Cat: A Blog of Disasters

I maked a ded burd.

2010-08-11T15:06:00.002+01:00

I maked it ded, tha burd.

Deding makes me sleepy.

Pesky humans

2008-03-05T10:50:00.002+01:00

Most of the time they tend to be sort of okay, the people I look after. But from time to time they take it upon themselves to "fix me", like I'm some sort of bloody Coldplay project. I can take care of myself. You should see me out there, keeping neighbourhood cats and birds at bay, fighting off the stealthy slowworms. I don't know what they'd do without me.

Sure, once in a while a soldier catches some flak or shrapnel. I got a bite in the leg. Big deal. I'm limping a bit. Whatever. But they see this and think, "Oh, poor lamb, oh cuddly wuddly, oh vetty wetty."

I try to warn them off with a hiss and a swipe, but they can be pretty tenacious at times, and the next thing I know I'm being manhandled into the blasted carrier and sitting in a room full of dogs and rabbits.

And then they start turning my ears and eyes inside-out and sticking long metal spikes into my neck. Needless to say, I'm never more keen to get back in my carrier than after a trip to that place. I felt quite sleepy afterwards.

Star of the printed page, just like I told you!

2007-08-17T18:07:00.000+01:00

Man, is there any lazier blogger in the world than me? Probably not, but what the hell -- I'm a cat, for crying out loud. And in the summertime I like to sleep.

Anyway, a couple of days ago, a ring on the doorbell came. It was a courier bringing copies of the book I'm in. Here, for your viewing pleasure, are the pictures. The text is fun in places too!

Don't say I never give you anything.

Me undertaking a light lunch:

Me squinting:

My Italian uncle:

I’ve heard of dog tags, but who’d tag a cat?

2007-07-01T11:47:00.000+01:00

Hey everyboooody. Long time, no see. Just popped in cos blogmate Milla tagged me. This is rad -- my first tag. I'll jump right to it!

1. WHAT WERE YOU DOING 10 YEARS AGO?
Being a kitty embryo with my two siblings. We were waiting to be born, just sploshing around in me ma's belly. Good times.

2. WHAT WERE YOU DOING 1 YEAR AGO?
See my blog. I'd been making friends with slowworms and fighting turf wars with the neighbours. The usual cat stuff, I guess.

3. FIVE SNACKS YOU ENJOY.
Fish, mice, the sweet sticky stuff between my claws, slowworms, human flesh.

4. FIVE SONGS YOU KNOW ALL THE WORDS TO.
The Love Cats (The Cure); The Bird and the Worm (The Used); Keep Fishin' (Weezer); Cool for Cats (Squeeze); The Siamese Cat Song (from Lady and the Tramp).

5. FIVE THINGS YOU'D DO IF YOU WERE A MILLIONAIRE.
I have no need for money. Apart from anything else, I have trouble handling the notes and difficulty opening a bank account.

6. FIVE BAD HABITS.
It's possible that people might consider hissing a bad habit. And swiping at people's calves and hands. Also, scratching the sofa. And waking up the humans at 5am so they can watch me eat. And dropping food outside of my bowl, perhaps.

7. FIVE THINGS YOU LIKE DOING.
Hunting wildlife; eating fish; rolling in the sun; sleeping in the shed next door but one; attacking small children.

8. FIVE THINGS YOU WOULD NEVER WEAR AGAIN.
That toupée thing that the humans made out of one of my toys and they insist on putting on my head for comedy value; one of those neck collars that look like a lampshade; a collar; a big, fat leg bandage; nail varnish (not that I ever have; that's just a nasty rumour).

I don't have many friends in blogland, and most of the ones I do have have already taken this tag. So just feel free, and let me know, so I can check you out. Thanks.

The joys of spring

2007-04-16T09:07:00.000+01:00

Spring is here again.

I enjoy the longer days, the milder weather and lazing about in the sun as much as the next cat, but spring also has its downsides. It is the time of year when my humans start coming out in the garden, you see -- MY garden. Where were they in the bitter, cold winter, when I had to brave the elements to routinely patrol the area for unwanted felines?

And I don't recall seeing them out there when I was struggling with a ferocious slowworm over control of this most strategic of territories (although at least the Man gave that little episode a nod of acknowledgment with his latest skin-painting exercise).

I had hoped and expected that by maintaining a constant presence in the garden, I would be recognized as the sole user of that area. But no. Now that the weather is fine, the humans want in. Well, we'll see about that.

The other day, knowing that the Woman would come out to my garden to water the plants, I plundered my very own pet cemetery, which I set up a few months ago at the back of a giant shrub, to dig up a little surprise for her.

As she went to the tap to fill up her watering cans, I laid down on the decking, to better savour the moment when she would certainly squeal like those delicious mice I sometimes find for supper. I half-closed my eyes and followed her every movement. The sun on my shiny black fur, the breeze on my long, white whiskers, a moment of shock for my human... does life get any better than that?

