Hi, just giving the ol' whiskers an airing...

Relaxo-cats.

Darwin, Tazzy and Syd, with thanks to Kate Nash

If he moves a finger he won't find me so cuddly ....

Tazzy the cat, with thanks to Kate Nash

Doh! Forgot what I came in here for...

Darwin the cat, with thanks to Kate Nash

I should be annoyed - it's my bench. But I'm in love.

Shhh! He's sleeping!

Who shall challenge me today in my kingdom?

I told you I would come back as a cat

Smell first, eat later. I love flowers.

Getting fat but I can still make this leap ... must focus, get in the zone ...

Worried I won't make the next jump...

Warming one paw over the radiator

This is how Yoshka spends most of the winter now. After eating she'll pop out and have a gossip with the other cats, hop up on the fence, then the shed roof, then next door's conservatory roof, then she'll saunter in, jump up onto my wife's desk where I have laid a blanket for her, and she'll settle down for a good 6 or 7 hours of nothing, really, but always with one paw on the window sill so that the heat from the radiator is trapped under her front leg. I guess it warms up her chest or whatever. My wife isn't too happy about losing a good portion of her desk real estate, but she's easy-going enough not to make a song and dance of it.

And that's it - totally boring, but Yoshka's happy. And you don't want to make a cat unhappy, that's for sure.

I can wait, believe me. You will not win.

What forces of hell have I unleashed outside my back door? How on earth do other cats get to know that occasionally, yes, I feed a stray? They're queuing up now from the moment I wake up to when I lay my little head down to rest. It's embarrassing - they're noisy, they squabble, they're very indiscreet.

But that still leaves my first question unanswered: how do they tell each other and why? Sign language? Yet I read that cats are so stupid they don't even have an IQ, they have an EQ, which quite frankly annoys me as I have often chatted to my cats thinking that we might be meeting on some conversational level, if not an obvious one. Here's one who thinks he'll kind of hang around hopefully outside my back door - it won't work. Well, it might .... cheeky sod.

Out? Are you mad? It's freezing out there!

Nice day to give my right claw a workout on your head

I want your dinner. It's fish. I'm a cat. Get it?

The Jealous Overseer

Yoshka spends a good deal of her day at this window, sticking her nosey little face out the window, watching to see if I am stroking any of the neighbourhood cats, sharing her food with them, making their lives comfortable on cushions on the bench in the garden. She is right to be suspicious - I am indeed doing this. I am far from being monogamous with my love for cats. Deal with it, babe!

The territory triangle

Just barely noticeable, this snap shows three cats, all respectfully keeping their distance, and you can draw an equi-whatsit triangle between all three.
None is in his or her own garden.
The white one on the bench in my garden is not mine, the black and white one in next door's garden to the right, lying on the slate path in the middle is mine and the one on the shed roof at the back on the left is Tigger, who used to live in the house where the one on the bench now lives, but moved next door instead.

They lead very complicated lives, don't they?

I have a dream

I have a dream. One day the owner of the lovely cat who visits my garden everyday, and who hangs around on the bench peacefully watching the world, will come to me and say "Look, I just can't look after him any more, and the dog is driving him crazy. Could you ..., I mean, would you mind...?"

Yoshka will look up at me and indicate her approval, and I'll nod my head to the woman and say "He's in good hands now. You may visit anytime you want."

Then with a guilt-free conscience I will open the back door for the first time to him, and he'll come in from the cold and make himself comfortable on a chair. I'll peek into the room later and find Yoshka curled up alongside him.

This is my dream. It's small, but it's mine.

Don't try to deny it - I'm cute.

I told them I'm a Dalmation - got my own kennel now.

The pet shop in Kings Heath has a stray cat that it is considering adopting - she hangs around, climbs in and out of the kennels and rabbit hutches, jumps up on the bird tables and generally makes it clear that she'll be moving in, as and when it suits her.

Now, it's going to be a win-win situation - she's the kind of cat that customers simply have to stroke, she's happy to let them, and it'll get people in the door. Even those people who don't have a pet. Yet.

Caught in the act.

