Archive for Writing

Lethargic Saturday

I’m starting to get a little daunted by this new blogging gig at Mispeled. Like the humans, I spend a lot of my internet time expecting someone will actually read and care about what I’ve wrote. I may not be as look-at-me as the average human given an internet connection, but even cats aren’t free from narcissism. Feline narcissism is far less noxious than that of the average human, but it is still present in small amounts. Now that I’m being looked at on this new blog, nothing is more tempting than to nibble through all the internet and computer cords and burrow my head under the couch. What an odd feeling this is. Do I cave in under the pressure of heightened expectations? Is this common in humans too? It would explain why the female spends a small period of time hiding under the covers after receiving positive feedback.

I’m hoping to bounce back soon. I’ve spent the majority of the day laying in my wave bed. The wave bed is usually great for generating ideas because of it’s ergonomic design. But the male keeps moving me and my bed around the apartment and covering me with dishtowels.

This is not conducive to my equanimity.



Sold to the highest bidder: Mispeled

I have been asked to join forces on a collective blog of creative people and after much reflection… I have accepted.

You may be fearing that with all my time spent between sleeping and posting on this other blog, I will have no time to update this site. Don’t panic though, dear readers. I will continue to keep my Cat: A Log updated, but mostly with leftover scrapes from the other site, of course. As you can see with this first scrape, my FAQ posted as an introduction on

I thought I’d make a FAQ just to clarify a few things and introduce myself to those of you who have not heard the mildy-famous name of Jeeves G. Fuzzenstein.

1. Why would a clever and attractive cat want to waste time in the cyber company of humans?

As an anthropologist, the study of humans has become a passionate pursuit of mine periodically. As an insider, I will have a more comprehensive understanding of human interactions and interspecies-cyberelations.

2. Will this hurt your well established credibility as a writer?

It’s about being true to oneself. Possibly at first, there will be a fair share of skeptics and naysayers. But I think, in time, they will see my feline standards have not slipped in the company of humans. I did have some hesitations at first due to the name, Mispeled, which is obviously misspelled. This may not mean much to humans, but a credible cat has to be cautious not to fall into the stereotype of a grammatically erroneous and misspelling moron. In the end, I chalked it up to the human love of irony and decided the impact on myself would be nil.

3. What kind of contributions can we expect from a cat?

Only the keenest of word groupings will slip from my typing paws. You can expect well-rounded and researched articles on interspecies relations, litter reviews, culinary tidbits, the occasional epiphany, gardening tips, self defense, self offense, art reviews, and wherever else my lofty ambitions and possible follow-through take me.

Questions? Comments?


I’d apologize for not posting in awhile, but I don’t want to be that sort of blogger. My novel writing took a greater toll on me than I had at first noticed. I don’t want to panic but I’m afraid I may have come down with something. *cough* swineflu *cough*hairball*cough*

Its possible I’ve caught something from the female. She’s been hobbling about and mainly rolling over the concrete floors in her office chair. I’m not sure if something is wrong with her foot or if the problem has deeper roots impacting her motor skills. I’ll have to keep a watch on her.

The End

I am happy to announce that I am now a novelist. Or maybe novellaist is a more appropriate title. I’ve never been so sleep deprived in my life. I didn’t get more than 12 hours of sleep a day. I vaguely recall going out to smoke on the balcony on day 2 of the contest. We don’t have a balcony and I don’t smoke, which makes me wonder what I was doing and/or hallucinating at that time.

The female helped me by keeping a fresh saucer of the ol’ liquid motivation always at paw and distributing serviceable portions of tuna as required. At one point, the keys on the keypad stopped registering. The female had to go in with slivers of tape between the keys to get the fur out. We started butting heads on day 3. She may have provided the monetary backing for this project, but creativity was my sole provision and I had to take the claws out to make her realize that.

Last year’s winner had a total of 144 pages. I set this as my goal but choose not to add 83 pages of filler to meet that goal. A cat has a certain artistic integrity what cannot be done away with in any circumstances. Its been nearly 22 hours since we finished the project. I spent this time catching lost sleep. The female had to go to her place of work today and came back blurry eyed and yawning. She has poured herself a glass of the ol’ liquid de-motivation and I think will be sleeping soundly soon.

Contest Prep

I’m happy to announce that after much haggling and pussy-footing about with my roommates, I will be entering this year’s three-day novel writing contest. It was a battle. I suggested the idea to the female, and of course, she fancied herself entering the contest. This would have been fine if I could use the male’s computer, but he thought the he might possibly, maybe need his computer in case he felt in the mood for a video game or had an urgent need to look something up at some point in the weekend. I saw no reasoning with him, but I finally convinced the female that I would be far more likely to win with my poetic prowess and ambitious nature than she would. The contest starts tomorrow at midnight so I’ll have to rest up until then.

3 Days of Writing

I’m not sure what to make of the female’s mood when she spends the majority of the day in frantic cleaning mode. It always starts out slow, picking up a few dishes and throwing out some trash. Then her eyes start to narrow at every light-blocking smudge on the windows and at my tumblefurs blowing across the concrete floor. Before I can seek cover she is brooming, vacuuming and mopping every surface of the apartment.  I don’t mean to complain because the place was in need of little tidying up, but ever time I tried to ease back into a sunny sleep position on the windowsill, the vacuum was flicked on once again. I don’t mind the noise so much, but ever since she tried to vacuum me I prefer to stay out of the same room as a working vacuum. I don’t think she would make another vacuuming assault in my direction, as we both have painful memories of her last attempt (her pain being of the physical variety). At least the place is clean now and I feel like a can walk across the room without licking the remnants of human sloth off my paws.

I’m not sure what brings on these cleaning fits, but it seems to happen about once a month for her. I like to tidy up my living area before starting on a project, but I’ve yet to see any signs of a new project for her.

On a completely unrelated note, I’ve been thinking about entering the 3-day novel writing contest next weekend. Last year, I watched the male imbibe gross amounts of coffee while pecking away at his laptop for three days and I thought “That could be me.” (Curious readers can check out his story at Scribd)

There are a few reasons I’m reluctant to enter the contest. Firstly, last years winner looks like an idiot. Unfortunately no excerpt of his book is provided to get a clear view of his writing style, but the plot appears to be rather barbaric.  Do humans really need another Chuck Palahniuk churning out their vulgarities? This story may impress the panel of monkeys they have judging the contest, but it feels to me like an easy gimmick.

Secondly, the entrance fee is a rather large hindrance for an unemployed cat. I’m hoping to talk my roommates into fronting me the money. I should have no problem paying them back once my masterpiece reaches the bookshelves.

Thirdly, I require 16 hours minimum of sleep daily.

At least this would give me something to do over the long Labor Day Weekend. Labor Day is one of the more infuriating holidays humans have come up with. As it is, I detest all weekends and I’m not looking forward to another long one. Weekdays give me the structure I need. I get up for my morning saucer of tea and watch the humans get ready for work, then relax in the peace until lunch time comes around. It comforts me knowing that someone has a schedule which I can set my routine to. The 3-day novel writing contest might be a welcome distraction from the chaos of an unscheduled Labor Day weekend.