I went to the hospital again Monday. I have to say that I saw this coming. The first signs came when I was bundled up in my favorite blanket and carried to the car. Most people wouldn't have known what to make of this, but within half an hour my keen mind had puzzled it out. The ride was generally nice, I have to say. While the last trip was plagued with bridge ambushes, this one was not. It turns out that bridges are both evil and stupid. I mean, if my life's goal was to jump out of my hiding place in a fit of bridgy evil and shout "RAR" or "7Z" in the hopes of scaring folks out of their cute little fur, I would make sure to pick a different hiding place every day! Seriously. I'm not sure what kind of weapons we have on our vehicle, but they must be pretty impressive to bust a cap in a bridge. Those things are big. Anyhow, every so often on the drive someone would cover my cute little eyes. I consulted my cute little mental map of the road and found that these spots corrugated well with the sites of bridge ambushes last time, so I assume the reason my eyes were covered was to protect me from scenes of unimaginable violence being violented on those bridges.

Anyhow, I don't remember much about the hospital. It was hospitable, I guess. I remember the doctors using the same old medicine and not trying a new one because I have a kidney problem, and I remember hearing that they couldn't feel some lump today. You'd think this is good, but nobody seems to be overjoyed, and I'm still advised to avoid long-term investments like blue chip stocks or boil-in-the-bag meals.

Last night (this morning, actually), I started having trouble breathing. I tried to get assaultdoor to give me a squirt of that asthma spray that he pops like it's going out of style, but he wouldn't. Instead, everyone bundled me up in a blanket, stuffed me in a car, and drove me at like 320kph to the local vet hospital. They put me in some kind of plastic tank full of oxygen, which was pretty nice. I see why oxygen bars are all the rage these days. Oxygen is nice and harmless, while alcohol is used to kill microbes and preserve foods that nobody would actually eat the first time. Anyhow, this tank was probably a lot like what the Spacing Guild navigators use, except that it had oxygen and not Spice. Then they ran some tests and poked me with needles. I was hooked up to some kind of machine, and they had to shave my wrist to get an IV into me. I'm hoping they come out with a V soon, since the IV isn't that much fun. I feel sorry for all of the people in the days of old who had to use the III, however.

Now that I have a bare patch on my wrist, I'm thinking of selling advertising space. I was thinking of getting a tattoo of Wel-Pac unagi, but perhaps some other corporate entity would be willing to pay me more. If you are, work for, or know any corporate entities, let them know that I'm walking, talking, super-awesome kitty signage and I'm open for business.

I'm feeling pretty good right now. I actually made it home, and I'm not having any trouble breathing. The doc said that there wasn't that much fluid around my lungs, so the trouble I had was probably just excitement. I'm going to try the quiet life from now on.

I saw several bridges on the way home. Just in case some of you have never seen one before, let me tell you something. Bridges are mean, nasty little bastards. They just sneak up on you, jump out, and scream "RAR!" or "LHA!" or "ARJ!" or something crazy like that. Then they run away. They scare me, and I'd dearly love to see them all torn down. Stupid bridges. I hate them so damned much.

Update: After looking at some of the forms that came with me from the hospital, I found out something really amazing. I actually have a first name! It's Kitty. I think. Maybe it's Miss and I have the middle name of Kitty. Maybe Miss is a generational name and all of my cousins also have it, and Kitty is my personal name. I don't remember my parents being Chinese or Korean, but I could be mistaken. I'm a little worried that it's actually a double first name, kind of like JoAnne or Jo Ellen or Mary Sue or Donald Rumsfeld. I really don't want to sound like I'm from Arkansas or really awful fanfic, I'm pretty sure my family isn't from Asia, and that my first name isn't Miss, so I'm going to say that my given name is Kitty. My family name, according to this form, is Ryan. This is quite a coincidence, as Ryan is also the family name of the people who drove me to the hospital.

I'm very full of food at the moment. I didn't really want to be this full when I started, but there was a lot in my bowl, and I thought, "Miss Kitty, how would you feel if some poor starving cat who doesn't read your journal managed to get inside and eat some of your food, just so it could have the energy to crawl another few feet? You'd never forgive yourself." So, as you can see, I had to eat all of the food.

In unrelated news, I'm thinking of buying my own domain name. More and more cats are getting on the Internet, and I don't want another one taking my domain name. Unfortunately, I don't have any ideas for what the name should be. Any help?

