Marching On

Back to normal

Things are indeed back to normal.

The tree and decorations are down. The turkey is gone - into bellies (human, feline and canine), stock and into the freezer.

My conservatory is once again a workshop. The Darth Vader water feature will soon be joined by a Boba Fett water feature. Stylish, or what?

The cats are scooting around the house like mad things. They haven't been out too much of late due to the weather, since they hate the cold, and due to the need to guard the turkey. But they are back in fine and demented form.

So as I say, it has been really cold. Today the pond froze over. I let the cats out this morning, and waited the obligatory five seconds before they realised that in fact, it was below freezing and a better course of action would be to reverse and go to sleep under my quilt.

Except Harvey saw the pond. And had to investigate............

So two minutes later Harvey was sat in the middle of the frozen pond, looking very very pleased with himself. Frankie and Ellie were fascinated (from the safety and warmth of the woolly blanket on the sofa and were watchng with huge eyes.

Harvey got up and walked around, in the middle of the pond. He realised the fish were still swimming under the ice. So he started to tap the ice with his paw.

It held. He continued to watch the fish.

Frankie could no longer contain himself and had to see how Harvey was performing this miracle of standing on the ice. He saw Harvey sit down on the ice. He then saw the fish under the ice that Harvey was sitting on.

And so he pounced.

At Harvey.

On the ice.

Harvey's eyes grew big. And he launched himself a clear six feet up in the air when he saw the black monstrosity flying towards him at full speed. He landed with grace next to the pond and ran for safety.

Frankie crashed into the ice. And then immediately crashed straight through the ice and into the frosty depths below. The fish scattered. Birds scattered.

He emerged several seconds later looking extremely shocked. He jumped out of the pond, and without a backwards glance flew into the house and hid.

Six hours later, he still looks shocked.

Posted on Monday, 27 December 2004 at 15:13 in Devilish cats | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Procrasinating

So far today I have:

roasted a chicken;

started making some soup;

thought about writing a report;

given Charlie a very extensive haircut;

been bitten several times (see above);

done the washing;

thought some more about writing a report;

cleaned the kitchen;

played Spider Solitaire;

de-cat-furred the house;

got my laptop out in preparation for report writing;

baked brownies;

cleaned the bathroom;

thought a little more about writing a report;

chased Harvey around the neighbourhood;

played my guitar; and

given myself a manicure and a pedicure.

Bet you can't guess what I am putting off here!

Posted on Sunday, 19 December 2004 at 14:18 in Devilish cats, Ministry of Mayhem | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Harvey

Harvey is an evil cat. He hates people, and spends a lot of time plotting their downfall. He likes to hurt people.

He likes me. He snuggles in my arms like a baby. He puts his paws around my neck and purrs into my shoulder.

But make no mistake. He bites me too.

Posted on Thursday, 02 December 2004 at 23:11 in Devilish cats | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Frankenstein

We got Frankie to keep Harvey company.

Frankie was a very scrawny and smelly cat when we got him, mainly as he had been fed on sardines and kitten milk only.

Harvey didn't take well to the intruder. Frankie, coming from a place where he was the youngest of 15 cats, was quite accepting of Harvey as the boss.

Something that hasn't changed to this day.

Harvey and Frankie adore each other. But Harvey is the leader and of that there is no doubt.

Frankie is much bigger than Harvey and weighs a good three pounds more. But he meekly trots up to Harvey, pushes his face into his and asks for his face to be cleaned.

And Harvey does.

Frankie is a sweetheart of a cat, who just wants to be adored by everyone. He loves to be stroked and held and he purrs if you even look at him. He has a rusty red belly, and he folds his ears back before he grooms himself. He steals earplugs. He grooms my eyebrows.

He is a bugger to take a good picture of though.

Posted on Thursday, 02 December 2004 at 22:56 in Devilish cats | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Evil Ellie

Ellie was the sweetest little kitten. All fluffy and big blue eyes. Partly because it turns out she wasn't nine weeks like we were led to believe. No, she was five weeks old and far too young to be leaving her mother. Very cute, though.

Sure, she gave us a huge health scare by developing hypothermia and going into fits before lapsing into a coma, but she was a lovely little cat.

She never used her claws, she didn't bite (much) and she adored Frankie.

She never left his side. He nursed her, he groomed her, he taught her how to use the litter tray. and she worshipped him.

Then she started teething.

The nursing stopped. The destuctive phase had begun.

