Home invasion

I wasn't too impressed -- and not a little traumatised -- this morning when my home was invaded by a demon ginger cat! The evil one followed me inside, completely disregarding feline etiquette which states that houses are sacrosanct. Whoever heard of having to defend oneself in one's own living room?

So there we were, screeching and wrestling in the living room and the fur went flying (mine I regret to advise) and then Ellen bounded out of bed (for she had crawled back under the covers like a lazybones after opening my door this morning) and the evil demon cat ran away.

I moped about feeling sorry for myself while Ellen cleaned up the fur and some other regrettable mess, and then she locked me inside while she went out to breakfast. I believe she spent the morning asking after replacement cat flaps, because the whole reason the evil one could get in was because the magnetic mechanism no longer works owing to a previous repair job on the cat flap using non-magnetic strips of aluminium.

I confess I'm now a little uneasy because it's hard to relax inside when any moment I might be attacked by the evil one. I don't know what Ellen's going to do tomorrow when/if she goes out. I know she hates the idea of trespassing cats getting inside, especially the evil demon ginger cat. I have a feeling I might be locked inside all day. Not fun. But then, neither is being invaded.

At least it wasn't Zim Zam who attacked me. He is the ginger cat who lives in the driveway, and although we have regular confrontations, I know he would never break the taboo against entering the house of another cat!

electric dreams

Thought you'd be interested to know that I've become rather attached to sleeping on top of the computer power transformer. Well, if Ellen will insist on sitting at her desk all the time, what else is a faithful feline to do but keep her company? I've tried her lap, but she gets wriggly. This way, I'm not in anybody's way and I get a nice warm buzz under my shoulder. Very soothing.

Cunning plan

I have a cunning plan to make Ellen stop feeding me diet rubbish food: pee on the floor! It's starting to work, I can feel it. My little messages of the past couple of days are having their effect!

Let me explain. I have been on a special diet for the last year or so, specially designed to prevent me from having bladder inflammation etc. (Enough said.) But by mixing the diet rubbish food with my special food, there's a chance it will stop having the positive effect, and I'll start having problems again. A sure sign of this is 'inappropriate peeing'.

And so my cunning plan is to make Ellen think this is happening! For the past couple of days I've left strategically placed messages, and now I can see her mind churn around . . . what's worse, a fat cat or pee on the floor? (I know which one she'll pick.)

Stay tuned for more news from this frightfully clever feline.

Still here!

Sorry it's been a while since I've posted -- almost four months in fact. But the good news is that I'm still here!

After that last incident, Ellen took me down to the island for a four-day weekend in November. I guess that'll teach me to make a statement! But it was nice to have a change of scene. I was very good while I was down there, and so long as my litter gets changed every day there's no reason for me to make a statement.

About three weeks ago, Ellen put me on a diet. She's been threatening this for months now, and the vet even e-mailed a suggested food scheme. But it took E so long to actually implement it that I assumed she'd forgotten. Not so lucky. Now, half my food comprises these disgusting diet pellets. They look like my normal food, but they are no more than a 'cheap' imitation. Yuck. I have to eat them, or else I'll starve, but I don't notice any weight coming off yet! (Not that I'm in any way fat, or anything.)

The week before last, we went back to the eye specialist. You know, the one who wants to yank my eye out? Well, I did NOT want to go there, and I made sure E knew it. She was so certain I would be good so long as she fed me before we went, but I wasn't falling for that again. To make it even more worthwhile, the vet had students witness my examination, and I'm not sure they'd ever encountered such a devilcat as I. Ha Ha! I showed them! Hiss, spit, scratch. In the end they had to wrap me up in a towel. (I didn't like that so much.)

Here's a photo of my eye -- the one that changed colour. I'll try to post photos after each examination -- for I have to go back AGAIN in another four months. But at least I get to keep my eye for the time being. The specialist vets are fascinated by my eye, and have evidently been asking other opinions in on-line vet chatrooms. Cool huh?

But do you know how off-putting it is hearing people talk about ripping your eye out? As though it was a splinter or something! I mean REALLY! This is my EYE we're talking about!

Unappreciated present

Ah well, it was great while it lasted. Had a fab few days here on my own, but Ellen came home this afternoon and now I have to share the house with her again.

While she was gone, I could go anywhere I wanted, in and out of the house.

Just so she'd appreciate me, I left her a little present in her study. After all, she spends so much time in there . . .

I was up on the edge of her desk -- just wishing she were here for a bit of extra food, lounging beside her keyboard -- and I needed to, well, you know, GO.

So I popped my rear over the edge of the desk and went!

It's becoming a favourite game of mine to watch Ellen sniff her way around the house when she gets home, looking for my present . . . She creeps around on her hands and knees, sniff sniff sniffing . . . And then with a yelp she finds it!