Alas, it was not to be. The Woman seems to have grown somewhat bolder over the winter: rather than the terror-fuelled squeal I had so eagerly anticipated, she reacted to my "gift" with a mere sharp intake of breath. Disappointing.

Still, she called the other human over, and they had a good look at my handiwork. Then they did the only thing that would make me forgive them for trespassing into my territory: they rubbed my chin and praised my hunting skills. That's what I'm talking about, bitches!

And the video hits just keep on comin’...

2007-03-23T18:30:00.000+01:00

They've been at it again, making me perform like some kind of circus animal.

I. Am. Not. A. Dog.

You know what I should tell 'em? Pogue mahone.

Star of the silver screen

2007-03-04T19:05:00.000+01:00

The man kept shoving a video camera in my face.

I wrote a poem about it.

I’ve been a bad pussy

2007-02-17T09:00:00.000+01:00

First up, boys and girls, let me apologize for my slackness of late. I want especially to say sorry to d34dpuppy and Zorro, both of whom have been asking after me. DP is very patient.

I offer no excuses, except that the people are sat at the computers all day, and I get tired of waiting for them so I have to lie beside the radiator. And then the radiator gets hot and I find all my energy sapping away, and the next thing I know, I'm fast asleep. When I wake up then, I'm too hot and I have to go outside to cool off.

Then when I'm outside, I get distracted by leaves and dirt getting blown around in the wind, and I forget that I'm supposed to blogging. After all that running around, I am hungry, so I have to eat, and after eating I need to have a lie down.

Friends, it's a vicious circle! I'm not making excuses, it's just... No, I am making excuses. What of it?!

So, anyway, I never did get around to telling you all about my "spa vacation". Spa vacation, my chocolate starfish! Here goes.

Christmas was all well and good. It was one of the few Christmases that the people spend at home with me instead of going off gallavanting. I was happy. They would turn on the Christmas lights, and a warm glow filled the living room. It was a good Christmas.

Then came early January, and I started to hear talk of holidays approaching and foreign lands. I flattened my ears down to hide myself from these ugly words, but I couldn't save myself from my fate.

Once they put me in the car, along with some of my goodies, I knew this wasn't a vet trip. They don't take all that paraphenalia to the vets with me. "Oh well," I figured. "It's not so bad up there in the countryside: I get to look at sheep and sometimes pheasants and stuff. It could be worse."

Oh, yes, it could be worse; and it was worse. They didn't take me to my usual cattery, but to a new one instead. A new one with a man who smelled like he was on fire. He always had this little white stick with him with smoke coming from it, and he'd put it in his mouth from time to time. It smelled.

They put me in a cage. A cage, I tell you! With wire fencing. Not like my lovely perspex-walled room at the other place... And the cage smelled of other cats and other cats' piss. I had no option but to spray my scent everywhere, to make sure no intruders would think this patch was available to them.

I had to be on my guard day and night. Sleep with one eye open, that kind of thing. It was a loooong week.

When the people came to collect me, I heard their voices first. And then they heard mine. They couldn't believe how deep and gruff and threatening my voice was. I'd had to change it to keep bad people away. That smelly man kept touching me and trying to pick me up, you see. Well, I soon stopped that with a lash of the claws and a chomp of the teeth!

I heard him grass me up to the people. He said: "You should have told me he bites." Uh-oh, I'm in trouble...

But the people couldn't have been nicer. They apologized to me the whole way back home, saying that he shouldn't have tried to touch me, and that they had told him I wasn't an affectionate cat who tolerates being touched. And they said sorry that they'd left me there.

I felt vindicated.

Even so, I made sure each of them got a good scratch and bite within the next 24 hours, just to reiterate my displeasure.

But I was so glad to be back home, where I can sleep properly, with both eyes closed, for as long as I like, and food is always just a yowl away.

The woman said that they'd broken me, but now...

"I was cured, all right."

Make room, superstar coming through!

2006-12-21T09:17:00.000+01:00

Sorry for my loooooong absence, faithful readers. The people have been at their computers so much recently that it's been difficult for this sucker to get an even break. Anyways, while they're snoozing their lives away, I'm up and at the new day. Well, after all, it's so bloody foggy outside right now, that I can barely see a mouse just a few metres in front of me. It's just not worth hunting when I can come and write a blog post.

And I haven't been sitting on my laurels, either. Indeed, I have some interesting news to impart, but you have to keep it hush-hush, on the down-low, the QT, ya dig, my brothers?

I can't say too much right now, but yours truly may soon be a superstar of stage and screen. Well, that's perhaps overegging it a bit, but I may soon have my picture in a book. There's this bloke who's writing a book, and he wanted a picture of a cat doing something specific. I won't say what, BUT IT'S NOT RUDE. (Get your damn minds out of the gutter, you dirty Homo sapiens!) And it just so happens that the people here had a picture of me doing that certain something, so they sent it to the man, and it's now under consideration.

