Saturday, 19th April
Mum teaches something called Spanish on Saturday mornings and she gets up early to clean the room thoroughly and makes sure it smells nice for the two ladies who come at 11.00.
This morning I was with her, helping, as I like to do, when I did a tiny little ‘bottom burp’. On the Richter scale of bottom burps it wouldn’t warrant hardly a mention but suddenly she stopped what she was doing and her nostrils started twitching. As there was only her and me in the room it had to be one of us that did it and I wasn’t going to own up.
‘PLUMS AND CUSTARD, OLLIE!’ she said, rather loudly for that time of the morning, I felt. I smiled, trying to bluff my way out of what looked as if it was heading for another Columbo type investigation. ‘Did you just do a ‘rudie’?’ she asked picking me up and sniffing my nether regions. ‘Euuph! Ollie! How could you?’ she said taking me into the kitchen and opening the back door. ‘Now you just go out there and do a BIG pooh’ she said, ‘and don’t come back indoors until it’s been done.’
So I sat out there for a few minutes waggling my bum around to clear the air a bit, and went back through the catflap. ‘Good boy!’ she said, giving me a kiss. I wouldn’t mind really, but my ‘bottom burps’ as she calls them pale into insignificance along side hers! Hers are more like mini-earthquakes and we’re all far too polite to say anything, although one memorable day we all got up in unison without saying anything and left the room to show our disgust.
Monday, 21st April: Easter Monday
There’s a lot of work involved in being a kitten. It’s not all lying around looking cute and adorable, you know, although that is a main part of my job description.
I often get up early to help Mum with her daily chores. I’m totally indispensable at times, particularly when she’s in a hurry. Then she really needs my help, although she doesn’t always seem to respond in quite the way I feel that she should, under the circumstances.
Take mornings for example. When she is in the bathroom she puts two cotton wool balls on the windowsill within easy reach for when she is cleaning her face. Well, I just go one step further to help her. I PUSH those little guys into the sink of water for her – it’s not a big task, I grant you, but one worthy of appreciation nevertheless, I would have thought. But she never seems REALLY pleased, if you know what I mean.
Then there is the toilet paper debacle. I sort of ‘know’ when she’s about to reach for the toilet paper so I precede her and get it ready for her. To do this I have to use my jumping skills and jump up to the toilet roll holder and latch on to the sheet that is dangling. Then I pull like mad to loosen it.
This technique is still in its embryonic stage as the toilet paper is apt to go beserk and just keep unravelling. There isn’t much I can do at these unexpected moments, except to remember a sudden appointment in the garden.
But you’d think Mum would be grateful for an extra pair of paws to help at these busy moments, wouldn’t you. But she doesn’t know how blessed she is really! There I am, forfeiting my kitten education and activity time to help her when she’s in a hurry. I notice she says more ‘plums and custards’ when she’s busy and I’m helping her too. Strange that.
Thursday 24th April
I also like to help her when she is sweeping the kitchen floor. To do this I stand on the broom. I usually spread-eagle myself (not a very elegant pose, I can tell you) by lying across the broom head. Sometimes, I stand up on two legs holding on to the handle with my front paws. I like it this way because I feel like a sailor at sea and I pretend I can see land ahoy.
But do you think she appreciates my help! She huffs and she puffs and makes a great mountain out of the simple task of sweeping the floor. I mean – it’s not exactly rocket-science is it to sweep a floor, and I’m only helping.
Saturday, 26th April
Mum hardly went to bed last night as she went off on holiday to Majorca. She gave us all some breakfast before she went and kissed us all goodbye. But this time, it was special for me because I got to stay at home with all the others instead of going into the cat hotel like I did before when she went on holiday.
Mum’s friend came in a bit later on and gave us some more breakfast and stayed and chatted to us for a while to make sure we were all right. Billy pretended that he was sad so that Mum’s friend would give him extra cuddles. It looked nice, so I did it as well, and then Sam did it – before long we were all pretending to be sad just to get extra cuddles.