It's all cleaned up now. I don't think she liked my present much, actually.

More alone time

A ha! Another five days of alone time. I'm gonna roam outside all night, get into fights, raid the pantry, pee all over the floor, catch rodents and leave them on the rug . . .

Sigh. Bliss.

Four mice in under twenty-four hours

Yes, how great am I, oh Chenna-devil cat? But you know what? I can't take all the credit. There's some new and exciting developer out there who deserves at least some of the credit for designing the humane mousetrap. Because, you see, the thing is that this trap -- kind of like a little tunnel with a trapdoor -- doesn't kill the mice, doesn't even hurt them. All very well for those silly, squeamish humans, but then what are they going to do with this mouse that they've caught? Let it go? I don't think so.

The most humane thing, of course, is to give it to the cat. Then, the poor little rodent, they reason, at least has a chance of getting away. Let me say this, humans: we cats are rolling on the floor, laughing our arses off. A chance to get away. Yeah, right.

I'm feeling full now. Decidedly full. It's a nice feeling.

HUNGRY

Hey, Ellen -- where the hell are you? How come it's nearly half past seven on a Friday and You're still not home? I'm HUNGRY dammit! HUNGRY.

Suffering from an Evil Eye

It's been a while since I've posted -- sorry about that. Truth is, life has been trucking along nicely. I had another night home alone and I'm starting to get used to the whirring, speaking, food contraption. Sometimes I think who needs Ellen when I've got that?

Except I do need Ellen. Today's rather sobering experience has brought it all home.

We visited the opthamologist this evening. Ellen has been going on and on about my left eye, which has changed colour over the past year or so. Maybe longer. I haven't thought much of it, but we asked Dr Caroline to look at it when we visited last month and she recommended we visit a specialist.

So today we saw Dr Chloe. And now it seems as though it might be something serious after all. Or at least it might lead to something serious. Melanoma of the iris - skin cancer of the eye! Dr Chloe says if it changes colour, goes darker, I might even need to have my eye removed!

What can you say to something like that? How would I go with only one eye? I've heard that cats can't judge distance when they only have eye. This makes leaping onto things hard. (It's hard when you're carrying a bit of extra weight as well!) And probably Ellen would make me stay inside all day, or maybe build me a cat run, instead of being able to go in and out as I choose. But maybe it would be OK . . .

There is a worse scenario of course, but let's not think about that.

I will add, however, that despite these devastating tidings, I behaved beautifully at the eye doctor today. Only one half-hearted swipe and a faint growl. Other than that, I was placid and very very very good. Dr Chloe might actually even like me. (I think it's far too late to make friends with Dr Caroline . . . I really did behave so very badly last time I saw her.)

Ellen is going to take a photo of my eye . . . I'll post it here when it's ready. Will keep you updated on the saga of my evil eye in true devilcat fashion. Is this karma?

Psst -- do you hear what I hear?

Cats of the world: be alert. I've heard whispers. I've seen photos. Cat proofing. I know it's out there. They might tell us it's to keep our turf clear of other cats marauding, but that's not the real truth. The real truth is that they're trying to keep us in! Us -- I mean what possible harm could we cause? We go out. We rid the streets of pestilence-carrying rats. We sing beautiful songs at night. We sort through rubbish bins. We don't leave messy little piles like those stupid canines, so what possible objection can there be to our being out on the street? What's not to love about a cat? I ask you!

Cats of the world -- take an inventory now. Suss out all those little places humans don't expect we can fit through. Nut out leaping points in case normal access points are covered up with cladding. We are smart. We can find out way out! Dare to find the ways. Go, cats! Go. Remember: nothing and no-one can keep a good cat in!

A week of freedom

Well I never expected to be left home alone for an entire WEEK! That's what it was in the end. A whole week! Ellen never would have done that before I was five.

The talking food contraption whirred and spat out my food. The first few times I thought Ellen had come home because it played a stupid little message from her. It didn't take long however for me to have it sussed. Humans really do underestimate our intelligence.

The only living human I saw in all that time (aside from neighbours pottering about in the driveway) was Sarah, who came to refill the whirring food contraption a few times. Other than that, no-one. Nothing.

My feline flap was left open for the entire time so I roamed at large when and where I wanted. So aside from the fact that Ellen turned the heating off and the house was freezing, I was quite comfortable. And when it got too cold, I just crawled under the doona.

She came home yesterday and lounged about on the sofa all day while I slept on my cushion. The first thing she did was feed me. The second thing she did was put on the heating! It was very companionable.

Even though I am more than capable of looking after myself (so long as I am fed), it is nice to have her home.

so long as I get fed

Home alone again. This is the second night -- at least, E isn't home yet and she didn't come home last night and it's pretty late . . .

