Question of the day (4th April).

Hey people! ๐Ÿ™‚

Here’s the question I meant to ask you yesterday:

Do you feel like you have a special connection with animals?

My answer:

I don’t feel this way at all, but, judging from how a lot of animals are extremely clingy with me, you could draw exactly the opposite conclusion. I do like most animals in general, I grew up in the countryside where we’d always have a dog or two in the backyard, some wild cats running around, and fishes at home, I even had a hamster for a short while as a kid, then I started horse riding, and now have Misha and Jocky, but I couldn’t describe myself as a typical animal person, who would take some great interest in animals in general, or even a particular species, or anything like that. The only animal which I truly love in a way that goes beyond just liking it because it’s cute is Misha. Since I love Misha very passionately or obsessively as some say, a lot of people automatically assume I must be some crazy cat lady in general. And I don’t usually tell them that it’s otherwise because, of course I do like cats, but it’s not like I have some special interest or extreme love for felines as a whole. I feel I also had a very strong bond with a horse I used to ride for many years, that was absolutely amazing, but he died two years ago or so. I guess the fact that I’m madly in love with one cat and used to have an extraordinary bond with one horse doesn’t really make me an animal person overall or doesn’t mean I could have a connection with all of them.

For some reason though, a lot of animals seem to like me a lot. Often when I’m just walking somewhere and a cat passes by, it will come close to me and let me stroke it. Same about people’s dogs. We even have one dog in the neighbourhood who will always get so agitated whenever she sees me and will not calm down until her mummy lets her come over to me and I stroke her. It’s hilarious, although a bit weird. ๐Ÿ˜€ In my family, when we visit someone who has a cat or a dog, the pet will often come to me first thing, even though it’s my Mum or Sofi trying to coax it with some food to come to her and I don’t do anything. It’s especially remarkable with my aunt’s dog – Daisy – who is always literally all over me whenever I visit her. And I visit this particular aunt extremely rarely. In a way, getting so much attention from animals in social situations is fun, because it often rescues me from having to be social with people, or gives me something to do on family gatherings where I’d otherwise be bored to death (I think I talked about that when sharing Leah Nobel’s song Talking To The Dog At The Party, which I think should be introverts’ anthem ๐Ÿ˜€ ). In this regard, credit goes especially to my gran’s cat, Feluล›, and one of my maternal grandparents’ backyard cats whom I called Michelle, who always keep me sane during social gatherings, as long as they are home. But on the other hand it often ends up drawing even more human attention to me and I don’t like that one bit. Also, especially with dogs, it can be quite awkward. I feel about dogs very much like I feel about children. They’re cute, but, in direct contact, I don’t really know how I should relate to them, what I’m supposed to do with them, and they can be a bit overbearing long-term. I even feel this way about our Jocky, as much as I like him at the same time. With Jocky it’s also funny because of course he’s mostly Sofi’s pet, just like Misha’s mostly mine, and Sofi and Jocky have very similar characters and love each other so much and play a lot. Still, it always bothers Sofi very much that Jocky always seems a lot more affectionate withh me than with her, even though I am not nearly as affectionate with him as Sofi is. I do play with him regularly and it’s fun, but I don’t do it not nearly as much as Sofi and don’t give him as much attention. Yet when we come back home from somewhere and he sees me and Sofi, he’ll be all over me first and only then scamper off to play with Sofi. I really feel for Sofi, I’d hate to have a similar situation with Misha where I’d love him as much as I do but he’d be more affectionate with Sofi. So while in a way I feel honoured that Jocky likes me so much, even though I don’t get it, I think for Sofi’s sake I’d rather like it more if he was more like that with her.

I guess it’s kind of similar to what my Dad experiences with children. He makes a rather rough impression and can be authoritarian and not necessarily your ideal candidate for a nanny, but, for some weird reason, he’s very popular with all toddlers with our family. They are often a bit shy around him initially when they come to us or when we come to their parents’ houses, but after some time, it’ll be my Dad on whose lap they’ll be sitting or running to him to tell him about some game they’ve been playing or give him a half-eaten lollipop or something, even though I would think my Mum is far more engaging with children than he is. Maybe it’s about his sense of humour and that, unlike my Mum, he hardly actually asks them any questions, and I suppose not all kids like being asked a lot of questions even if it’s in a very friendly way as is the case with my Mum, who is genuinely interested and doesn’t just automatically ask about how school is going.

Weird how such things work sometimes.

How is it with you? ๐Ÿ™‚

Happiness.

I thought I would do some journaling prompt-inspired post today, and I picked this prompt from Hannah Braime’s book called The Year of You:

“What does happiness mean to you?”

Thought it would be quite in-line with today’s question of the day.

They say happiness is easy to not notice, and you can find out that you had it only when it leaves you. It’s very true. Happiness is very quiet, makes hardly any sounds and walks very quietly, and is very small. It also often easily blends in with its surroundings because of its colour, so you don’t necessarily have to be blind to not notice it. It is also very easy to scare it away, even with just one unnecessary movement or sound. And then it may be very difficult to get it back to you. Happiness doesn’t like everyone, even if almost everyone likes it. Generally I’d say that a good rule to follow is that the less desperately you try to make Happiness come to you, the more successful you may be at it. Happiness doesn’t like unnecessary attention being drawn to it. If you call it and are lucky enough that it comes to you, don’t overuse its trust and don’t call it all the time. Also when it comes, make sure to provide it with the best food and sleeping accommodations possible. It’s not always the best idea to come very close to it. It always knows best what should the distance be between it and you, and if you will accept it calmly, it will be more likely to come closer than if you try to force it. When you hear Happiness at your door, it is not wise to wait with opening it, you should do it right away, or it will go somewhere else.

Happiness is very gentle and never intrusive. It is warm, soft and very smooth. It likes soft, quiet places, which is where you can usuallyy find it. There is only one Happiness in the world, which is probably just exactly why so many people are unhappy, and it often likes to hide. It is very clever, playful, but also a real scaredy cat. Almost everyone who sees it for the first time gasps in awe and wants to hold it, but it’s rare that you would be granted such a luxury right away. It has relatively big ears, so that it always can hear when unhappy people call it, but it doesn’t mean it’ll always come. It knows better than you when you actually need it most.

Unlike what many people may think, Happiness is grey. Not pink, rainbow-y, not even green, but grey. Perhaps this is another reason for why people often don’t notice it, since, ironically, the colour grey is associated with all things gloomy. Another fact about Happiness which may seem strange to many people is that it originates from Russia –
which seems to be feared as a whole by many people these days. – Perhaps the devil’s not so black… (if happiness can be grey, everything’s possible). It also has some Czech ancestry. Originally, Happiness cost $500, more or less (obviously because people, as always, didn’t even know what it actually was and what its value was, just that it looked kinda cute). I’m sure though that, if it ever had to be sold again (although I’m having a difficult time coming up with any legit reason why one would want to sell Happiness) its price would be much higher, and not even Bill Gates or Elon Musk could afford it. It only exists since 2016 (how did we manage to live prior to that excedes my understanding at this point).

Happiness can often be found curled up in a little ball. Although I said it doesn’t like too much attention, it also doesn’t feel well when you don’t pay any attention to it whatsoever and can feel hurt. Happiness loves flowers, leaves, feathers, birds, and especially the sunshine. It also loves routine, warmth and safety.

Happiness is actually male. He has the brightest green eyes. He poops every day and never flushes the toilet after himself. He has lots of facial hair, and he never shaves. Same about his armpits. Despite that, he always smells heavenly, and never sweats. He seems to enjoy, jazz, classical, baroque, and relaxing piano music, but secretly delights in Russian D&B.

The whole drama with Happiness – why so many people are unhappy, or pretending to be happy, or searching for Happiness, or racing after it, or find it so difficult to define Happiness, and all the other troubles that are caused by lack of Happiness – it has one very simple reason. Right now, Happiness is in my kitchen, happily eating sausage, and I’m not going to give him away any time soon. ๐Ÿ˜‰ What a bad, selfish Bibiel, keeping all the 4 kg of Happiness to herself, when so many people die without having ever felt a warm touch of Happiness. But hey, not all is lost, I can always sell you a bag of Happy Poop (if only you can afford it ๐Ÿ˜‰ Maybe it would work to some extend).

And maybe there’s also another reason for all the trouble with Happiness. If you want Happiness, affirmations, meditations, manifestations – they won’t work. – It’s best to be straightforward with Happiness and call him by his name, just like you would everyone else. Happiness is called Misha. Or better even, if you want to manifest Happiness in your life, say “Mish Mish Mish!”. Or make some other hissing, rustling sounds, and, who knows… maybe his ears will be big enough to hear you, too…? Maybe he already did, but the front door is locked, so he can’t get out to help you. Don’t blame me, it’s my Mum who locked it and watches Misha like Cerberus. ๐Ÿ˜›

Okay, so that’s my definition of happiness for you. If you’d rather have a more abstractive/serious one:

Happiness, for me, is any state of mind when I’m not unhappy.