Now, I'm not really one for photo ops. Point a camera in my direction and I'm likely to give a dirty look and show you my arse, but even I am quite flattered by this possibility. So I'll be sure to keep you all informed as things progress. Keep all your paws and claws crossed for me, dear friends.

I have another little post in me, too, but I'll save that for a few days' time. I will be back soon, I promise!

Sufferin' succotash!

2006-10-23T22:17:00.000+01:00

I'm feeling a bit cranky. It's been raining on and off all day, and then, when I went outside to see if the rain had brought out any nice juicy worms for supper, I got attacked. ATTACKED, I TELL YA, by that damn tabby bastard.

I got a cut above my left eye and a few scratches and scrapes on my head, my back, my ribcage, and my ... Get yer mind outta the gutter; this ain't no sleazy R&B track!

Still, like the proverbial black man, I don't go down without a fight. I got plenty of his fur under my claws too. Now I just need a little lie down.

His dog, my bitch

2006-10-17T03:36:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I was alone much of the day. The people went to London together first thing in the morning. Strangely, Man returned first. He got back at about 4pm and went straight about his so-called work. Woman arrived home at about 7 of your "o'clocks". What's particularly baffling for me is that, while the male comes and goes of his own free will, the female of the species seems unable to do either without the male and his blue metal box on wheels. Humans crack me up.

Anyway, as a result of the lack of company, I was feeling rather horny this night. While making one of my routine patrols around the people's heads as they slept, I found myself unable to resist the pull of Man's fleshy forearm. What's funny is that it was the one with a big picture of a red dog on it. I rode that puppy till its face turned blue. Hah! Dogs suck, bee-atch!

I’m having a nap. What of it?

2006-10-13T16:53:00.000+01:00

Jeez, I need all my strength to rid the house of creepy crawlies an' stuff. You want spiders getting in your mouth while you sleep? Fine. THAT'S IT -- I'M ON STRIKE!

You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry...

2006-09-19T15:12:00.000+01:00

Last night I finally re-entered the Red Room, where the people sleep. It was out of bounds for the whole of last week, when the people's noisy friends were here (and don't get me started on that...), and then I thought I'd stay away for another handful of days, just to make my displeasure at the disruption known. No amount of night-time coaxing was going to change my mind. However, by last night, I thought the people had suffered enough, so about 4.30am, I deigned them with my sublime feline presence again.

The Woman was very pleased to see me and, disappointingly, seemed not bothered by the timing of my appearance. Shame. She made room for me on her side of the bed and started rubbing my chin. Ooh, damn her, she knows just what to do to get back in my good books... Then I took a stroll around the head of the Man and sat on his pillow for a while. He was also most happy to have me back, pooey arse and all. My, they must have missed me during the past ten days or so!

Then, this morning, I played another little trick on them. I started sniffing at the food in my bowl and miaowing my disdain out loud. The Woman, thinking the food had been there since the night before, promptly changed it for me, muttering something about what a waste of poor little rabbits that was. Evs. After putting new food down for me, she gave me a little stroke to get me to eat (a little trick I taught them when I was little) and -- get this! -- I hissed at her. She was taken aback a little and tried another stroke. I hissed louder (kinda like in this picture), turned my back on her and went out.

Now... the Woman is a bit of a grass, so she relayed the whole episode to the Man, who revealed to her that the food at which I was turning up my nose was actually fresh from this morning. Ha ha! Anyway, they both charged into the bathroom, where I was having my mid-morning nap, and started going on about the little rabbits again and about how having a child and sending him to university would be cheaper than feeding me and blah blah blah. I yawned and covered my eyes with my paw.

They looked at each other and did this thing where one of them tries to articulate my thoughts. Strangely enough, they got it right this time when the Woman said, "You're boring me now. Fuck off and leave me be."

Yaaaaaawwwwwwwn!

2006-09-16T17:27:00.000+01:00

I get very tired after having people stay at my house. The whole time they're here I have to sleep with one eye open, just in case they come too close and want to touch me or something. So when they leave, I have to catch up on my sleep.

Speaking of sleep, I have a new bed. I like to mix it up, keep it interesting, y'know. There's a pile of printouts on the floor near where the woman works. They make a comfy spot for me to curl up in.

Night night.

It’s all fun and games, innit?

2006-09-12T15:21:00.000+01:00

I've really been a bit slack about writing on my blog lately. It's just been so damn hot. When it gets like this, what I tend to do is pop into the shed belonging to the old lady a couple of doors away. It's pretty cool in there because it's all dark and shaded. And once in a while there's the added bonus of a big ol' spider or similar tasty bug for me to chow down on. Yep, life is sweet, if a little warm.