Mum’s friend came back later that evening and gave us some dinner and we all looked sad again to see if the cuddle routine would work. Sure enough, we all got extra cuddles. I’m not sure how long Mum is away for, but this could be a good cuddling scam – as marketed by Billy and milked for all its worth by all of us.
Wednesday, 30th April
Mum arrived home at 3.30 this morning. We were all fast asleep and although it was nice to see her, some of us couldn’t be bothered to actually wake up and tell her. Billy (‘teacher’s pet!’) leapt out of his bed and started to tell her about all the naughty things everyone else had been up to, but Mum just gave us all a big kiss, and some extra dinner and then went to bed.
She said she was something called ‘cream crackered’ which I think means she was really tired.
Saturday, 3rd May
Mum was getting the room ready for the Spanish lesson this morning and I was helping, in my selfless devotion (pauses to polish halo). As she vacuumed the hallway I kept getting in the way by standing in front of the vacuum cleaner. It’s a huge monolith of a vacuum cleaner – the daddy of all uprights – and it is awesome to watch as it moves shudderingly along, swallowing everything in its sight. The others all run away when Mum uses this because it does make a terrible noise but I like to sit – from a safe distance usually – and watch it.
When Mum isn’t looking I stand on it, like I do on the broom and pretend I’m looking for land. I would like to go for a ride on it, but I’m not sure if I am brave enough.
Friday, 9th May
I forgot to mention that I’m on big boy’s cat food now. None of that namby-pamby kitten food for me anymore! I have the big chunky stuff now, although, if I’m completely honest, it takes a while to get through because there is a lot of chewing to do and I get fed up after a while. Although it is mashed up as finely as Mum can manage, it still is chewier than the kitten food, but I was getting bored with that. The same old tired flavours, chicken, cod and rabbit. I wanted something a bit more exciting – something to get my teeth into, as it were! After the awesome poo avalanche episode Mum wasn’t keen to let me eat big boys dinners too soon, but I kept leaving my baby food and eating everyone else’s so she started to give me a little bit, mixed in with my kitten stuff.
Eventually, it was less kitten food and more big boys' dinner until the transition was complete. I’m a three meals a day cat now and I love most of the dinners. Rabbit’s a bit weird, isn’t it? Who likes it? Do rabbits eat cat-flavoured food? I think not!
Sunday, 18th May
All it keeps on doing is raining. It is SOOOOOOOOOOO boring! I sit on the tower looking out of the window hoping to see something other than rain. Sometimes the birds come and sit on the fence to eat the fatballs that Mum put there for them. They seem to have a system worked out where there will be a bird on each fatball – at the moment, there are 6 hanging along the fence – and each bird will have a good old feast, while the other birds wait patiently. Then they swap round. No one seems to tell them when to change – they just do it automatically. I like watching them because it’s interesting – and it keeps me occupied, so Mum says, and keeps me out of mischief.
Wednesday, 21st May
In the mornings, before he has eaten his breakfast, Timmy waits upstairs for Mum to bring up two slices of bread, which she breaks up and throws out the window to the birds. Timmy likes eating bread too, so the birds get some, and so does Timmy. Then he crouches on the window seat making a funny little chattering noise with his mouth, while his tail seems to take on a life of its own – twitching from side to side.
I usually eat some breakfast before I come up to watch the birds too, and a strange thing happened when I first did this – my teeth started chattering too. And my tail started switching and twitching all over the place! Most odd!
There are two pigeons called Mack and Mabel who come every morning rain or shine. They often stare at Timmy and I while we watch them, but we’re not put off by them. We just chatter away like a couple of demented Muppets pleased to be entertained by such obliging actors.
One Cat is Company
"One cat is company.
Two cats are a conspiracy.
Three cats is an attempted takeover.
Four or more cats is a complete coup!"
Shona Steele (Australia)