The Cat Krazies

I felt years younger yesterday and managed to get Softie to play hide'n'seek with me. She had been trying to hang some new curtains in the dining room, and I thought she needed a break. I let out a very vocal, gutteral meow and then raced all around the dining room and kitchen.

She didn't know what to think! She climbed down from the ladder and came into the kitchen to see what I was up to...and I jumped out from behind a cabinet and raced around some more. We did this for a little while and then it was her turn to try to hide from me. She put the ladder away and I chased her up and down the stairs.

Then she said she was going to do some laundry, so I bolted through the Magic Portal and tried to help her sort the clothing. And for old time's sake, I leapt into the laundry basket and playfully nipped at her fingers.

She said I had "the Midnight Cat Krazies" but I don't think she knows how to tell time. It was much earlier than that.

The Lonely House

Now that the British One is away, this house is very quiet and lonely during the day. Softie goes away in the metal monster early each morning, and does not return until late. Now that the British One isn't here to keep me company, feed me an extra helping of delicious diced chicken, and to provide a warm lap when I need it, I'm feeling very sad indeed.

I've tried to give Softie the ole "forlorn kitty" look each morning as she leaves, but so far it hasn't worked. She still leaves, even if she does try to coddle me with good chin scratches and kind words before she goes. I've taken to not diving into my delicious diced chicken when she serves it to me either. I had hoped that she would realize that I am depressed being alone all day (depressed enough to stop eating my delicious diced chicken!) and would stop leaving. It hasn't worked.

After she leaves, I dash to the kitchen and eat my delicious diced chicken--before it gets too cold. Then I sit on the mat in the kitchen by the door and brood for awhile. When it is clear she has not been made to feel guilty enough to come back into the house and stay with me, I climb into the Poang for a bit of kip. Later I go back to the kitchen to finish off any leftover morsels of delicious diced chicken, and to nibble around on the organic dry food she serves in lieu of my extra helping of delicious diced chicken that the British One serves during the day when he is here. Then it is time to climb the stairs and sleep on their bed. I still find myself looking toward the office, hoping the British One will be sitting there, staring at the glowing box and pecking furiously on his keyboard.

I sure wish he was coming back soon.

Suitcase Full of Blues, part 2

I really don't like suitcases.

There are several of them in my house. They live in the closet. Every now and then, one or more of them escapes from the closet and plants itself on the bed or floor of the guest room. It is fed clothing and other assorted items, and then it somehow convinces the British One and/or Softie to take it away and not come back for a long time.

My biggest worry is when all the suitcases escape, because I know this means both the British One and Softie are leaving me. When we lived in my old house, this also meant the old lady would come to visit me several times a day to feed me and give me a good brushing. Now that we live in this new house, I wonder if the old lady will still come to visit?

Luckily for me, not all the suitcases escaped this time around. The ones that did escape managed to convince the British One to take them somewhere. After many hugs and good chin scratches, he said "goodbye" to me and left with the suitcases.

I'm keeping a watchful eye on the suitcases that did not escape. They are still in the closet, and I intend to see that they remain that way. I don't want them giving Softie any ideas.

Suitcase Full of Blues

The British One saw one of the suitcases today, and it convinced him to began putting things into it.

I know what this means.

And I don't like it one bit.

An Uneasy Start to My Day

Softie and the British One seem to be feeling better today, no doubt due to the excellent care and attention I've given them the past few days.

And how do they repay me? By taking me to a new vet today. How's THAT for gratitude? I may never tend to them when they are ill again!

So this new vet. He wasn't so bad really, and the trip in the dreaded metal monster was very short indeed. In fact, I suspect we could walk to the new vet--but I'm not going to suggest it to them.

The new vet didn't prod and poke at me, and there was nothing put in my bum to take my temperature. For this, I already like him a lot better than my old vet. He also talked to Softie and the British One about my diet, and actually urged them to continue to ply me with delicious diced chicken, because he said my weight was up from what it used to be. I don't know how he could know this, because he's never seen me before, but he did have a massive amount of papers he kept referring to. He looked at my teeth, and checked my heart and thyroid and said everything checked out okay. He was friendly too, and laid back. Did I happen to mention that he URGED THEM TO CONTINUE TO PLY ME WITH DELICIOUS DICED CHICKEN?

Plus I noticed he wears hippie sandals, so if he ever starts recommending hospital food and I decide that I don't like him anymore, I can always attack his ankles and bite his toes.

A Nice Lazy Day

Softie and the British One are both feeling under the weather. The British One still went about his normal routine of sitting in front of the glowing box, pecking away at the keyboard. Softie, however, didn't leave in the metal monster like she normally does.

She stayed in bed nearly all day. I felt it was my catly duty to curl up in the crook of her arm and try to make her feel better,which I believe I achieved.

Honors Bestowed

I've just found out that my diary has been chosen as a Catster "Daily Diary Pick!"

I am humbled by this wonderful honour.

The Great Outdoors

The British One took me outside yesterday!

I'm really pleased that I got to go outside because I am getting a little stir crazy being cooped up in the house all the time. It's a much larger house than our old one, but at least with my old house I got to go outside nearly every day and sun myself on the deck.

I miss my deck. I loved dozing on the loungers and watching the wrens and robins take baths in the nearby birdbath. I miss being able to hide amongst the hedges, and I miss the scent of the lavender and sage in the breeze.

