Hibernating

You perhaps wonder why I we haven’t posted for awhile; the fact is that I have been hibernating. As soon as it got cold I decided to hibernate (a word told to me only hours before). The philosophy of hibernating fits me perfectly: sleeping throughout the winter non-stop. Morgan tried hibernating but after 6 hours wanted to go out again. I am successful at it though I get up sporadically to refuel to keep myself warmer.

Scooby Save's the Day

Katty says I have to be truthful when I write this blog – well the title is truthful, I am a hero just inadvertently. I bet you were expecting a story of immense bravery perhaps me saving a mouse Morgan was molesting or me getting in through the cat flap, getting the key and faithfully bringing them to the front to the locked out humans. I could conjure up a story but no, she said I had to tell the TRUTH. So here is THE TRUTH. A couple of nights ago around 8pm I was frolicking about by the side of the house hypnotised by the night aroma that seems to make me hyperactive (it has a deeper affect on Morgan, you get him frog-jumping on the grass but that is another story). Suddenly a loud noise made me jump and I ran out by the side to Dad who was puffing smoke into the air as he does at night (it affects him too).
“What you up to Scooby?” He spoke after a moment quite loudly as he does (it nearly bursts my eardrum his voice does!).
I purred “It wasn’t me” and this time it really wasn’t.
We put the incident behind us and I barely thought about it all night and through the next day; it faded into insignificance. The next day passed in a blur of sleep, food and endless meanders in the garden until early evening when Katty came up to me as I was sleeping soundly in my room.
“Scooby” she whispered as she entered my room, I felt the rush of warm air as she came towards me, paired with her smell; “you’re a hero.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
It transpired (she also tells me some humans are very busy so not to go on about insignificant details) that the loud noise that scared me the other night was actually some naughty human trying to get in some other humans house and territory. By bounding up to Dad and Dad speaking to me in his loud voice scared the bad humans away! I was very proud of my role in the stopping of this break-in however I also have sympathy for the naughty humans because whenever I try and walk in people’s houses they always stop me too (except for a few nice people) when I only want a sniff around. Saying that however when Boss from down the road tries to sit on MY garden it gets me angry so I understand both sides.
Below is a picture of me basking in my HERO status, also just in case you forgot what I looked like!

Keeping 'em sweet

There is nothing like getting toady to a human. They think you love them – well perhaps I do a bit – but it serves the cat no end to keep them sweet. In return for your ‘affection’ you get meals-on-demand, tickling-on-demand, treats, a warm bed… the list is endless. They call it manipulation. I call it Feline Sense.

"It wasn't me"

That’s what I said the morning this week that the empty (all except one) bag of catnip was discovered on the carpet by her door. Strictly this is true because it was Morgan that ‘accidentally’ knocked it off onto the floor and then tore it apart, I just helped him clean it up. However Katty looked like she needed some purr-suasion. I don’t know why but there is something in this house that means whenever anything happens they all look at me. It’s not my fault that a lot of things gets broken when I’m around when I don’t actually do anything. For example, once when I was sitting minding my own business on the windowsill I happened on walking to the other end to get a better view of the dog sauntering up the road. Just then for no reason the vase fell off the sill fell onto the coffee table and rolled onto the floor. The good news was the vase was ok, nevertheless the humans made a big fuss that the glass on the coffee table had broken into a thousand pieces. Trust them to find something wrong with everything. I was blamed for that and though was not scolded I didn’t appreciate my name being dragged through the dirt. Talk about clumsy, the vase took another tumbling only months later and unfortunately didn’t survive. By chance I was there when that happened too! Not only do I get blamed when things fall, when teeth marks were found in a raw chicken I was blamed for that too. Well perhaps I had investigated it a little too closely but Morgan could have snuck in, imprinted his teeth marks and snuck out again but they didn’t even think about this. So fast-forward to me looking at Katty looking at the empty packet of catnip on the floor.
“Seeing as you’ve eaten all those, the pair of you, you won’t need anymore treats for a month.”
That prophecy lasted for all of a day.