It is generally accepted that house cats (Felis domesticus) are the most fearsome predators on the face of this planet, although anyone who has ever been to China's Great Wall and dealt with the people who sell tee shirts there knows otherwise. I was a card-owning lifetime member of the Order of Felis domesticant, at least until political machinations and wheels within wheels led me to be scratched from their roster. Nevertheless, I still consider myself a member and make a point of sitting on my official Felix domesticus paper bag on cat holidays. As such, it disturbs me greatly to learn that for the past 19 years there has been a predator on this planet that has cats high up on its to-eat list. Yes, I'm speaking of Gordon Shumway, known to his feline foes as ALF. As if the Miss Kitty Institute for the Destruction of Stealth Chickens didn't have its hands full with stealth chickens and poop elves! Now I guess we're going to have to go after this ALF, too. Thus far the Institute has developed a stealth suit and a chicken detector. I can see an obvious use for the suit, but I'm not sure how I can use the chicken detector against elves or ALF. The detector does work, though. It informs me that we have a stealth chicken hiding in our freezer. I've looked in there when the freezer door has been open and I haven't seen anything that looks like chicken, so I assume it's completely invisible.

I'm thinking that since we've sunk a lot of time and money into R&D for the detector, we might be able to expand upon the basic design and make a "foes of m_cat" detector. To do this, however, I'll need some test subjects. If any of you could capture (live or preserved in spirit) a specimen of any of the following, I'd be most pleased:

• poop elves
  
• ALF
  
• Walter Cronkite
  
• the board of directors for Cat Fancy magazine
  
• Rick Santorum
  
• Karl Rove
  
• Orson Scott Card
  
• Gregor Mendel

Fortunately, I have learned that I am not alone in the dark. There is apparently a consortium in Japan dedicated to the destruction of ALF, and they have made documentaries on this monster available on DVD. Once I get some more cash, I'm going to get a few episodes of this Those Who Hunt ALF.

From the Miss Kitty Institute for the Elimination of My Enemies, thank you for your support.

I wanted to go see MirrorMask, but since I doubted I could count on a lift from my loser roommates, I decided to rely on public transportation. The bus dropped me off pretty near the theater in Palo Alto. The theater itself is on Emerson Street, home to the famous Pirates of Emerson. Not wishing to be caught and made to walk a plank, I decided to try out some of the fruits of my stealth chicken research. It was pretty sweet. The bus actually got me there a little bit early, so I wandered over to the nearby Whole Foods and gave the stealth technology a real workout. Nobody seemed to notice me, even after the suit malfunctioned and I became visible while eating chicken in the middle of the store. People just kept shuffling around with confused looks on their faces. I guess the stealth technology does something to the brain. Nifty.

Anyhow, the movie was pretty cool. ( Spoilers! ) Go see this movie.

I was sitting on the couch yesterday when two of my roommates came back from getting food. They took up positions on opposite ends of the couch, and soon after that I could smell chicken. The wonderful scent clearly originated from the one on the right side of the couch. I sniffed and sniffed, but I couldn't locate it. He did not appear to have any food. Still, I kept sniffing. I was sure he had it. My nose never lies. Just to be sure, though, I checked the one to my left. He had a container of food, but I didn't smell chicken. I went back to sniffing the one on the right. He had to have chicken somewhere on his person. Both roommates found this to be incredibly funny. It turns out that the one on my left did have chicken, but it was able to fool my nose. I can only conclude that this is not the kind of ability that can be picked up in the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant, so it must have been an ability that chicken was born with. That was a stealth chicken! I pride myself on the fact that I can detect any chicken that comes in this house, but I'm not so sure about stealth chickens. I might be able to detect them, but I might not be able to. It's possible that a great deal of stealth was lost when it was cut up, frozen, thawed, and then cooked. I need several million dollars to pump into R&D for a way to detect and eat stealth chickens.

I'm at condition red here, hidden behind a couple of boxes. I'm going to try to set up a Pay-Pal account so that you can start sending me the millions I'll need.

