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Can you read me

Dear Giacometti

I wonder if you can read this mail. You were never big on reading mails, to be true. You were more of an acta materialia, treaties and testaments kind of cat. But I'm at my wits end here, don't know how else to get in touch with you. So if you or one of your compadres happens to see this message, please, let it be known. Waiting for you is tearing a man´s heart up.  

Yours

Joel

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Cat-Cam

Some weeks ago, Miri sent me a link to a cat-cam-site on the net. Some german dude attached a digital camera to his cat's neck, in order to see the world through the eyes of the cat so to speak. It involved building a special plastic holder to the camera and manipulating the electronic circuits of the camera to allow automatic shot release every so many seconds. The guy is a genius of sorts, make no mistake. It is quite touching to view the pics, it's the closest you get yet into the mind set of a cat. But then again, there are still many cat secrets to unlock, this is just a meagre beginning. It will take a while before scientists write a book aboot cat metaphysics like they did recently aboot the baboons. In the mean time we rejoice in scratching the mere surface of cathood, in all it's splendor.

Just catching up on The catcher in the rye

The other day I got this idea, what if The Catcher in the Rye was actually refering to a cat hidden in the fabric of the novel, like it's hidden in the title. Hidden so well in fact, that nobody had any incling about it until this very moment? Of course,we recall very little from the said novel, but we seem to remember there were some speculations going on about where the ducks go during the winter, when the lake in the park freezes to ice. Now, this info would be totally useless to a human but very valuable indeed to a cat. So maybe this is a marker suggesting to the alert reader an implied cat, an infered cat, a cat that refrains fro appearing in any other way than by escaping the plot, i. e., by not appearing at all. Now, why would Salinger bother to imply a cat in a story about a juvenile rambler in the streets of New York? The answer is given with the asking, it would seem: Holden Caulfild is our strayed cat who can't find his way home because that home of his is not genuinly supportive. That is why he's constantly on the lookout for an opening, giving his old girlfriends a buzz, visiting a grown-up friend of the family, sneaking unseen into his own hoose to chat with his little sis, and so on.       

Neibody hame

Lately, there has been some furtive research going on regarding our furry friend. The other day we spent a whole hour looking for Giacometti on the grounds of the mental hospital in Brønderslev. We turned every stone and combed the forest behind the hospital. Every now and then we whistled a familiar tune, with a proven tracking record. All we found however, were some berries below and birds above. Later on, we knocked on  the door of a shabby and shoddy looking farm house located outside the hospital area on the other side of the main road. It wasn't our turf really and therefor a bit scary. But the old hex was out apparently, so we could ingest the walls and the roof without anyone minding.

In the mean time, Giacometti is probably rambling around his hidden playground somewhere on the outskirts of our imagination. And swigging his tail dismissively at our poor efforts.      

Spooky

Today I got a mail from a nurse who used to live opposite my home in Brønderslev. She is still living there, mind you. We used to call her Miss Opposite. All she wrote was, she was almost certain to have seen Giacometti on the 20. of July. She had even tried to capture him but hadn't succeeded, the useless hallirackit! This is in principal really good news but we remain a bit skeptical never the less. These days it's been a year since we last saw dear Giacometti, so it would certainly be sensational were he to give a long awaited encore at this stage. In the mean time, all members are asked to stay vigil and keep watching for him. And praying. 

Orlando commando

Wee Orlando seems to have a commando raider and a kamikaze pilot in him. He tried to jump the second floor window the other day. He cared less whether the window was open or not... He's too brave for his own good. He should rather be a little more fierdy pants if he wants to make it in this world. As it is stated in the holy bible the fear of God is a prerequisite of wisdom. The same goes for heights. 

Farewell to all ye people and cats

I'd like to thank all ye nice people and cats that made my stay in Israel so pleasurable, especially my familiy and lest I forget, the elderly russian guard in front of the supermarket, who fended off terrorists and bombes with calm manners and a gentle smile. I'm sorry I didn't have more time to spend with the Hertzelia branch of the family. Hope we can catch up another time. It was pleasant to see how many nice cats there are in this area, perhaps a little too many? But who's to say how many are too many? I saw some wonderful specimens in the garden, in the streets, in the shopping area, in restaurants and cafes, in fact everywhere. There was especially one tabby who claimed my heart, a regular by the shopping center every afternoon, a cuddely and good looking creature. Today, as a farewell gesture, I gave him a can of tuna fish. I think he appreciated it. I hope to see him again like I do all ye nice people. So long for now, I've got some planes to catch.