Things My Cats Might Say

They say that an Englishman’s home is his castle. In my case, my own home is not my castle. It belongs to my three black cats.

Regular readers will know that three of these creatures rule my house.

The lord and master is Jasper, a fat furry blimp who spends most of his time asleep, only waking up to eat. He has a sixth sense that wakes him up whenever we go into the kitchen. He is a greedy moggy who eats for Britain. I also call him Fatty, Lardarse and, my current favourite, Monster.

Jasper in his usual position!

Next is Poppy, sister to Jasper, who is scared of everything, including me, and spends most of her time hiding or sleeping with one eye open in case there’s a shadow in the room. I also call her Crappy (because she is genuinely a crap cat). Mrs PM calls her Princess (which is probably more accurate).

Poppy about to flee from the great beast with mad hair - i.e. ME!!

Finally, we have Liquorice, a late addition to our feline family, who is the exact opposite of Poppy. She is a hellcat who has two traits – friendly condescension and extreme violence. Since her arrival our house has become a moggy warzone when she crosses paths with either of the other two. I call her Lickity and one of our friends calls her by my favourite name which just about sums her up: Slasher. Everybody who has come to our house and tried to stroke her has been attacked. Out of all the people in the house, I am her favourite – and she regularly scratches and/or bites me.

Move - or I will kill you!

In the middle of all this, I am a peacekeeping general dogsbody, slave to their every whim and less important to them than the deposits they leave in their litter trays.

Of course, Mrs PM dotes on them like they are children, when the reality is that they are black killing machines from which no tiny creature is safe.

Recently, Jasper has become very vocal, howling after every meal and every time we walk past him. It’s not just a silent miaow; it’s a deep almost growling noise that is reminiscent of one of his larger African cousins.

“I wonder why he does that?” I’ve asked Mrs PM.

“He’s probably just letting everyone know that he is king of the house, “ she says.

She’s probably right – and it’s has got my weird brain thinking about what he really is saying.

Here are my speculative guesses:

“All hail me, King of all I survey. Bow before my magnificence!”

“You! Slave! Prepare my dinner immediately, lest I bite your feet.”

“I have just produced a most disgusting crap and the smell offends me. By the way, I missed the litter tray because it was so big. Dispose of it immediately!”

“Do not touch me! I am preparing for my pre-sleep nap.”

“If you touch me again, I shall remove your face with my claws!”

“Oh yes – down a bit – up a bit – now scratch! Aaaahhh – that’s better. Now I can sleep.”

Poppy, the coward, might just be saying:

“Oh God! Here comes that ugly monster with the weird hair. Please help me!”

“You call that food? A mouse tastes much better – get me one!”

“What’s that? A shadow? AARRRRGGHHHHH!!!”

“Yes I know it’s 3 o’clock in the morning – but  I’m hungry!”

“I feel sick. Where shall I vomit? Ah – just here outside  the big blonde oaf’s bedroom door.”

Liquorice might just say:

“I’m comfortable on your knee. Move one muscle and I shall tear your limbs from your torso and feed them to next door’s dog.”

“I need something to attack. Ah! Here comes the blond punchbag – claws at the ready …”

“Decisions! Decisions! Shall I rub up against him or attack his bare leg? Decision made – claws at the ready …”

“There’s a killer on the loose again – and it’s ME!!”

“I want cat treats now – THIS INSTANT! You have five seconds before I rip your throat out. Oh thanks! You live to feed me another day.”

Trust me – that’s what I believe they would say and I am sure that Mrs PM agrees with me.

Oh oh! Liquorice has just jumped onto the computer desk and Jasper is watching with interest. I think I need to feed her otherwise this could be my last blog post.

Come on, your highness - let's get you some food.

Cat Burglar

My house is a total mess and it is all Mrs PM’s fault.

Ever since we moved into our current house, she has had plans to shape it into her ideal home. In the past few years it has become a total money pit, sucking all of my available cash, cash that I would and perhaps should have spent on essentials such as holidays, books, gadgets, CDs etc.

At first I agreed with her totally because our house was initially a mess. Our bedroom was so dark it looked like the bat cave; the walls were dark avocado green and the previous occupants had replaced all bulbs with the lowest wattage possible. Our lounge was straight out of the 70’s with cladding on the wall and the rest of the house was rather strangely decorated. The carpets were about twenty years old and the previous carpets had been used as underlay. Every room was covered in woodchip glued to even older wallpaper underneath and repainted numerous times.