Well... I say life is sweet, but just when things are looking at their sweetest, suddenly I smell something rotten in the state of Denmark, as that old Shakespeare bloke would have. Something rotten in the state of Denmark? More like something rotten in the shape of the three black bananas sitting in the people's fruit bowl. Sheesh! Some of us have sensitive nostrils, y'know, not like you sensory-deprived humans.

And not only that... The little kid next door has been climbing the fence and getting into my garden. My garden! He even walked up to the back door of my house and put his hand through my cat-flap. My cat-flap! I tell you all this for nothing: he's lucky I was nowhere near at the time. I've managed to avoid what the people call a nail-trimming for quite a few weeks now, and I'm carrying a couple of pawfuls of scimitars around with me. I'd have taken that mofo's arm off as quick as look at it.

And another thing... Said kid has got himself a couple of cats living with him. New ones. New ones that think it's okay to come and do their toilet business in my garden. My gard... Oops, I'm repeating myself, aren't I? They were using the gravel that the people put down (detailed here) as a litter tray. Dirty bastards.

And just when you were beginning to think I must be the least fortunate cat in the whole world, there's something else. The people have friends visiting this week. Two more people. I don't like people. Did I mention that before? Have I not made this clear enough to the people who live with me? Obviously I'm going to need to stress my position a bit more forcefully. I will, dear reader, keep you informed...

Cat-flap conundrum

2006-08-22T09:26:00.000+01:00

I moved into my current home about three years ago, and for the longest time I was all but banned from going outside. Well, that's not strictly true. The reality is that the people would have to open the door for me to go out and come back in. Finally, they got bored of that -- though let me tell you, I got bored a lot sooner -- and they decided to put in a cat-flap.

When I say "put in a cat-flap", I really mean "have a cat-flap put in" because they are both so useless at DIY that I can only imagine what sort of disaster they would make of it.

I got very excited when I heard Man on the phone calling glaziers to get quotes for the job. And when I finally heard him book one in, I almost leapt for joy. (Of course, had I actually leapt for joy, I would have made sure they weren't around to see it. I'm not a circus monkey, for Christ's sake. Or worse, a dog.)

The glazier man came and he removed the bottom panel from the gorgeous uPVC back door. He then took the panel and the cat-flap with him to his van, which was parked outside, and this is where he did the cutting and fitted the unit. All very exciting. Then he brought it back in and commenced to replace the panel. Only to realize that the panel was not square and he had put the cat-flap in the wrong place. See the photograph below.

How can people be so dumb?! If we cats had opposable thumbs, idiots like that guy would be out of work.

Gotcha, you buggers!

2006-08-19T17:31:00.000+01:00

All last week, the woman had to get up earlier than usual and travel to London for work. And the man had to get up with her and drive her to the railway station each morning.

I noticed that they had set their alarms for 6.45am. Little did they know that the Cat Alarm® was set for a whole hour earlier... Ah, the fun I had seeing their little bloodshot eyes 60 minutes before they wanted to open them!

Today is Saturday. Nobody needed to leave the house today. I thought about waking them regardless. But then I decided it's better not to. After all what could be more annoying? I heard them talking about "why couldn't I have let them sleep during the week". I laughed so much I had to run to the litter box.

What time is it? Oh, I know... payback time!

2006-08-12T12:44:00.000+01:00

I would like to apologize to the fellow felines who read this blog for my prolonged silence. I have a very good excuse, though: in late July, out of the blue, the bastard People decided to take another holiday. They grabbed me by the scruff of my neck just as I as waking up and too sleepy to impose my will, stuffed me in the carrier and took me to the cattery, where they left me for another week.

I was most annoyed, not least because there were a couple of Siamese cats there. The moment I saw them, I knew sleep would be an exercise in futility, so I summoned all the voice in my little lungs and begged, pleaded with the People, howled like a banshee... "Please do not leave me here! You know I like my daily 20-hour nap nice and quiet. How will I catch my beauty sleep with this mewing racket?" They looked at me, squeezed their ugly human features and said to each other, "God, he can out-miaow the Siamese! Must be the Oriental blood in his veins. Oh, how genius! Oh, how fab! And hasn't he got the most harmonious voice?" Oh, buzz off, you bastards. I'm expressing displeasure here. Do. You. Not. Get. It? Bleedin' idiots.

Anyway, upon my return to the house, I hatched a little plan to exact revenge. Called "Blair Witch Cat" after the final scene in The Blair Witch Project, the plan is tried and tested, effective and it doesn't even require much effort on my part, because the People are really quite gullible. So, fellow felines, listen up and feel free to adopt this whenever your humans start overstepping their boundaries and going on holiday twice in the space of eight weeks.

