Piper Lives Up To Her Name, Soars to Safety

Oh dear!
A family cat in South Carolina that was stuck in a tree for eight days fell 80 feet to the ground, landed on its feet and then ran away uninjured.

Owners of Piper the cat said their pet scampered up the giant tree outside their Summerville home on March 13 and all efforts to coax it down were unsuccessful.

Monday, the cat jumped from an 80-foot branch.

Home video of the fall showed the cat clipping a few branches and then landing on its feet and running away.

Local 6 News reported that Scottie Colvin was visibly shaken after the fall but was then thrilled her pet survived."I am scared to death, but at least she's down and she's running, so she's alive," Colvin said. "Thank you all for coming out."A reporter asked, "When you saw her in the air what did you think?""I just wanted to catch her," Colvin said. "I know that's stupid because I probably would have gotten killed but I just wanted to catch her."

Piper was later found under a car after the 80-foot fall.

Colvin said the cat was checked out by a vet and has no injuries.

You can watch the video HERE.

Thanks For All The Fish!

Sometimes being a bit undignified pays off.

I couldn’t help myself. The smells emanating from the kitchen made me swoon. As soon as Softie opened the oven door, the succulent scents surrounded and seduced me. I knew I had found the Restaurant At The End of The Universe.

(As an aside, I am well aware that Softie never eats anything that smells good. She also never eats anything that tastes good. It’s all soy-this and soy-that, and I know from personal experience that it is rubbish.)

Immediately I honed in on the British One. I rubbed all around his ankles. I puffed out my white bib and tried to look as handsome and irresistable as possible. I tried nudging his elbow with my nose, tried jumping into his lap, tried to climb on top of him. I was scolded but didn't care.

I focused unwaveringly on the abundance of buttered cod teasing me from the British One's plate, and my persistance paid off.

The British One fed a forkful of fish to me, and one taste was all it took. I demanded more--lots more. I dashed around the lounge with big eyes, crying and sniffing the aromatic air. I put on quite a show. Eventually they got the hint and served up the remaining fish to me, and I plunged in, quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice.

More Sleep Disturbances

Another strange man was in my house today, speaking to the British One about repairing our front entry way. I'm glad my humans have finally noticed that there seems to be a lot of cold air seeping under the door--I've certainly known it for quite some time!

This strange man took lots of photos of the doors, plus he looked at the windows too. I have a bad feeling this means more disruption in my life, and more disturbances to my sleep patterns, so I hope it will be worth the trouble they are going to put me through.

Nights on the Round Table

I would like to thank my many kitty friends for their emailed well wishes and the lovely blue ribbon rosettes I've been given. They have made me very happy, and aside from the odd accident on the floor, I'm doing much better.

Last night I was feeling rather ignored. Softie was busy in the kitchen, fixing something very delicious smelling, and she ignored my many dinner suggestions. I made sure to situate myself right in the middle of the kitchen, so that no matter where Softie was - sink, Magic Cupboard, oven, Big Cold Foodbox - she'd be sure to see me, and quite possibly trip over me if she was not careful. After maneuvering around me for quite some time, she finally got the hint that I was angling for more dinner, and served up a tin of hospital food. Not exactly what I had in mind, but it was fairly tasty (only because I was hungry though).

Then the British One came downstairs to help set the table, and he ignored me too. I sulked off to the lounge and curled up on the sofa. Oh but the aroma of good smelling food would not let me sleep, and soon their conversation and the clinking of cutlery on dishes was just too much for me to bear. How dare they enjoy themselves without my help!

I hopped down from the sofa and ventured into the dining room, and because they didn't seem to notice me sitting on the floor next to the table, I decided to climb up into one of the spare chairs.

And from there I raised my head above table height to survey the leftovers. As I am never allowed to eat leftovers, I merely sniffed the air rapturously.

But then I realized that they STILL seemed to ignore me, so I broke the rules and stretched myself out just enough to lick the mashed potatoes. Oh and were they ever delicious! Once I'd had a taste there was no stopping me, and I hopped right up onto the table--much to the surprise of my humans--and stuck my face right into the potatoes and had myself a good munch.