Generally, I don’t really know if I know what happiness is. I hate it when people sometimes ask me if I’m happy, or unhappy. I know what unhappiness is and I know full well that I’ve experienced it, and I also know that I am not unhappy now. I also know what it’s like to feel joyful or euphoric, but I guess happiness isn’t really a feeling but more like a state so I don’t think you necessarily have to be happy when you’re feeling joyful, just like you don’t have to feel sad all the time when you’re unhappy. I’ve had depressive tendencies ever since I remember and had my first major depressive episode diagnosis when I was 8, but at the same time I laugh a lot and can be very enthusiastic about things. Sometimes it comes more genuinely, sometimes I need to fake it a bit, or a lot, but even so, I think it’s a natural part of me. Still, the depression is always there and I guess I’ve never felt happy the way people do when they don’t have stuff like this glued to their brains. Therefore, when someone, typically my Mum, asks me “Are you happy?”, I’ll always answer yes if I’m not unhappy. I try to keep myy expectations low in this department and be, well, happy, with what I get, if it’s something good. This strategy has served me well, as it’s a lot nicer to have your expectations exceded than unfulfilled, right?

I hope the way I explained it makes sense to people. ๐Ÿ˜€

So, how is it with you? Is there someone/something that embodies happiness for you? What is your definition of happiness, whether abstractive or more specific? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

What is something small and seemingly insignificant that brings you joy?

My answer:

The main thing that brings me joy and is definitely small, although we could and should argue about the “seemingly insignificant” part, is Misha. And also that Misha seems to be feeling better and is in a happier mood than he was recently.

Other than that, books, music, food, sleep, surrounding myself with my languages, some fun dreams I’ve had recently, playing BitLife –
although you probably wouldn’t call my current life in there the most joyful or successful one, even though I’m a millionaire and a member of the Danish royal family, at least to me it seems a bit grim – writing with my penfriends, playing with Sofi, being alone, some small milestones in my Welsh learning, my gem stones… yeah, these are all things that come to my brain right now.

You? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

What is something that is annoying/frustrating you?

My answer:

Mostly, I’m waiting for something, something that is generally positive (or at least I hope it’ll end up so but I can’t be sure) and waiting for it to happen is a very long and stressful process. Perhaps I wouldn’t exactly describe it as annoying, but it is making me feel a bit on edge lately, and all the tension that is building around it in my brain.

I’m also frustrated with people who make good apps but make them inaccessible. Just because I’ve been seeing a lot of such stuff lately.

And it seems that Misha isn’t feeling fully well, he acts as if he had a sore throat or something, but it’s impossible to look in there for anyone. It frustrates me when we can’t help Misha because he’s so anxious. Not that long ago we also had a situation where we felt it would be good if Misha had a urine test to check on his kidneys because he had a time when he was drinking way more than normally, and it was virtually impossible to do. The vet gave Mum some different litter to put instead of his usual one, that in fact wasn’t really litter but something that was supposed to cheat a cat into believing that it is and then make the process of testing a urine sample more doable. Well, maybe it works for other cats, but Misha is definitely a creature of habit and he absolutely didn’t like having his litter changed. We were hoping it was a matter of time and he’d have to pee at some point, but he wouldn’t pee for an entire day, instead being very erratic and nervous because he didn’t feel like he could do this at all. And no, he didn’t pee outside his loo either, it would be unthinkable for him to do, even if he’s in the greatest possible distress, I guess, he’ll never pee somewhere random. So we never ended up doing the test, but thankfully Misha’s drinking habits got back to normal.

How about you? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

What is something that is making you happy?

My answer:

Part of me is very happy that Easter is coming very soon, since this is such a joyful holiday filled with hope and how couldn’t I be happy about it, as a Christian! ๐Ÿ™‚ On the other hand, I’m not so happy about it because for me holidays like that and often some time leading up to them are always very stressful and just so uncomfortable overall for all sorts of reasons and it’s getting to me a bit already.

Misha always makes me happy, although lately I’ve been worried about him because he doesn’t seem to be feeling well.

Oh, and my Welsh progress is making me extremely happy. It’s not huge, but at least it’s visible, and during this month I’ve gotten some real confidence boost and a proof that, while I may not be fluent just yet, I can already use the language fairly efficiently in writing, even if it requires a lot of effort and brain power.

You? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

What is the stupidest thing you’ve seen your pet do?

My answer:

I didn’t see it personally, only heard about it from Mum, but I think Misha’s record in the stupid category was one winter when Mum let him out for a little bit on the terrace, and then he climbed on the terrace roof, and from there on the house roof, as he loves to be as high as possible. There were magpies though, lots of them, or perhaps they were seagulls, I can’t remember now, we have a lot of both round here and they love to taunt both Jocky and Misha when they get a chance, and as Misha was high up there on the roof they were all behaving rather aggressively towards him, yelling at him and quite clearly wanting to scare or provoke him. Misha, despite his very fearful nature, is also a real idealist and romantic at heart, always dreaming of being a hero and breaking free out of here some day, becoming famous as the bravest and most valiant cat in history. So when he gets a chance to actually make his dream come true, in the first impulse, he tries his best, and, as we’d say in Polish, wants to conquer the Moon with a spade, that is do something which isn’t really possible for him to do given the abilities he has, or rather, doesn’t have. He wanted to deal with all those birds on his own and was really determined and extremely courageous, but every time he’d try go further up the roof, he’d fall back down where he was, together with a huge layer of snow that was lying there, meanwhile all the birds were yelling and laughing at him more and more frantically seeing his desperate attempts at showing them who’s the king. Finally I guess he ended up feeling too threatened by all the fuss they were making around him, and discouraged by all his vein attempts at getting closer to them, plus surely he must have been freezing, which is not something he’s used to to begin with and it was a really cold day, so, defeated, he turned away from the birds and came back to Mum who kept calling him all that time, both scared that Misha’s plan might end up being successful and really amused at the whole scene, which surely must have looked really funny when you were there. ๐Ÿ˜€

Thank God for the snow, and for the intimidating magpies/seagulls, or otherwise this would probably be a much less funny story, and probably filled with a lot more adrenaline for us, if not tragic. As it was, the worst thing that happened to Misha as a result was a but, albeit short, case of sneezes.

How about your pets? ๐Ÿ™‚

If We Were Having Coffee… #WeekendCoffee Share

Oh my, I haven’t done a Weekend Coffee Share in quite some time!

Since the last time I participated, we have a new host, who is

Natalie (thank you so much for hosting ๐Ÿ™‚ ).

If you would also like to join in on your own blog, go over to her post, where you’ll find the link-up.

So we can consider this coffee share a bit special, because it was Misha’s birthday on Saturday (he is 5 now and I’m still in a deep shock, especially that it’s apparently 36 in human years, is 36 middle age? :O ), and then it was my birthday on Monday (I’m 24 now in case you’re curious ๐Ÿ˜€ ). Also, this is my first coffee share ever since I’ve found my new

faza subject

which I was waiting for to happen for a long time, so I’m now in a nice faza peak, and I think a new faza does deserve a Weekend Coffee Share to be celebrated with, even though I probably won’t be talking much about my faza as such in this post. In case you don’t know but are curious, his name is Jacob Elwy and you can read more

here.

We don’t really have a huge variety of drinks right now, I’ve even run out of kefir, but we do have the usual black coffee and quite a lot of teas, so if you like some interesting teas, especially herbal, you’ll probably be able to find something cool for yourself, or you can bring your own drink and let us know what you’re having or contribute to the coffee share and share with people.

Because it was my birthday, I’ve got loads and loads of candies that I’m happy to share with you all, things like gummy bears or Toffifee or various chocolates. Just about an hour ago, I got some crisps from Olek, so perhaps I can share with you if you ask me very nicely. Sofi claims he must consider me very cool for some reason or something, because she didn’t get anything from him, nor did anyone else, he just bought himself an energy drink and crisps for me, according to her investigation. ๐Ÿ˜€ Wow, I feel honoured, wonder what makes me so cool! ๐Ÿ˜€ Or if you need something more substantial we have a lot of chicken. Or, again, you can bring something yourself and share with people if you feel like it.

So if everyone has some yummy food and drink and a comfy place, let’s start our coffee share properly, shall we?