First the blinds. Then the bookcase. Then the bed. Then the next set of blinds.

After that she settled down somewhat. She took her latent aggressiveness out on the hapless Frankie and the catnip mice.

She accepted Charlie without too much fuss. Lots of hissing and puffing up, but since she does that at the hoover too, it doesn't mean that much. She allows him to groom her and chase her.

Same deal with Willow's arrival. Minus the grooming and chasing at the moment. We are still in puff up territory.

Another health scare later, and we have on our hands a very lively little lady. We await with bated breath the next Ellie adventure.

Posted on Thursday, 02 December 2004 at 22:48 in Devilish cats | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Lard Arse

Charlie came to me the day before my birthday.

We went for a drive that day. We bought some lunch, and realised we were near the RSPCA centre. I thought it would be nice to go and look around.

Being a little loopy, I took the wrong turning on the roundabout and ended up on the motorway heading home. But I really wanted to go, so got off at the next junction, turned round, and went back. Making sure I took the right exit.

I didn't see Charlie right away. We went through both wings of the cat centre and I wanted to go back to the first again. The Baron wanted to go home.

We saw the cage at the same time. It had a notice on it asking people not to touch the glass as the cat was very nervous of people. We went over, but we could see no cat. We saw a huge lump under the blanket.

Some children came in the centre and the door slammed shut. The blanket moved to reveal the biggest, and most evil looking cat I had ever seen. I looked at him, and he looked balefully back at me, thinking I had made the noise.

I looked at the Baron. He nodded.

We asked to have him taken out of the cage so we could meet him properly. We were refused. Charlie had bitten too many of the staff, and he was not allowed to be handled for health and safety reasons.

I said I would take him. I just wanted him out of that cage.

The assistant looked at me as if I was mad. "He bites, you know".

The home check was waived. They bundled him into a cage and let us take him straight away.

We didn't get on at first. He didn't like me, and he let me know it. With bites, scratches, hisses and spitting.

But now, nearly ten months on, Charlie is my special boy. He sleeps with me. He lays in my lap. He purrs like a rusty old motor. And he lets me rub his huge fat belly.

I love my Lard Arse.

Posted on Thursday, 02 December 2004 at 22:26 in Devilish cats | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Willy the One Eyed Wonder

I fell in love with Willow when she still had both her eyes. She had been hit by a car and suffered face injuries. Her eyes was inflamed and infected. She had signs all over her cage saying "I am beautiful", but people kept walking past her cage. There were kittens next to her so she didn't stand a chance.

I saw her and she marched up to me and headbutted the glass.

The Baron was with me, and said I could not have another cat. I said I was going to ask if they had any more information on her - whether she would lose her eye, whether anyone had shown any interest and what her blood test results were.

The Baron moaned and groaned. I was not to have another cat.

The RSPCA took my number so they could call me with her blood test results. No-one had shown an interest in her.

Days passed. The Baron pretended that we had not seen her.

The call came that she would lose her eye. She would need to stay in for a fortnight to recover and then I could take her home. Time to convince the Baron.

I used my feminine charms. Begged. Pleaded. Did a few things. And confirmed Willow's pick up date.

The day we arrived home from holiday, we picked up our newest kitty cat and brought her home.

Posted on Thursday, 02 December 2004 at 22:25 in Devilish cats | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Introducing Hollie!

She has finally got brave enough to come out from under the bed. Right now, she is sat next to me, gazing up at me and rubbing her head on me to stroke.

She has a few problems, such as a bald belly from stress related overgrooming, but she is putting those behind her and is sporting a sweet fuzz.

Hollie came to us, because her owner couldn't keep her anymore. She was pregnant, planning to emigrate, and her partner was emphatically not a cat lover. Given Hollie's age (6-10) and her temperament (exceedingly shy and retiring) a shelter would not have been in her interests. So I said yes.

The Baron had steam coming out of his ears when I told him that I had agreed. He was furious.

I showed him her photo. He was smitten.

Which is unfortunate, as she is terrified beyond reason at his mere existence.

And that completes my pets.

For now.

Posted on Thursday, 02 December 2004 at 22:11 in Devilish cats | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

The Well Fed Cats

I sometimes roast a chicken just for the sake of it. We buy organic chickens, so this isn't a weekly occurrence - much as I would like to have roast chicken every week, at around £10 a chicken, it simply isn't going to happen.

