Marching On

New home

http://furcovered.blogspot.com/

I've moved home :)

Odds and sods

There is a full moon tonight, and as usual, the animals can sense it.

Ellie is walking around crying.  She doesn't really seem to want anything but to hear the sound of her own voice.  Zach snuck upstairs to see what was up and is now following her as she goes from room to room.  He hasn't realised that I know he is up here.

I can't blame him.  Lila's response to a full moon is predictable.  She won't share her toys with Zach and she likes to try to eat his ears.  She's downstairs alone watching America's Next Top Model, and barking at Miss J Alexander.  I can't blame her - why the fuck does he call himself that?

The boy cats alternate between rampaging round my bedroom or sleeping.  There is no middle ground for them.  Holly and Willow watch disdainfully from my bed.  They don't care what the moon is doing - it is welcome to do whatever it pleases as long as it doesn't disturb them.

And there is the first crash of the evening.  Ellie has managed to get the ladder from the Boy's loftbed off.

I had my blood test yesterday.  The Baron got a little stroppy because I wouldn't let him in the cubicle with me.  I cope better alone, and I find that when he is trying to distract me, I am acutely aware that I am being distracted and will focus on why.  Alone, I just watch the needle go in unfettered.

It was quite convenient since he had his follow up appointment with the surgeon who kindly de-appendicised him.  He got the all clear and was told to bugger off and to not darken their doorway again.  Well, they didn't say THAT, but they did say he didn't need to come back again.

Bloody good thing, really.  I read today that Patientline, who provide the in hospital TV and phone service, are putting up their call charges by 160%.  The greedy fuckers, already £80million in debt, spent £160million installing these new systems (that aren't that reliable) and want to recoup their investment.  So they are targetting a vulnerable and captive audience in order to do so.  What scum bags. 

Anyway, I digress.  I should get my results back on Tuesday and we can see if my thyroid malfunctions.  My mother's does, and I fully expect mine to pack in service one of these days and retire to the Carribean.  I wouldn't really blame it.

The Boy is currently on holiday with his Dad.  I'm a bit lost without him, although the peace and quiet is nice.  At least in theory.  Zach is now crying along with Ellie.  If it wasn't so damn annoying, it would be quite harmonious.  The Boy...oh yes, he is in Cornwall.  They went to the beach today, and the Boy's new (half) brother, aged ten weeks, got to put his feet in the sand for the first time.  Apparently that gave him the giggles.

That will have to do for now.  My cursor is dancing round the screen of its own accord and is frankly pissing me off.  I'm off to drown my sorrows with a nice bottle of red.

Toodles.

For Sale

Item 1: One slightly damaged rottweiler (furless paws, electrical burn on tongue).

Aged 21 months, female.  Enjoys bullying puppies, eating wires, and barking at the television.  Very stroppy and prone to dribbling.

Item 2: One black labrador, good as new.

Aged 8 months, male.  Believes he is a cat.  Also enjoys eating electrical equipment. Has a history of knocking things over with his tail.

Item 3: One black cat, reasonable condition.

Aged nearly 4 years, male, incredibly stupid.  He believes he is invisible.  'Nuff said.

Item 4: One tortoiseshell cat, excellent condition.

Aged three years, female.  Very very very vocal.  Enjoys headbutting, crying and winding up dogs.  Scatters kibble over the entire kitchen.

Item 5: One fat orange cat, damaged ears, legs and bowel.

Age unknown, male.  Grumpy.  Enjoys sitting on the bath mat and laying in the sun.

Item 6: One tabby cat, damaged.

Age unknown, female.  Missing one eye, several inches of tail and a lot of brain cells.  Will watch food cook in the oven.  Enjoys attacking quilts.

Item 7: One tabby cat, good condition.

Age unknown, but old.  Female.  Enjoys beating up cats, dogs and unsuspecting humans.

Item 8: One ginormous white cat, missing fur and teeth.

Age unknown, male.  Will eat entire body weight in food on a daily basis if allowed.

Animal instinct

The Monsters know that I am sad.

Lila wants have contact with me at all times.  She is guarding my feet right now.  I put my hand down to stroke her reassuringly solid head, and am rewarded with a warm lick.

Zach is on my other side, his weight firm against my leg.  His tail thumps every time I look at  him.