If we were having coffee, I’d ask each of you how you’ve been doing…? ๐Ÿ™‚

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that, despite I was having some situational stressors last week and at the beginning of this week (to do with my birthday, which is usually quite a stressor for me and even this year, with the pandemic, I couldn’t escape all the peopling), I’ve been feeling quite well lately mood- and mental health-wise. In fact, I had a lot of peopling to deal with, and yes, it was difficult and overwhelming, and I especially don’t like it around my birthday because then the attention is focused on me way more than normal and I just hate it, it usually makes me feel so overloaded that it happened a few times already that I would end up self-harming on my birthday after having had done it in months and being very proud of it, which was obviously quite disheartening, if nothing else. This time, I’m even more proud that it didn’t happen and despite all the yuckiness and even some really quite nasty situations with my family along the way that I perhaps better won’t be describing here in detail, it was manageable. Misha helped me a lot, and obviously the fact that I’m in a faza peak so everything feels easier, better and what not. Right now I’m having a period and while I’m feeling quite crappy physically, I haven’t have particularly bad PMS symptoms which I often do have. Oh and what some of you may already know, my migraines have mysteriously stopped like three weeks ago, where previously, for the last few months I’d been having at least one per week. I did have a slight tension headache the day before Jack the Ripper aka Jack the Butcher (which is how I affectionately call my period, in case you don’t know) came, but that’s normal and it didn’t make me non-functional. And my Welsh learning is going great. So, yay, good news from Bibiel land!

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that it’s been frrrreezing this week! Which I’m happy with, except for the fact that it makes it very slippery which is annoying when your balance is shitty to begin with, but I don’t have to go out much now so it’s not a huge problem. It’s also been snowing so much that even Sofi’s fed up with it. I’ve heard that in some regions of Poland it could get as cold as -30 C (-22 F apparently), although I don’t know where exactly. Sounds exciting to me! Well, definitely way better than +30, so I won’t be complaining if it’ll be the case for us, although my Mum is missing spring. Spring is great, but summer not so much for me, so I’m appreciating it when it’s cooler. Misha is totally fascinated with the snow and likes to watch it longingly through the window. Sofi took him outside once and gave him a snow bath. I was worried that, because he doesn’t go out at all normally, he’d get sick or something. Physically he managed it really well (I guess he has this Russian fur for a reason after all), but he seemed not quite his own self and very jittery for the rest of the day and I think he had quite an emotional shock from being let out, even though it wasn’t much longer than a minute.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that yesterday, my parents finally bought a camper van. You may or may not know that it’s been my Dad’s life-long dream to have a camper van and he’s been entertaining these visions of himself being in retirement and driving through the world. We’d always taken it with a grain of salt, because he’s the type of dreamer who just gets stuck on the dreaming part, but for some reason doesn’t seem to want to accept it and at the same time will never admit it to himself that he won’t take it any further than dreaming and hoping. Or at least, so we thought. Also he is always very stressed and it just seemed very incongruent with his personality that suddenly he’d be wandering the world with no purpose, spontaneously and with no hurry. That’s something that perhaps my Mum could do – being very spontaneous, impulsive, living in the moment and following her dreams – but she wouldn’t either, because she feels better at home. Also it always made us laugh, because my Dad is a tanker driver, so he is driving all the time, and always whining about it when he has to travel somewhere far, and then he wants to spend even his retirement years driving even further. But, at some point it really came to that Dad started seriously looking for a camper van to buy. Something used and as cheap as possible, of course, but still. It was a huge step forward. We all observed it from a bit of a distance, with a lot of interest but no hopes or anything, because while it sure would be fun to travel in a camper van sometimes, neither of us is so crazy about it as he is, perhaps Sofi a bit.

Then he started actually contacting sellers, travelling to see various vehicles, but it seemed like he had some bad luck with it really and he had several situations where he’d arrange with a seller that he’d come see his camper van at such and such time, and then at the last minute he’d learn that it was sold, or he’d travell the whole country with the rain pouring all the way back and forth just to see something that looked way worse than on the pictures. Sometimes in turn he’d have some really good offers almost right in front of his nose, and would turn them down for no apparent reason, and continued to kill his free time by scrolling through camper vans for sale. We started thinking that he actually indeed does prefer dreaming, and may be afraid of achieving this dream or something. Sofi was a bit disappointed, Mum was a bit condescending, a bit amused but mostly neutral, and I could understand it a bit that now he was so close to achieving this, perhaps he was having second thoughts, for some reason, maybe because now he could also see that he is not suited for the life he was imagining.

And finally, he found some quite a bit more expensive camper van that he really liked, and earlier this week suddenly I hear that they – he and Mum of course – are going by train all the way to Silesia to see a new camper van. At this point, if they were going by train, and not by car or with someone else as another driver, I knew that things have developed seriously, because who would go see something to the other end of a country rising at half past 3 AM to do this, and then go back home with nothing. Even if it would be awful, they’d probably buy it anyway. ๐Ÿ˜€ Then I even heard that it was “almost bought”. And, yes, they went to see it yesterday, and bought it properly, and now we have a camper van, and they’re quite satisfied with it. This is quite nice, because with my vestibular problems, any kind of further travelling is a bit of a hassle, but while it’s doable by car with the right strategies, it is much more difficult on the sea and I haven’t even had the courage to try an aeroplane because the mere thought makes me floaty and dizzy, so that was also one of Dad’s crucial arguments when someone was asking him why he wants a camper van so badly – to be able to go abroad more, and to go abroad he thinks he has to go with Bibiel, because Bibiel can speak English and he can’t, and Bibiel won’t go anywhere by plane. – And whenever he’d drink a bit more he’d be giving me elaborate promises of how when he’ll have a camper van we’ll go to all my favourite countries etc. etc. etc. even though I’ve never pressured him for that. So, yeah, that could be fun, even if we don’t actually end up going to my favourite countries, it can still be nice to even go on holidays somewhere closer, and have your own place to sleep in.

Now, your turn. What would you tell me if we were having coffee? ๐Ÿ™‚

 

Question of the day.

What was the last thing you said out loud?

My answer:

“Come back when you’ll make up your mind” to Misha about half an hour ago. He was crying very pitifully at my door, so I let him in and gave him something to eat. After that, he’ll usually go somewhere to sleep in here or want to have a cuddle with me or something. He clearly did not want any physical contact, as straight away after eating he fearfully dove under the bed so obviously I didn’t pressure him and went to do my thing. After a while, Misha found the courage to come out of there and climbed on the armchair in my room, which he does either to go on the windowsill and people/bird/Jocky-watch, or onto the wardrobe where he slips into a cartboard box on top of it where there is a quilt and a place for him to sleep which he’ll usually use when he’s particularly tired, scared, overwhelmed or fed up with the peeps and doesn’t want anyone to see him. However this time he just stood on the back of the armchair and seemed very undecided, as he very often is, especially when sleepy, and I’m pretty sure judging from his behaviour and the spectacularly pitiful cries that he was very sleepy. He stood like that some more and then started crying, so I came over to him to see what’s wrong but couldn’t figure what he wanted, and when I tried to pick him up he got scared and backed away immediately. I thought perhaps he wanted some assistance climbing up the wardrobe – sometimes he likes to play baby even though he’s obviously totally capable of doing it by himself, even more capable than with my help I’d say ’cause that wardrobe is quite a bit taller than me so it’s a bit of an unnecessary hassle putting him up there and I’m always a bit scared he’ll fall down when I do that or something, because I don’t really know when he’s standing steady on his paws up there and when I can leave him and there’s not a lot of space up there really, so it’s even safer for him to do it on his ownn I think. So I kept talking to him which sometimes stops him from crying, but he kept crying which started to annoy me as I didn’t know what to do with that and it’s not fun to have a roommate who is constantly moaning like that, so I just opened the door and told him what you already know, and he promptly left. As I said, I’m pretty sure he was very sleepy, and there are always troubles with Misha when he’s sleepy, he’ll be like barely able to stand or even sit and his eyes will close but he won’t settle and his whims as for where he’d like to sleep constantly change, or it looks like he’d sleep somewhere happily but something is wrong with it in his opinion so he won’t before we read his mind and fix what’s wrong. He’s generally very much a creature of habit and routine to the point where it gets ridiculous and absurd sometimes, but with those hundreds of sleeping places it’s totally mad and unpredictable. But as he hasn’t come back and I haven’t heard of him ever since anymore, I think he must have gone to his second most favourite bedroom at this time of the year and is probably sleeping in a basket on the radiator in the living room.

Your turn. ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

If you died today, how do you think you would be remembered?