Of course I was scolded, and of course I was scooped up and placed back into the floor, but oh was it ever worth the trouble!

Now if only I could figure out how to use that gravy boat.

Squirrel Wars

I have been under the weather for the past few days. I am lethargic and not very hungry. I also had a small upchuck on the duvet in the bedroom. Oops.

Softie always seems to know how to make me feel a bit brighter, as evidenced by the return of an extra long brushing session. She brushed me with the soft brush, then with the bristly brush, then used the comb on me, then went back to the soft brush. It was lovely.

I was so content that I even offered up my hind legs for a brush and didn't fight her when she used the dreaded scissors on me. I must say that I am even more handsome than before, and looking good has made me feel a little better.

My humans have been at war with a small, three-legged grey squirrel for the past several days. The squirrel took up residence recently inside a hollow brick pillar on the front porch, and it has made my humans very excitable.

I sat on the back of leather sofa #2 and watched out the large front window as the two of them asessed the situation. It was quite humorous. The British One got up on the ladder and instructed Softie to find a suitable brick. He then blocked up the entry point with the brick, and they came back inside the house quite pleased with themselves.

As they fixed dinner, I sat on the sofa and watched the squirrel working the brick. By the time dinner was ready, the squirrel had managed to heave the brick onto the porch below!

Next the British One disappeared into the Magic Portal. I could hear him sawing and knocking around and creating a racket, then he emerged victorious with several wedge-shaped bits of wood and a mallet. Back outside and up the ladder, he pounded the wedges into the entry point, then they gathered a bizarre mixture of my used kittylitter and ground cayenne pepper, and sprinkled it around the entry point. Then they moved their dragonfly-shaped windchime next to the pillar so that the squirrel would knock into it, it would make a noise, and the squirrel would be scared off. Again they seemed mightily pleased with themselves.

Which made it all the funnier to me the next morning when Softie discovered curled bits of shaved wood and kittylitter scattered all over the front porch!

I've got to hand it to this squirrel. Not only did it manage to get the entry point unplugged, it pulled out one of the wedges of wood and set it on top of the dragonfly's wings, just to rub salt into the wound! Crafty lil squirrel, I must say.

I spent most of yesterday dozing on the duvet in the upstairs bedroom, but every so often I would hear the British One inside the Magic Portal, making more noise. When I heard him go outside, I finally came downstairs and watched out the window as he took a mirror and looked inside the pillar--he said it was to make sure the squirrel wasn't inside--and then he pounded a bit of wood wrapped in metal screening into the gap.

Yesterday evening the squirrel was back, tugging and gnawing on the metal screen. He hasn't been able to get back inside yet, but I'm betting he will. Squirrels, afterall, are more clever than my humans.

What Softie and the British One don't realize, however, is that the squirrel has a vendetta against them for having it's big, dangerously hollow tree removed last year. If someone knocked down my house without permission, I'd be upset too!

Squirrels, Thrills and Belly-achers

Aside from another visit to the not-quite-evil hippie vet on Saturday morning, I had a very enjoyable weekend. My humans have both been feeling under the weather, so they stayed in all weekend and I was spoiled for choice in the lap department. It was a beautiful weekend, and as such I felt it only necessary for my humans to go outside with me so that they could get a bit of sunshine. I yowled and demanded to go outdoors until Softie could not bear to listen to me anymore. She's very pliable when she's ill.

I do love how the sun warms my fur, and it was made even better by the lovely breeze in the air. Softie and I sat on the back porch and watched a young, striped cat attempt to catch a very harassed and chatter-y squirrel. I could have told him it was a waste of time, as the squirrel had the Treetop Advantage, but why should he listen? Just because I did the same when I was his age doesn’t mean he’s going to take advice from an oldster like me.

Naturally, he did not even come close to Squirrelville, and it amused me greatly to watch Dr. Chatters chuck a crabapple down on the youngster’s head.

On Sunday I persuaded Softie to take me out again, but alas the morning’s entertainment was not as good as the previous day. A very discordant and vile woman several houses away saw me sitting on the sidewalk in the back garden and began yelling at Softie. She accused me of killing a kitten in the alley way! HOW RUDE! I turned my back to her.