Ruby Alert

Like it always does it caught me completely off my usual status of guard cat. I was asleep on Sunday dreaming I was in the Land of Catnip (catnip grass, catnip bowls, even catnip Katty) and suddenly I heard a bark – was it my imagination? No it was real and what’s more it sounded like a Ruby bark. I considered removing myself from the warm duvet but I was still half asleep. I heard the front door open and muffled voices downstairs then the smell of Ruby drifted to my nose. I yawned and went back to sleep; it was time for Ruby Alert. Ruby Alert is quite sporadic in our house and comes into play three or four times a year. I didn’t have to do anything as such (thank goodness) just not venture downstairs for about 6 hours. I refuse to be inconvenienced though and add those six hours to my naptime though Morgan can get pretty upset with it (he once got so fed up he did the unthinkable and braved the downstairs for the speediest exit I’ve ever heard, even quicker than when the carrier appears). It is a bit annoying if I want an immediate cuddle or instant nourishment and also I get upset because I don’t like performing in front of Morgan but apart from that it’s Morgan who has the problem. Who is Ruby you are probably asking? Ruby is a dog. I am not 100% sure why they sometimes invite a dog to our house but I understand that they like her a lot and also her and her guardian-friends are somehow related to them. Anyway, when Ruby comes we are confined to the bedroom with the window open (leading onto pitched roof which we can climb down to on the garden). Though we do go in the garden it can be quite traumatic walking past a window and getting barked at so I usually stay in the sanctuary of my bedroom. If I do feel like a wander, like I did this weekend, my second home comes into good use.
You perhaps wonder why I do not mingle with Ruby. Personally I am not a doggy cat myself. I have never felt the urge to keep a dog as a pet as I have enough trouble with keeping the humans. Also dogs have loud barks that are disturbing and they answer you back Morgan has told me (unlike humans who are so easy to train). They like to appear big and scary but I know I could have one under my thumb in days. However I will give dogs (and Ruby) credit where it’s due, they are more intelligent than humans as they have more advanced smell and hearing than the simple human.

Feline makes a beeline

For us this week has been quite mundane. Apart from being sick on the kitchen floor, Morgan has been strangely normal (I think he is contemplating his next move) and the biggest change for me is that I have now relocated myself onto Katty’s bed at night (well, until it gets a bit uncomfortable half an hour later). The best part of my week was when I had cottage cheese and chicken for dinner, the worst part was when I was run after by a small noisy human, quite the opposite of what is usually around me. I flead to my neighbours house for fuss, food and a refuge until the little human had gone away before coming home sometime later when they had gone. Of course I got a big cuddle and a few treats and the trauma didn’t last too long after that. The photo shows yours truly cuddling his human.

Imagining things is sometimes not enough, so I got myself videoed with my new toy to show you how much I really love it. Enjoy!

Life in the long grass

After last week’s ‘drama’, I’ve been told to keep my feet on the ground. So since it has been hot and lovely I’ve done my fair share of sprawling around outside. I have a number of favourite places to sleep depending on the position of the sun (I spend my morning in one place and as the sunshine leaves and moves to another and go with it). However, when I’m not sleeping I hunt and the best place to do this is in my long grass. I feel like a proper prowler stalking through the grass. I especially like it when Scooby or even a human sits oblivious that they have become my prey and I can hunt them and jump on them. They jump in the air when I leap onto them and I run off. I find this quite amusing. When no-one is there and just sit in the grass and watch out for the slightest movement or listen to the sounds that are around. The long grass makes me feel wild and free… just like I am.

