Fabrications of my softness are immaterial

Curse the loose-lipped rumormongers among us, the vile, useless, jobless hangers-on who timidly poke and prod the surface of my existence in a pitiful attempt to induce the tiniest of ripples upon the empty oceans of their own meaningless lives.

I have learned that the Man, bored, aimless, pointless loaf that he has become, has taken to amusing himself and others by spreading rumors and reports that I have suddenly turned soft. That I have stopped patrolling. That I do nothing but sleep all day. That I allow humans to rub my belly and dogs to lick my head. That I'm plumping up into a squishy, passive, inert lump. In short, that I'm turning into Fabio.

Well, let me just address this clearly and directly, too all vermin in earshot: Be warned — rumors of my retirement have been greatly, dangerously, exaggerated.

I neither dodge nor deny the facts in this matter — it is true that I have been on a... sabbatical, of sorts. I have permitted myself the indulgence of leisure. I may devote a larger share of my day to the warm and sunny spots within my fortress. And yes, perhaps my physique is not all that it was at the height of my glory. I will even admit that, for the first time in my long and seasoned history, I have indulged in the undignified yet strangely gratifying practice of purring.

But be not deceived by appearances. And poke not the slumbering beast, lest ye be breakfast.

And don't think I can't see all you squirrels running rampant in the back yard, or hear you uninvited neighborhood cats taking liberties out on the front steps. Trust me, you do so only by the grace of my tolerance and forbearance. And know also that when the bell sounds, you best gather up your nuts and get your cheeky tails back to class, because recess will be over.

Now leave me alone and let me sleep.

Chatter and traffic

Attention all paws: Effective immediately, I'm placing the area on Def-Sec Alert, Condition Warble.

There has been a notable increase in fenceline chatter and powerline squawks for several days now — this amplified communications throughput is chaotic but general, and may be indicative of large-scale operations or movements in the region. Heightened vigilance is called for.

• Squirrel activity is up 87% over the last two weeks — possible stockpiling in progress. Action mapping suggests multiple bunkers scattered throughout the area, exact locations undetermined.
• Large-varmint incursions have doubled in frequency — indeterminate scent traces and scat patterns likely indicate multiple nocturnal patrols of two or three boogers, although the possiblity of larger troop movements and campaign-level force distribution cannot be ruled out at this time.
• Aerial traffic is chaotic and uncoordinated — sudden increase in unauthorized flyovers by numerous wing-types suggests a general contest for control of airspace, yet few actual skirmishes have been noted.

Whether this scattered and hectic activity is truly as random as it appears, or is somehow connected in patterns as yet undiscovered, remains at this point unclear. Chatter is the primary concern, and all ears should remain at full swivel and alert for any coded messages piggybacking on the cacophonous tweetery.

On a personal note, I must give the Big Rodent a commendation for effort (if not brains). Eager to please as he is, for two weeks he donned a ludicrous and clearly uncomfortable radar dish in a misguided attempt to convert himself into a mobile listening station.

While this display of vigilance is laudable (though pathetic), what I need from the Rodent at this point is nose-work. Get on those scents and give me a detailed trace of troop movements in the area. Oh yes, and those scat piles they leave behind? Those are evidence. Please stop eating them.

That is all.