Intruder face-down

I'm loving the warmer weather at the moment. Today I spent loads of time outdoors, but had to contend with some intruders over the back fence. I think they were supposed to be building something, but all I could hear was chattering and loud music. So disrespectful of locals! I found a good perch on our roof and watched them for much of the day. I think they found it unnerving. Maybe they'll be back tomorrow and I can look forward to terrorising them again!

I wanted to stay outside for the evening to see the eclipse of the moon tonight, but Ellen locked me inside and wouldn't let me out again so I missed it.

Back in the garden

Oh, JOY, rapture. Today is the most glorious day and I've been frolicking in my garden.

Vale Fox

We heard today that Fox sadly didn't make it through his operation this afternoon. He was a gentle, loving, long-haired Himalayan fluffball, who was Lita's best friend. May the cat gods take care of his soul.

Tales of blood

Just wanted to let you know that Fox's blood count is better today, so Beth's black-and-tabby blood services won't be necessary until perhaps tomorrow.

For an alternate account of yesterday's adventures (in which I am portrayed like the veritable devilcat I am trying so very hard not to be), see Tracey's blog here.

A close shave

Of all the things I had planned to do this afternoon (sleeping), it was not to spend over two hours in my carry case being poked and prodded by a bunch of strangers.

You'd think I go to the vet enough, without being dragged there when I'm perfectly fine. It's not like it's a treat for being good, or anything. (And I have been very good of late.) And it's not like we don't have a vet at the end of the street instead of a half-hour car-ride away. Sheesh!

So I get dragged to the Animal Emergency Centre -- right in the middle of a very pleasant dream, I might add -- and first up I'm forced to say hello to some grey matron-cat called Beth. She seemed OK, not sick at all. And as I've already said, I was fine. So why were we here?

And THEN Ellen tells me that the reason we're here is to see whether I'm a blood-match for Fox, who as I already mentioned in a previous post is sick and might need a transfusion.

Oh boy. That cowed me, because Lita was there too and she looked really sad. And Beth was being brave, so I let them take me away. No way was I going to be the pathetic scardey cat -- even though my heart was pounding a mile a minute and I couldn't help growling a bit. And then I heard Ellen tell them I could be vicious, which I thought was a bit rich when I was trying so hard.

They came over to my cage and checked me out, and although I only spat and hissed a little bit -- the tiniest amount -- they backed off pretty quickly. I couldn't help feeling rather pleased at that. Maybe it's worth having a bad reputation sometimes!

So they started on Beth first, and she just let them do whatever they wanted. They prodded and poked and shaved a patch of fur off! then stuck in the biggest needle you've ever seen and drew out some blood!

Well, that tore it, because no way did I want any of that to happen to me . . . yet I had to remember that Fox is sick and Lita is Ellen's and my friend . . .

In the end, it turned out that Beth was both a good match for Fox and, being bigger than me, a better size for donating blood. This meant the vet staff (who had been giving my cage a wide berth, because I'd growl at them if they came too close) persuaded Lita and Ellen not to have me tested. Despite my thinking them pathetic scardey cats, I confess I was rather relieved. I mean, I would have done it (scratching and biting), but I'd much rather not have a shaved patch on my neck for the next few weeks, thank you very much!

So I came home unscathed (and unshaved) after all that. Poor Fox will still have his surgery and Beth will donate blood if required. I'll keep you posted as to their progress, and give thanks to the cat gods for my deliverance.

Welcoming committee

I find it quite astounding how slowly humans move.

Take this for example: Ellen comes home and I greet her from the other side of the garage door. "Hello, hello," I say. "Have you had a nice day?"

"Hello, chickie," she says. (This, for some weird reason, is what she often calls me.) "Are you locked outside again?"

Now you'd think, if she thought that, that she'd open the garage door so I could go inside with her. Wouldn't you? But she doesn't. Instead, she opens the front door of the house, and I have to go all the way around to the back door to get inside. (Luckily my catdoor isn't stuck.)

By the time she gets the key in the door and nudges it open, I'm there waiting for her! All I do is jog. I'm not even out of breath! It's like she opens the door in slow-motion, or something.

A poem

white intruder skulking

dark skies over driveway again
white fluffball arrives, struts about
looking pathetic and sly
the only curious part--that intruder
skulking near silence
where feline awaits

now white intruders fade
into dark beginnings
then feline once more

by Chenna

Feline wisdom

"I've met many thinkers and many cats, but the wisdom of a cat is infinitely superior."
Hippolyte Taine

Get well soon, Fox

We heard today that Lita's feline friend Fox is very ill. He may need me to donate some blood (gulp), but I'll do it if he needs me to. I've never met Fox, but we correspond from time to time through Ellen and Lita. I consider him and Niles my friends.

Get well soon, Fox. We're thinking of you.

Take your clever kitty and . . .

Read this. Never was I more insulted in all my life. "Your cat can be trained to do tricks," they say. Well I'm not doing any tricks, that's for sure. If Ellen tries this on me, she won't know what's hit her!