Softie tried several times to calm the woman and let her know that I had done no such thing, but the woman continued to berate Softie, badmouthing me all the while. She said she was certain that I was “the big black cat who killed that kitten.” I could take no more insults and turned to give her and her ugly, yapping dog a piece of my mind! I am certainly not a killer--unless you count mice, that is.

She caught sight of my very fluffy white bib and her diatribe came to an abrupt halt when she realized that she had the wrong cat! She apologized profusely to a still upset and smarting Softie, and scolded the ugly dog for barking at us. I was a bit miffed at Softie for grudgingly accepting her apology, but I suppose it was worth the effort because Softie ended up gleaning useful information out of the nasty woman. Apparently she, her evil children and barking dogs will soon be moving away.

It cannot be soon enough!

I Would Like Just One Glass Of Water

Strange men have been inside my house again. They have been tinkering around with the air con, climbing up into the ceiling, replacing wires and generally creating a lot of noise and dust. I decided the best course of action would be to curl up into a tight little furry ball and nap on the duvet until it ceased.

Unbeknownst to me, the British One removed my upstairs water dish during the course of their noisemaking, ostensibly to keep the dish dust-free. That's all well and good, but what about later, after the noisy men have gone and a certain kitty wakes up, thirsty, and cannot locate his water dish?

I yowled loudly, of course. I demanded that my water dish be replaced.

Naturally, the British One was too busy pecking furiously at his keyboard whilst staring intently into the glowing box, and paid me no mind. Sometimes it is like yowling at a wall.

I decided to take action. I ventured into the office and stated my plight, a bit louder than before. Again, I was ignored. Now I suppose I could have wandered downstairs and into the kitchen, where another water dish awaited, but I didn't want to exert the extra energy required for such a task. Besides, I don't like being ignored.

So I jumped upon a cardboard box marked "eBay" next to the British One, and from there climbed onto the desk. And, just as I suspected, there was a short, wide drinking glass half-filled with water sitting there.

So I simply stuck my head right inside the glass and had myself a good drink, while the British One made excitable noises in my direction.

Needlesstosay, my water dish was reinstated promptly.

Happy Birthday Keiser

Wishing my dear and brilliant friend Keiser a very happy birthday indeed.

Age Ain't Nuthin' But A Number

I do not like getting older.

Sometimes I like to have a good scratch behind my ears, and normally this involves using my hind legs. Recently I have discovered that I'm not so good at balancing myself anymore, and sometimes I fall over when I try to have a good scratch.

Softie noticed my feeble scratching attempts--followed by tipping over, and came to my rescue. She came over and gave me a really good scratching behind the ears, using her fingerclaws. They aren't nearly as nice and sharp as mine, but they got the job done and I was ever so grateful. After she finished I jumped up into her lap and purred very loudly to let her know I was pleased with her attempts.

Nice, sharp claws are another bother for me as I age.

The other day, the British One was sitting in a chair in the office, pecking furiously at the keyboard and staring intently at the glowing box. Sometimes I like to nap in this chair, because it is leather and retains a lot of warmth. Try as I might, I could not persuade the British One to budge. I noticed, however, that there was a new chair in the office. It is one of the many things that came to live with us when the boxes arrived last week. I decided to check it out for napability, but when I tried to jump onto it my claws got stuck in the strange fabric.

I tried to tug my claws out, but the harder I tugged the more my weak hind legs slipped out from under me. To add insult to injury, I also discovered that this new chair has wheels, and in the process of my struggle I managed to pull the chair all the way across the room and next to the British One, who had stopped pecking furiously at the keyboard and turned his attention to staring at me!

I do not like to embarrass myself, so I simply pretended that my intent all along was to move the chair across the room. He helped remove my claws from the evil fabric chair and helped me up onto it, but by then I had decided that I hated the chair and didn't want any more to do with it. I jumped down, stalked off to the bedroom and curled up on the duvet.

A few minutes later I overheard the British One on the phone to Softie, chuckling about my mishap. How rude!

I got him back a bit later by having a nice poo on the seagrass rug.

Be Careful What You Wish For

My wish for boxes has come back to me ten fold. You'd think I'd be over the moon with the result. Unfortunately, the FairyFeline who granted my wish wasn't clued into the SIZE box I had in mind.