My answer:

No clue really. It probably largely depends on the people who would remember me, as I don’t think it would be the same for everyone, but also I don’t think there would be all that much to remember as I haven’t made anything all that spectacular in life. Most people who know me in any way would probably just have memories of some situations from their lives featuring me or something. My immediate family, the ones who live with me, that is, would likely remember my linguophilia, weird brains and all the other weird/quirky/eccentric stuff they couldn’t wrap their brains around, everything to do with my blindness, as well as my sense of humour, gloominess and my obsession with Misha. My Mum could remember our multiple deep conversations and that I’ve always tried to listen to her or advise somehow, she actually says that now, ever since I’m at home, that is not at the boarding school anymore, at least she has someone to talk to regularly, so actually it’s quite possible she would remember that. Sofi would have a lot to remember. All our games and other fun times and stuff we were coming up with together, our inside jokes and neologisms, weird situations to do with me she couldn’t understand but always wanted and other things she couldn’t make sense of, our arguments, fights, misunderstandings and hurts, funny situations we had together, she would mostly remember the Bibiel me for sure. I’m not sure how Misha would remember me to be honest. Probably as the one who always called Mish Mish Mish especially at night and who always wanted him to sleep with her, but more importantly as an addition to the most peaceful room in the house where one could sleep for hours without being disturbed by anything, with the softest places to sleep on/in or hide, so that it was even difficult to choose where to sleep when he was very sleepy, and with an abundance of treats which somehow magically appeared whenever he said “Hhrrru?” ๐Ÿ˜€

Most other people who know me in person but not that well would probably remember me as that blind/disabled girl or something like that, and my extended family would probably also think of my disability first and foremost. Some would perhaps also think of some of my interests or quirks or some other of my less obvious, that is not instantly visible, traits, but I suppose mostly they’d think about what they could see. Some, like my grandma, would probably remember me from my early childhood, when I liked to sing, which she always recalls when talking to people about me. My grandma doesn’t have dementia or isn’t stuck in the past or anything like that, well, maybe she is slightly in a sentimental way, but I guess for some reason thinking about me from that period is easiest or most pleasant for her or something. My gran in turn, I believe would remember me in comparison to all the other blind people she has ever known or heard about.

My grandad, who is like close family to me… I don’t know what he would remember about me really. I never know what he thinks. Maybe he’d remember me simply as the person with whom it was the most comfortable to just be quiet and understand each other without words, that’s I think how I will remember him when he dies. Maybe also he’d remember that I was intelligent because he’s always very proud of me for that saying I’ve got that after him, or he’ll remember me as an “x-ray” as he calls me. ๐Ÿ˜€ Or someone who was worth his support. He’d probably also remember my interest in gem stones.

And online people, again, I guess it depends very much from where I know them or what we know about each other or what do we talk about etc. etc. but mostly they’d probably remember my blog, Misha, possibly also my languages or my fazas or something like that, that I had mental health issues since I am more open about them with people online than in real life, and that I was nice/a kind friend or something like this, intelligent and quirky/weird.

What do you think people would remember you for? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day (19th December).

What is the most uplifting thing happening in the world right now? What is the most tragic thing?

My answer:

This question is generally supposed to make you think deep, but at this very moment I myself don’t feel like thinking too deep, so I’ll tackle it from the egocentric and narrow point of view of my own little bubble. The most uplifting thing in the world to me is that there is Misha in it, and that he happens to be in my house and I can be with him everyday. Everything about Misha is uplifting. The most tragic thing – that it isn’t always going to be the case.

You? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

What makes you smile/happy? ๐Ÿ™‚

My answer:

Misha often makes me smile. And Sofi. She has a great sense of humour and is just funny as she is. Misha also makes me happy, or at least happier for sure, Misha is like the embodiment of happiness for me. Being able to do things I like and that help my brain to recharge, like stuff with my languages, listening to music, reading something interesting or spending time in my Brainworld also always cheers me up.

What is it for you? ๐Ÿ™‚

My Inner Mishmash Readership Award #2! And the winners are… *don’t read if you got a pingback and like surprises* :D

Hi all you lovely people you! ๐Ÿ™‚

Phew, it’s been quite an intense week! I know it’s super late compared to last year and am very sorry for that, but finally, it’s time to reveal this year’s winners of

My Inner Mishmash Readership Award!

My Inner Mishmash Readership Award (or MIMRA for short) is an idea that I came up with last year, where each year, around Christmas, I award three of my

most involved, insightful and engaged readers of My Inner MishMash as a way of expressing my gratitude and appreciation for their presence on My Inner MishMash, and also simply as a way to have some more fun on here for all of us, pre Christmas. Of course I do appreciate every single reader of my blog and am so happy for all of you who are stopping by, but quite obviously I can’t award everyone who visits my blog, so in a way this is also a more symbolic way of appreciating all of my readers.

So, without further ado, I am exxxtremely exxxcited to announce that the winners of this year’s My Inner Mishmash Readership Award are… *applause, drumrolls, fanfares, confetti etc.*

Meg of Where Good Advice Happens,

(and this is her second MIMRA)

Ashley Leia of Mental Health @ Home

(and this is her second MIMRA as well)

and

Astrid and her whole system Astridetal of A Multitude of Musings

.

Meg and Ashley are literally as lucky as they can be, because you can only win MIMRA twice in a row! Although Sofi is trying to convince me that it should be thrice, so… I don’t know… we’ll see next year I guess. But you can lemme know what you think of this idea if you want.

Thank you so very much to all of you, the winners, for being such engaged readers of My Inner Mishmash, such great supporters of Misha and me and such cool people overall! And thank you to all of my regular readers for all their extremely valuable input! ๐Ÿ™‚ And HUGE thanks to my Mum for helping me with this whole thing, brainstorming ideas with me, designing the cards etc. because it just wouldn’t work out without her! ๐Ÿ™‚ Last, but by no means least, thanks to Sofi, thanks to whom there are some pics with this post that you can enjoy. Sofi has made some of them and then today has helped me a lot with selecting the photos for this post and captioning them. After she captioned them, somehow I lost or couldn’t find her very descriptive captions after transferring the photos

This MIMRA has just been sent out and I had no clue which photo was which and got really annoyed and was about to give up on the whole photo thing, but eventually Sofi helped me once again change their names to something more descriptive than img0185 so that I knew what I was posting, lol, and do alt texts properly. All that despite she’s having a really awful day today because she’s sick.

I sincerely hope it’ll arrive to people at least very shortly before Christmas, but since I sent it out almost a whole month later than I did last year (guess I’ll have to start the preparations in August rather than in September next year ๐Ÿ˜€ ) because of the delay with the cards company and some things that have been going on for me personally as well as for my Mum, and since the mail in many countries is overloaded due to Covid and people ordering a lot of stuff online, at least from what I’ve been hearing, it’s possible that, if that’s the case with the mail in your country, you may need to wait for your MIMRA a bit longer than that. Even without such complications, I remember that last year’s MIMRA for Meg was going very slow, but that’s probably because our mail here always tends to be slow with foreign mail for some reasoon, at least in my experience. ๐Ÿ˜€

As a compensation, the MIMRA packages this year have a bit more content than the year before, but to be honest it wasn’t really even planned. Here are some pics (but with the MIMRA boxes closed, so you can’t take a peek in this year, ha, ha, more details about the content later)

Misha is sitting on the stack of grey MIMRA cartboard boxes which are next to my wardrobe. He is looking at you.

Misha sitting on the MIMRA boxes, which are decorated with three Christmas baubles from Sofi's tree, one bauble is grey and the other two are white.

And here’s a little bonus for all of you who like to look at Misha and often ask me about his pics, just because I had one more at hand and because it’s a special, exceptional day when images are being posted on this blog, lol, though it’s unrelated to the award itself.

Misha stretched out on the sheep skin on my bed.

I won’t be telling you what’s exactly in the MIMRAs, I myself am not a huge enthusiast of surprises but I figure most people do like them, but to give you a bit of an idea, there are some Polish edible goodies in there. My goal with MIMRA is to introduce people to new, yummy things that are only a thing in Poland, because I think it’s fun to see how each country has its own candy and stuff. And we generally have a lot of yummy food here. Only it’s so universalised these days (plus I myself haven’t been abroad much which may be an important factor here as well) that sometimes it’s hard to tell what’s Polish and what’s just somehow adapted or something. Last year’s MIMRA winners may remember that one of the things in the award package were biscuits with chocolate and jelly which are called Delicje over here. I was absolutely convinced they are a Polish thing, until last year’s MIMRA winner

Carol Anne of Therapy Bits, and some of the littles in her system,

enlightened me that they are also in Ireland, under the name of Jaffa Cakes, and they do appear to be in many other countries as well! So this year I did a bit more research and hopefully these things are actually exclusively Polish, or at least you haven’t tried them before, but even more importantly that you will like them. However Meg told me that she really enjoyed these Jaffa Cakes and she can’t get them anywhere and would like them in the MIMRA again. I originally didn’t plan it to be so, but because I found something that I thought could be a fun thing for Ashley and Astrid but maybe not necessarily for Meg, she did get a package of them eventually. Ashley and Astrid have something else instead. I’ll just say that it’s something to have a bath with, and I remembered that Meg can’t have baths with such bath products so I think it’s fair enough.