Both follow me everywhere.  They stick close together, as if to reassure themselves that things are ok.  Little and Large, although Little is not that little anymore.

Charlie, Frankie and Ozzie are my constant companions in bed.  Charlie takes my left arm and shoulder, Ozzie the right, and Frankie takes my chest. 

Since I am having some sleeping problems at the moment, this isn't as annoying as it sounds.  It is calming to lay in the dark, hearing and feeling the purrs of my three contented boys.  Their presence is soothing.

Willow lays next to my right leg.  Holly grudgingly takes my left leg.  She'd rather be on my left shoulder, but Charlie nearly always gets there first and doesn't fight with the nearby boys.  Both purr quietly.  Holly bops me when she senses I am awake and not talking to her.

Ellie doesn't like to be on the bed with the other cats, but she jumps up in the night to check that all is well on her way to her favourite windowsill spot.  If the boys have moved, she will lay on my chest for a while whilst headbutting my hand.

I feel surrounded by furry love.

Daft bugger

The room was completely dark.  I'd just nipped in to put a book away before I went to bed.  I didn't want to trip over any sleeping cats/errant folders/cat vomit  so I put the light on.

I was not expecting the scene that met my eyes.  In fact, I nearly dropped the book in surprise.

Frankie, the daftest bugger in the world, was sat in my office swivel chair, green eyes wide open in amazement.  The chair was swivelling  at high speed, apparently of its own accord.  He was hanging on for dear life, claws dug deep into the leather whilst his tail was wrapped around the arm rest.

I don't know whether he jumped on the chair (from either the ground or the bookcase where he hides when I have to use the hoover - Frankie is also a scaredy cat) and his impact caused it to spin.  On the other paw, he might have worked it out all by himself.  Although that is doubtful....

I couldn't resist.  I carried on spinning the chair with him hanging on.  I gave him the chance to jump off, but he seemed to really enjoy it.  He looked like a little surfer dude.

He couldn't walk in a straight line by the time we finished.

Feline Beauty Pageant

Here are my entries in the NFP Feline Beauty Pageant.

Baby Bat Ears aka Harvey.  My first, and my soul cat.

Harvey was a blur of energy and was the boss of the house.  He terrorised the house by day and snuggled in my arms like a baby at night.  He'd tuck his head into my shoulder, put his paws around my neck and purr.

If it wasn't for Harvey, I don't think I would have the houseful of monsters that I do today.  He was so full of personality - he was a cheeky little sod and he made every day fun. 

It's been almost a year since he was killed, and I still can't think about that day without crying.  He was only two and a half when he was killed and it just wasn't long enough.  I miss him.

Frankie is named after the girl cat from Red Dwarf.  He is almost impossible to get a good photo of, because he hates the flash and runs away when he sees a camera.  He turned three in November.

He is a sweetheart of a cat who just wants to be adored by everyone.  You only need to look at him and he starts purring.  He has a rusty red belly, folds both of his ears back before he grooms himself and steals earplugs and underwear. 

When Frankie came home, Harvey was very jealous.  He didn't let Frankie come anywhere near me, and since Frankie was a shy little thing, he never pushed it.   The only area of the house that Harvey wasn't interested in was the bath.  The first time it happened, I think it was an accident, but Frank quickly realised what an opportunity he had.  He fell in.  He didn't struggle, but sat perfectly still - his green eyes getting bigger and bigger.  The house had rubbish central heating and so the bathroom was really cold.  I grabbed him and wrapped him in a towel, trying to rub him dry.  I felt it rather than heard it, but that was the very first time I heard Frankie purr and it was then I realised just how much I loved my little brave scaredy cat.

He adored Harvey.  They were inseparable.  When he was little, he learnt to imitate Harvey's miaow and would do it to make me think Harvey was threatening him. 

Frankie missed Harvey so much.  He used to sit on the windowsill looking out at Harvey's grave under the apple tree, and cry.

We were told that Ellie was seven weeks old when we got her.  The vet believed that she was five and a half.  She developed hypothermia and went into a coma two days after she came home.  She has grown into a true naughty tortie. 

She has destroyed countless sets of blinds, has ruined two Christmas trees, and has Lila wrapped around her little paw.