Now after some building work and lots of cash we have had a new kitchen, knocked down a wall, replastered almost everywhere, had a new bathroom, new front door, new doors throughout the house and redecorated almost everything.

We have spent a fortune.

Finally we are in the midst of having the hall, stairs and landing replastered, having had the last of the woodchip removed (along with half the wall). We are currently waiting for the plaster to dry so that we can paint and decorate and get a new carpet.

There is dust everywhere, particularly on the cats who are spreading it throughout the house.

All of this upheaval is not a great thing for our new cat, Liquorice. She is still at odds with the other cats and, driven outside by a strange man plastering our house, and has met next door’s dog, with disastrous consequences resulting in yet more of my hard earned cash being handed over to the vet.

The good news is that she is absolutely fine but is ever so slightly nervous and has taken out her frustration on my hand and other body parts. How dare the vet inject her with anti-inflammatory medication and antibiotics. How dare the vet give her worming tablets, take her temperature and administer flea repellent.

Somebody had to pay – me!

Handing over money to the vet in full view of the cat was a mistake because she now definitely blames me for everything. She started her revenge by pissing in my car on the way back from the vet and then scratching me when I offered her food.

“Why stop there?” she thought. “I will scare the living daylights out of him.”

“How can she do that?” I hear you cry.

Let me explain.

She can jump, that’s how.

When we first moved into our house and acquired the other two cats, Jasper and Poppy, we had to get the burglar alarm serviced and adjusted to cope with the furtive movements of our felines. And it has been fine, with one or two exceptions.

Sadly Liquorice is a jumper who prefers to sleep in high places, like the top of our wardrobe, the top of the kitchen units, bookshelves and anywhere above head height.

The burglar alarm isn’t used to this and has expressed its wrath several times – all of them in the middle of the night.

The first time it happened, I awoke in a state of dumbfounded shock and ran out of the bedroom screaming and waving my fists in the air like a demented boxer. It was an instinctive reaction; it was a courageous reaction; it was a bloody stupid reaction.

What on Earth was I thinking? I might have encountered a mad axe-wielding maniac.

If I had been awake when the alarm had gone off I would have peered outside the bedroom door, prepared to barricade myself in the bedroom and call the police.

Sadly, because I was deep in slumber I ran out of the room with thinking of the consequences, armed only with my scary hair, a weird aggressive posture that resembled a mad orang-utan defending his banana and a torrent of gibberish being hurled out of my mouth aimed in no general direction.

And of course, because the hall stairs and landing are being decorated, I pelted out barefoot on decrepit floorboards full of splinter and plaster dust. Thankfully, Liquorice hadn’t the presence of mind to leave a deposit outside the door – but she could have.

There was of course no burglar – just a sniggering cat.

She got me four times that night and three times the following night.

Our neighbours hate us. Our neighbour’s dog hates us (which I’m not too bothered about – and neither is Liquorice).

The last time it happened I was genuinely angry.

I raced down the stairs.

“WILL YOU STOP SETTING OFF THE EFFING ALARM YOU LITTLE BASKET” (bad words replaced for those easily offended).

If there had been a burglar there he might actually have fled, such was my wrath.

Mrs PM has come to the rescue and reprogrammed the burglar alarm. Unfortunately she has actually forgotten the new settings and set it off herself a couple of times.

But now, thankfully all is peaceful again. Liquorice has forgiven me and I have forgiven her. We are mates again and she is only biting me when I deserve it.

I haven’t told her that she has an appointment with the vet next week for her annual jabs.

It’s OK – I’ll tell her it's Mrs PM's fault.

Cat Wars and a Dead Router

My online presence has been rather subdued for the past ten days because my router decided to expire. Trying to convince my ISP that the router was at fault has proved to be difficult, despite the fact that both Mrs PM and I both work in IT and suspected the problem from day one.

Finally, last Monday, having performed many tests and "escalated” the problem, my ISP finally admitted that the router was the problem and sent me a new one. Of course, the Royal Mail then played its part and I only received my new router this morning.

But now I’m back, dear reader.

I can read blogs that I have missed. To be fair, I could have read them on my Smartphone but my mobile internet is so painfully slow that I have to seriously resist the temptation to hurl it against the wall. Also, my fading eyesight means that I struggle to read it on the small screen.

Of course I could have accessed the internet at work – and to be fair I did. The problem is that my company has decided that we can’t view personal emails at work and has banned access to Yahoo and Googlemail as well as other stuff like Facebook.

To add to the frustration I was recently offered a cut price online beginner’s course in Spanish and, having recently been to Spain, I decided to take advantage of it. Sadly, because of the lack of internet I have been unable to use it. I have, however, managed to use a couple of mobile applications to keep me going.

