Inbetween attacking shoe laces and sentry duty on the window I have taken some time out to blog!

After introducing myself the other day, I know you all must want to know more about me, magnificent Jones. So here it is: The Origins. Not quite the day I was born, because I can't remember that, but as-soon-after-I-was-born-as-I-can-recall. My very first experiences with this strange and stringy world.

Those fleshblobs called hoomins did not make a good impression on me. In fact, one of them separated me from my mother and left me all alone, to fend for myself. Nobody had taught me any fending yet, though, so instead I curled up into a ball and waited. And waited. And waited. I had to wait a really long time before anything happened, and every second that went by my stomach rumbled louder and louder. It must have been the rumbling that attracted the attention of different hoomins: the tuna-god hoomins! Well they picked me up off the ground and dropped me on a plate of tuna.

I learned that day that most hoomins are mean and evil, but a few are alright, (albeit unpredictable). After I had finished my first, giant meal, I wanted to show these new hoomin folk my appreciation, but they left me in a bathtub, which is where I spent my first night. The cold steel of the veterinarian's table always reminds me of that terrifying, lonely night, with the stillness punctuated by occasional blasts of noise from the nearby flushing toilet. These early days toughened me up considerably though. I present to you Exhibit B: "Give me more tuna or I will rip it from your belly!!".

I know, I know, even at such a young age I was already showing my fearless sense of determination! But we shall speak more of my fearlessness in my next post, which will be all about my first trip to the veterinarian and the horrifying anaphylactic reaction that ensued.

*Daily Rant: I was watching the news just now when I heard about the hoomin who had 8 babies despite already having 6 kids. I'm a little miffed about this; I didn't really get to have a mom and I might have died all alone if it weren't for the tuna-god hoomins that rescued me. I know many of my fellow felines have already been born into the world with no home and no food, and there's just as many hoomin babies with similar plights.

I mean, did you know that 75% of all cats entering shelters are euthanized? Or that on any given night in the US, there's 1.35 million homeless children?

Should hoomins really be allowed then to squeeze out as many mini-hoomins as they want into this already overpopulated world? Eventually, all the tuna is going to run out, and mothers-of-octuplets will most definitely be partly to blame.