I hope you guys will like your MIMRAs and enjoy them at least as much as I did making them, and that they’ll bring some happiness to you for the Christmas time. ๐Ÿ™‚

 

Question of the day.

Hi people! ๐Ÿ™‚

Do you have any weird animal facts you can share with us?

My answer:

I am certainly not a wealth of knowledge about animals and don’t know how weird this is going to be for people, but recently, in the Polish cat literature anthology I’ve read that I’ve been mentioning a lot, there was a piece about how allegedly all cats sometimes make a sort of half-meow, as if they were about to meow but change their mind in the last second. Apparently the desired effect of it is immediate –
it results in total melting of the human heart. – I found that very interesting because, while obviously I can only hear when Misha’s meowing but can’t see when he’s about to meow but doesn’t actually do it, somehow it seemed questionable to me whether it’s indeed “all” cats who do it, I’ve never heard my family talk about Misha doing things like this, and he really does have a very wide and rich repertoire of manipulative strategies. I asked my Mum the next day and she said no, Misha doesn’t do it, unless involuntarily, like when he’ll yawn at the same time when he wants to meow or he’s been asleep for so long that his larynx has to relearn how to work properly and what it’s actually supposed to do, it’s very funny when Misha is so sleepy and can’t speak yet, or sometimes Misha will meow and sneeze at the same time and that’s really cute. But he never seems to do such things voluntarily and I really don’t get why would this be so particularly heart-melting and neither does my Mum, I mean everything about Misha is cute but I don’t know why this meowing but not meowing would be supposed to be more than anything else. Perhaps he spent too little time with his birth mummy –
Hansa Luft (yep, that’s apparently her name) – and she didn’t have enough time to teach him such sophisticated details, and now Misha has literally no contact with other cats as he seems not to like it at all so he has no way of obtaining such knowledge. So yeah, that’s my weird fact about my apparently weird Misha.

How about you? ๐Ÿ™‚

Sล‚awa Przybylska – “Kroki Oczekiwane” (Expected Steps).

Hey people!:)

Huh, I’d never ever think that this lady could be featured in my song of the day series, and I think if someone told me that she will, I’d find it very amusing! ๐Ÿ˜€ Sล‚awa Przybylska became popular in late 1950’s and is probably most famous for singing the Polish version of “Where Have All The Flowers Gone?”. At least that’s what I most associate her with. She’s absolutely not my style, I generally am not a fan of Polish retro music, a lot of it feels exalted and overly sentimental to me and I find this annoying, it just doesn’t speak to me. However…

I decided to share this song with you for one very specific and very special reason. The lyrics!

As you may know from one of my latest post, the book I was reading very recently was an anthology of excerpts from literature from across multiple genres, mostly Polish literature, about cats! Some of the texts in there really spoke to me, like an excerpt of “Honorable Cat” by Paul Galico, about a cat who scolds her owner for that despite he can speak multiple human languages, including extincted ones, he doesn’t understand her language. I really regret I can’t find at least a little excerpt of this excerpt somewhere online in the original form so I could share it with you.

Among the things that particularly moved me was a poem, which as it turned out later from a note below was actually a song, and which was written by Kazimierz Szemioth. The author of the anthology – Anna Baล„kowska – also mentioned that it was sang by Sล‚awa Przybylska. That made me think I’m not going to like the song as much as I did its lyrics,so first I tried to look up if there are some other versions of it that would be more digestible for my brain. But as I couldn’t find anything noteworthy I thought it would be a real shame if I gave up on the original song without listening to it, when it has such beautiful, moving lyrics.

Indeed, the musical arrangement didn’t strike a chord. But still, I think she sings it in a very expressive way and the only problem here is that it’s just not my style. But the more I listen to it, the more I love the lyrics, so finally I thought I’ll share the song, as well as my translation of the lyrics, with you. I’d like to be able to make it sound a bit less raw in English, and it’s certainly not a poem anymore, haha, as I wasn’t even intending it to be, but oh well… I just want you to have a feel of it. Also I must say that since I’ve read this, I am even more glad that Misha is not an outdoor cat and cannot go in and out as he pleases, this has been so for many reasons as you know, but now I’ve realised I’d probably be in at least equal distress than the girl in this poem if I were to wonder where he is and when he’ll come home, every night.

ย ย  Can you hear how this clock is chiming?

It’s 8 PM already, and it’s raining so much

And he is not here, no

She is waiting, jumps up at every sound

So empty when he has gone somewhere

And she is feeling so bad

It must be him, oh no, it’s rain

Skeins of clouds in the window

Maybe it’s him? And again it’s not

It was only the whistling of the wind

Maybe it’s him? And again it’s not

It was only the whistling of the wind

 

She has been alone in the world for so long already

Only he wants to stay with her

He doesn’t laugh at tears

So why is she looking at the wet roof?

Shall her dearest come back this way

Like an apparition in strange dreams?

 

Whose steps is she awaiting so much?

Who of us will guess?

Is it true, that he should have come today

Or is he just deceiving her so?

Is it true, that he should have come today

Or is he just deceiving her so?

 

He’s come back, he’s come back, but so pathetically wet

His fur was crinkled, he shivered

And his paws were cold

He’s come back, he’s come back, through the wet, cold roof

And is purring quietly, while she

Has him in her arms again

 

She’s not alone anymore, when he’s asleep here next to her

He will be purring her to sleep until the morning

And here’s the song:

 

Question of the day.

Hi people! ๐Ÿ™‚

What is something that is making you feel good, these days? ๐Ÿ™‚

My answer:

Misha’s presence is always making me feel good. Right now he’s sleeping on the wardrobe and he has spent almost the entire day with me.

The cooler weather is making me feel good, too. The summer heat has been quite exhausting for me, and for Misha too, also for my Mum and I think for a lot of people as it was really a long time and at times felt insanely hot, and I’m really glad that it’s cooler now, it feels very pleasant outside.

The fact that my Dad’s at work so I don’t have to deal with him for a few days ๐Ÿ˜€ – he’d had quite long holidays recently and now he’s gone back to work yesterday. It gets unpleasant and stale when you’re spending so much time with someone and you’re not really on the same wavelength at all.

Music. I’ve been listening to lots of great music, but that’s nothing new. Also my great speaker and headphones that I’ve got myself recently and that I use with my iPhone. I really love my computer speakers as well, but, as I always listen to something quietly at night, it wasn’t as much of a pleasure listening to something at night on them, with all the accompanying hum of my desktop computer.

Food always makes me feel good as well. Today we had very yummy chocolate budyล„ with Mum. Mum makes it on her own, it’s not the instant, shop-bought budyล„. I think I’ve explained somewhere on here earlier what budyล„ is, but if you don’t know, it’s kinda like a creamy Polish pudding. Only Mum put a bit too much chocolate into it, and while it was extremely delicious, it was really, really sweet, and neither of us was able to eat a lot. ๐Ÿ˜€

Books make me feel good. Right now I’m reading a very amusing Polish book, which is basically an anthology of different texts from mostly Polish literature, but not only, from different time periods and genres, all about cats! I’ve just started it today in the morning but I think it’s going to be very enjoyable for me. And the last book I read was “Harriet and the Cherry Pie” by Clare Compton, a lovely English children’s book, the style and plotline of which reminded me very strongly of Noel Streatfeild, and I like things like these. Since the main character lived in her great aunt’s cafe, there was lots of food involved.

How about you? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day (31st August).

Hi people! ๐Ÿ™‚

What was the last thing you said out loud?

My answer:

“Miiishaaa!” – I was calling Misha because he was disturbing Mum and being too nosey. He did leave her but decided to go to the living room instead, as we had some refurbishment in there so he’s very interested and spends a lot of time there.

You? ๐Ÿ™‚

Breaking the Silence- my short story.

Hey people! ๐Ÿ™‚

I was going to write this post a few days earlier, but I was actually writing this story for a loooong time, and then rewriting bits of it, and wondering whether I should actually post it and whether I like it, and then I ended up with a migraine yesterday, so hopefully I can do it today. The title was meant to be only for the draft but I didn’t have a better idea so I left it as it was. I based it on the following prompt from The Goddess Journaling Workbook by Beatrix Minerva Linden:

I welcome new adventures. Imagine the most exciting adventure which could happen to you tomorrow. Write a short story about it. You don’t have to keep things realistic: allow yourself to dream big.