Thankfully all that frustration is over and I am back, dear reader.

To be honest, losing broadband has been like losing a limb and I have been asking myself dumb questions like “How on earth did I survive without the internet?”

The one good thing about not having internet is that I have been unable to be on call with work. Support relies on my being able to access systems in other countries from the comfort of my own home and I have not missed being able to relax without the fear of a phone call in the middle of the night.

Sadly, now that I have internet access again, I am back on call.

Oh well, you can’t win them all.

I have had other things to occupy my mind without the internet to keep me busy. The main thing is acting as a diplomatic mediator in a major – and I mean MAJOR – conflict in our very own house.

As you may know, we now have a new cat called Liquorice and she has upset the balance of power in the feline territory within our home.

The good news is that she has taken rather a shine to me, rather than Mrs PM, and she comes to me whenever I call her, as long as the other two cats aren’t in the vicinity. She purrs and rubs up against my leg and only scratches and bites when I deserve it (i.e. when I touch her unexpectedly or breathe the wrong way). I think I have sussed out when she will attack. She has a look in her eyes that basically says “Touch me and it will be the last thing you ever do with your hand!”

Also, if she is spooked she will attack anything within six inches of her.

Jasper is the alpha cat and treats Liquorice as if she is plankton. He watches her when she hisses at him but totally ignores her. She runs away rather than standing up to him.

Our other cat, Poppy – you know, the timid female who is scared of her own shadow – has revealed a facet of her personality that I didn’t know existed. Poppy and Liquorice are in the midst of a major power struggle and there have been a few clashes, dear reader. Poppy has launched attacks at Liquorice who has retaliated. Mostly, thankfully, they have just been hissy fits.

Most of these skirmishes have occurred in the middle of the night in or around our bedroom, waking me up in the process.

During the day, the cats retire to their favourite places and sleep; it is at night that they prowl the house and howl and spit at each other.

Thankfully, the feline fights are reducing in number and now that Liquorice has been outside, she now has another refuge. So the cat wars might be abating, finally.

I have to tell you about one skirmish though.

I came home from work on Thursday and walked into the kitchen. The floor just in front of the cat flap was covered in clumps of cat fur. To make matters worse, there were traces of blood on the cat flap itself.

“Oh shit,” I said before searching the house for the casualties of what must have been a vicious fight.

The first cat to appear was Poppy. I knew that the major battles had involved our scared little cat so I put some food out for her so that I could inspect her for signs of damage. There was none. There were no clumps of fur missing and no sign of scratches or bites.

“Oh no,” I thought. “Liqourice!”

I ran upstairs calling her and, sure enough, I heard her leap down from the wardrobe. She trotted out to see me. I kneeled down, wary that she might be in a savage mood and prepared to rip off one of my fingers.

She meowed and rubbed herself against my knee and allowed me to stroke her. And again there was no sign of injury and all of her fur was intact.

I found Jasper in the lounge and it soon became clear who had been involved in the fight. He looked fine but I noticed a clump of fur missing. What’s more, he had a lump of white fur attached to his neck.

I returned to the kitchen and took a closer look – the fur was black and white. It was then that I remembered the big black and white cat I had seen prowling around our garden. The cat lives three doors away and I have seen both Jasper and Poppy growling at him. He must have tried to infiltrate Jasper’s territory and been attacked by Jasper.

I told Mrs PM and she examined “her big boy” (not me you understand). There were a couple of minor cuts but it appears that the black and white invader came off worst.

And because Mrs PM loves cats, she is now worried that the invader might be really injured.

I reckon he’s alright and I think he will probably not venture into our house again. Besides, he’s had one rather nasty haircut at the hands of Jasper – I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want another.

I’m just hope that our three cats get along – and I think they are getting there. Liquorice is certainly allowing the other two to get closer before mutating into a hissing ball of fury.

And me? I have all of my limbs intact – despite losing my beloved internet for ten days.

The Pros and Cons of Cats

Regular readers will know that my life is dominated by two black cats called Jasper and Poppy.

Jasper is a huge bucket of fat covered in black fur.

Poppy is a terrified moggy that I only occasionally see as a flash of black as she bursts out of the cat flap when something has frightened her (something like a fleck of dust drifting to the floor).

Mrs PM dotes on them.

I am bottom of the pecking order.