I rubbed it with garlic infused oil and sprinkled it with sea salt and rosemary. I stuck a lime up its bottom (and pricked the lime for extra flavour), along with more garlic, and roasted it until crispy, golden and cooked just right. Willow sat and watched it cook for an hour and a half, as is her wont.

It was left to cool on the side. The chicken guardians were relegated to the other side of the door for safety. Best not to leave tempation in the form of a freshly cooked chicken in their path.

I told the Baron to keep the kitchen door shut whilst it was cooling down. But he couldn't resist the crying Willow, and so went and got some for her. Sucker. She knows who to beg to.

I yelled down to him to make sure that the door was closed when he came out. He replied it was, and disappeared back to the conservatory, where he is engaged in making a clay model of some sort.

I came dowstairs a little later, frustrated with my mp3 player, which has decided that it must give my computer the cold shoulder and claim not to recognise it. So my plans of an early night listening to music have been replaced by a late night dreaming of destroying stroppy electrical items.

No cats were in sight, and the house was quiet. This, as all feline fans will know, is a BAD SIGN. No cats, and no noise usually means that mischief is afoot. I went to the kitchen with a deep sense of foreboding, and a sneaking suspicion that the Baron was going to be in big trouble.

The sense of foreboding was justified. The chicken was gone. All gone. Not a morsel remained.

Harvey and Willow were sat licking their lips and looking very smug, and Frankie and Ellie were arm wrestling for the last crumb on the kitchen floor. Charlie is above such stealing and was slumbering in my chair, unaware of the Great Chicken Theft. Hollie would have been in on it, if she wasn't hiding under the bed again.

The Baron swears blind that he shut the door behind him. But smart though my cats are, they have not yet worked out how to open doors. Cupboard doors yes, but not internal doors. They are working on it, but success is not imminent.

I think the Baron did not shut the door behind him. I think he left it wide open. I think I may have to beat him around the head with what remains of the chicken carcass.

So, to recap:

Cats - One large, slow grown organic chicken for tea.

DMouse - Cup of tea for tea.

The Baron - no tea at all.

Posted on Saturday, 13 November 2004 at 22:53 in Devilish cats, Ministry of Mayhem | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

Peace and Quiet

Harvey is prowling around upstairs in my bedroom. I can hear him knocking my candlesticks around. He is happy.

Frankie is fast asleep on my giant stuffed rottweiler. I hope that is a good omen for the new puppy.

Ellie is in the conservatory watching the goldfish outside. I light the pond for her every night, she likes it that much. She sits on the cat tree and talks to them.

Charlie is glaring at me. He hates my laptop, as he feels my lap is for him and him alone.

Willow is eating. If she isn't eating, she is sleeping. She is an easy cat.

Hollie is currently hiding in the mechanism of the chairbed. She likes the foam.

The Baron is working late.

It is quiet.

There are no street lights at all in our village, and as a result it is dark. We have been using our telescope most evenings since we moved here. I have no idea what I am looking at, but it is fun. I've seen lots of shooting stars this evening. I am going to join the library and get some books out on astronomy.

I have my vegetable garden all planned out. My herbs are starting in the kitchen, my lemons and peppers in the conservatory. My orange tree is ordered and on its way, and I am expecting my lime tree to follow very shortly. The Baron doesn't know yet - it is a surprise for our anniversary tomorrow.

We plan to start the garden this weekend. There is so much to clear up and get rid of, before we can start preparing the beds. We have been looking forward to having a garden for so long, and now we can start work on the garden we have talked about for so long.

I love this quiet time in the evenings. It feels so much relaxing in this house - almost as though the extra room in the house is giving me extra room to think. I can play my instruments whenever I want without disturbing anyone else. I finally have my piano back after nearly five years. I'm not as good as I used to be though.

I have just ordered some rare breed meat from an online farm shop. I am planning a huge roast dinner at the weekend to thank my family for all the help they have given with this move. I also got some traditional bacon from the same rare breed. I am looking forward to my Sunday bacon sandwich in bed now!

I now have room for all of my books. I have several thousand books, some of which I haven't seen in nearly five years. I had to store them in the loft of my parents house. I love to sit and read in the conservatory, with a cup of tea and a cat. It is so nice.

Hope everyone else is having as nice an evening as I am having. Peace and quiet to you all!

Posted on Tuesday, 26 October 2004 at 19:44 in Devilish cats, Mine's a pint | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack (0)

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