The other night I started staring at the skirting board under the dining room window. I turned my back to the People and just stared at nothing in particular. Every now and then, I made a swatting motion or curled my whiskers as if to indicate the presence of a mouse there. (Fortunately for me and the success of my evil plan, a section of that skirting board doesn't quite reach the floor, making it the ideal hiding spot for a rodent that I might have caught and -- ooops! -- accidentally dropped during playtime.)

The Man fell for it hook, line and sinker. Indeed, so finely tuned are my powers of suggestion, that he even started to detect the smell of decaying mouse emanating from the area. The Woman's nose is not quite so sensitive (or paranoid), but she is afraid of mice, so talk of rodent corpses from the Man and my odd behaviour (remember, I'm still staring at nothing here) made her think that there was indeed something mousy going on.

Out came the humane mouse trap and the peanut butter and daily checks to see if the trap has got a little furry friend inside. Fools! There ain't nothing there! Mwah ah ah ah!!! I wonder how much longer I can string them along...

Cat Haiku

2006-07-27T18:33:00.000+01:00

During these ungodly hot days, I like to lie under the People's bed and entertain myself by panting myself cool or reading some Japanese poetry. Cat Haiku by Deborah Coates contains several rhymes that define my feline essence with concise perfection.

Take this one, for example:

You get a massage,
I roll in the dirt. Both are
Relaxing, aren’t they?

Or this one:

You must love this thing
Called "work" since you go there so
Much. I'd rather nap.

Do any fellow blogging felines have any cool cat haiku to share?

Hmmm....

2006-07-22T16:28:00.000+01:00

The people are doing something in the garden, and I know not what. They went out while I was under the bed this afternoon, and when they came back they had bags of gravel and other things.

They put the gravel bags on the ground -- barely missing the pieces of slowworm that I'd left to cure in the sun, I might add. They would have been in so much trouble if they'd've squished that, I can tell you.

Then they started moving plants and flowers around. This kind of unnerves me for two reasons:

1. I had become quite accustomed to where things were, and I thought it was all just right the way it was;

2. It seems I must have missed the meeting when all of this was discussed. When I say I "missed the meeting", of course what I really mean is that they held said meeting without me, and that is not something that sits well with a cat.

To make matters worse, on close inspection of the gravel I have to ask myself whether anyone gave any thought to the size of the gravel versus the size of the gaps between the pads of my feet. I'll wager they didn't...

Is it me...

2006-07-21T12:07:00.000+01:00

or is it
TOO
DAMN
HOT
TO
BLOG?

Must sleep under bed, where it is cool...

I had a dream

2006-07-11T19:23:00.000+01:00

I am a fearsome leopard and I fly through the air, leaping majestically from lush, luxuriant trees on to the unsuspecting prey below.

If the gods of anatomy could just see me mid-flight, they would congratulate themselves on the perfect, scythe-like killing machine I have become.

I am perfection, elongated in an exquisitely sweet moment of hunting prowess. I am a feline god.

Then Man comes along: "Psst, Red, come and see Cat!"
His voice is utterly disagreeable to me at this moment. I ignore him.

I close my eyes a bit harder, fall back to sleep, fall back to sleep... where was I? Yes, the jungle. I am about to hunt down a pesky young gazelle. I project my entire body forward, soaring through the...

FLASH!

What on earth was that? Are they exploiting my sleepiest, most vulnerable dreamlike state to take pictures of me?! In my bedroom? Where I come to play with my toys? Is there no respect for feline authority here?

Right, let me set my body clock... 3.30am... yeah, that should do it. See you in the morning, amigos.

I’ll sleep it off...

2006-07-05T17:40:00.000+01:00

I'm feeling a bit under the weather. It's been bloody hot round here lately, and while Man and Woman seem perfectly happy wandering around in just their underwear, they seem completely oblivious to the fact that I'm sitting here in a freakin' fur coat. Like, hello! You think you've got it bad?!

Anyway, to add salt to the wound, I've lost my voice. When I try to miaow all that comes out is a pitiful squeak. Its probably a bit of that bird from the other morning stuck in my craw. Maybe a claw in my craw. Or some of that spiky grass that I love so much. Mmmm... spiky grass.

And I've done a big throw-up today.

Oh well, I'm gonna go and curl up in Woman's wardrobe and sleep it off. I'm sure everything will look better in the morning. Thanks for listening.

Early morning hunting trip

2006-07-03T10:38:00.000+01:00

The humans have been looking a little worse for wear in recent weeks -- all sunken cheeks, sticky-outy ribs, knobbly knees galore -- and there has been a lot of complaining about being hungry all the time, the fridge being constantly empty and whatnot.

I think they’re just a little tired of their old cooking repertoire and fancy a little variety in their diet, so I thought I’d help out. After all, as much as I don’t like to share my wealth, they have been good to me, feeding me top-of-the-range catfood and even treating me to a weekly portion of fish.

So this morning, bright and early, I thought I’d go hunting. These are the fruits of my labour.