Now I know what the flying saucer thing was for -- the one that talks. Every morning and evening it whirrs and talks and rotates around until food is revealed. Sarah came around tonight and refilled it, so I can only assume E isn't coming home for another day or so . . .

Bored. But at least I can play outside. And so long as I get fed, I suppose it's not so bad.

A bad feeling . . .

I have a bad feeling . . . E is up to something. She's getting home from work later and later . . . sometimes I wonder whether she actually lives here!

After leaving me home alone for a night last weekend, I thought she'd have made more of an effort to be around this week.

Even more intriguing, she's spent the last hour or so playing around with a contraption that looks a bit like a flying saucer. It whirs and gyrates and 'talks' to me (in Ellen's voice). And now she's put it down where my food bowl is supposed to go . . .

I have a very bad feeling about this!

Obesity management -- not!

Things are definitely afoot at the moment, and not in a good way. I've just found out that Dr C and E are colluding on my diet.

It seems that E is actually feeding me not-very-much-at-all (I could have told you that!) so the actual amount that I'm to eat isn't to be reduced at all (thanks to the cat gods). Instead, in order to lose weight (~1/2 kg), I've apparently got to have "royal canin obesity management" food mixed in with my urinary food.

What the --? OBESITY? I am NOT obese!

This is all Ellen's fault. She was the one who asked Dr C if she thought I was fat. And Ellen is the one who has clearly not been encouraging me to do enough exercise. It's her responsibility, not mine.

All this, and I've just been stuck at home alone for 24 hours as well. My life absolutely sucks.

Behaving badly at the vet

It was just getting to the point when I was sure E had forgotten about my annual vet appointment. Somewhat remarkably for me, I hadn't been subjected to the trauma in over a year, and I was quite happy to keep it that way. But no, she had to remember.

She put me in a bad mood to start with because she didn't feed me as soon as she got home. She oughta know that I require sustenance the moment she arrives. It's been all day, and I'm starving. After all, she doesn't go all day without eating.

So then she stuffs me into the cage and I know something's up. She doesn't have a suitcase, so I know we're not going to the island (thanks to the cat gods). So where then? Oh $#*&, the VET!

First up there's a stupid teeny weeny pug-faced dog yapping at me in the waiting room. That didn't help my mood. It made me grumpy and irritable.

Oh all right, it made me foul. I was absolutely the devilcat from hell.

But no self-respecting feline should ever put up with being prodded and poked and having a light shone in your eyes and jabbed with a big needle and weighed -- how humiliating!

So I growled and I hissed and I scratched and I spat and I growled and I hissed and I scratched and I spat and I . . .

Dr C will probably never talk to me again.

As punishment, she has recommended E take me to an eye specialist AND go on a diet.

#$*&%!!!

There is nothing wrong with my eyes, thank you very much, I can see perfectly well. So what if one of them has changed colour? It still works. (Seems Dr C thinks I should have something called a bilateral retinal exam.) The strange thing is that it seems to have little to do with the colour-change.

And as for the diet . . . well all I can say is that E has tried that before . . . she keeps threatening me with a diet, but never follows through. She's shown she's extremely susceptible to my 'pleading' when it comes to food.

I've got her wound around my little finger.

Bet I can make her forget about the eye doctor. Whoever heard of an animal opthamologist anyway?

PS: For once no urinary issues -- woo hoo!

virtuoso devilcat

I've been back at my devilcat best this past week. Angelcat? BAH!

A notable event was my destruction of Ellen's bedside lamp. I'm not sure how it happened, but it ended up on the floor early one morning, glass shade shattered into a thousand pieces. You should have seen Ellen jump! (She had been asleep . . .) So E had to get out of the nice warm bed and clean it up.

And then this afternoon (he he he) E was making a nice bagel ready for grilling. She put tuna on it, so of course I wanted some too! I was up on the bench in a flash to drink the juice she left for me. But I finished that fast, so I cast around for some more. And then (he he) I realised I was covered in dirt after lounging in the garden bed, so I shook it all off. All over E's bagel! You should have heard her curse at me. She was not happy, no she wasn't.

Oh yeah, and I chucked up my food a few times this week as well. All in all, a fine devilcat performance!

You wanna know?

So I suppose you're all wondering what I've been doing? To tell the truth, I've been rather bored, because E hasn't been home much of late. It seems like she's always going out or getting home late. Bah, at least she remembers to feed me most of the time.

The weather is getting cooler now, so I'm spending more time indoors. I suppose I should be doing more exercise -- one of E's friends accused me of being fat the other day! Hmmph I don't think so!

Tonight me and E are sharing a companionable evening in front of the TV. It's nice when she's home, because I can snuggle up on her lap, or crawl under her doona cover. I absolutely hate it when she leaves me at home for a night on my own. But that hasn't happened in a while.