 

Frankie has always adored Ellie.  He nursed her for eight long months.  Literally.  she would wander up to him, and he would roll over and allow her to latch on.  She must have spent hours kneading him trying to work out where the milk had gone.  Despite being two and a half, whenever Ellie gets scared, she runs straight to Frankie for a cuddle.  He keeps her in line, giving her the occasional bop around the head.

Charlie was my first rescue cat.  He had been passed over for weeks because he was a biter.  When I saw him, I wasn't allowed into his enclosure because the staff refused to deal with him.  We took a chance and brought him home.

He is about four or five now, and I've had him nearly two years.  In that time, he has gone from biting anything that moves (and a lot of things that don't), to a cat that sleeps in my arms at night.  He waits for me while I take a shower, sitting on the mat.  When I get out, he winds around my legs until I sit down on the bathmat.  He comes and sits on my laps and grooms my eyebrows.

Charlie adores Ozzie.  The two of them are inseparable.  They sleep together, eat together, groom each other, and squash the breath out of me at night together. 

He hated me when I brought him home, and I never dreamed that he would turn into such a lovebug.

Willow is the most beautiful one eyed cat in the world.  We think she is about Ellie's age, but we have no idea when her birthday is.  Like Charlie, we celebrate her adoptaversary.  She is sweet and loving, and gives the most ferocious headbutts.  She's had a few medical crisis' in the year and a half we've had her, and for a short period she tried to bite me every time she saw me.....I suspect that might have a lot to do with the eight tablets a day she was on and the visits to the vet every other day for injections.

She likes to sleep wrapped around my head, with her paw across my hair and forehead.  I like to have her there, and I find it hard to sleep without her now.

Holly is a loving cat trapped in a nervous and abused body.  She wants to trust people so badly, but just can't get past her fears.  For a while,  I thought she might live under the sofa forever, but after we moved house, she decided that she would prefer to live under the bed. 

Holly does like to sleep with me at night, but I can't say that I always enjoy it.  If I stop stroking her, for reasons such as falling asleep, she bops me across the face until I wake up and pay her attention.  She loves to be stroked and now that she trusts me, she loves to have her belly rubbed.

She is very vocal and makes her feelings known very very plainly.  I usually come home to a mouthful of abuse for leaving her all day, which doesn't stop until I've fussed her for about ten minutes.  We think she is about ten years old, and I have to say that when I start to get older I want to be as stroppy as she is.

Like Charlie, she has come on amazingly since she came to us, amd will now sleep on the bed with the other cats.  She doesn't like the Baron much, and hisses at him on a regular basis.  Saying that, she likes to sleep on his clothes during the day, and pisses all over them to keep the other cats off.   

 

After Harvey was killed, I knew that I wanted to adopt another cat.  The Baron, in fact most people, thought I was just looking for a cat to replace Harvey.  I suppose that was true in one sense, but I wanted a cat to honour Harvey.  The first time I went to the shelter, I left in tears.  The second time, I found Ozzie.

Ozzie fitted in perfectly.  The other cats accepted him immediately.  We suspect that Frankie thought it was Harvey returned from the dead.  Charlie loved him on sight and refuses to be parted from him.  I think Harvey led me to him.  He was exactly what I needed.

He loves to be cuddled and to be picked up.  He eats a lot and is close to imploding and forming a black hole, which makes picking him up an ordeal at times.  He purrs a lot, and he has a beautifully melodious purr.  He is a joy to live with.

'Tis the season of mad animals

Christmas and animals are a bad combination.  A partnership designed to fail.  Just ask a turkey........

Lila is scared of Christmas lights.  Which is a big problem since half the village has outdoor lights up.  She barks and tries to hide between my legs, which of course, would work if she was a poodle.  But she isn't, and frankly, she looks quite daft getting upset by a giant illuminated Santa.

Ellie and Frankie are braver.  They spend a large portion of their day trying to eat the tree.  Frankie in particular likes to hide underneath it and pounce on anyone passing.  Sadly, the tree is in the conservatory and so no-one passes it.  He will sit for hours just waiting, occasionally batting a branch to pass the time.  After a few hours, he might pounce on Ellie, who then smacks the living crap out of him.  He isn't the brightest cat around because this usually happens on a daily basis.

Ellie also likes to look at the lights at night-time.  She talks to them for hours on end.

Charlie and Ozzie have been caught trying to steal decorations.  It is nice to see Charlie being mischievous, but there are things that no respectable Christmas Angel should have to endure, and being molested by two overweight and neutered toms is one of them.

