Softie's Root Canal

Yesterday was a beautiful day, and because the sun was shining I decided it was high time to let the British One know about it.

He was in the office, staring intently into the glowing box whilst pecking furiously on the keyboard, and I strolled in and demanded to go outdoors. Naturally he ignored me.

I told him again that it was time to stop pecking and start enjoying the sunshine. I tapped on his elbow and increased the volume of my demands. Eventually he got the hint.

We went out into the back garden, where I romped in the grass and chewed on some plants. The sunshine felt so lovely on my fur, and there was just enough breeze to make it a perfect day. I flopped and rolled in the grass, and then wandered the entire perimeter of the back garden, sniffing all the interesting smells along the way.

After a time, I became hungry and voiced my lunch fantasies, to which the British One obliged and served up a dish of delicious diced chicken.

The British One took Softie out for the afternoon--something about visiting a root canal, whatever that is--and while they were gone I sat on the back of the sofa and watched the three-legged grey squirrel forage around on the front porch. The squirrel is still intent on reopening the entry into his former home, but so far he hasn't had very good luck. I am loathe to admit that perhaps the British One has won the battle with the squirrel, because I know that squirrels are incredibly clever.

The evening came and the humans got back from the root canal. Softie didn't seem to feel very well and dozed on the sofa with the blankie. As tempting as the blankie was, I pledged my alliegence to the British One and napped on his lap instead, because it was he who took me outside today.

A Daily Diary Pick

It is always an honor to be chosen as a Catster Diary Daily Pick, but it is even better to be able to share the honor with my friend, the lovely and talented Camilla.

I believe my humans should now reward me with a dish of delicious buttered cod.

Distinct Lack of Fish

There has been a distinct lack of fish in my life for the past week.

This must change.

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.