The other night she had one of those stupid party plan evenings. This time it was sheets and stuff. (I was eyeing off one of the rugs to sleep on.) The best bit was when a glass of wine got knocked over and splashed all over E's brand new doona! He he. They all scrambled to clean up the rug and the doona cover. But then she poured white powder stuff all over the carpet. Yuck!

So there you go.

Angelcat

Hey, whose blog is this anyway? I am still here, but if I choose not to post, then that's my prerogative.

If you must know, the reason I've been so quiet during April is because I've been so GOOD. Nothing to report, whatsoever. No fights, no holidays, no rodents, no blood drawn (well, OK, that's a lie. I've scratched Ellen a few times).

Clearly I don't need therapy anymore. Must be something to do with being five? I am now an angelcat. Perhaps I should start a series of angelcat tips now, just for fun? (Beth could do with some pointers . . .)

Chenna, Chenna, where art thou?

Hmm, days have passed and still no Chenna! My cat conspiracy theories are going into overdrive! Cats of Melbourne unite! We must sleuth out what has happened to that black-and-white devilcat. After all, curiosity is our thing, isn't it?

So, here's what I think has happened...

Ellen has left food out and those pesky little mices have been eating it, only it wasn't just any food: it was genetically modified mouse food, and those mices have eaten it and eaten it, and there bellies have distended, and their little whiskers have twitched, and their eyes have glazed over, and their bones stretched and cracked and ... and ... and they have grown, and husked off their skins like seedpods from a tree. Anyone know Jones, the famous ginger tom? Starred in the movie Alien alongside a few lesser human actors. That cat could sure act! Oh, I have shivers just thinking about it -- his big face as the alien descended from the ceiling. But I digress. Where was I? Oh, yes, the mices have grown and grown until they are monster-mice, and the monster-mice have got Chenna cornered somewhere, and though Chenna calls and calls Ellen doesn't hear her because she's so engrossed in her writing. I mean how bizarre is that? People -- I just don't get them at all.

So poor Chenna is calling and the monster-mice are whittling away the space between them and her, and if we don't get in fast and rescue her they will devour her. They will! Mark my words. Anyway, maybe you've got a better theory. Why not post it as a comment? Thanks, cool cats.

The score

Mice: 1 (escape)
Beth: 3

Oi, Chenna, where are you? Down on the island or something? You're very quiet. And you know what they say happens when the cat's away... Maybe you'll be able to beat my tally for the fortnight?

Love those mices to pieces

Ha ha! I got another one! Cop this one, Chenna: it was on the kitchen bench, running along as if it owned the place. Now, normally, I'm not allowed up there -- as if cats should have such boundaries! I mean, come on! You want me to catch the mice -- you let me be where the mice are.

So, I see the mouse: dark brown, fat, furry. It's running. I'm running. Leap. I'm up. And it's gone. So is the expensive hot chocolate Christmas present powder -- all over the drawers and floor. But who cares about that? Disgusting stuff anyway. I mean, seriously, why can't they do hot choc with sardine overtones? Then I might be interested.

So, I get the mouse, and what do they do? Throw me outside. Are they happy? No, they are not. I'm not supposed to be on the bench. I've made a mess. Yeah, but I caught the mouse. I CAUGHT the mouse! Seriously, people.

Humans -- I just don't get them at all!

My 5 favourite toys

I've decided to add a category to the series on "favourite things". TOYS. Toys are the best, and most felines can improvise with the most unlikely things to find amusement. Here are my top 5:

1. Rodents -- Oh, yes, rats, mice, large or small. They all do it for me. The past couple of days have been interesting in this department. I had me a rodent on Friday night. Played with it all evening until it hid where I couldn't get it in the bathroom. But eventually it came out and I knew what to do! But then yesterday the weirdest thing happened. One of them came in through my cat door (which doesn't have a door on it yet)! E stood there shrieking at it to go away, then called me over as though I was a servant. Demanded I catch it and take it outside! The thing is, it had climbed up this lattice grid over the window and clung there, calm as you like. I got bored and left E to it. I mean, rodents are loads of fun, but not when you've been ordered to it! She's just trying to diminish my pleasure. Hmmph

2. butterflies & moths -- They flutter around brilliantly and make fantastic toys. They don't squeak though, nor does E shriek, so this diminishes the pleasure somewhat. Nevertheless, if I can't find a rat, a flutterby will do.

3. milk bottle rings -- I think I've blogged on these before. They are great! And even better, E actually provides them for me to play with. They scoot around on the floor brilliantly.

4. tissue paper -- As any self-respecting feline knows, tissue paper means crackle and rustle. Humans hate it! Which means we love it!