I don't miss the little yapper-dog who lived next door though.

Something Smells-- And it's not my Litterbox!

The British One has been in the office for most of the day, fiddling around with his older model glowing box thingie. I think it is called a "lapbox." I tried to help him with it, but he kept getting frustrated and raising his voice, which after awhile I got tired of. I took a nice long nap on the bed.

I was awakened by a strange smell in the house and naturally my curiosity got the best of me and I went to investigate.

Softie was in the dining room with a tin of nasty smelling orange gel, painting it all over the surface of the door to the kitchen. This door slides into the wall when not in use, and when the humans want to keep me away from the kitchen they pull it out. I've never seen doors like this before. We didn't have them in my other house, but this house has several sets of them.

Anyway, I tried to help her with the smelly task but she kept shooing me away. She was dressed ridiculously too--gloves, big plastic goggles and a mask over her nose and mouth. After she had finished putting the gel on the door I followed her into the magic portal, where she rinsed the brushes and I said "hello" to the washer and dryer as I made my rounds.

Later, after a second helping of delicious diced chicken, Softie donned all the ridiculous stuff again and took a plastic scraper thingie to the door. I sat on the sofa in the lounge, watching her. As she scraped the colour fell from the door, revealing very gorgeous looking blond wood. She scraped for a long time, and I had to be shooed away from her work area at least a dozen times. I was only trying to help!

Photogenic Me!

I wondered why Softie and the British One came home with a catnip scented scratching post last night. Not that I minded—I love catnip! For several weeks now the both of them have been calling me “Clickfoot” because my nails are getting a bit long. I don’t have anywhere to scratch (and I’ve never been one to use furniture) and I can’t go outside yet because it is too cold. They told me this is why they brought the scratching post home. The catnip scent took hold of me and I rubbed all over the thing, despite myself. Eventually I even scratched around on it a little, although it was more for show than anything. I had to let them know I liked my new gift.

I knew, however, there had to be an ulterior motive. I was right.

This morning, after I had dulled down my claws, I was unceremoniously stuffed into the Pet Taxi and taken to the evil eye doctor. I made some noises to let them know I wasn’t happy, but it was no use so I eventually settled down and went into Zen-kitty mode.

The evil eye vet poked around on my eyes again, but this time it didn’t hurt me. If I would have wanted to use my claws on him I couldn’t because I had dulled them down, but he didn’t hurt me so it was okay. He told Softie that the drops she’s been putting in my eyes (I get FIVE drops every day) are working. He said the pressure behind my eye has gone down from 51 to 24, which he says is in the “comfortable range.” I certainly feel better and my eye doesn’t hurt like it used to. I’ve got my appetite back and my coat looks nice and glossy again. Because I am a very handsome boy, the evil eye vet took several pictures of me. He seemed especially interested in my right eye.

I just wish I knew what he meant by “melanoma.”

The Noise Continues

Over the weekend a strange man came to my house and walked around on the roof. He made a lot of noise and spooked me a little bit, but Softie let me lay on her lap so I wasn’t afraid anymore. She told me he was fixing our guttering, whatever that means.

Then yesterday this same man came over and started working in the bathroom. The British One and Softie had removed the wallpaper from the bathroom a few weeks ago and half of the ceiling came crashing down on them! So this strange man was here yesterday, patching the hole and covering the cracks. We live in a very old house. Everything seems to be falling apart!

So while the strange man was working in the bathroom, he was very un-catlike and lost his balance. He fell off the ladder and landed on the sink, which broke with a very loud crash. I ran under the bed and hid for a long time. The strange man was alright, bruised up a bit and sore, but no broken bones.

I overheard the British One tell Softie that he was coming back again today and that there would be a lot of noise and dust. I think I’ll try napping in a different wing of the house today.

Loud, Scary Noises!

Just now I was happily dozing on the sofa while Softie watched figure skating and the British One talked to an overseas friend on the phone.

Then there was a very loud crash in the kitchen! I jumped off the sofa and ran behind it to hide.

Softie and the British One ran into the kitchen and discovered that a picture had fallen off the wall and shattered all over the floor. I tried to get into the kitchen to see what was going on but they made me stay out and shut the door in my face. How rude!

Now all the excitement is over so I went in to see what the fuss was. Apparently their Bob Marley framed print took a fall--all over my dinner! The frame smashed down right on top of my food dishes, with glass and diced chicken everywhere!

But I'm okay, and they are okay, and they cleaned everything up and fed me a new serving of diced chicken.

Super

The British One was up bright and early this morning to listen to a football match involving his favorite team. He always listens to the matches using the glowing box in the office, and today he yelled at it quite a bit. Softie was downstairs in the lounge reading, so I retreated to her lap while the British One yelled upstairs.

Then the British One came downstairs and announced that the match was going to be televised later in the day, so the three of us watched it from the sofa. I like watching the game because all the players run around a lot and kick a ball, which I can relate to. They cheered for the team with the red and white striped shirts.

Later in the day the British One took me outside for the first time since we moved. I can hardly wait to go outside again when the weather gets warmer. I still miss the deck at my other house though. I wonder what happened to that house?

Softie has been watching something called "figure skating" this evening. The two of them keep getting phonecalls from friends asking why they are not watching something called a superbowl.

I don't know why anyone would want to sit and watch a bowl, unless of course it had delicious diced chicken in it. That would be super!