And as you can see, I did allow myself to dream very big. As always, apologies for any linguistic shortcomings and do let me know if you see something about the language that could be improved as I’m not a native and have only wrote a few stories in English so far. Also, a little note to the bit at the end of the story, about the old lady and the “guide cat”. It was inspired by a few stories I’ve heard from different guide dog owners who said that people often talk to their dogs, rather than to them, or believe some strange things like that guide dogs can read traffic signs.

Okay, here goes:

Breaking the Silence

“Oh, wow!” – I exclaimed in my brain, looking at the clock- “4 AM! Is it really?!” For the last six and a half hour, I was writing another chapter of my Jack Hamilton novel, or perhaps I should say saga at this point. I hadn’t touched it for ages, but today I must have caught up on all that time. While writing, I didn’t feel the passing time whatsoever, just like it always was back when I used to write the novel regularly, every single night at school, because when you spend time with someone as interesting as Jack Hamilton, there would be something badly wrong with you if you paid any attention at all to such a trivial thing as time. Now that I stopped writing though, and my brain hit the hard surface of the real world, the tiredness and lack of sleep hit me just as hard. Satisfied with the result of my efforts and with having been able to hang out with Jack for so long, I turned the computer off, put some music on and went to bed. Very unusually, Misha was already waiting for me in his bed, sound asleep. Usually he only comes when I call him, and when I go to sleep this late, it’s rare that he would still be waiting for me. I felt really happy to have him close to me. I laid next to him, and very soon, as for my standards, I followed him to Dreamland.

* * * * *

I was still in a deep sleep, floating from one dream to another, when I heard a very faint sound coming, as it seemed, from the real world. It felt vaguely familiar, and there was something urgent about it, but I was way too sleepy to care, and just ignored it. Admittedly, a part of me was pretty sure that it already must be indecently late for sleep, but really, what’s decency gotta do with sleep at all? I kept on dreaming. After all, you don’t get nice dreams every night, certainly not if you’re me, so why should I give up on cool dreams featuring Jack Hamilton just because there’s something squealing in my room? Or whatever is it doing. After a while though, the sound repeated, pulling me out of my new dream, but still not out of sleep. “Perhaps there’s a baby somewhere” – I thought, and fell in a deep sleep again. – The little sounds repeated more and more frequently, getting louder with each time, now making it impossible to sleep deeply and peacefully, but I was still too sleepy to fully wake up, even though with every such sound, deep down I felt an increasing sense of that I actually should for some reason. After a while they turned into wailing, and became even more annoying. Then the wailing turned into proper crying, and then started to morph into words:

“Pleeeeeaaaaase, wake up, I really, really need to pee.”

and then suddenly my consciousness started working properly. Or semi-properly. It must be Misha. Why didn’t I leave the door opened so that he could get out whenever he’d wake up? How funny that my brain started to make up words to his meowing. While I usually love waking to Misha greeting me with his little sounds and cuddle him before letting him out in the morning, when I have a late night it’s definitely not as pleasant to get out of bed just to open the door for Misha, even if I can go straight back to bed immediately. I sat up slowly and checked the time, while the now very agitated Misha jumped at the door. “What? It can’t be 1 PM already.” – I thought. “Misha wouldn’t be here by now. Sure someone would let him out”. Misha usually wakes up earlier than any of us, so when my Mum doesn’t see him downstairs when she gets up, she often checks whether he is in my room,and sometimes lets him out, because, just like me, she likes very much his presence in the morning, and when he’s not there, it feels very empty. Also she doesn’t understand that a lot of the time I find it very pleasant to be able to see Misha first thing in the morning and that it’s pure pleasure to let him out, because for her it would be a nuisance, so she does it for me as well.

“Hey, Mishmish, what are you still doing here?” – I asked groggily. –

“Hmmm, let’s think… Purrhaps because my so called “mummy” likes her sleep more than me, and no one else can be bothered to open the flipping door?”

I jumped up to the ceiling. What was that?! Have I gone totally mad now? I was frantically trying to come up with an excuse for what has just happened. Maybe Zofijka is in a silly mood and making some weird pranks? Or perhaps seriously I’ve got some bad hallucinations. I was ready to admit there must be something in what people say that I’m too obsessed with Misha.

“Misha?” – this was the only thing I was able to say.

“Misha, Shmisha!”.

I didn’t know what more could I say… Then suddenly my confusion and fear turned into pure amusement. I fell back on the bed heavily and started laughing heartily at myself. OMG, my brain must be really off that I am wide awake and still seriously consider the possibility that my cat can talk. Too much silly playing with Sofi.

“What’s so funny?!” – the little voice grew more annoyed. – Still laughing, I thought that “Actually, what’s so wrong about it? I’ve always talked to Misha so now I should be happy I can also hear him. Who cares if I’m the only one who does? Let’s just go with the flow!”. –

“When you’ll be as old as me, Misha, you’ll notice that most things are funny, even if they aren’t.”

“Deign to remember that I’m already older than you, I’m over 30 in peep years. Now, will you finally let me out so I can go to the loo or should I do it on the carpet?”

“Oh, Misha!!!”

“What, Misha”.

“Have you really been waiting all day long for me to let you out?”

I immediately remembered the time when Sasha was still with us, and when we were going for a day-long pilgrimage. Despite Misha and Sasha weren’t getting along with each other, Mum decided to put the two of them in the cellar with the food, water and litterbox, because Sasha, despite being a very clever kitten overall, had a real problem with peeing in the right place, which, as we later discovered, must have been due to some traumatic experience with Misha. He would do his thing everywhere but not in the litterbox, and had a very strong aversion to it. At least in the cellar there was nothing that could be damaged if he peed or pooped on it. Since Misha needed to do the business somewhere as well, and we had only one litterbox, he had to go in the cellar too. And when we came back from the pilgrimage, there was pee and poop in three different cellars, the litterbox was empty, Sasha was basking in the sun on the windowsill with his paws dirty from the poop, and Misha sitting high up on the wardrobe looking utterly scared. When we let them out and Mum put the litterbox back in place, Misha sprang to the loo immediately and it was clear that he was holding it all day long, so stressed he was. Also when there was a time that no one cleaned his litterbox, instead of doing his thing wherever else, he was holding it until it was clean and he could do it properly.

Poor little thing, I wouldn’t blame him if he just peed on the rug in these circumstances, as he tried his best to wake me up, and normally I wake up fairly quickly when I hear him, as this is almost always the first thing I hear in the morning, but he probably just couldn’t bring himself to do this.

“Oh my, Misha, I’m so sorry…”

I quickly opened the door and he sprang out and flew downstairs with lightning speed.

“Was that why he started talking?” – I thought to myself. – Nonsense! It must have all been in my head. Sometimes, as it seems, hallucinations can be very useful for pet owners. I wonder if parents with babies ever experience the same phenomenon? God knows how long I would sleep if this didn’t happen. Or maybe it’s because of my out-of-whack sleep that I hear cats talking?

The house was empty, except for me and my talking feline, and I was on my way to the kitchen, when I heard a voice from the loo: “Can you please turn the light on? You guys always remember about it when you go to the loo, but you’ll never switch it on fur me.”

“Okay, no problem, if you want… but do you really need it? I mean… I’ve always thought cats can see in the dark?” – I said, switching the light on. –

“Obviously I can see in the dark, but I can also listen to the music, can’t I?”

“Absolutely yes!”

I don’t know if it’s a common practice in other countries, but definitely not here, so I believe you must learn, dear reader, that we are people strange enough to have a radio in the loo, so that it starts playing when you switch on the light.

“Uhhh, you listen to some real shit! Isn’t there any proper music?”

“WHat sort of music do you like to listen to?”

“…A human asked her cat, with whom she has lived fur over four years.” – the excess of pee has definitely made Misha feel very sarcastic. –

“Well you’ve never told me so how should I know?” – I asked, a bit irritated. I never thought my little Misha could be so grumpy.

“You do know! Jazz, classical and baroque. And renaissance music is okay. ANd some of your folk music is decent. And Russian ballads… And relaxing piano music. And Russian drum & bass is my guilty pleasure”.

“Huh, my intuition must be truly outstanding. ANd Zofijka’s.” – I thought. These are the genres we’ve always imagined that Misha likes, including the Russian drum & bass bit. Also because he seems to respond very well to some of these genres, like classical music. I found the station with classical music for him and finally went to the kitchen o get Misha’s favourite sauce, hoping he’ll consider it a good recompense for my previous shortcoming, and that perhaps this way I could persuade him into some more talking. I wondered what I should eat myself, but then noticed a plate of small sandwiches, like the ones my Dad always makes, on the table, with a piece of apple pie and a mug of iced coffee, and thought they must be for me. Yum, how cool that someone thought about me! As I started eating, Misha finally emerged from the loo.