It's my own fault for not specifying, I know. Never look a gift horse in the mouth and all that.

However, the boxes came to me in a very strange and mysterious way...

Softie and the British One stayed home all day the other day, which caused me some concern because whenever they are both home during the week it either means they are ill (in which case I take care of them) or they are going to put me into the dreaded Pet Taxi and take me to the evil vet (in which case I take a crap on them).

Thursday however, was neither. After a morning of fret and worry, I realized that the dreaded Pet Taxi was not going to appear from the Magic Portal, and so I relaxed and had myself a nice doze on the blankie in the Poang. The British One had other plans for the Poang, and I and my blankie were removed and placed on the sofa. The Poang was taken upstairs. I pondered the logic for a few moments, realized that humans are rarely logical, and went back to sleep.

In the early afternoon I was awakened by a very large metal monster pulling up outside of my house. I tried to ignore it, but the engine and the beeping noise drove me to distraction. Soon my humans were awash in activity, and I was scooped up--blankie and all--and dumped into the kitchen. Softie then had the audacity to shut the door so that I could not leave! How rude!

I could hear strange men and strange noises in my house, and I didn't like it one little bit. How dare interesting activity go on in my own house without me there to supervise! I yowled quite a lot, and I scratched at the closed door. I crouched down to peer under the Magic Portal, but I couldn't see anything. I could only hear the strange men stomping and romping up and down the Magic Portal stairs. I could also hear them in the dining room and lounge, shuffling boxes and talking to my humans. I could hear things being unwrapped--rustling paper always excites me--and I was locked away where I could not revel in the crunchiness of paper.

After an eternity, the strange men left and Softie opened the kitchen door. By that time I had decided that I didn't care about the crisp paper and interesting smells, but I let myself be coaxed from the blankie.

There were boxes everywhere! Oddly, there were also a lot more sofas and tables than when I had woke up that morning. A LOT more. And they smelled very interesting!

Despite my best efforts to appear unimpressed and uninterested, my curiosity got the best of me and in no time I was climbing all over the new sofas and having myself a good sniff. I got so excited that I dashed all over the lounge and foyer, back and forth jumping from sofa to sofa to sofa. I then scampered into the dining room and circled the big boxes, then raced back into the lounge for another hop on the sofas. The humans began to open the boxes, and I supervised until I saw the contents--which seemed to be all boring human stuff.

All the excitement got to me and I collapsed onto one of the leather pillows on sofa #3, and slept soundly well into the night.

Now I am left with dozens of huge empty boxes, and not a single one will fit on the radiator.

Guilty Pleasures

Everyone has their guilty pleasures.

My humans, although they are loathe to admit it, enjoy watching the very silly "American Idol." Personally I could care less, although I will say that even the worst of the Idol hopefuls are better than Softie. I only speaketh the truth.

So anyway I have discovered my own wee guilty pleasure: KITTEN IDOL!

Too Cold!

This house is too cold!

I can feel a draft under the big entry doors, and the hardwood floor feels icy under paw. It was even worse overnight, but I managed to wedge myself between the humans for maximum warmth and snuggability.

I'm beginning to suspect my humans have as much an idea of how to work the scary boiler as I do. Surely they can't want the house to be this cold?!

I am going to follow the suggestions of my friends Jackson and Gabby, who recommend putting a stiff cardboard box on top of those radiator thingies, and then climbing in.

Now if only I could find a suitable cardboard box...

Grumble Bum

You’d think after the atrocious ordeal I suffered yesterday at the hands of the evil eye-vet, that I would be coddled and fussed over for the rest of the day.

Well, ok, so I was. But the adoration ended last night when my humans went to their beddie-bye basket. I was already on the bed, snuggled up and dreaming, when they came upstairs, and Softie curtly forced me to leave the comfort and warmth of her pillow.

I grouched a little and climbed onto the British One’s pillow, and had just settled in and gotten nice and cozy when he came into the bedroom and lifted me away. HOW RUDE!