Okay, I'm new to this whole goth thing and I have some questions. Is there any sort of National or International Goth Certification Agency? Do I need to pass a test or carry some kind of membership card? Being a card-carrying goth would be kind of hard. I mean, I don't wear pants. I could be a card-owning goth, if that would be okay. Are there any explicable taxes or fees? Do I need to pay dues? Is being a goth a union position? If so, since I'm the only goth cat that I've met in the local area, would I be the shop steward? Also, if I'm union, will there be certain kinds of goth topics that I would have to call in other goths to do? For example, if it was my day to talk about the bleankess of life and somebody made a JtHM reference, would I be able to respond, or would I need to call in a couple of JtHM specialists?

Also, I've been arguing with Ms. Wannabe-Goth (wintersweet) about a few topics. Must goths have black boots? As you can see, my boots are white. Second, do all goths think death is interesting, or is it just some of them? I know I think death is cool. Death for one is lunch for me. Mmm... lunch... Also, ever since I started saying nasty things about Jessica Simpson, I've had Tiny Tim lying in the same spot on my floor. He smells funny, and he hasn't moved. wintersweet wants to throw him away, but I think it's cool to have an artist passed out on the floor. It's okay to keep him, right?

Well, I knew it couldn't last forever. A vacuum cleaner (catsucker) has an account on LiveJournal and has posted in my journal. Well, I'm not scared of you. Not at all. I've done my homework and I can debusscope all of your vacuum cleaner lies.
Vacuum Cleaner Claims

1. Vacuum cleaners can suck cats up: this is true, but vacuum cleaners are completely incapable of stealth, and they aren't too keen on climbing
   
2. Vacuum cleaners can actually suck cats into some kind of Hell-dimension: also true, but only in theory. You see, vacuum cleaners contain something called a filter. This filter keeps all but the smallest things from passing into the Hell-dimension. I've heard that there are new filterless vacuum cleaners, but I suspect this is just a rumor.
   
3. Vacuum cleaners are masters of kung fu: whatever. I know that "kung fu" is actually gong fu, so I'm really not worried about the kind of made-for-TV moves that a vacuum cleaner might pull out on me.
   
4. Vacuum cleaners have created 1.7 million jobs in the past four years: true, but almost anybody can create 1.7 million jobs when you first persuade employers across the nation to free up 2.6 million jobs.
   
5. The word "vacuum" means "cat slayer" in Latin: not true at all. It's actually in German.
   
6. Every cat who has ever stood up to a vacuum cleaner has died: false. I don't know about the rest of you, but I caught one while it was napping and gave it a good backhanding. I'm still alive.

As you can see, I'm too smart to be scared of vacuum cleaners. Plus, catsucker, I've had some experience with people on the internet. I'd say the odds are good that you aren't even a vacuum cleaner. You're probably a 40-ish, balding guy pretending to be a vacuum cleaner to pick up young, vulnerable vacuum cleaners.

polycat has informed me that flesh bugs are "alienoid life-form what look [sic] just like a hand." I'm not familiar with these creatures, and I've read every Geiger-counter manual I can find, so I think I know a fair amount about aliens. Has anyone else seen these things? I need as much information as I can if I'm going to hunt down the one that attacked me. To this end, I would like to announce the Miss Kitty Foundation for the Collection of Information Relating to Flesh Bugs, Specifically the Kind of Information That Can Lead to Their Destruction, Not the Kinds of Information Like "They Don't Think Seinfeld is Funny, Either," or "Some of Them Like to Play Whist."

I've been in physical training ever since Saturday. See, right after I finished with my post, I was attacked by this... thing. Now those of you who have read more than a few of my posts will know that I'm rarely at a loss for words. In fact, I don't think I'm botswain at all when I say I can find words for any occamism. However, I have no words to describe the horror that attacked me from under the pile of sheets on the bed where I was sitting. I didn't get a good look at it, since it attacked through the sheet and never actually showed itself. wintersweet tried to get it, but it apparently grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go. It must have been quite strong, since she's bigger than I am and couldn't let go. There we were, wintersweet with her hand under the covers screaming "Get it, Miss Kitty," the thing under the covers holding onto her and going after me, and me on top of the covers batting it with my paws and biting. Eventually, I had to make a strategic retreat. I was pretty sure it couldn't do that much to wintersweet, and I certainly couldn't take it down. When I ran, it must have decided to follow me and release wintersweet's hand. Fortunately, I gave it the slip. However, I've been careful about sitting on sheets since then.

I think I've developed enough martial arts skills to take it, should I ever see this thing again.