Glintlit Gazelle











{January 15, 2007}   If I Were President . . .

The President of the United States is a symbol of leadership, democracy, and justice.  When George Washington refused to be called king, this symbol was born and our government reaped the rewards.  The President is elected by the people and for the people.  Through blood, sweat and occasional back-stabbing and name-calling, a president is born.  This infant leads our country for  four years of its life, possibly eight years with vitamins.

Next to being a princess or a fireman, presidency is a very sought after career, particularly as a child.  Even I wonder what’s it’s like, behind those white pillars.  I would do things differently than most people.

I would begin by registering democrat.  As my career grew, people would begin to call me “Bleedingheart Baldwin”. Once elected to President, I would first end all wars.  I would redirect those resources to more worthy causes.  I would establish a national health care system.  After that, I would direct my attention to the environment.

I would make recycling more prominent and toughen property laws for wooded areas.  I would raise taxes to make money for animal shelters and wildlife refuges.  I would make more parks and generally make the world a greener place. I would eventually make gas-fuelled cars illegal.  The Greenhouse President would be another nickname of mine. 

I probably wouldn’t get reelected but I would definitely make the world a better place, greener at least.  Politics aren’t exactly my style but protesting is.  I don’t think the country would go for outlawing meat though.



{January 5, 2007}   Cinderella

Cinderella is one of the utmost beloved fairy tales.  Love and romance triuumph over evil relatives and ugly dresses.  An old lady in a tutu has magic powers and a thng for orange carriages.  What’s not to love?

In this traditional tale of true love, Cinderella is repressed and bullied by her evil stepmother and spoiled step-sisters.  The local heartthrob, Prince Charming is having a ball, to find Mrs. Charming.  Pretty gowns, lively waltzes, and pleasant prices fill Cinderella’s pretty head.  Her evil stepmother, however, has different things in her head.  She is refusing to let Cinderella go.

Enters old lady in a tutu!  this granny isnt the batty cat lady everyone is used to.  She is Cinderella’s fairy godmother.  She kidnaps a few mice and a pumpkin and with a flick of her little pink wand, turns them into a horse and carriage.  Another flick and Cinderellas has a one-of-a-kind fairy original gown.  Thus with a kiss and a twelve o’clock curfew, Cinderella is whisked away to the ball in her little glass slippers.

Prince Charming is floored by Cinderella’s beauty and to say the least she is pretty smitten herself.  Just as they are about to smooch, the clock strickes twelve and Cinderella flees.  All she leaves is her footprints and, oh, a shoe.  Prince Charming, determined, begins another tradition . . . stalking. 

The blonde-haired boy scours the city, searching for that one miniscule foot.  Finally, after almost all hope is lost, he finds her.  Predictably the shoe fits and they live happily ever after.  the evil step-ladies perish and all is well.

This story was the building block for every cliched ending on the planet.  Who wears glass slippers to a ball?!  Another little complaint is they spent about two hours together and off to the chapel they go.  Personally I wouldn’t even want to marry the guy.  He has women falling at his feet.  His ego must be astronomical.  I think I would prefer to marry the cute carpenter down the street.

Ahem. Cinderella wall plates, mirrors, and curtain ties are here.



     You, at this very moment have a cat curled up on your lap. You are content. The rhythmic purr relaxes you. The warmth of that little furry body coxes you to your high point of relaxation. The cat, however, thinks of this as a good deed with perks. The only kind of good deed is the kind with perks. He is “letting” you pet him, which he believes is the high point of your day. Cats, especially the one on your lap, are filled with their own sense of self importance. There is no rarer thing than a humble cat. Cats were once worshipped as gods, they have never forgotten this. Amazingly (to us not to cats), cats can be found threw out history.     The Egyptians believed that cats had powers. They thought that Ra, the sun god died at sunset and would be reborn at sunrise but while he was dead he was in great danger. They believed that he had these massive lions that protected him while he was dead. The Egyptians worshipped cats in gratitude of what the lions do for Ra. Sekhmet, the goddess of war, had a head of lion. The goddesses Tefnut and Mafdet also were lion-headed.     The domestic cat was under the protection of Bast, a daughter of Ra. Bast was the protector of cats and those who took care of cats. There was an annual festival for Bast, which was one the most popular festival. Children were blessed by Bast by having their arms cut and then having cat blood pored in to the cut. Minimal amounts of cat blood was used because killing a cat was punishable by death. Even accidentally killing a cat was a immediate death sentence. If a cat died (by natural causes), the owner of the cat shaved his/her eyebrows as a sign of mourning. The Egyptians painted their eyes, which gave them a cat-like appearance. The gods and goddesses were the fashion experts of time (rather like the Gucci and Prada of today). So in a way, it was “in” to have a cat head.     Witches! Witches! The cry rang up from the colonies of America. Witches! Witches! The people of the colonies ran to persecute the “witches” of their towns. However, mostly they killed old cat ladies but they also persecuted young men and women and even children. One of the signs of a witch, is her cat, her “familiar”. Familiars were also dogs, toads, bats and the occasional horse but the black cat was the most infamous. Familiars were believed to be the Devil’s helper. Naming a pet and occasionally talking to your pet was a sign of “witchcraft”. The familiars were often killed, if they could be caught. The superstitions that follow black cats are believed to have originated from the witch trials.     There are many possibilities to how superstitions begin. Some may have started in Egypt, some in Salem, some in Europe. They spread all over the world and now there are cat superstitions from every where. The most common is the fear of black cats. It is believed that if a black cat crosses your path you will have bad luck. To reverse the bad luck, you have to walk in a circle, go backwards across the spot where the cat crossed you and count to 13. However, if a strange black cat is on your porch it is good luck. White cats are also signs of luck, good or bad. If you see a white cat on the road, it is good luck (however if the cat is deceased due to being on the road, it’s own good luck was not very lucky). Dreaming of a white cat is good luck but to see a white cat at night is bad luck. So sleeping during the day is a better idea then sleeping at night.     In some superstitions, it is believed that a cat’s behavior can predict the weather. A cat washing behind the ears, means rain not just that the cat’s ears are dirty. If a cat is sleeping with all four paws tucked under itself, it means cold weather ahead (but a cat might have all four paws tucked under itself due to the present cold). A cat sneezing is good luck to all who hear it. Being sneezed on isn’t pleasant but does not change the luckiness of the sneeze (unless you are deaf, in which case a cat sneezing is no change to your current luck). But what if a black and white cat crosses you on the street at night and than goes to your porch? Does you luck increase or decrease? Or do you just get really confused trying to figure it out? Is being confused good luck or bad luck?