Thankfully, Willow and Holly aren't showing any signs of caring about Christmas.  Neither allow anything to stand between them and their naps, but I guarantee that as soon as the turkey goes in the oven, Willow will be underfoot until she receives what she considers to be her fair share.

And things can only get worse.  Tonight is a full moon.

Hold me.

Marking the occasion

I brought Holly home one year ago today.  She has really blossomed out this year - from a cat who used to hide under the sofa for weeks at a time to one who sleeps on my bed and demands tummy rubs.

Guess how she chose to mark the occasion?

The stroppy cowbag pissed all over my paperwork. 

Sigh.  We aren't quite there yet.

Kitty crack

My postman is getting concerned.  Something is up at the DMouse House.

Strange parcels are being delivered here on a regular basis.  There are anxious looking cats in the windows, and there is usually one ready and waiting to inspect the parcels.

The parcels have a rather pungent smell, and on more than one occasion, a stray cat has been seen following the postie as he makes his way down our street.

That is right.  I am a 'nip dealer.

At this moment in time, there are six completely stoned cats sleeping off their latest hit. 

Canadian catnip is considered by many cats to be the best in the world, and my household of aficionado's would agree.  We've had rolling cats, divebombing cats, drooling cats, and fighting cats.  Then they get the munchies and fall asleep, usually sprawled out on their backs showing their bits off to all who care to look.

Naturally, within five minutes of their eyes opening, they are after the next hit. 

Charlie and Oz favour crying for more.  WIllow and Ellie have been caught trying to break into the drawer where the 'nip is stored.  Frankie prefers the winding around my ankles and purring technique and Holly's method is simply to steal the pillow from whoever is successful in getting it.

And so on.

Lila is jealous.  She only got a huge rawhide bone and a Dog Brick, which she is fairly rubbish at.  So she decided to swipe a catnipped pillow. 

Ellie was not impressed.  She puffed up, growled, and it took quite a while to stop the blood from Lila's nose.

But Lila doesn't like to be outdone.  She has learnt to copy their stoned behaviour, and is presently rolling around on the floor, drooling and rubbing her cheeks on her toys.

Frankly, she looks quite daft.

Return of the Monsters

They are all home again.  It was peaceful while it lasted.

It was absolutely pouring when I collected them.  I later found out that over an inch and a half of rain fell in half an hour, which as an aside caused flash floods in London.  I could have calculated that myself by wringing out my clothes.

Because I have so many cats, and several are quite stroppy to boot, I get to go into the cat enclosure to help retrieve them.

Charlie and Oz were first.  You'll no doubt be pleased to know that I splurged on a rather nice carrier for them to share.  We caught Oz no problem, but once he felt the rain he started to fret.  Charlie took five minutes to catch.  I couldn't see for rain streaming into my eyes.  Charlie also objected very loudly to the rain.

That rather nice cat carrier is bloody heavy when you put in two fat cats.  I broke the handle straight away and had to lug it out in my arms to the car.  The car was parked some five minutes away, and somehow I parked it in a small ditch.  Which flooded.

I made that journey another three times.  Accompanied by screaming cats who did not approve of the torrential rain they were being subjected to.  Especially when I had to put their carrier on the flooded ground in order to open the door.

Then came Lila.  Lila hadn't been too impressed with the kennels.  Apparently she sat morosely in her enclosure, not making a sound, and drooled all day. You'd think she'd be pleased to see me.

Not a chance.  She hates the rain too and didn't want to leave.  We dragged her out of the kennels and tried to persuade her that the car would be drier.  Except she hates car travel even more than she hates standing in the rain and so she sat in the flooded ditch and refused to budge.

It was still pissing down.  By this point, I was soaked through to the skin and was past caring about the state of my clothes.  Good thing really.

I picked her up and popped her in the back.  She took offence at this, tried to bite me and then leapt back out and landed with a huge splash in the flooded ditch.  So we tried again.  And again.  And once more for good measure.  It was still raining.

Nine month old rottweilers aren't just heavy and wriggly and bitey.  They are completely insane, knowing no physical fear.  Their brainpower is questionable though.  So when she ran head first into a fence, we took our chance, rammed her back in and slammed the door shut.

Then the bloody rain stopped.