In which the blogger used to think his cat was cool, and now just feels terribly disappointed in her

Look! It's not just the people in the suburbs that have strange appearances! Though that popped-collar thing needs to end. This, my friends, is why I feed my cat only organic kibble and Bombay Sapphire gin (it's made with filtered water). She beats me when she's angry, but it's only cause I do bad things.

They say cats have nine lives, but this one has four ears.

A genetic abnormality gave Yoda, of Downers Grove, Ill., four ear flaps instead of two.

Yoda the Cat Astounds With Four Ears

Ted and Valerie Rock first spied the little guy in 2006 at neighborhood bar on the South Side of Chicago before a Bears game. He was the last of a litter of eight put up for adoption by the bar's owner.

"The people in the bar, because it was coming up on Halloween, were thinking it was a devil cat or had evil powers or something," Ted Rock told FOXNews.com.

But the Rocks, who had lost their cat of 20 years just 6 months prior, saw something special in the gray kitten and decided to take him home.

Their "Star Wars"-loving son thought to name the cat after the tiny Jedi master.

"I had named him Barfly," Rock said. "But we kind of liked Yoda better, and Barfly lasted only about a day."

The abnormality can cause hearing impairments, though Rock said several veterinarians have given Yoda a clean bill of health.

In which the blogger yawns, stretches, and slits his wrists

So far this morning, I've woken up at 7 am with cotton mouth and a searing hangover; had a panic attack; ordered a java chip Frappucino and received a watery disgusting mess; had an hour-long fight with my boyfriend while driving a friends car (that I'm not insured on) in spite of the fact that I don't even possess a valid driver's license; fought with Sunday morning Lakeview traffic to secure a parking space near my building; spilled tuna water all over my kitchen counter.

So far this morning, my cat has woken up in the blazing Chicago morning sun; received a neck massage; eaten six salmon treats; chased a Coke bottle cap across the room a few times; taken a nap; gotten tangled in a cable wire; gotten brushed twice; received three more treats; eaten half a can of tuna.

That cat has my fucking life.

In which the blogger's childhood friend, the girl next door, ruminates on the nature of his being

"It shouldn't come as a shock that when I think of the name Felix, I think of a cat.

Straight out of the womb, he was a fighter, a survivor. His entire life he’s been a fighter, a survivor. He will scratch and claw his way to where he needs to be, and if there’s a loophole, he’ll find it. A Leo to the core, Felix knows how to roar.

His curiosity gets him into trouble, but that’s part of his charm. Agile and flexible, his long strides take him from adventure to adventure.

I’ve had the pleasure of knowing Felix since adolescence and we’ve been family ever since. Our friendship is a magical one, into which people are rarely invited to really see the true dynamic that exists between us. Our chemistry ensures that it will last forever.

He’s taught me several lessons over the years, and he continues to be my sounding board. He’s one of few people I trust completely. His sound advice helps me through my situations; when I need a friend, I know where to turn. He’s bared his fangs for me and wouldn’t hesitate to bring his back claws into a fight if necessary.

Despite his uncanny ability to hiss in the face of danger, he also knows how to purr and sidestep tragedy. Perpetually on his ninth life, Felix doesn’t stop walking on the tallest fences, knocking over trash cans and stretching out on sidewalks in the sun. Traffic is something for him to laugh at as he travels easily through it.

Yes, yes, I know: he’s not really a cat. But really, the metaphor fits. He does his own thing and doesn’t need anybody to possess him. He chooses his friends carefully and doesn’t feel bad when he doesn’t like somebody. He makes no excuses for who he is, because who he is is all he is. Nothing more, but nothing less."

--Gail T. Kismet, author of the up-and-coming Cunning Stunts.