Catymology

Since today is Aloysius' day to simply be a cat, I'm taking over to share this missive from our friend Darcy Xenophon.

--amanuensis

May 1, 2006

Yo, cats and catted ones: Yeowl!

We are blessed and we are cursed. Yeah, us cats and the catted. But I have been blessed.

In this life and my eight lives before, I 've bummed around a bunch of foreign lands. That's right. This life is my ninth, and I'm still beatin' the odds. Yeowl!

You heard? My partners and I spent our crappy honeymoon in the Yucatan, one of the great civilized cribs of the Jaguar, where that Shrubbie kept us out of Chichen Itza for a frickling four hours while he tried to snatch some of Jaguar's mojo.

But I am still beatin' the odds, and thanks to the wonders of cut-rate airflight I've shipped myself around the planet. I've become ubiquitous. All without a litter box.
Yeowl!

So I thought to myself--today is the first day of May! Let's see what's goin' on.

In Ireland, I reveled with the Celtic cats (hard to believe, they're descendents of the well-read Pangur Ban), lit fires, leaped over them and partied on through the night.

In the charmingly backward town of Padstow, Cornwall, it was "Obby-Oss" day. Padstow cats claimed that this is one of the oldest fertility parties in the world, and if the number of kittens mewling about the streets means anything, they've got something going on. Now for a town without an "h" to its name, Padstow cats sure know how to get down--or up. I climbed up on the "Obby-Oss" myself and galloped through streets and gardens.

Over in Germany's Hartz Mountains, it was Walpurgisnacht, and we lit more bonfires. Being a passel of gloomy pusses, the Katzen couldn't help inviting a pile of witches, but at least they brought their familiars. I polkaed the night away with the witches on Brocken Mountain--and, no, that's not Brokeback.

Some of the cats got a little rowdy. Down in Bavaria, a gang of first-life adolescent cats laid waste to fields of hops and held baby bunnies hostage, until the weary townspeople paid a ransom of weisswurst and schnitzel.

Meanwhile, up in Finland--which I'm told has the highest feline litteracy rate in Europe--studious cut-ups put out screeds on toilet paper and stuffed them into sardine cans. Who knows why? Yeowl! I gobbled up some sardines and decided to take a break.

Another tag for May Day is Beltane, a party that's been goin' on since pagan times, hyping the return of the sun. And so, with accordions still aggrevating my ears, I flew on to the island of Maui to catch a few rays.

It was Lei Day! A bewitching golden-eyed, dark-haired female placed a frangipani lei around my neck and playfully rubbed whiskers with me. "My name is Kiana," she purred. Later, we strolled together on the beach and joined some friendly folks at an old-time pig roast. She told me my Hawaiian name--Kane. Then things really got interesting: a Beach Boys tribute band rolled up and it was nothin' but "Good Vibrations" the rest of the night.

Yeowl! Don't wait up.





P.S. I'm gonna check into this B & B later!

Labels: travel