5. boxes -- There's nothing quite like a box for pure and simple indulgent fun. The world recedes and there's only the four cardboard walls, the scratching of claws, the reassuring firmness at your back. Give me a box any day.

My 5 favourite snacks

It seems there's this thing going around, where you tell everyone your 5 favourite things. Thought I'd join in the fun!

My 5 favourite snacks:
1. Royal Canon cat biscuits - specially formulated for cats with bladder problems! So far it's worked a treat (touch wood).
2. Tuna juice - I'd probably like tuna too, if Ellen would let me get near it, but all she leaves me is the juice. Yummy!
3. bolognaise sauce mix (or pretty much anything E cooks in her wok) - licked straight out of the pan!
4. smoked salmon - E usually leaves me a fragment
5. cereal milk - I know milk isn't supposed to be good for cats, but surely the dregs in the cereal bowl couldn't hurt?

More photos

Yes, well, I think it's disgusting that all the photos are of you, oh-Chenna-princess-and-devilcat-evileye, so here are some of me! Me with the blonde bimbo, and me with little red ratface. Can you tell which one I prefer? And can you tell which one is straining at the lead, trying to eat me! The body language says it all really.

Check out those photos!

Ah yes, some delightful photos of ME below! You can see I really am quite at home down at the island. That deck is a marvellous place to go exploring -- the birds are really quite something.

Such a shame that Beth wasn't invited, though. I think her human was quite taken with me. (Witness all those photos she took!) We got along very well indeed, T and I. I think I only warned her against coming too close a couple of times, and I'm pretty sure I didn't draw any blood. We're now the best of friends -- she even fed me one morning when E was too lazy to get out of bed.

Maybe for my next holiday, I'll see if I can go visit T and Beth down by the swamp. I must admit I'm intrigued by some of Beth's tales, and I think such a well-travelled feline such as myself needs to go and witness such things first-hand. Some food for thought.

PS -- See, I said I didn't need to go on a diet!

Paranoid cat? What paranoid cat?

The incriminating evidence!

Okay, so I'm home alone, nothing better to do, so I'm reading Chenna's blog, as you do as any good, self-respecting cat. And there's a post about Chenna being away at the island. All well and good. And then I think, hang on a minute -- T was away last weekend too. Now that in itself doesn't mean much, except that while I was walking across the keyboard, as you do as any good, self-respecting cat, I saw a photo of a cat on T's computer. Now, that's normally okay too -- when that cat happens to be me! But this isn't me, and this isn't just any cat. This is little-miss-black-and-white. Little-miss-I'm-not-a-matron-cat-and-I-get-to-go-on-holidays. All well and good if she's going away with E. But she was away with T too! That's just not fair!

I mean, why didn't I get to go away on holidays? I travel well. Okay, I admit, I'm a bit vocal in the car, but what good, self-respecting cat isn't? I ask you. I don't try to escape. I can lounge just as well on any deck as any little-miss! I mean, look at this. Here is the evidence:


Does that look like me on that deck? (All right, it's a bit hard to see, but you can see the little stinking bits of white on her.) Does it look like me? No, it does not. And I can assure you it is not.

So why is Chenna taking my human away? Why was Chenna chosen *before* me? I think it's because she really is the devilcat. And she's turned on the evil eye. Want proof? Take a look at this:


I'm not paranoid at all. Am I? Am I?

Dragged away on holiday

Well, I supposed I asked for it. This past Easter weekend, Ellen dragged me all the way to the island. I thought after two weekends home alone this month that I might have escaped the interminable car journey and confinement indoors, but I was wrong.

Actually, it wasn't that bad. I'm getting used to the car journey, and at least E's worked out that if she changes my litter every day then I'll use it instead of the floor.

This morning I even ventured outside for a bit, while E was hanging washing on the line. But for the most part I stayed indoors and watched the world go by through the various windows.

But at the end of the day it's rather boring. There's nothing to DO down there. All E does is clack clack clack away on her computer (much the same as at home, really, I don't know why she bothers going all the way down there just for that). I get so bored I can't even be bothered eating.

Oh well, at least we're home again now.

In search of love and attention?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, Chenna. We cats have to be independent. Rely on ourselves to keep us amused. Or the six possums (two big and four little) in the palm tree. Or avoiding the horrendous teeth of little red ratface. (See, she doesn't even deserve capitals!)

Trouble is when the family get friendly, they usually want something. The other day it was pussy-tossing-at-the-mouse day again. Zam. I got the furry little blighter, and then I ran under the coffee table with it and growled at everyone. They laughed. Can't imagine why. Humans! They have no sense of propriety.

In search of love and attention

Thanks be to the catgods, but this week is finally over. Although I rather enjoy my own company, enough is enough. Ellen was hardly home at all this week, and I've been so BORED. After a whole 4-day weekend with no company, she might have spent some time with me in the days following, but no! Late home every evening . . . and not until 2am on Thursday -- or should I say Friday morning? And that was how long she was at WORK!

