CHIPS

GG tells me 'chips' is what her fellow classmates used to say at school when a teacher was about to appear. Me, I could think of much more interesting words, like 'mice' or 'squirrel' for e.g.

So let's talk chips. Not those oblong slices of deep fried potatoes that go with fish and make you fat, no. I mean micro-chips, the kind the folks at the Humane (!) Society embedded under my skin before I was adopted. Imagine the outcry if that were done to humans!!! But actually, I don't really care. See, this gives GG some peace of mind 'cos if I get lost, I can be traced back to her. (Yes, I did have a collar and tag and she wrote about my losing that. Maybe she'll do a retro-active post fyi)

For me, well, I know my way around and thus feel getting lost is unlikely to occur. What's neat about my chip is that it gives me and me alone access to the house via the cat flap. Isn't that brilliant? GG tells me that, years ago in another world (i.e. Toronto) they had Figaro, a fancy Kashmir cat, sans chip but avec un cat flap. He, apparently, was so beautiful that GG called him a moving decorative object (yes, GG loves overblown prose). One night GG and her long time side kick heard noises in the kitchen. He went to investigate and discovered a large mama raccoon had come in, opened the cupboard where the kibble was kept, and was about to not only help herself, but to feed her four small offspring who sat waiting outside the back door!

Miaow! I'm glad to have exclusive entry, seeing as we don't employ a uniformed door-opener like they have at fancy hotels. That's what GG tells me anyhow.