Recent episodes, mainly involving Jasper, have led me to question what is good about owning a cat. I don’t want to get rid of them (Mrs PM would surely throw me out before the cats) but for a bit of fun I thought I would list the pros and cons of cat ownership based on my experience with Jasper, Poppy and our dearly departed Spike, as well as my experience as a child with three other moggies, one in particular, Midge, who was without doubt the most vicious and violent cat I have ever experienced.

CONS

(1) Cats bring dead creatures into the house as gifts. Our house has in the past been a graveyard for dead mice, birds, frogs and paintbrushes. Yes – you read that correctly. As a kitten, Jasper went into next door’s shed and stole around ten paintbrushes, leaving them in our house. Mrs PM thought I was playing a joke on her until she saw him dragging a massive brush that was bigger than he was through the cat flap.

(2) Cats bring live creatures into the house. There is nothing more frustrating than trying to catch a frightened bird as it craps all over your furniture and carpet.

(3) Cats throw up in the house. In the summer, especially, when the cats moult, they deposit fur balls around the house. Why they think this is okay is beyond me.

(4) Cats scratch furniture. Our cats have their own little scratch posts and they choose to ignore them in favour of carpet, the wooden floor, the doors, the newspaper etc.

(5) Cats want to be fed in the middle of the night. Jasper in particular howls outside our bedroom door for food at dawn every day. If we let him in the bedroom he walks all over us and even scratches us in order to wake us up for food. I have considered testing to see how well a cat flies but I daren’t - Mrs PM would destroy me.

(6) Cats and vets and pills are a lethal and expensive combination. I have almost lost my hand trying to give cats any prescriptions from the vet. And I’ve had to pay an exorbitant amount of cash for the privilege. The last visit cost £70 and all I got was a quick prod from the vet (well the cat did – not me) , some pills and laxatives for the cat. I didn’t know that cat laxatives even existed.

(7) Cats fight each other. Jasper and Poppy fight with each other and with any cats who dare to invade their territory. Usually this involves scratching, screeching and a visit to the vet.

(8) Cats get killed. Sadly when I was a child, we lost three cats all of whom were run over by cars on the road outside our house. This doesn’t tend to happen with dogs.

(9) Cats embarrass me. Mrs PM told me that Poppy is scared of me because I have big hair, stomp around the house like an elephant and shout like a howling banshee. I made an effort to build bridges with her by speaking in a high pitched voice – “Hello little girl. How’s my little Poppy? Are you OK? Do you want some dinner?” I hear the neighbours think that I am a total fruitcake because of this.

(10) Cats are violent. Midge almost ripped my arm off several times just for fun. He would scratch and bite all the time; I’m sure he considered me to be a monster mouse and therefore a challenge. I lost every single encounter and my teachers thought I was an abused child. I was – by a mad moggy.

PROS

(1) Cats are loving creatures – this is not strictly speaking true. Cats are only affectionate when they want something. In the case of Jasper, it is when he wants food or warmth. Same for Poppy actually (as long as she is more hungry than scared).

(2) Cats are clean. Generally, cats go outside to go to the toilet. Ours certainly do. The only problem is that our garden is now full of cat shit.

(3) Cats can look after themselves. Generally, when we go on holiday, we invite a friend or neighbour to pop in and feed the cats once or twice a day.

(4) Cats are comforting. After a stressful day, it is nice to sit down watching TV with Jasper half on my lap purring as he sleeps. The fact I have had to bribe him with treats is irrelevant. Apparently it has been proven scientifically that a cat’s purr is relaxing and causes stress to evaporate.

(5) Cats are cute. I can have endless hours of fun with Jasper with either a pen or a piece of string. For some reason he goes completely wild when I gently slide a pen towards his paw. Great fun.

(6) Cats rid the house of vermin. If you ignore the fact that they probably brought the vermin in the house in the first place, they are remarkably good at removing any adventurous mice from the premises, sadly with fatal consequences usually. Even better, they eat insects and spiders too. The most impressive thing I have seen is Poppy leaping in the air and catching a fly between her front paws, before eating it.

(7) Cats generally don’t stink. If you ignore the crap buried in the garden, cats are generally clean creatures and do not stink the house out, like some dogs can do.

(8) Cats make me laugh. Every single cat I have ever owned has had enough behavioural weirdness to make me laugh. For example, when I was a child, Midge used to rampage through the house like a Tasmanian Devil high on a cocktail of Red Bull and speed for a period of about 30 minutes for no reason at all. Woe betides the idiot who got in his way (like I did once). My mum used to call it “a mad half hour”. The best cat related moment was when Poppy dropped a live mouse on Mrs PM while she was asleep. I still laugh about that every time I think about it.