I left it on the rug, just in front of the box the humans often sit in front of, where I knew they would see it. And then I went out again. I am not one to bask in the glory of my selfless actions, you see.

When I returned, it was gone. Woman was the first to thank me for my brave and arduous deed and she praised my hunting skills. I like praise. Man soon followed suit and scratched me on the chin, but with the respect one owes to their provider.

I purred with pride and retired to their room for a well-deserved nap. These hunting trips really take it out of me...

What’s going on

2006-06-29T11:17:00.000+01:00

I'm back. I know it's been a few days, but we've had some strange weather here of late. Firstly it was cold and pouring with rain. So I can't blog on those days cos I'm too dang miserable and decide just to spend all day sleeping on the people's bed.

Now, though, the weather has picked up a bit and I'm taking full advantage of it. This, of course, means I'm spending a lot of time outdoors. And when I'm outdoors I can't blog. Well, duh, cats are just too easy to mug when they're tapping away on a laptop in the park. Not a good idea.

Anyroad up (as they say up north, I believe), I do have a couple of things to report on. I'll start with the bad news.

Usually I have free rein at home. I can come and go as I please. I often hear the woman saying to the man something about "treating this place like a hotel", but I'm sure that's not about me. I mean, they should think themselves lucky that I spend any time with them. No, can't be about me. So... having free rein means I can also go in and out of the cat-flap all night, if I so desire. The people used to lock it at night, to keep me safe or something, but I soon put an end to that by waking them up at 4.30 every morning to let me out. Yes, they soon tired of that game! (Who's the daddy?!)

However, I've been - what would you say? - terrorized of late. There's a cat in the 'hood who just clearly doesn't like me. (I know, I know: what's not to like?) This has been going on for a little while (see here, for example). He'll see me out and about and chase me all the way to my cat-flap. Sometimes he will then lurk outside said flap and punch me in the nose when I stick my head through. This is annoying at best and humiliating at worst. Not to mention painful. But this is a cat's life, so what can you do.

But last week, this guy decided that the cat-flap was no barrier to him. HE WALKED INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE! Can you believe the balls on him? Actually, he's not neutered, and he does have quite a set of balls, both figuratively and factually speaking. Not that I go about looking at such things, but it's impossible to miss them. Not only did he come into my house, but he sprayed in the kitchen doorway. The kitchen, where my people go to prepare food. Dirty chav bastard.

The people heard me growling at him and when he heard Man coming downstairs he made himself pretty scarce. But this happened again the next night... Which is why now they've been keeping me in for a few nights. Partly it makes me feel better knowing that he can't come in (and may eventually give up trying); and partly because it saves me going out and getting beaten up. That said, he did leave a good chunk of his hair on the doorstep the other night when I took a swing at him.

And so for the good news. I have a new friend. Well, I did. For about a minute. This is me giving him a little kiss:

And this is him struggling to get away, although I'm really not sure why. I could have been a good friend; we'd've had some fun times together.

But they took him away. The people who live with me. Man took some pictures and then said something about it not seeming right taking pictures instead of helping. Woman said something about Kevin Carter, but who knows what that's supposed to mean.

So, that's about all for now. I'm going to go back out in the sun for a while. Until next time...

Idiots!

2006-06-22T12:56:00.000+01:00

I heard the people talking about getting me a pet. What? A pet dog, of all things. Now what in the name of all that is holy would I want a pet dog for?! Am I gonna take it out walking when I go out of an evening? Oh, I think not. Idiots.

And look at this. It's a poem I found on Man's desk.

Eighteen hours a day he lies there,
barely makes a sound.
He makes up for it the other six --
you know that he's around.

He tells you when to feed him,
he tells you when to play,
and he makes it very obvious
when to stay away.

He's not all that high-maintenance
-- I have to grant him that --
but he's just great to have around,
that crazy puddy tat.

What the hell is that all about?! Idiots! I'm surrounded by idiots! HEEEEELLLPPPP!!!

Well, what do you know?

2006-06-19T15:27:00.000+01:00

So there I was, yesterday afternoon, catching some rays, disdainfully sniffing the food my kind landlady had left for me and the other feline pris- ...er, guests. And guess who shows up. The humans! (Be still, my heart. And easy with those exclamation marks, or they’ll think you were happy to see them.)

I was really beginning to think that they would not come back for me. That, angered by my behaviour in the days prior to their departure (I am, indeed, guilty of turning up the crank-o-meter to 11), they would leave me in sheep-gazing heaven for the rest of my days, a modern-day feline Abbe Faria, longing for those carefree days when I belonged in a loving home, with a soft duvet to sleep on and the great outdoors at my unsheathed claws.

The other day, I even approached the landlady as she came into my pen for food, and rubbed my head on her leg for the first time since I’ve started coming here (2003). “This is it,” I thought. “If I want to be kept in fleece blankets and fresh fish, I’d better start making some new friends, quickly!”

