowls, as we refer to them, usually occur due to one of the following:

1. Kitty nightmare

2. No vibration to determine if anyone is nearby

3. Looking for attention

She will also randomly run and attack Clyde whilst making the death yowl. We haven't figured if these are meant to be playful attacks, since they are declawed. Clyde doesn't treat them as such, so they are probably meant to make him back off. Of course, everything is Clyde's fault in her eyes. Everything. If one of us harasses her, it is his fault. If he looks at her funny or if it is perceived that he looks at her funny, it is his fault. If he strays into her perceived territory, it's his fault. And our little 9 pounder attacks like her life is in jeopardy. It is really quite amusing.

This is why she is named after the goddess of the hunt.

Meet Clyde

This is Clyde. He is my 9 year old cat. Clyde is smarter than the usual cat in that he appears to understand English; well, at least respond to it. He knows how to lead us to the food bowl or water bowl when it is low. He also knows his name and will respond with a 'mrow' when you call him. Additionally, he responds to his numerous nicknames. Speaking of nicknames, I have decided to list what I call Clyde on a fairly regular basis. Here goes:

1. Mr. Mew
2. Mr. Tail
3. Pon farr kitty
4. Mr. Honch
5. General Meow
6. Chairman Meow (I alternate between general and chairman)
7. Mr. Puffy Cheeks (in homage to my deceased cat Rascal)
8. Clyde-je-woo
9. Woo
10. Scooter (after a disturbing incident involving Easter grass several years ago)

It is a pretty impressive list for a cat to respond to. Mind you, if I piss him off, he will just sit there and glare at me while I call him stupid names. I can see it in his eyes that he understands but will not humor me since I have annoyed him and now must suffer the 'silent treatment.'

People Say I'm Crazy, I've Got Diamonds On the Soles of My Shoes

For a split second I wonder how I would handle being trapped in a mist filled with giant mutated insects. My immediate thought is 'Well, I've seen the movie, so I know what not to do.' I then return to making my lunch. Yes, there is fog outside. This is precisely why I don't watch horror movies. I have enough to deal with without having to worry about giant insects or worse yet, nature attacking us. The Happening still has me wary of going outside. I saw that movie over a month ago. Whenever I go anywhere now, I have a nagging fear that nature will try and kill me with a neurotoxin. Great. Just great.

To give a little background, I have always been like this. It only appears to be getting worse. When I was younger, I would have fun, vivid dreams where I was in whatever movie I had just seen. I would reenact scenes with my matchbox cars or Legos. That was until I saw Maximum Overdrive. I actually saw it numerous times because we had a VHS copy of it. My mother finally hid the copy in my father's armoire, so I would stop watching it. This could be because I had nightmares about machines coming to life and chasing me. Or it could be because all of the vehicles came to life in my Lego city and killed off their plastic owners. To this day, I will often wonder how I would survive should the machines take on sentience and try to kill off humanity.

As I type this, part of me wonders if it is safe to go outside and check the mail, as the fog appears to be getting thicker.