Thursday, 31 December 2009
The return of the conqueror
Next door's cat Bailey was acting hesitant, not wanting to come down from her perch on the fence. Yoshka was staring out the window like she had seen a ghost. Something was happening out back. But what? A few moments later I happened to glance out the upstairs window into the garden and saw the reason for their agitation - Harley has returned! White as snow, black tail, a little patch of black above he left eye and a confident stride. Simply handsome. And missing no more.
Sunday, 27 December 2009
Saturday, 26 December 2009
Come back, Harley
Success - I tracked down the beautiful white cat to his owner, and learned that the cat's name is Harley. I mentioned how often he came into my garden, and now I haven't seen him once again since.
I am worrying now that the owner thought I was complaining (as if), and has chosen to lock him in doors. Aaaaah.
If I go back and ask if Harley can come out to play she'll think I'm some kind of whining cat stalker. Or worse.
I am worrying now that the owner thought I was complaining (as if), and has chosen to lock him in doors. Aaaaah.
If I go back and ask if Harley can come out to play she'll think I'm some kind of whining cat stalker. Or worse.
Monday, 14 December 2009
Resistance - not a failing of mine
Today I went knocking door to door around the neighbourhood, carrying a photo of the white cat that has recently decided to spend every day sitting on the bench in my garden. Is it a stray? If so, I'll carry on feeding him, much to the annoyance of the other cats around here, including my own. How could I resist? If it has an owner, I'll stop feeding the cat, of course. Regretfully.
I learned that lots of people just hate cats ("the birds, the birds", they say, to which I reply "the worms, the worms".)
And I talked to people who didn't even know if next door had a cat. How could you not know such basic essentials? Shame on you all.
I tracked down the owner, and the cat's name is Harley. Sigh ....
Sunday, 13 December 2009
Planned parenthood. We decided to keep it down to just 6 this year.
Image © www.kattino.se
used with author's permission
Thursday, 10 December 2009
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
Monday, 7 December 2009
Think I'll just chill for a second.
Earlier as I was charging down the narrow stairs to get the phone Yoshka ran ahead. She stopped suddenly on the next step down from me, stretched out and started scratching her claws in the carpet in a totally relaxed and unhurried way. I only just managed not to fall head first down the stairs.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
Control Freak
Cats drop hints. Subtle hints, usually. You think it's you who decides about feeding times, that she will eat when you are good and ready, and you give yourself a pat on the back for your firm approach to pet discipline. But then you look up from your computer monitor and realise that actually you're now in the kitchen, opening up a tin of food. And the only thing you remember in between is that earlier she floated for an instant somewhere in your peripheral visual field as you stared at the screen.
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
Monday, 30 November 2009
Speed now, grace later.
Today I was startled as Yoshka suddenly leapt up as I walked past, and then hurtled down the stairs in front of me, her long white rear legs working in powerful unison to propel her in a series of rapid hops down to the hallway below, where she skidded on the tiles, her nose coming to a stop inches short of the front door. Dignity will come with age.
Sunday, 29 November 2009
Music Master
What a lousy, grumpy mood she's been in for days. But just this evening I think I found a crack in her defences. She seems to be really jealous of my guitar. I strum, she miaows and hops onto my lap between my arm and the wood of the guitar. A little awkward, a bit tight for space and certainly cramps my style, but if it wins her back, she can join me on stage.
Monday, 23 November 2009
Meat made her mean, moody and malevolent
I raised Yoshka on organic natural dry food, made with only the absolutely essential chemical additives, and no colouring or hormones. Just whatever was necessary for her good health. And healthy she grew. She had always been a little on the moody side, quite unaffectionate, a little nervous. Then I read that "hey, cats don't go chasing biscuits in the wild, so why feed them teeth-cracking hard kibbits?" And the arguments the websites put forward for organic, free range chicken seemed convincing, even though as a vegetarian myself it was anathema to me. So I gradually changed her over to chicken, and reduced the dry food. And that meat has gradually changed her into a monster. A monster who bit me last night for the first time. If I reduce the chicken now she'll certainly attack me.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
Trouble in an alien world
A dog sleeps, eats, hears a stranger or another dog, barks like mad, end of story. But a cat experiences a whole drama and places it firmly in a fifth or sixth dimension, out of the auditory and visual range of humans. To sum up: Yoshka, what on earth is wrong with you, what is going on? Give me a clue! Grrrrr! (that's me, not some dog)...
Ok, so I am a little jealous. But I can control it, trust me.
Photo by Maki Tsunoda of her cat Zeke.
Friday, 20 November 2009
Sardines for the bully
I tried to open a tin of sardines for my lunch without her hearing. In a second she had jumped down off the bed and was in the kitchen, sitting there looking hard at me. I could read her mind: "You're not going to eat the whole lot yourself, are you, greedy?" I sighed, scooped out a tribute sardine piece, and placed it in her bowl. She did the usual act of pretending to want to eat it, licked it and walked off. As usual. She actually hates sardines.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Sunday, 15 November 2009
Friday, 13 November 2009
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Sunday, 8 November 2009
Monday, 26 October 2009
Saturday, 24 October 2009
Wednesday, 21 October 2009
The Greatest Cat in History
Spent most of his life in Munich, Trevor the cat passed the last few years in the UK. He died aged 18. Everyone who came in to contact with him agreed that he had a fabulous temperament. Never bit, very cuddly, properly loving, and most of all, he enjoyed, no, he absolutely adored, being stroked, picked up, carried. And his big party piece: I could say "Trevor, give me a kiss" and he would always kiss my cheek. Unless there was another Trevor in the room - that could be embarrassing.
Tuesday, 20 October 2009
Monday, 19 October 2009
Sunday, 18 October 2009
Friday, 16 October 2009
Thursday, 15 October 2009
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
Monday, 12 October 2009
Sunday, 11 October 2009
Monday, 5 October 2009
Cat burglar cases joint.
No-one home, lovely. I'll break the glass, open the door and nick a few quid to buy some crack.
Sunday, 4 October 2009
Yeah - there's definitely a dead pixel on your screen
... and "accommodation" is spelled wrong again, idiot.
Saturday, 3 October 2009
So you think I'm cute, do you?
...you won't believe the wave of destruction I'm going to unleash on your clothes and furniture as soon as you leave the room.
Thursday, 1 October 2009
I know, I know - just don't take a photo ....
Great night grooving on the dancefloor, knocking back the tequilas, I'm wasted.
Down and out and loving it ...
Never thought I'd end up sleeping in a box but I didn't want the hassle of a mortage.
I really just don't know where I stand on the big issues of the day.
I would get off the fence but metaphors are tricky for me at this stage of my evolution.
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