Now the week is over, she will hopefully give me some love and attention. I deserve no less. Food and smoochies are in great order. And I intend to sit on her lap . . . LOTS.

It was good while it lasted

So Ellen comes home again and the first thing she does is lock me inside during the night. How come it's OK when she's not here, but not OK all the other times?

After two weekends of freedom in a row, I was starting to get used to it.

She put all the food away too, so now I have to wait until she feeds me, or pester her until she relents. It would be so much easier if she just put all the food in a bowl and let me decide when I'm hungry. How should she know how much food I need to eat?

On patrol, intruders beware!

Just dashed in for a spot of blogging, and then I'll be back outside. Oh what fun! The stars are really bright tonight as I bask on the rooftop. Nothing to keep me inside. I really think I could live like this all the time. Why does Ellen lock me inside anyway? With me patrolling outside, that ginger intruder, Zim Zam, wouldn't be able to come near my deck or my garden. It's a different matter with me outside, defending my property, rather than stuck inside. I'd like to see him come anywhere NEAR me!

If only life could be like this when Ellen is here as well. There's nothing wrong with me being outside at night. Nothing at all. It's BRILLIANT!

sleep on the stomach

Damn and bother, I can't seem to get near Ellen's lap this evening. She's got her computer on her lap, so I have to make do with her stomach. I guess it's lucky that she's more or less stretched out!

I've had a nice day today, and I've just learnt that Ellen's going away yet again this weekend, so I'll be home alone again. It seems someone will come to make sure I have food. Probably her mum this time. We don't get along so well. I don't think she likes me too much.

Ellen's lap is actually quite comfortable. I don't suppose she'd be too happy to hear me say so!

Deviousness

Finally the mouse spirits decided to leave me alone, thanks be to the catgods. But that stupid human, Ellen, thought it might have had something to do with my bell, so she took it off. As if I would be scared of a pesky bell!

Nevertheless, I decided that no bell was a good thing, so when she put it on me again the other day, just to see whether it was the bell that had me hiding under the couch, I waited until I saw coming home up the driveway, and then I hid under her bed! This meant that she thought I'd been hiding all day, so she took the bell off again!

Man, I rock.

I'm in a pretty good mood today, because I've just had another whole weekend home alone. E went to the island without me again. I must say I rather like this gig with the cat door hole so I can come and go all day and all night exactly as I please.

Struck down by mouse spirits

I'm not feeling too good today. I haven't eaten anything at all, not even breakfast, and I've spent the entire day under the sofa, hiding from mouse spirits. Every now and again I see one of these mouse spirits and I chase it, only to realise it doesn't really exist, then I hide underneath the sofa again. I feel queasy and faint.

Oh dear lord catgod, if I promise not to kill any more mice, will you ask the spirits to leave me alone?

Rats on toast

Chenna sounds like she's been doing a sterling job with the old mice. Two. Good job. Me, I've been dragged inside several times the last few weeks on the pretext of catching a mouse. A big mouse, they say, and then shove my head down at the tiniest hole underneath the dishwasher, as if that might conceal some tiny rodent. Well, I'm just a bit disdainful of all that. I'm a cat after all. Show me the mouse! Otherwise, leave me to my own devices. That's my game, my spin on life. If only those pesky humans would catch on...

New adornment

Maybe it was a complete coincidence, but on the weekend Ellen bought me a new collar. This one is pink with a fashionable design printed on it. Plus it has a safety release clasp (in case I get stuck and need to free myself -- as if!). Plus it has a BELL.

A BELL?!

Why the devil has she given me a bell? I haven't ever had a bell before. It's so damn annoying to hear a little tinkle every time you so much as twitch!

Actually, I exaggerate. She may think it's going to stop me from catching things, but the reality is that it's a poxy small bell that is pitifully easy to tame. I seriously don't believe it will curtail my hunting abilities.

And anyway, she tells me that she bought it because my old collar is worn out and about to break. This new one can't even fit my catdoor magnet, so I dunno what's going to happen when the door gets fixed.

I suppose it is fitting, now I am five, to have a nice shiny new collar. Aside from the blasted bell, it's actually rather attractive.

The irrational rodent protection society

Ellen is such an idiot. I mean, it's a good thing that I can catch mice, yes? To see her screech and yell at me, you'd think she wants a mouse infestation or something.

Get this. I catch her a perfectly good mouse. Okay, so it turns out not to be dead yet, but she dispenses with it anyway.

So then I go and get her another one. She walks in the door and literally screams. What's that about? Then she proceeds to rescue the mouse (which is not so far gone as the first one). She puts it in a shoebox with some water.