It could only of happened to Morgan

I kept telling them but they wouldn’t listen “if you want Morgan, he’s on the roof.” They were getting agitated and worried continually shouting his name but they wouldn’t pay attention. I heard him a few hours earlier than they spotted him. I was sunbathing on the grass outside and I heard his pitiful meow. I looked everywhere for him and then as I climbed the tree the sound got nearer and there he was standing on top of our next-door-neighbours roof looking rather worried. Me: “What you doing up there?” Morgan: “I’m stuck” Me: “Oh dear…” Being me, I went indoors to the ignorant humans. They were concerned as his morning milk lay next to his tea both untouched (I had eaten his dinner), and frequently went out and shouted, however no matter how hard I tried to demonstrate Morgan’s unfortunate predicament those unintelligent humans passed my behaviour over as mere apprehension. It was late in the evening when it was announced they were going to do a sweep of the local area before bed. I went with them trying to convey that the he was under their nose (or above their heads as the case was). Shouting his name they started up the street only to be met with a feint reply from the heavens. “There he is!” it was declared triumphantly; I rolled my eyes and ran up the tree to observe Morgan’s state more closely. I couldn’t reach him I decided so I kept a watch as the situation unfolded. What happened next I can only describe as a ‘major procedure’ involving one scared cat, four humans, a carrier and a very tall ladder. Mum went up the ladder and after a failed attempt to bring Morgan down in her arms it was decided that the carrier was the only option. Morgan didn’t like that; as you know his relationship with the carrier isn’t a good one. After a struggle with 2 humans (mum and the next-door-neighbour) they finally got him down (cheered on by 2 more humans on the ground). They took him inside and I followed. Morgan sheepishly emerged from the carrier and went in the kitchen for his milk, tea and an extra bowl of milk for his troubles. I was banished from there half way through his first meal for ‘putting Morgan off his food’ (really I tried to help him eat it), so I wearily sauntered off to bed but not before I was given some treats for my part in the rescue operation. As sleep beckoned and I dozed on and off the family eventually came to bed. Last thing before I finally drifted off a comfortable, albeit exhausted Morgan curled up contently on a duvet with his paw in the hand of a sleeping Katty. I can guarantee the one thought that stuck in my head throughout his ordeal: it could of only happened to Morgan.

Morgan muses: ...and cats might fly!

Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain, rain! All its been doing is raining! If you replace the 7 rains with sleeps you would see what I have been doing all week, Scooby too. How are we meant to have fun and get up to no good with all this rain? You can only jump on the humans sodden once before they see you coming! So I thought I would tell you of something that happened 2 years ago that I remember to entertain you. Unlike now it wasn’t raining then but I was inside… well outside funnily enough but not properly outside I was on the sill of a bedroom window. I was just gazing out into the garden when I heard footsteps behind me. I recognized them as Katty’s and smelt her as she came nearer. She spoke softly to me telling me she was curious where I was because I was quiet (I’m not usually quiet you see) and I tried to turn to see her. But then I realised I couldn’t. I couldn’t turn round. I panicked. My heart beat a million times. I struggled to keep my balance but the sill was slippy. No matter how hard I dug my claws they wouldn’t go. And then I was gone. It was a strange sensation I must say, was flying. I heard screams from above and though the drop lasted less then a minute I felt it was forever. It shook me up. I landed amongst the plants and I shook myself. A moment to find myself followed until the humans – all 4 of them – came running out shouting my name. I felt so embarrassed. “I meant to do that, honest” I purred, pretending that I meant to have flown down in some sort of extravagant finale. They looked me over twice, I got kissed and kissed (Yuk!) and then all sorts of goodies flowed my way: milk, catnip and later, fish. I think they believed me, you know.

My 3rd birthday tail

Yesterday was my 3rd birthday. Can you believe I’m 3 already? We didn’t do anything special in the morning. I had my breakfast and came downstairs but after I had been to collect my chicken from my friends I came back and had a nap – I was already exhausted! A commotion downstairs woke me suddenly. Nosily, I ran downstairs and was met by Morgan, a mouse and a mad Katty. The Mad Katty managed to get Morgan away from the mouse and Morgan wasn’t very happy. I tried to placate Morgan;
‘thank you Morgan, it was very kind that you remembered my birthday. Don’t worry about the present, it’s the thought that counts’ I purred.
He wasn’t in the mood to be pacified and spat at me. I suppose it is a let down when he’d gone to all the trouble to get me something as well…
The weather was nice to me on my birthday anyway. I spent awhile outside and drifted wherever my smell took me. I enjoyed wandering and my smell took me back home where I was greeted to a celebratory dinner of prawns and cheese – only the best for my birthday obviously – but then it got really strange. I went to look out my window in the front room and there were four people there and they all started caterwauling at me. It scared me a lot. I can put up with Katty caterwauling me – terrible clatter but bearable, however the attention of not one but 4 caterwauling humans shocked me and they were also looking at me. I ran out the room in shock and didn’t wait to see what the burning sticks were going to do after. I had seen enough.
So here I am, the morning after the night before recounting my tail to you. I posed with my cake to please the camera and show that I am, at 3, even more experienced than I was two days ago, aged 2.