He moved me to the foot of their bed and told me that I wasn’t allowed to sleep on his pillow. I growled and grumbled to air my grievances to them, and instead of lying at the foot of the bed like they wanted, I climbed off the bed and stalked off down the stairs, still grouching, to sleep on my blankie in the Poang chair.

They didn’t even thank me for warming the bed for them. Instead, they called me "grumble-bum!"

Selfish humans!

Another Visit to the Eye Doctor

I should have suspected that my humans were up to no good when they stayed in bed past their normal getting up time. When Softie finally did arise, I should have remained curled up on the duvet, but my hunger and curiosity got the better of me.

I followed Softie into the kitchen to discuss my breakfast fantasies with her, but instead of doing as I requested, she disappeared into the Magic Portal and returned with the dreaded Pet Taxi.

Needless to say, I was NOT amused. I took the high road, however, and didn't cry or fight as she stuffed me into the evil carrier. Nor did I make a fuss in the metal monster. I watched Softie fiddle around with her iPod, then the two of us sang along to it as we careened up the interstate.

And then I had myself a nice poo in the Pet Taxi as soon as we stopped in the parking lot of the evil eye-vet. Nothing like stinking up the inside of the metal monster to let my opinion be known!

Dr. K poked around on my eye again, and if I hadn't been held down, I would have definitely used the claw on him. To add insult to injury, he put a very bright light into my eyes and looked at them with a thick piece of glass. I was ever so glad when it was over, and was pleased to hear that my bad eye is still in the "safe range," whatever that means. Dr. K said something to Softie and me about the possibility of having my eye removed (!) if my "numbers spike." I don't pretend to understand the things that I have to deal with, but I certainly did not like hearing the words "remove" and "eye" in the same sentence. No way.

We got back into the metal monster and Softie hooked the iPod up again and away we went. But my goodness the next song that came on was such a cacophony of screeching guitars that it hurt my ears. I stuck a paw out of the Taxi and tugged on the iPod until I got it up next to me where I read "The Stumble" by Love Sculpture. It was the most offensive, horrible racket I have ever heard (and believe me, I've heard Softie sing, so this racket had to be pretty bad).

Softie pulled the iPod away from me, but I hooked a claw into one of the attached wires and tugged as hard as I could. It worked too, because a wire came loose and the racket instantly vanished!

I was well pleased with myself.

Hospital Food

I have been coaxed into updating my diary by the lovely and clever Keiser, although I haven't much to impart.

I've been a very tired kitty recently, and want nothing more than to nap on my blankie in the Poang chair.

Or on a good, warm lap.
Or on the duvet.
Or a dining room chair.

I would also like to eat delicious meals several times a day, but those are not forthcoming, as I am still being fed the dreaded hospital food. I am also being served a different type of dry food, which is surprisingly tasty, mainly because ANYthing is better than Eukanuba hospital food.

I would be perfectly happy if my humans would switch the vile hospital food for Eukanuba lamb & barley, like I used to eat at my old house. It's the same brand, but a world of difference on my palate.

It's a sorry state of affairs each time I am served a meal.

A Tisket, A Tasket, A Stinker in the Basket

I had a truely wonderful weekend. The weather was lovely and I convinced my humans that it was in their best interest to let me venture outdoors for awhile.

The British One went outside with me and together we managed to make the evil Mooch next door go mental. He barked and barked at me, alternately trying to dig under or jump over the privacy fence. I felt it necessary to wander right up to the fence, flop over on my side, and swish my tail. He barked so much that his humans came outside and told him to shut up, and then he had to go indoors. Obviously I will make a habit of getting him into trouble. I do enjoy it ever so much.

Later in the weekend the humans decided to do some work in the Magic Portal, so I followed down the steps to help out. After loading the washer, Softie began rooting through dozens of large boxes filled with those shiny round music makers. It seemed such a boring task that I decided not to help her, and concentrated instead on helping the British One, who was sorting through more interesting boxes.

When they were not looking, I jumped upon a tall workbench and had myself a good sniff of the area. My humans were very surprised to see me up there, and made quite a fuss over me. I may be elderly but I can still jump when I want to.

The only downside to my weekend is that I am still being fed Eukanuba hospital food, which tastes vile. On the upside, however, I have noticed that my tummy doesn't cramp so much, and I am able to make it to my box.