Now she has the nerve to ask me what to do with the mouse? Well, doh! It's not my fault she's completely irrational and is now protecting rodents. The mouse is still alive more than 24 hours later (I think she was hoping it would die) and I am left contemplating the shoebox (which is currently on top of the washing machine -- don't think I don't know exactly where it is!). She's even given it some food now!

This is completely imbecilic and irrational behaviour. It's giving me an identity crisis. I mean, I am supposed to kill rodents, aren't I? This is going to extend my need for therapy.

WIld fun and a workout

I had me some wild fun last night. Even better, Ellen was home, but couldn't do anything to stop me! It was the most fun I've had in ages.

It all started with this mouse I found. I'm not going to reveal where I got it from, because that would be telling, and I'm still hoping there might be others where that came from. This particular mouse was really stupid and, while E was out for the evening, I brought it inside to play with.

Mice are by far the most fun toys because they squeak and squeal and run away from you and hide and then (doh) sneak out when they think you're not looking and then when they realise you are looking, they squeak and they squeal . . . well, you get the picture.

Before Ellen came home, I hid the mouse in her wardrobe, and she didn't suspect a thing! Then, in the dead of night, when the coast was clear, I retrieved it and the fun began again!

The stupid mouse must've squeaked too loud, because E woke up and panicked a bit, but then she gave in to my magnificence and crawled back into bed, cowering.

I tell you that mouse gave me a good workout last night! What E should realise is that a mouse workout like that is much better than this stupid starvation diet she's trying to put me on. (I say 'trying', because all it takes is for me to annoy her too much and she gives in again.)

I thought about eating the mouse, but I didn't. I don't actually like the taste of mouse much, and I thought E would appreciate me giving it to her instead. A small token of apology for disturbing her sleep? Anyway, I left it on the floor and she can do with it as she wills.

It's still there, so I think she must be admiring it.

A cat, some wine and a baby

Ellen has had a busy week and I haven't seen her much. However, I saw rather too much of her yesterday evening -- her and all her friends! A whole swarm of them came around to talk about books or something. But I didn't hear them talk much about books. All they seemed to do was eat and drink wine and yammer on about some baby that also came. That poor baby (I think I heard it was four weeks old) got passed round and around until I reckon just about everybody had a hold. Even I could have had a hold, if I'd wanted! Sheesh!

I stayed way clear, because those morons always try to befriend me. You'd think they'd have worked it out by now. I am not friendly! Anyway, I came in towards the end of the evening -- because it was goddamn freezing outside -- and found a nice warm lap to sit on. J is one of those who thinks he can tame me, and I let him think so for a short while. But then he started moving his arms, which was simply too much for me to put up with! So I growled and hissed, and eventually he went home so I had to curl up on Ellen's bed instead. It was a cold night!

Diminishing portions

I have a sneaking suspicion that Ellen has put me back on a diet. The scoops of food are definitely getting smaller . . . even though there is usually still three of them. Does she think I'm stupid, or what?

I thought I was onto something of late. All I need to do is sit on the keyboard when she's trying to write -- be it morning or evening, and she's doing both! -- and to get rid of me she'll give me food. It's been working a treat. Sometimes she'll even feed me four times in an evening.

But these diminishing portions are a concern. My belly starts rumbling much sooner. Doesn't she get that this means I'll just annoy her more frequently?

I'm monitoring the situation closely. Stay tuned.

Fun, fun, fun

Tonight I took the blonde bimbo and little red ratface out for a walk. Man, were those dogs ever restless, especially little red because she's had a sore paw, and the vet said she had to rest it! Ha ha, didn't I have fun teasing her through the window though, earlier! She was inside, and I was out. I kept coming up and then running off. Really agitates her. I LOVE it.

So, anyway, I teed up the humans to put the stupid canines on leads, and then I led them off. I love walking at night. Hardly any dogs out, and very few cats. Just the naughty ones like me who refuse to come in. Most of the time, I followed the dogs, trotting along happily behind, and when they split up, I went with the blonde bimbo, because really she's a nice dog and most of the time we like each other. Of course, some times I like to smack her in the face too. No reason. Just to remind her of who's boss. Ratface tries to eat me though. She chased me tonight -- just before the teasing incident. That's why I had no pity for her.

Anyway, I had the best walk. Even saw a big tabby cat, but when he saw the bimbo he wasn't game to say anything and just slunk away. Not sure why he was scared of her -- didn't he know I'm boss?

Exhausted

Ellen's home and the fun is over. What an amazing weekend! I confess I'm now rather exhausted after galavanting around for three days and nights.

Night adventures

Well, I must say this home-alone caper is loads of fun when I'm allowed to go outside all night -- and the nights have been so balmy. I managed to chase off that ginger cat -- boy was he surprised to see me out and about!