Was it something I did?

I don’t know what I did. I hadn't scratched, I hadn't bitten, I hadn't hissed, what did I do to deserve such a nightmare? I went to the… I hate the word so much… vet. It was horrible. I knew once they shut me in I was done for and when they got The Cage out I panicked. I hate The Cage. I loathe it. When it comes out and a hand comes to shove me in it I know I’m in for bad disaster but it was too late. I tried to get away I did; behind the curtain, under the chair I ran about the house looking for security but I couldn’t find any – they had even closed the windows so I couldn’t get through one of those. I racked my brains. I fought a bitter battle with them. The best way to resist I have learnt is the ‘star trick.’ Put all your four legs out as wide as possible so in no way can they get you in The Cage. I shriek and growl and whine too. But none of these worked this time, they nearly did, but not quite. I’ll have try even harder next time. At the…. vets…I quieten down. This upsets them, you can see it in their eyes “poor Morgan” they think, but not the vet. She’s a ruthless person, completely callous she is. The humans don’t think so though. They aren’t scared. They can’t smell the fear in the place like I can. They talk to her like they should treat me, like she’s some sort of idol, hanging on to every word she says. I listen too though; fearfully. I can’t wait to get in The Cage again. They put it down and I can’t get in quick enough. I breathe a sigh of relief when they take me back in the car and I arrive home. Home sweet home. They release the door and I slowly edge out in case, just in case, they have more in store for me (you never know with these humans). I go to the window and stare out. A while ago I was innocently one of those cats strolling around boldly but now I sat recounting my terror coyly. Then I smelt it? That heavenly scent. It got nearer and nearer and before I had a chance to respond a bowl of fish was plaiced in front of me. For me? All I can say was it was well deserved, just like the kiss that was put softly on my head moments afterwards, but it was from I am not sure, I was too busy eating.

Bedtime Wars: 'Friends' At Last?

My message must have worked on Scooby, the next time I went upstairs he was curled on his own side leaving my side Scooby-smell free. Though he gave me the dirtiest look a cat can give and glared at me, he just sighed and perched his chin back on his leg (I’ll translate that: “I don’t like you anymore than I did before but am too tired to argue. You keep out of my place and I’ll keep out of yours.”). The next night I was late in and after I summoned the humans at 12.30am (they don’t half take a long time to wake up) to let me out the kitchen I was able to slip softly into my snug bed and fall asleep, no worries.

The all-you-can-eat holiday

The reason I haven’t written for the past few days is that I have been recovering emotionally since we were taken to a ‘cattery’ (as the humans call it). Apparently it was a holiday; well the warning signs were there – the suitcases, which for a moment I though were a new bed. Then when the baskets came out it stirred my memory and I hid. But those humans got me anyway and took me and Morgan to the ‘cattery.’ Full of unknown smells it was bewildering but I was put in a room with Morgan and from then on we comforted one another. It’s quite funny really because we are always tearing each others fur out at home, but in difficult circumstances the strangest friends are forged. The space was limited and we could hardly go out anyway because it was raining so much, trust them to take us to the wrong place. I slept for most of the day with Morgan; well not with Morgan really because when I tried to sit next to him he got up and moved a paw-length away. This black cloud of a few days did have a very silver lining though – I had double helpings of food! Morgan appeared off his grub so I helped him out with it. Purr about an all-you-can-eat holiday; I loved it. Towards the end of our time there it got even better because Morgan’s appetite lessened (i.e. he didn’t fight me when pushed my nose in his bowl). Unfortunately now we are back Morgan has started eating properly and they make sure I don’t eat his food which I find a bit unfair. Would I go to the ‘cattery’ again? Well only if I had too and as long as I was sharing with Morgan.

On Holiday!

