October 2009 Archives
When it comes to helping others, I've got something in the pipeline. It's a dead rat. I wedged it in there yesterday.
I've got something else as well. A Christmas charity single, with money raised used to buy catnip for the growing army of strays. Because of the credit crunch, more and more pet owners are showing cats the door. We usually think: "Very interesting - now could you open it, I'm dying for the toilet."
Living with humans, has shown me we have a lot in common.
We both like raw fish...well, the Japanese humans do, anyway. We both wash a lot...well, apart from the fat bloke at Number 17. We both hiss...admittedly, humans only do it when two little people called The Twins are on X Factor.
Bad few weeks for cats.
First, there's Halloween, with all those little people in scary masks knocking on doors.
They ask for a treat and get sweets. When I ask for a treat, I get catnip.
I think they should give the trick or treaters catnip.That would stiffen the brushes on their broom.
Never understood why witches fly on brooms. I suppose Hoovers are too heavy.
The whole 'witches and warlocks' thing is so un-PC - and, again, an example of the catism that we moggies have to put up with on a daily basis.
While kitten Kightly plays with the fallen leaves, I feel a decided chill down the spine.
Winter is coming. I know this because my fur is starting to grow.
There are four seasons: spring when it just rains, summer when it rains with occasional bright spells, autumn when it's windy and rains and, the worst of all, winter when it rains with very occasional white stuff called snow.
Apparently, we're in the grip of global warming. Can you imagine how cold it must of been during global cooling?
It's all new and exciting to the kitten, but I dread what's round the corner, if you get my drift. I hate snow.
You can't find a toilet, you can't see the vicious white cat round the corner and you get icicles on your whiskers.
What's more, there are no mice around to catch.
Kightly will find it fun for five minutes, but the novelty wears off when your paws start to freeze.
When it snows heavily, the humans behave very strangely. Because there is nowhere for us cats to go to the toilet, they turn driveways into giant litter-trays, covering them with sand..but do they go mad when we use them! The cruel ones cover them with salt, which makes your eyes water.
Then they make big effigies out of snow, with pieces of coal for eyes and carrots for noses. These are snowmen. They don't make snowcats because cats don't like to smell carrots - and I dread to think what they would use for a tail.
As I was walking through the white stuff with 'Ginger', my favourite tom, some kid shouted: "Snow balls!"
What did the lad expect? Half the poor moggie's body had been submerged in the stuff for 20 minutes.
Autumn depresses me, too. Everything except the birds fall off trees and there are dead things all over the place. The only good thing is the leaves turn brown to match the grass. Soon the ugly patches of dead grass will be hidden by ugly patches of dead leaves.
Last autumn us cats had a competition to see what the first thing to fall on the driveway would be.
Ginger reckoned a dead leaf, but he was wrong.
It was a Christmas catalogue.
What kind of cat will keep your grass short? A Lawn Meower.
I'm constantly asked: do cats dream in colour?
Most certainly - unless we're dreaming about black and white cats.
Some folk ask: do cats dream?
Of course. Wouldn't be much point in having a colour brain if you couldn't get something decent to watch on it. You know when a sleeping cat twitches? He's either dreaming or got a bad case of fleas. Or maybe he's dreaming about having a bad case of fleas.
There are some cats who believe what you dream is real and the other stuff isn't, which makes sense: we sleep for 18 hours a day, afterall.
I don't believe it, though. If the other stuff is a figment of my imagination, why would I make up vets, fur balls, bloody big dogs and share a terraced house with humans. I'd probably miss out worms and fleas, too.
I have some terrible dreams, me. Last night I dreamt I was arrested for walking in some other cat's sleep. "Did you sleep well?" asked my mate Ginger when I finally stirred. "Not really," I told him, "I made a few mistakes."
In one nightmare, I was trying to swallow a two foot white mouse. When I woke, the pillow was missing.
There's a book that tells the meaning of cats' dreams. Every single one means 'we're hungry'.
When it comes to bedtime, humans have got it easy: a quick clean of their teeth and they're ready to drop off. They just take their fur off - we have to wash ours from ears to tail.
I've had some very restless nights of late crammed with dreams of hunting a lone mouse for miles. I woke up yesterday to see Kightly, the other cat in this house, staring at me. "You've been stalking in your sleep again," she said.