Unless, of course, there is not a box available and I need to improvise with whatever looks most like a litterbox to me. I think my humans should take solace in the fact that the laundry basket was empty at the time.

Accidents Will Happen

I was a bad little boy overnight.

I had an accident on the rug in the lounge, and I had another accident just outside of my litterbox.

As a result, the British One has chosen to serve me disgusting Eukanuba hospital food. This is not a good start to my morning.

An Exciting Weekend

What an exciting weekend I had!

On Saturday, I helped Softie and the British One clean house. Softie was in charge of cleaning the downstairs area, so she began in the kitchen--which is one of my favorite places in the whole house!

I was fed a lovely meal of flaked tuna, and afterwards had a nice nap on the sofa. Softie woke me in the afternoon to ask if I would like to accompany her outside, which of course I did and it was glorious! I love feeling the sunlight on my fur, and the breeze brought interesting and exotic scents for me to sniff.

I stayed outdoors for a long time, wandering in the back garden and chewing the occasional blade of grass.

The British One had been cleaning the upstairs area, so after my excursion outdoors I climbed the stairs to see how he was getting on, and to help where I could. I decided the best place to help would be on the duvet in the second bedroom, and so I napped contentedly until The British One woke me for dinner, where I was served a lovely meal of sliced beef and gravy for dinner. What a life!

On Sunday, I coaxed the pair of them into letting me go outside again, because the sun was out and the weather agreeable. They sat outside on the back porch and watched me roam and roll around in the sunlight. To add to the wonderful day, I was given a nice dose of catnip! It pleased me greatly--so greatly, in fact, that I rolled around in it until I was covered from head to tail. Softie tried to brush some of it off but I was feeling too fine, and attacked the brush with great gusto.

The biggest surprise of the day came when the doorbell rang in the afternoon and in walked the old lady! I hadn't seen her in ages and it was good to be fussed over. She is somehow related to my humans, as were the other humans who accompanied the old lady. There were also two tiny humans--a little boy whom I have met before, and a very tiny girl who cried a lot. I was glad when she left.

My evening was capped off with a warm blankie and a good lap. Does life get any better than this?

Of Sinks and Wars

My humans are forever finding on-line time wasters. I think it helps them to procrastinate against any work they might have to do.

Currently, my personal favorite time wasters are:
CATS IN SINKS
and
KITTEN WAR

The British One used to play an on-line game a lot, and ended up getting quite good. I mentioned it a long time ago in my diary, because every time he plays it he and Softie imitate the sounds and sayings, while laughing out loud. I think it is a horrible game.

CAT STACKING is wrong!!!

The Trauma & The Triumph

It seems like forever that I have been away from my house, my comfortable Poang chair and my familiar food dishes and litter boxes. It seems ages since I sat on the back of the sofa and watched the world go by out of the big front window, or aggravated the evil Mooch next door by rolling around in the grass in my back garden.

I was beginning to think I'd never see my home or my humans again!

The trauma of living in a small room at the not-quite-evil hippy vet's office is over. I must admit that the staff and Dr. M took good care of me, and it was interesting to chat with other cats to compare stories, experiences and living arrangements. I discovered that my lifestyle is considered to be "incredibly pampered." How is a gentleman cat to live any other way?!

The cats who boarded at the vet's office with me were very jealous when told of my living situation. At first they didn't believe me, especially that troublemaker called Powder, who considered me to be an arrogant liar. Oh but when they discovered that my humans would ring the office every other day to check on me, and saw that I was served delicious foods (including the joyous turkey baby food) they realized that I was not making it all up. Even Powder had to admit that I am something special.

Laughably, they tried endlessly to trick me into revealing the secrets to my successful human training, but information like that is too valuable to share to just any ole cat who comes along, isn't it?

One day I might reveal some of my secrets. I might even hold Kitty Seminars to teach others the "Sir Higson Nick Guide to Human EduCATion." I can almost smell the catnip I would earn from it!

But for now, I am happily ensconced in getting the household affairs back in order. Human ankles need to be rubbed on, sofas need to be climbed on, and laps need to be napped on. I shall conquer the world another day.