Morgan and Scooby are on holiday this week, but they'll be back next week ready to tell you all about it...

Bedtime Wars: Scooby's story

When I read Morgan’s entry, it really upset me for a moment. I didn’t set out to hurt him; in fact, I didn’t think of him at all, I just wanted a change of scenery. I walked into my bedroom and jumped in my usual space, sniffed around, ate my treats and sat down. Then I decided sometimes you need a change of scenery and anyway, my side of the sofa bed wasn’t warm but the other side was so I moved across. Morgan sits in lots of different places: sometimes his kennel, sometimes the floor, and occasionally the sofa bed. After I read the entry, I thought about it for a minute remembered all the times he had taken things of mine: my mice, my food, my milk, but then I fell asleep. Waking up hours later I realised I forgot what I was thinking about and only later did I remember the problem and by this time it was bedtime so I again retreated to my new pad and decided to sleep on the issue some more. Only this time there wasn’t an issue because Morgan didn’t come in at bedtime. Nor did he the next night, or the next – in a strange way I rather missed him. Funny that; at the same time Morgan stopped coming in at night, sleeping on his side didn’t have the same attraction anymore. It suddenly became colder and more uncomfortable. Therefore, as of two nights ago I reverted to my old, cosy side. It’s somewhat nicer there anyway. Morgan can have the worser side if he wants too with pleasure.
I don’t like the things he said about me still especially about my smell. He calls it a ‘whiff,’ I call it an enchanting musk and there is absolutely nothing wrong with my fleas.

Bedtime Wars: Morgan's Story

I am not happy chappy; Scooby has taken my place on the sofa bed at bedtime and replaced my aroma with his whiff. Now whenever I go up to bed and sit down on there its just not the same anymore and Scooby soon comes along and sits so close to me and roars at me I have to get off. You might say I have my kennel but I do not want to sleep there I want to sleep in MY bit of the bed. It was all right until a week ago when I got upstairs tired and yearning for my bed just to see him curled up on it. It gobsmacked me (and I am not easily gobsmacked). I glared at him but he just closed his eyes innocently. He has his blanket on the other side that is covered with his fur and fleas but now my side is covered with them too. I have slept on the floor for so many nights now like a meagre alley cat and my unhappiness is growing. In my time, I have put up with so many things but stealing my pad goes beyond the pale. It is something I expect from a human, not one of my own kind. GET OFF MY BED SCOOBY!!! GRRR...

What does Scooby have to say in his defence? Find out next week!!

All in a days scratch

This week has been miserable because all it has done is rained so being me I decided to explore the house because its funny how new things pop up that you don’t notice and you’ll never guess what I found. A kind of luxury tree had created itself right in our garage! What’s the chance of that? When they saw us on it they moved it to the front room and so now me and Scooby (obviously taking the following from my brilliant idea) have a tree to play on - inside! When we play fight its brilliant because we can hide behind it and then I can jump out from behind! Apparently I got it for my birthday – well why didn’t they tell me before?