OK, I know it's wrong. I know it's bad. But what cat lover can resist feeding a few strays and other neighbourhood cats? I do it on the sly so Yoshka won't catch me - but the game's up. She knows. And now she lies on my wife's desk all day, watching me carefully as I try to sneak out into the back garden with a few nibbles for the others. Sometimes I'll just finish putting down a handful of food and I look up - and there she is, stood up on the desk, her nosy little face glowering at me.

Yoshka's evil look when I told her we're out of chicken.

Panic!

Yoshka's addicted to Applaws tinned chicken. It's good quality, not much junk added. I'm out of tins so I cycle up to "Paws for Thought" pet shop - and guess what? It's gone bust! And the nearest other pet shop is miles away and doesn't sell Applaws. That's a real nuisance. How am I going to break the news to Yoshka? She'll kill me.

Making life awkward for my wife at her desk

Yoshka nervously secures the place one held by macho dude cat Tigger

Leave me alone.

Sad and confused. But loved like crazy...

Testing woolly blankets - it's a tough job but I volunteered.

Manna from heaven for a cat with a halo.

The feet I'd love to tickle - but she'd bite me.

Big kangaroo legs tucked in, asleep on the bed

So - I'm "a carpet bagger". Is that good?

Bored. I'm really, really bored.

Dude cat - where's your self respect?

I saw dude cat at the back of the garden yesterday - it's been a good while, and I'm really happy he's here again. I was stepping out of the garden shed and a heavy weight nearly toppled me sideways. Has he grown fat! This is solely the result of his excellent strategy for attracting food when he was lost and lonely: a handsome face, willingness to be stroked and the loudest miaow I have yet to hear from a domestic cat. You simply cannot ignore dude. At once he knows your focus is all on him, then he switches into affection attraction overdrive. So now he is obviously getting buckets of the best food at home he's also getting all the old neighbourhood softies still feeding him. No wonder the owner regular calls by to plead with us not to feed him. Still, I just might be tempted ...

Lucy, the fat pet shop cat in her heated box

She's lost a lot of her weight now, as she is getting very old. But Lucy lives the life of Larry in her own little mini-apartment inside the pet shop at Cotteridge. It features a heated blanket and warm air that circulates throughout. And as you can see, she is well supplied with food, blankets, probably got a tv and MP3 player in there, who knows what fat cats can hide. It was a freezing day, there was no heating working in the shop and as my frozen hands picked tins of cat food off the shelf I realised that but for the fact I would be called a weirdo I would in an instand have climbed inside next to Lucy to warm up. Long may she live. fat and free.

Making me look ridiculous

I took Yoshka to the vet for her annual jab today. I also mentioned to the vet that I thought she might have a thyroid complaint as she is such a nervous cat - cough and she'll jump six feet in the air. Good party piece but irritating. If I try to stroke her belly or touch her legs she'll go nuts. And how on earth can a cat lover not want to stoke a cat's belly, for chrissake? And as for picking her up, forget it.

So I took her out of her box, placed her on the vet's table - and he picked her up and stroked her and she loved it. What a cow! She purred, stretched out in his arms and simply made me look like I was either making it all up or that I was some idiot who was bursting balloons in her ears all day. They made an ideal couple.

Upshot is that she needs to have some teeth removed and gingivitis treated.
Apart from that she's 4.2 kilos of healthy cat. And so she should be after all the organic cat food she scoffs.

For a few moments I entertained the idea that she might let me pick her up and stroke her belly when I got her home. No way.

Not your desk. Mine. Watch the tail.

Librarian - who's that talking?

Computer repair cat napping on the job

Selfless as ever, we volunteered to test the new mattress.

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.

The Panther Queen

Lean on me.

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.

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 ....

Planned parenthood. We decided to keep it down to just 6 this year.

Image © www.kattino.se
used with author's permission

Follow me...

The Mask of Zorro

You tripped over me? Tough.

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.

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.

In Case the Rain in Spain Doesn't Fall on the Plain

Porcupine feline

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.

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.

No cucumber, just cheese and tomato, thanks...

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.

Oh, so now you like me again, do you?

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.

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.

Standing out - not.

A king gazes down upon mere mortals.

Crazed ghost cat in window