September 2008 Archives
Why did the cat join the Red Cross?
Because she wanted to be a first-aid kit-ten.
What do you get if you cross a cat with a tree?
"We have been worried to death," ranted Mike in the kitchen.
"You're out all night. We haven't
got a clue where you are, what you've been up to. We called and got no response.
"And look at you - absolutely knackered. I think it's about time you started thinking about other
people. The world doesn't revolve around you.
"Well, things are going to change," he seethed. "If you think you can just come here, have
your meals, then disappear to heaven-knows-where you've got another thing coming."
I stretched, looked up briefly from the settee and gave a fleeting 'Am I bovvered?' look.
"You are grounded!" bellowed Mike.
"Don't do that, Dad," implored Number One Son. "She'll only mess on the carpet again."
I will, too.
Friday's all-night cat rave-up took it out of me, to be honest. I lurched home, took one look at
my food and was sick. Kitty puke, the lad calls it.
The family were so worried that they called the dreaded vet.
The man in the white coat thinks I licked a toad.
If being warty and slimy wasn't enough, God also gave the creatures poisonous skin, apparently.
No wonder they don't make the Top Ten Pets list. Little girls are going to pick kittens every time.
"I'm paying you 30 quid," Mike told the animal doctor, who was trying his best to pin me to the table. "For that kind of money, I need to know for sure Keogh licked a toad."
I may have done. I definitely tackled something without fur: at the time, I thought it was a mouse with alopecia. A slimy one, at that.
"She licked a toad," blurted the vet, pushing the cash into the top pocket of his white gown.
"The poor thing," cooed Julie. "It must've been terrible for her."
Can't have been a picnic for the toad, in all honesty.
"Perhaps she thought it would turn into a handsome prince," chuckled Julie, briefly leaving her ironing to visit Enid Blyton land.
No, I was trying to disembowel it.
"It's wonderful, really," mused Julie, "how Mother Nature has her own way of teaching creatures what is right and wrong. Now Keogh knows not to lick toads."
Mother Nature ain't that wonderful, lady.
She hasn't found a way to stop me peeing in the laundry basket yet.
There's an ad on TV for cat food with a new, improved flavour.
Who on earth tasted it?
See you tomorrow for my full blog.
"We thought we couldn't have children," said Him-Up-The-Road, bleary-eyed from the sleep deprivation which tempers the joy of a new baby.
"So we threw ourselves into our cats.
"We doted on the three Persians. Looking back, I suppose they were a substitute for kids.
"Then, out-of-the-blue, came news Caroline was pregnant. Every time I look at little Joshua I have to pinch myself.
"Mind you," he laughed, "one baby is a lot more difficult to look after than three cats. We're learning all the time."
Mike congratulated the new dad and strolled back to Chateau Lockley.
"Excuse me," he shouted. "Do you mind if I pick your brains?
"At what age did you get your son neutered?"
Man walks in a pub with a cat on his head.
The barman does a double-take and says: "Did you know you've got a cat on your head?"
"What of it?" shrugs the drinker. "I always wear a cat on Tuesday."
"But today's Monday," replies the barman.
"Oh my God, is it?" stammers the man. "I must look a right prat!"
It has come to this...
After months of murmuring by the Lockley Clan, the unspeakable has happened.
There's a new kitten on the sofa.
Kightly is a fluffy little bundle of energy who has a soft miaow.
I'm a battle scarred moggie recovering from fleas who can spit further than any other feline in our parish.
Guess who gets the cuddles now?
"Make the most of your looks while they last, pal," I told the pampered tom. "The minute you start spraying round the house, you'll be off that leather furniture and in the shed - come rain or shine."
It's a worry, it really is.
Is there enough cat food in the cupboard for two? Is there enough space on the bed?
"You're flavour of the month at the moment," I warned, "but it won't last.
"Before me, it was a budgie called Joey. Before him, a goldfish. And before him it was Wolverhampton Wanderers. They discovered watching the goldfish was more entertaining than the team."
If he gives one of those silly, little mews one more time, they won't need to take him on that trip to the vets.
Julie picked me up, gazed into my one good eye and told me to look after the newcomer.
Last night Kightly, in a rash moment, tried to chase my tail. I looked after him, alright. Scared him so much, he hid behind the curtains for four hours.
Wait until he gets his first worming tablet. That'll slow him down a bit.
"Are you two going to be friends?" she asked.
In a word: no.
I wouldn't mind, but he's such a miaow-baby. Yesterday, he whined because he couldn't find his toy mouse. I flung him one of mine - a real dead one, minus the head - and he ran a mile.
What a wimp! Heaven knows what he'll do when he comes face-to-face with next door's terrier.
"Listen," I told the newcomer in an attempt to break the ice. "Humans are OK, but, personally, I don't trust anything that can't lick itself all over.
"If you don't moult, mess in the corner and cough up fur balls, you'll be fine."
Kightly didn't take a blind bit of notice - and has already fallen foul of the last two.
The way Julie coos at Kightly, I'm sure she believes he can talk.
She may have a point. Ask him what two minus two is and he'll say nothing.
THOUGHTS FOR THE DAY
Would humans have built a vast and complex civilisation if we cats hadn't given them a reason to invent sofas and can openers in the first place?
If there really is a caring God, how can He allow neutering?
If dogs serve humans, and humans serve cats, why can't we cats ever get dogs to do anything for us?
TIP OF THE WEEK
Don't fear dogs - they are simply sprint training equipment.
THE BIG QUESTION
What's about the size of a rat, but covered in prickles?
No, I don't know either - but they bloody hurt your paws.
Back with my full blog tomorrow.
Miaow for now ...
The white cat on our block used to be a TV star.
In her younger days, millions saw her on telly strolling towards a tin of cat food and miaowing.
Then her voice broke and the offers just dried up.
That's the trouble with being a kitten-star: your days in the sunshine are pretty short.
The studio tied her to a contract for life, which is a pretty complicated legal document being as cats have nine of them.
But once she started to moult, the moguls didn't want to know.
They replaced her in the cat food commercial with Simon Le Bon, I think...sorry, my mistake - he did the washing up liquid commercial.
I meant Alvin Stardust.
Typical. One day, the public can't get enough. You're whisked off to open vet's surgeries, your face is on thousands of chocolate boxes and the paparazzi are around every corner just waiting for the moment you nick scraps from bins or maim a mouse.
The next, you're consigned to the tatty sofa of shattered promises, just like that famous child actress who had to endure the studios' desperate attempts to disguise her real age - Jimmy Krankie.
There's nothing fandabidozi about that.
"You didn't succumb to the old 'casting couch' in an effort to save your career?" I asked the catfood moggie.
"I did," she admitted, shame-faced.
And what happened?
"They kicked me off," she wept, "I got hairs on it."
Sadly, the heady days of stardom have left her devoid of essential feline skills.
"Did you learn to kill mice?" I asked.
"No - I had a person who took care of that," she said, matter-of-factly.
"Wash all over?"
"No - I had a person who took care of that," she added.
"Keep your claws sharp?"
"No - I had a person who took care of that."
"And," I hesitated, "the most important of all...have kittens?"
"No," she snapped, "someone took care of that - good and proper.
"A brute of a veterinary surgeon called Colin."