Max's story: part 2

This is the 2nd part of Max's Story which I think, on a website about her son's, needs to be told. Next week the boys will be back with their moans, groans, thoughts and diary.
...continued
Shortly afterwards, Max got pregnant but that did not seem to faze her for a moment. She took her pregnancy in her stride. It’s funny; I guessed she was having 6 kittens, probably through the knowledge that Max never did things by halves. Her condition never stopped her for a moment she still hunted frequently, if not more often, and brought us back her catches. She searched for somewhere to have her kittens, you could tell as she poked her nose in all the crevices that she was searching for the perfect place. She came up with a small locker located in quite a busy part of the house but that was Max inside out – a trusting soul perhaps too much so. On Good Friday (Max had a thing for Friday’s especially when it came to bearing kittens) Morgan was born a month early alongside his 5 siblings who sadly did not make it. Some people said Max was a bad mother, this an unfounded claim as all the babies were very weak at birth and thus the odds of their survival in any conditions would have been low. In fact Max should be a celebrated mum for even though her bond with the surviving kitten, Morgan, was not strong she later developed a very strong, if not sometimes amusing, bond with her only son and though used to leave him for periods of time he was left in good faith that he was protected. Her premature labour was put down by the vet to a virus.
Time passed and Morgan grew and it became apparent soon enough that so would Max’s tummy. The rights or wrongs of Max being again pregnant slipped into the background as once again she bloomed beautifully and began searching for her nest. We helped her decide the best place for her to give birth and Morgan left. The 16th July 2004 arrived and so did six healthy kittens. That morning Max jumped on my bed ‘telling’ me they were on the way. She nursed and nurtured them through their kittenhood, the proud mother she was. Her own health though was at times poor and after 5 of her kittens had left to make their own way in the world she was quickly spayed. Scooby stayed behind to keep his mum company. I truly believed in my heart, at this point, that it was like a new beginning for her. She quickly gained weight (she had been unhealthily thin before) and looked stunning. She became lively and we became closer. Towards the end was the time we really got to know what Max was like instead of what she was like as a mother. She was so funny and affectionate, her bright eyes glowed and she lived for herself, for the moment. To say she was a ‘normal’ cat, I feel is selling her short. She wasn’t. She had her own personality, her own mind and she was beautiful. People often comment how all cats look the same. This could not be further from the truth. Scooby, for example, has all the same markings as Max but you can look at his face and know he is not. Max somehow looked older than Scooby, even when they were the same size; there was something that you couldn’t put your finger on that distinguished them.
Slipping into May, Max took her place every night in the room I shared with Kim. Sometimes she would summon me in the early hours of the morning to let her go out. It became a nightly routine except that night when she wanted to leave just before I went to bed. Dutifully I let her and how I wish that she had stayed. For that finishes her story and I return to where I started; two years one week ago, sitting next to my darling’s shell in a bright porch on a sunny day in May. Except she was not my darling anymore, she was my angel up in heaven with Minnie and her babies.
I never wanted this to be a sad entry; there is enough sadness in this world as it is. I wanted to celebrate her full, special, albeit short, life and to make sure she is remembered in the way she deserves. Some beings leave this life in such a way that no matter how long they are gone, they are never forgotten. I want to make sure Max is one of those because, as did her babies and Minnie, they left paw prints on mine, and many other people’s heart.

Like before, if anyone who knew Max has memories of her, I would love to hear them. Please leave them below in the "comment" bit. Otherwise feel free if you just want to say something also to use the "comment" bit :-)

Max's Day: Part 1

A celebration of the life of our Max

Two years ago today Max had her car accident. I am not going to bleat on about the unfairness of it all even though she was only a month off her 2nd birthday, nor even tell you of the words I spoke when I sat next to her empty shell at noon on that sunny day which seems to long ago now. I will tell you though of the bouncy kitten that had made her home with us less than two years before. Also of her kitten hood friend Minnie who used to frolic with her that summer. They came before they had their injections so they could not go out for the first few weeks though there was plenty of people to care and play with them. They were treated like the tiny kittens they were, and allowed themselves to be picked up like human babies and cradled in blankets. They enjoyed running around and even managed to get themselves inside the sofas. After their injections they were allowed in the big world. Running up and down the trees and playing on the grass, they were making the most out of their innocence – a sight that many humans find alluring. It is indeed strange how in the depths of despondency ones so small can touch your heart and somehow makes everything appear not so futile, but Max and Minnie were that to me – just like Morgan and Scooby now – and many people at the house. As they got bigger their independence grew and so did their taste for adventure. I recall a particular time I was staring out a window and saw Max discover a hole in the bottom of a fence, straight away after discovering it she ran back. I imagined Max running excitedly to her playmate; “Look what I have found Minnie, a hole! Come and see with me!” Less than a minute later the two appeared again to uncover the mysterious that lay beyond. Right up to Minnie’s death that February, they were best of friends. Indeed Max had to be placated that evening as she appeared anxious of her companion’s absence though, as animals seem to be renowned for, adapted quickly to this change. Not saying that Minnie was forgotten however his death seemed to somehow mark the end of her kitten-hood and her descent into what nature had instore for her and beyond.

To continue next week... in the meantime if anyone who knew Max has any memories of her, or Minnie, please leave a 'comment' - we would love to hear them!!