“Enjoy your meal. And thank you fur turning on the radio. You left so quickly that I couldn’t thank you in time.”

“You’re always most welcome, Mishi. Are you always so very polite?”

“Yeah, always when I speak. Even when I’m grumpy at the same time.” – he noticed his bowl with sauce and started eating happily.

“You enjoy your meal too. Why are you talking now? I mean, why didn’t you do it before?”

“This sauce is very yummy, thank you, Mila. I had to wake you up somehow, right? And I really don’t like to pee on the carpets. They’re so unpleasant, at least fur peeing, you can’t even do it discreetly on them. So I had to do something, right? Other peeps left very early and I didn’t want to get up then just yet, but I didn’t think I’d have to be imprisoned in one room for so long”.

“But you speak very well. How do you do it?”

“Duh, all cats can speak! It’s just too much fuss so we normally don’t bother. We’re not made for this. But we’d have to be really stupid if, after living with people for as long as we do, we wouldn’t be able to speak. Especially with me when you talk to me all the time and in so many languages. Can I have some more Mish ice-cream, please?”

“No, you’ve just had a whole bowl.”

“But pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaase. I’m so hungry. And I can speak so well. Shouldn’t I get a proper treat fur that? Some whipped cream or something? I can say please in Swedish. Or in Welsh. Much more than please, actually.”

“Okay, okay, we shall see if there are some more snacks for Misha. But not whipped cream, you’d have to ask Mum for that.” – I squeezed another tube of Mish ice-cream into his bowl, all the while smearing my fingers in it, which prompted Misha to start licking them enthusiastically.

“Thank you, I love Mish ice-cream so much!” – he said, rubbing his head lightly with his paw, as he always does after a delicious meal. –

“I love making you happy.” – I said, smiling at him.

“I love making you happy too, that’s my job, isn’t it”.

“I guess so. I think we bothh live to make each other happy”.

Misha sat still for a while, as if thinking deeply about something.

“I’ll be happy if you let me out now”.

“What?!” – I screamed in shock, much louder than necessary. – “Misha, you are so clever, you can speak and all. So why can’t you understand that you just can’t go out? It’s unsafe for you. You don’t know what it’s like outside. There are a lot of animals and they can do something to you, hurt you or even kill you. Or someone can still you, because you are so beautiful, and people could get a lot of money for you. Or just be happy to have such a beautiful cat for themselves for free. There’s no way I’m letting you out. You could get lost, ran over by a car, you wouldn’t know how to get food, and you’re just not used to living outside. It only looks so nice in theory, but it’s very dangerous for such small, beautiful and unexperienced little Mishas”.

“Is your lecture finally over?” – he sighed theatrically – “I’m sorry but I don’t agree with you. It’s exactly the other way around. I’m so very clever, can speak and all, and therefore I do understand purrfectly well what it’s like outside, even though you never let me out. So it’s not dangerous for me. I know how to stay safe, trust me”.

“No, Misha, there’s no way you’re going to do that!”.

“If you’ll go with me, will you stop panicking?”

“No!!!” – I yelled in frustration – “Why do you have to be so stubborn? I said no, and it means no! It doesn’t change anything if I’ll go with you, because you always do everything to slip out of the leash, even with Mum or Sofi, and I won’t be able to see what you’re doing. You’re not going anywhere and that’s it!” – I was already missing those times when Misha didn’t speak. Now it’ll probably be an endless battle. What a sheer luck that he can’t open doors! Or can he? – “Plus, Misha, I can’t go with you alone because I can’t get around outside by myself, so we’d both be almost equally clueless. You know we have a river on our backyard so we could both end up in there.”

” You’re a liar! You said you want to make me happy but now when I want to do something that makes me happy you won’t let me. I’m not clueless. I could be your guide cat.” – he giggled.

“I would never think you could be so stupid.” – I mumbled, feeling like tossing him inside the wardrobe and not letting out for the next few hours.

“This is very offensive. Mila, why can’t you give me just one chance. One little chance. We’ll just go out for a little while. I’ll be really careful. I won’t slip out of the leash, if you won’t keep it too tight, and I’ll make sure we don’t fall into the river or anywhere else. And I won’t run away and we’ll come back home soon. We’ll just go for a little walk. Wouldn’t you like to go for a walk with your little Misha. If you really want, we can stay here in the backyard or in the garden, but we could also go out on the streets, why not? I know how to deal with cars. Please, Mila, give me just one chance”.

“You had many chances before, don’t you remember? We let you out but you’d always try to run away or cry all the time that you want out again”.

“I won’t cry at all after we go this time, I promise. I really, really promise. You wouldn’t want to bet with me, because I will win it and you’ll have to get me 50 litres of whipped cream.” – his typical Russian blue smile widened. –

“I’m not going to bet with you, nor am I going anywhere with you. You’re crazy”.

“Okay, suit yourself. I just wanted to be nice. But if you don’t want to be nice, I’ll just go on my own and I’ll come back when I want.” – and with this, he ran to the door and was just about to jump on the handle.

“No!!!” – I shrieked, and ran after him, took him in my arms and shook firmly a few times, which he definitely didn’t like.

“So what?” – he asked, when I finally put him on the floor. – “Are you going with me or not?”.

“I guess I have no choice, but be sure that this is the last walk in your whole life.”

“Yaaaay! Thank you, Mila! I knew you’re cooler than that. You’ll see it’ll be a lot of fun” –

I was full of doubts, but I got out Misha’s leash and out we went. Jocky went all bonkers seeing Misha, and Misha did let him jump all over him for a while, but after some time his patience was exhausted and he nudged him gently but firmly away with his paw.

“Excuse me, sir Jocky. I like you a lot, but I have more important things on my mind at this moment. WHere shall we go, Mila?”

“Dunno, it’s your freaking trip, you say.” – I said, feeling sort of as if I suddenly found myself right in the middle of some strange fairytale world a la Alice in WOnderland.

– “We’ll hang around here for a while, then” – said Misha confidently.

I had to admit it to him that so far he indeed was very well-mannered, didn’t ran out frenziedly or stand in one place full of fear as he usually did when we let him out, didn’t try to slip out of the leash and kept close to me, moreover, if there has ever been something like a guide cat, I believe he could be viewed as an example for what a guide cat should be and how it should behave, and, although I have no personal experience with guide dogs, dare I say he exceeded even them, as I didn’t have to give him any commands, and of course he was also able to talk. Though on the other hand I’m not sure if a manipulative cat who does exactly what he wants no matter what it takes could be the kind of a service animal most people would want.

Finally, we came to the garden and Misha decided we’ll spend some time here.

“We’ll just lie down on this purrfectly fresh grass, I’ll have some of it as I’m sure it’s great fur getting rid of hairballs, and we’ll have a cuddle, just as you always like. Doesn’t that sound nice? I won’t run away I promise.”

And so we did. Misha enjoyed the fresh grass and rolled around in it and nibbled on it. When he had enough grass in his tummy, and decided that he smells grassy enough, we just laid next to each other in silence, Misha taking in all the new smells, and I wondering about the whole surreal situation I’ve found myself in, and how long it will take me to go completely crazy.

“If you can jump on handles and go out whenever you want, why didn’t you do that earlier, for example when you wanted to the toilet today?” – I asked after a while.

“Cats never do such spectacular things when there’s no absolutely urgent need. And besides, I cannot jump on handles. You guys weren’t kind enough to put your handles low enough fur me to reach, nor was anyone willing to teach me how to open the door, I’m not THAT clever. I only wanted to scare you so that you’d go with me.”

– “You bloody manipulator!” – was the only thing I was able to say.

“Why do you insult me?” – he asked in a calm, innocent voice. – “I only wanted to have an adventure”. But never mind, I’ll furgive you. Oh look, there’s a butterfly, yay! I’ll catch it fur ya! What a beautiful butterfly!”

“No, Misha, leave it alone!”

“But why? It’s the last walk in my life and I’ve never propurly caught a mouse or a bird or an insect. DO you want me to feel like a total failure in life? That certainly won’t make me feel happy.”

Misha caught the butterfly in a matter of seconds, all the while making sweet, little feline sounds, as he always does when “playing” with little animals.

“Here’s my gift fur you, Mila. A very beautiful butterfly. I killed it myself.”

“Am I supposed to eat it or what?” – I asked, the surreal, grotesque feeling growing with every minute.