And then, they show up. Woman boasting a lovely golden tan, Man hobbling uncomfortably on two very red pins and sneezing uncontrollably. Has he been around another cat, I wonder? Because if he has, there’ll be hell to pay!

A short car ride later, I was home again. Oh, joy! And the humans have put the devilish carrier (pwah, a pox on it!) in the cellar, which I assume is code for “We’re not going anywhere for a while”. I was so happy to be back, I sang all night long, all the while walking around their heads as they were sleeping, just to make sure it wasn’t a dream. I miaowed with delight and glee as Man raised his head and rubbed his eyes at 4.30am to find me shagging his arm with unrestrained enthusiasm. Oh, how I have missed it (the arm).

Now the humans are working and yawning, complaining about not sleeping well... Me, I’m sleepy, so I’m off to bed.

Telepathic blogging

2006-06-07T17:50:00.000+01:00

Cats have all sorts of mystical and magical powers, you know. One of them is telepathic blogging. By the time you read this, dear friend, I will be well and truly caged up with no access to a computer terminal for several of your human days. Woe, verily, is me.

Well, they've done it, those bastards. They boxed me up and took me away. Fair play to them, though, the technique they used to get me in that damn cat carrier was pretty bloody inventive. I'd've been proud of it myself.

But the truth is that I can't complain too much. The looky-after lady is very nice, and she has sheep grazing just outside my pen so I can watch them, like fluffy white clouds on little sticks. She borrows them from a neighbour to cut her grass.

They must've been on their lunch break when we arrived because there wasn't much chewing being done. Just a whole lot of taking of dumps. And staring at yours truly. I know I'm pretty and all, but get your beady eyes off me you woolly herbivorous melonfarmers. There's often pheasants come along too. It's pretty here... I find myself dreaming of eating lamb and chasing coloured birds.

I heard a rumour

2006-06-06T18:22:00.000+01:00

There has been talk of a cattery in recent days. And it stinks.

Oh, I know Woman tries to make it sound so palatable (like those darned tablets that have been forced down my throat) by saying I’m off to a spa retreat and “Oh, isn’t it exciting!”. HEY! LADY! Listen up: a poxy 2.5m x 1.5m pen does not a spa retreat make. Not to mention the horribly cramped and frankly mortifying conditions I have to endure on my way there, in that evil cat carrier. Pwah! A pox on you, cat carrier from hell.

And being pen neighbours with a skinny cat called Bombo (you humans must think you’re fucking hysterical, eh?) is not my idea of a holiday, either.

I hope the weather sucks wherever they’re off to...

Crazy Tuesday

2006-06-06T18:07:00.000+01:00

Today has been crazy. In fact, I spent almost all of the day sleeping under the bed of the people who live with me. I've found that it's the best place to go if there's even the remotest possibility that they'll want to scruff me and feed me pills or stuff me in my carry case.

It's been quiet here. The man went out for a sizable chunk of the day, and the woman has been working. Even if I wanted some attention, I've got to work so hard for it that it barely seems worth it. I'm not really into hard work.

I've sort of forgiven the people for the pills. To be honest, they haven't really made a grab for me for quite a few hours. Last night I even went to bed with them. Y'know, just chilled on the bed, purring happily.

Problem is, they take up so much room that it's quite a struggle for me to get comfortable. I fear getting kicked with every twitch or spasm, and I daren't stay long enough for them to start snoring. So I gave them a little time with me, then left them wanting more. Isn't that the secret to all good things?

Cat fight club

2006-06-05T16:11:00.000+01:00

Look at me lying there. How relaxed I am. I'll get to the whys and wherefores shortly. First, though...

You may not know this, but the first rule of cat fight club is, do not talk about cat fight club. You know what the second rule is? DO NOT talk about cat fight club. Funny, huh?

Anyway, I'm gonna break both of those rules right now.

This morning, at about 4.45 or so (I don't know for sure cos cats don't wear watches), there I was sitting around in the garden just killing time while waiting to wake up the people who live with me. You know, I'm minding my own business and everything and everything.

Next thing I know, I'm being chased like a melonfarmer*. I go bursting through the cat-flap, knocking over all the wine bottles that have been stacked up by the bin ready to go the recycling point and waking the people up in the process.

The man-person knows that when this commotion occurs that it is usually because I'm being chased. So he goes legging it to the spare bedroom to see if he can see the culprit in the garden. But nothing. Then he comes to me, saying, "Are you all right?" and stuff. I give him my deep, throaty growl -- the one that means: "If I were you, I'd keep my distance. I've just been humiliated, and I'm in a foul mood." Funny, the man seems to recognize this, even if he doesn't recognize "Take me to the vet" (see below).