     Fables are stories told to teach a lesson, usually of morality or life lessons. Cat fables are common. One such fable is the Rooster and the Cat. A cat pounced on a rooster and held him tightly, ready to kill and eat him. But he felt he needed an excuse to do so. He decided that the awful noise the rooster made every morning, disturbing the peace and quiet, was a good enough reason. But the rooster argued his case by saying he was the world’s alarm clock, and that without him, men would be late for work. The cat listened with interest, but decided it wasn’t a reasonable enough defense, so killed and ate the rooster anyway. This fable teaches to always hire a lawyer. Another cat fable is the Cat and the Fox. A fox was bragging to a cat about the hundred ways he had escaped attacks from dogs. The cat says it has only one trick. Just then a pack of dogs arrived and the cat used its one trick by running up a tree. The fox considered all his options but took so long, the dogs caught him and killed him. This fable teaches that bragging isn’t a good idea and climbing up a tree is.

     Cats have played multiple roles in history but most of all they have been our pets. Cat however view us as their pets. Whatever the relationship, we love our cats. Even famous people have enjoyed the experience of a cat. Ernest Hemingway, author of the Old Man and the Sea, lived with 30 cats in his Key West home. Hippolyte Taine once said “I have studied many philosophers and many cats. The wisdom of cats is infinitely superior.” Florence Nightingale had over 60 cats in her lifetime. Mark Twain lived with 11 cats and his daughter once said” The difference between Papa and Mama is that, Mama loves morals and Papa loves cats.” Other famous cats lovers are Abraham Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, Sir Isaac Newton, Sir Winston Churchill and Rutherford B. Hayes .

     Writers are especially found of cats. T.S. Elliot wrote an entire book of poems about cats. William Wordsworth also wrote poems about cats. Edgar Allen Poe may have wrote about cats in a unflattering way but he “owned” and loved many cats. Elizabeth Coatsworth wrote animal poems which include a few about cats. Other writer cat lovers are Paul Gallico, H.H. Munro, Walter de la Mare, Thomas Hardy, Edward Lear, Lewis Carroll, Beatrix Potter, W.B. Yeats, and H.G. Wells

     Some of the bravest men in history were completely terrified by cats. Napoleon Bonaparte was once found sweating with fear and swiping wildly with his sword at a small kitten. The kitten was unharmed. Henry III was a terror persecuting the Protestants in France but a cat was a worse terror to him. He had fainting fits if a cat came near him. Cat have a fan club of people who have their fan clubs but they have their famous haters, too. Dwight Eisenhower, the 34th president of the United States, hated cats so much he ordered his staff to shoot cats if seen on the grounds of his home. The Irish believe that you shouldn’t trust a man that doesn’t like cats.

     Cats have spread themselves threw history like butter. Everywhere threw history you can find a cat, sitting on a window sill or stalking a mouse. Who knows, maybe there was a cat on the Santa Maria, the Pinta, or the Niña, scouring the ship for a rouge rat. Of course, the cat on your lap knows all of this. In fact, his second uncle’s great great great great great great great great great great grandmother was the kitten that terrified Napoleon. The cat knows so because his great aunt Nelly on his mother’s side (who is much more reputable than his great aunt Nelly Ann on his father’s side) told him so. All of this makes the cat believe that he is doing an even great favor to you because he is related to someone who knew Napoleon.

Loving and Liking

Long may you love your pensioner mouse,
Though one of a tribe that torment the house:
Nor dislike for her cruel sport the cat,
Deadly foe both of mouse and rat;
Remember she follows the law of her kind,
And Instinct is neither wayward nor blind.
Then think of her beautiful gliding form,
Her tread that would scarcely crush a worm,
And her soothing song by the winter fire,
Soft as the dying throb of the lyre.

William Wordsworth



{November 25, 2006}   Subject 041893

Greetings, homo sapien. My name is Paige. I am also a homo sapien, though I do prefer the term “Human”. Which do you prefer? I am 162 moons old. Do you know how many moons you are?

A description of myself?

Name- Paige, specimen 041893Species- Homo sapien, prefers human, however. Gender- Female

Description- Tall for her species and gender; 5’10. Long hair, golden, which is somewhat uncommon in this species. Pale skin, which reacts badly to sun. No serious weight problem. Has recently stopped chewing nails, due a vanity complex. Large feet and hands. Approximately 160 moons old.

As you probably can tell, I am interested in animals. Obsessed is slightly more accurate, actually. I plan to be a biologist/mammalogist/felinologist. I hope you enjoy my blog. Throwing sticks or tomatoes is unnecessary. Commenting is recommended.

=] Paige



et cetera