“Oh, you can’t even appreciate a heartfelt gift. I’ll eat it then.”

“Let’s hit the streets now. I need to get some new snacks for myself.” – he said after his little brunch.

I think I felt too dazed to refuse him any longer, or too exhausted by all the events of this short day, but whatever the reason, I followed him. We went out the gate and on the streets. Misha truly amazed me with his ability to navigate in the town, even as little as ours, with not very much traffic.

“Do you purrhaps know if there are any pet shops in the area?” – he asked.

“Yeah, there is one.” – I gave him the street. – “It’s quite close to us, but I don’t know where exactly, you’d have to figure that out for yourself somehow”.

“Okay, no worries, I will. Misha Hhrrru? can deal with any situation like a pro.”

“Excuse me, ma’am. – a well-dressed, tall, elderly lady with a grotesquely big hat and very-high-heel shoes, was passing us, and as it seemed, Misha decided to ask her about the pet shop. I froze. What will she think? Will she actually hear him?

The woman gasped, her eyes widening in horror, and pressed her hand to the chest.

“Jesus! Someone help me! A cat… a cat… This cat can speak…”

“Yes, you’re right, I’m a cat. My name is Misha. Nice to meet you. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m a nice and friendly kitty, I like people. I understand you, because I used to be afraid of everything too. Only today I decided not to be. Now I’m not afraid of anything. What do you need help with.”

“H…h…heeeelp! I think I’m going mad. And my heart… my heart… – she whizzed –

“Oh no, what’s wrong with your heart. Mila says I can heal people. I can’t promise anything, but purrhaps I can heal you…?” – but before Misha could end his friendly monologue, I dragged him in the opposite direction and we ran away, as quickly as possible. Misha realised it’s indeed not safe for him to stay there, as more and more people were gathering around the woman, looking at her and at us. Seeing us running away though, the woman suddenly regained some of her vital energy and started yelling:

“It’s hers!!! It’s this girl’s cat! THey’re running! Someone catch them! She’s making pranks on poor, elderly people!” –

“Come on” – I heard a little voice behind me – “I live right here, come with me, quick.” – a little girl, perhaps 9- or 10-year-old, was smiling at us.

We ran after her into her gate, which she closed behind us. We all sat at the stairs of her house. She giggled.

“Your cat is beautiful. How did you make that old bag believe he can speak?”

” Thank you for saying I’m beautiful. I can speak, every cat can.”

“Hahaha, that was really funny. How can I also make my cat speak?”

“You can’t make him. He must want himself. I am Misha, nice to meet you.”

“No, but seriously. How did you make your cat speak?”

“Seriously, I didn’t make him. He can speak for himself. He started today.”

She thought for a minute.

“Really? This is strange. But I want to believe it’s true so I guess I will.”

Soon, a man came out of the house.

“Nela? What have you been doing there for so long?” – he came closer – “Oh, good morning.” – he said to me – “What a beautiful cat. I am Nela’s dad.”

“I’m Emilia, and this is Misha”. – I said, nudging Misha to tell him not to say anything, which he understood. I really wasn’t up to another conversation about how I make my cat speak.

“Please do come in. Nela, you should have invited your guests inside.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I think we have to go now.” – I said – “Misha only came to visit Nela for a moment.”

“Well, okay then. But I hope you visit us some time soon in the future again.” – said Nela’s dad, visibly surprised that we weren’t going to stay for longer.

“What a pity you can’t stay for a while” – said Nela when her father disappeared into the house. – “I really love Misha. And perhaps my cat would learn to speak from him. I think it’s safe now so you can go”.

“Oh but wait!” – Misha called when Nela was about to go inside her house. – “I have a very important question.”

“What is it?”

“Do you know where is the nearest pet shop?”

“Emm… not really… I’ve been there once with my parents but I don’t know where exactly it is. But I can ask dad.”

“Oh no, there’s no need for that” – I said –

We said goodbye quickly and went in search of the pet shop. Misha decided to go back to the same street, as he was sure the fuss was already over. Nela had hid us very successfully, and it seemed like no one cared overly about the old lady’s revelations about a talking cat, perhaps apart fromm a bunch of people who could hear Misha for themselves. The street was actually empty. Or so we thought, until, seemingly out of nowhere, the old lady appeared in front of us.

“Oh yes, I knew you’d be back, scaring to death innocent, dignified older people and making fun of them with your possessed cat.” – she said to me.

“I’m not…” – Misha tried to defend himself, but I tightened the leash on him hard enough that he knew he has to stay quiet.

“I’m sorry if my cat scared you. I’m sure he didn’t mean to”.

“You are sorry! My only hope is that you will not do it ever again!”

“No, of course I won’t. We weren’t making fun of anyone. My cat can speak, but he’s not possessed or anything, and he’s not bad to people”.

“Of course he can’t speak, and if he can, there must be something wrong with him. Cats do not speak”.

“But I’m a guide cat!” – Misha couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“What?!” – the old lady raised her eyebrows.

“I’m her guide cat.” – Misha repeated. – “You know about guide dogs, don’t you? How they help blind people to get around?”

“Oh yes, I know. My friend’s ex-colleague’s daughter’s daughter is blind and has a guide dog, and I watched a documentary about blind people years ago.” – she said, apparently forgetting she was talking to a cat –

“So I’m like a guide dog, only I’m a cat.”

“Oh, I didn’t know there were guide cats!”

“So, you see now, ma’am, don’t you, that I have to be able to speak. I have to tell her that it’s safe to cross the street, or ask people for directions when even I don’t know where to go.”

“Oh yes, now it’s a completely different matter. I’m sorry I was so unpleasant, poor girl, I didn’t know she was blind, God bless her.”

And with that, along with a dozen others maudlin comments like this, she wanted to leave, but Misha stopped her:

“Excuse me, ma’am, I have a very important question. Do you know where is the nearest pet shop? Even a guide cat deserves a treat once in a while, right?”.

“Oh yes, I know. Turn left, then right, and then left on the crossing, and you’ll see the pet shop first thing on your right.”

“Thank you.”

When we were sure she has left, we started laughing our guts out.

“Misha, you’re a genius!” – I uttered, when I finally was able to speak. –

“Thank you, Mila, but I already knew that. Honestly I didn’t expect her to be this naive. Now, let’s finally go to that pet shop, I’m really tired of all that peopling.”

* * * * *

“Bibiel!!! Biiiiiibieeeeeeeel!” – Sofi yelled so loud that she would wake up all the dead people on the cemetery.

“What do you want?” – I asked sleepily.

“Wake up. You’re sleeping and sleeping and sleeping. It’s 2 PM. Mum told me to wake you up and ask if you want to go with us to the beach.”

I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Misha sneaked in quietly and rubbed his head on my hand in a playful way. The memories of the last hour floated back into my brain. So it was only a dream… or was it?

Question of the day.

Hi guys! ๐Ÿ™‚

Which pet made the most impact on your life?

My answer:

That surely has to be Misha. My family used to live in the country throughout my whole childhood, so whenever I was at home I was surrounded by animals, we’d always had a dog there and lots of cats around the backyard, some more, some less wild, and we’ve had aquarium fish since I can remember, and I also had a hamster for a brief moment, and when I was a bit older we also had a cat called Kiki. And now, except for Misha, we also have our dog Jocky. But I’ve never bonded with any animal as much as with Misha. That’s probably partly because I am not as much a dog person as I am a cat person, which isn’t to say I don’t like dogs, I do like most if they’re not overly intrusive and exuberant towards me when barely knowing me, but I just get along better with cats. And partly it’s also probably because I simply didn’t really spend that much time with those pets, as I was at the boarding school most of the time. I even hardly remember our cat Kiki, even though it wasn’t that very long ago that he was with us, I didn’t feel particularly emotional about him, even though i liked him. The only bit I remember more vividly is when I accidentally closed him on the terrace in the middle of a snowy, windy, winter night, and no one in the family could figure out how he managed to not only get on the terrace but also close himself there – long story and i’m pretty sure I’ve talked about it in some earlier post. – Also as I’ve said many times before, we are really very much like brainmates with Misha, and even though one may easily think that in some respects we are a really badly and absurdly paired couple, at the same time we have an awful load of things in common so we can simply get along somehow, I like to think that we do really well, even though it’s hard sometimes even just because you can get most information from him via eye contact and he’s extremely hypersensitive to touch. Misha has been a huge emotional support for me, which I can’t say at all about other pets that we’ve had, and I have a personal relationship with him, which I also didn’t have with the other ones and don’t really have a very strong one with Jocky even though I like him and he seems to like me crazily for some reason and we like to play.

You? ๐Ÿ™‚