So I give it a few minutes and head back outside to enjoy the rest of my pre-wake-up time. Bugger me, if that mean-ass cat doesn't come for me again! I'll go on record now and say that, okay, I'm not a kitten anymore. Perhaps the best of my fighting days are behind me. Bottom line: I'd rather just stay out of bovver. But trouble just comes looking for me. Probably because I'm so gorgeous and all.

In I go, crashing past the bottles once more and reawakening the people. This time, Man did see the aggressor in the garden. I heard him say: "Oh God, he's spraying all up the back door. And now on the drainpipe." Woman-person just grunted. Funny, she's usually good in the mornings and Man less so.

As a result, all day I've been a little out of sorts. And to make matters worse, whenever the man comes near me, I'm afraid he wants to grab me and give me another of those damn tablets, so I'm keeping my distance from him.

As for that pic. When Man made the bed the other day, he left the duvet rolled up on the floor at the foot of the bed. I heard him tell Woman that he would bag it up and put it in the cellar. Well, not if I have my way. It's making for a lovely napping bed of a daytime.

* Melonfarmer = well, you know, that other MF word.

Why I'm on medication

2006-06-04T17:43:00.000+01:00

It all started last Sunday... The people who live with me had gone out for the day, leaving me at home all on my ownsome. I don't have any problem with that, since I've got my cat-flap and go and pee outside whenever I want.

But last Sunday, the neighbours were having a party. I hate people. To be honest, I don't much like cats either. Or dogs. Mostly, in short, I don't really like any living organism that I can't kill, toy with, and/or eat. But the people who live with me are okay, usually...

So, there's this big party going on next door (for the full ~~horror~~ details, click here), and I need to go pee. But I can't. Y'know, cos there's people. And they're singing terrible karaoke songs in their horribly screechy voices. And there's lots of shouting. And children. And if there's one thing I hate more than people, it's children. And if there's one thing I hate more than children, it's noisy children. So you can appreciate my predicament.

So I wait.

But still it goes on.

And I wait some more.

Meanwhile, they continue.

"Maybe I ought to use my litter tray," I think. I go and sniff it. Smells okay. "Yeah, but I'd prefer to go outside. I'll give it another five minutes."

... "And five more."

Anyway, the long and short of it is that by the time the people who live with me came home, I had used the litter tray. Out of sheer desperation. And, I fear, somewhat too late. I heard the male person exclaim something like, "That clump of piss is the size of his head!" I didn't find that funny. And I'll tell you why.

In my determination to pee only outside, and therefore in waiting so long to finally use the litter, I did myself something of a mischief. My "waterworks" began to hurt.

More than that, whenever I had the tiniest, teeniest, most minute amount of pee in my bladder, I felt compelled to expel.

It got so bad that eventually I had to start telling the people who live with me that they'd best take me to the vet. But they're not the sharpest tools in the box. They bang on about how they can speak English and Italian, but they can't even understand their own landlord (me).

I tried telling them quickly at first: "Take me to the vet." Then slowly. Then loudly. You know, the way you try to order beer in Spain without speaking Spanish? But no, they just didn't get it.

I think the thing that finally made it click into place for them was me going and sitting on my litter tray and MIAOWING REAL LOUD. That seemed to get the message across.

Anyway, yada yada yada, the vet sticks me with a needle and gives the people a bunch of antibiotics. And that's where we're at right now: twice a day the male one grabs me and tries to sling a pink tablet down my throat. I heard the vet tell him that they're palatable. Yeah, sure they are -- if you have no damn taste buds!

It's got so that I can hardly come into the house without being scruffed and manhandled. Still, only one more day to go, apparently...

Who am I?

2006-05-30T18:10:00.000+01:00

I see people do these 100 Things lists on their blogs. And that's all well and good for them: they've got fingers and can read the letters on the keyboard and everything. But I'm a cat and I can't do all that stuff. 100 Things would take me from now until my death, and there's just too much fun to be had chasing mice, slowworms, spiders and all the other creepy-crawlies that you humans shun in favour of things like pizza and Chinese food.

So, instead of 100 things, here's -- I don't know -- some. I'll stop when I run out. Enjoy.

1. I'm nearly nine years old.
2. I was born in Leytonstone, east London.
3. My mother was Oriental, and my father was just an East End chancer.
4. At 12 weeks old, I was boxed up and taken away to north London, where I lived for a few years before moving to Kent.
5. I'm a tuxedo cat.
6. I like the colour green, which is why I chose it for my blog.
7. I like fish, but I'm not all that bothered about chicken, whether raw or cooked.
8. At the moment, I'm on medication. More on that subject later...
9. I like to wake people up at 5.30 in the morning. Not for any real reason. Sometimes for food. Sometimes because I want their bed. Sometimes just for fun.
10. Being of Oriental parentage, I've got a good set of lungs on me, which helps me in my quest to wake people.
11. I'm bored now. Maybe I'll come back to this list later.