(9) Cats can come and go as they please. If you have a cat flap then your cat can come and go as it pleases, so you don’t have to take it for several walks a day. Though having said that, Jasper is so fat that perhaps I ought to consider putting a collar on him and taking him out for a walk to give him some exercise. Mind you, that might result in my losing a hand.

(10) Cats make people happy. This is probably the most important reason of all. I don’t know any person who has owned a cat who isn’t delighted by their presence. Mrs PM certainly is and that is all that matters.

There you have it – an equal number of pros and cons. I am sure there are more (cat lovers will no doubt have more pros and cat haters more cons).

Overall I’m delighted with my two moggies.

The only problem is that they are black so they frequently cross my path (usually in the middle of the night at the top of the stairs).

Perhaps this explains why I have never won the lottery.

Cat Camera

Have you ever wondered what your moggy is up to when he's not following you around the house like a lost sheep begging for food? Are you even mildly curious about what your feline companion does after he has disappeared through the cat flap? Well, wonder no more for I have discovered a great way for you to find out.

I read a fabulous article in the newspaper a couple of weeks ago about people who have actually bought cameras for their cats. These cameras are attached to your moggy's collar and periodically take snapshots as he goes about his daily business.

What a fantastic idea! And what’s more, I’m disappointed that I didn’t think of it myself.

I want one. No, that’s not true – I want three – one for each of our cats.

Cats fascinate me. If you have read any of my posts before (here and here), you will be aware that we have three cats; two of our own plus a third, Spike, who is really owned by a near neighbour. We first became aware that Spike was not a stray cat when he ambled into our house wearing a collar and name tag with the name “Hamish” and a phone number engraved on it. Of course, I had to phone the number and discover who really owned him. Having done so, I visited the owner and discovered that she thought Spike/Hamish had simply gone missing. She told me that she had even tried to follow him, having to give up when he crawled through a small hole in the fence.

If only she had had a cat camera. She would have discovered a whole new world of information. She would have seen photos of:

(1) My ugly mug as Spike sits on my knee begging for food
(2) My sleeping ugly mug as Spike sits on my sleeping form begging for food shortly before giving up and lying across my face.
(3) My semi-naked body as I emerge, bleary eyed from the bedroom first thing in the morning searching for the bathroom.

You may agree, these things are not pretty sights.

The other thing Spike’s real owner told me was that some of the old ladies in her street feed a huge black cat whom they lovingly call George. This cat is so fat that he can barely crowbar his bulk through holes in fences. Does this post (here) give you a clue as to the real identity of that enormous black fat lump of feline blubber? Yes - I think so too.

That’s why I am tempted to buy three of these cameras. I’m deadly serious.

For Spike, I want to know if he distributes his time between his real owner and us or whether in fact he is “owned” by more neighbours. I also want to know whether he has more aliases other than Spike or Hamish

For Poppy, the cat who is scared of her own tail, I want to know if she has a dynamic feline alter-ego where she fights feline crime in neighbours’ gardens and is the scourge of the mice in the area. Is she Poppy, the mild mannered scaredy cat by day and SpiderCat the terror of birds, mice and other tiny woodland creatures by night?

For Jasper, I want to know just how much he is eating and whether we should confine him to the house for the duration of his diet (and yes, he is on a strict diet at the moment – and losing a little weight too). If old ladies are pandering to his gluttonous requirements I need to know about it.

As brilliant an idea as it sounds, there are a couple of things making me think twice about cat cameras.

First, Mrs PM thinks that the cats are her babies. She thinks that the cats love her and are one hundred percent committed to us. I know about cats. I know for a fact that you do not own a cat – the cat owns you. You are merely a source of mild amusement and a slave that feeds them. I know my place; all three of them treat me with contempt and only show me any attention when they are hungry. Jasper only sits near to me when he wants to steal some of my body heat to keep him warm. Spike sits on my knee only when he needs a cushion or when he wants a little bit of my dinner. Poppy only ventures out of her hiding place when her tummy is rumbling. But sadly, to Mrs P, they are like children. Even when they deposit the remains of a half eaten bird in her lap, she is unaware of the true nature of the feline.

Second, there may be a problem with the photos produced. I can imagine that Spike’s owner may call the police if she discovers a photo of me staggering out of the shower first thing in the morning. Worse still, she may see the camera around Spike’s neck and consider me to be a colossal pervert using Spike as an unwitting accomplice.

Maybe its not such a good idea after all, but if you are interested (or amused by the idea) simply follow this link.