And I even got fed! E's left out the food dispenser, so I can eat as much as I like -- until it runs out -- and then Sarah turns up to shake the food down.

It's soo much better than having to sit in a car for hours on end. And I also hear that if I had gone this weekend, I would have to put up with the ever-effervescent Jeddah! That dog does my head in.

It's amazing what a difference freedom makes. Usually I detest weekends on my own -- they can be so boring! But not when the outdoors beckon.

Now what shall I do this afternoon . . .? I still have a whole day of freedom left!

Opportunity of a lifetime!

I've just found out that Ellen is going to the island this weekend, but I get to stay home. Even better, she's promised to leave the flywire screen propped open, so I have free range outside ALL WEEKEND!!

Words cannot express my joy. I am now planning just exactly what I'm going to do, where I'm going to go etc. She never would have done this before. It must because I'm five now.

Ooooh I can't wait!

Found opportunity

While Chenna's boundaries seem to be contracting, mine are expanding. Hear that world? Today the neighbourhood, tomorrow the suburb! Love these megalomania moments! That's right: we're feeding another cat, and that gives me the right to go over every day (twice a day), sneak into the kitchen and eat her food. And her bits taste better than my bits. The grass is greener and all of that -- though why any animal would want to eat grass is beyond me. Where's the thrill of the hunt? Grass doesn't exactly run very fast!

Lost opportunity

I might have known the freedom wouldn't last. There is, after all, a way to keep me inside. The pesky fly wire door. So I can see outside . . . I can SMELL and HEAR outside . . . I can even FEEL the air on my furry face.

But I cannot get outside.

Bother and damn.

Break for freedom

Last night, I achieved the ultimate in feline freedom. After years of being forced to stay in at night, deprived of the opportunity to defend my territory, constrained to hiss and yowl at intruders through the tiny window of my cat door . . . my cat door is no more.

Yep, that's right. One cat-fight-through-the-door too many, and the thing is broken. Wrenched off its hinges. Shattered in two. Leaving a beautiful hole in the main door through which I may come and go to my heart's content.

And my heart says that I should go outside during the night as often as I wish. That'll teach that pesky ginger cat intruder (Zim Zam)!

You should have seen Ellen's face this morning when she saw the debris. Perplexity. Resignation. And even mortification, as she realised that the cat fight she heard last night might actually have been me, when she thought I was snug and secure inside. Ha! That'll teach her.

Tucker chucker

This evening, I chucked up all my dinner at the front door. Dammit! I HATE chucking up my dinner for a number of reasons: 1) it leaves a gross taste in my mouth, 2) I end up hungry - although sometimes E gives me more food, 3) E usually leaves it there until I eat it up off the floor. I would so much rather she give me new food, but instead she makes me go hungry unless I eat up the stuff I've chucked! Disgusting.

It's all Ellen's fault for getting home late (9:30pm)! She then gave me all my dinner at once, instead of in small installments, and my stomach simply can't take it. Hence the chucking. If only she'd been patient and waited for me to eat installment number 1, followed by a 10 minute gap, before installment number 2. Definitely her fault.

Now I'm hungry and grumpy. Unless I go and see if the chucked up food is still there . . .

Dinner out

So here's the thing: the other day the family got invited out to dinner. It wasn't far. Just over the road. The family goes and feeds their cat from time to time. This cat -- you should see this cat. It is the fattest cat that ever lived. And it gets kangaroo meat for dinner! Every night. Me, well, I prefer my tins -- as in, I *really* prefer my tins -- but we're all different I suppose.

So, I go over expecting to be welcomed, and what do they do? They laugh. Oh, ha ha ha ha. Very funny. Beth has come to visit. I mean a family invite's a family invite, right? So do they invite me in? No, they do not. Do they feed me? Alas, no. I mean, I know I was a few minutes late and all -- and admittedly one of the kids did slip me something when they were all outside, but still! Not only did I *not* get fed there, but then they all moved inside and left me outside. How rude is that? I kept calling, and I'm sure they could hear me but they ignored me. Me! The cat! They ignored the cat -- can you believe it! Perhaps I'd better read those devilcat tips more closely after all. And then the fattest cat of all time took it upon herself to come and yell at me and tell me to get off her turf. Did I listen? No, I did not. I took my time, yelled some more, and then waited for them to take me home. A good night was not had by all. Most certainly not.

Forced into a corner

Was forced to use my litter tray this morning. Damn and hell, but E forgot to open my cat door at 6am when she fed me. After staring out dolefully for half an hour or so, I attempted to wake E up -- to no avail. She can be one deep sleeper! So eventually I was ready to burst and headed for the litter. I HATE using the litter tray! She had better put new stuff in, or I'm using the floor next time.

Devilcat tip #9: feet & ankles

I thought I'd start off the new year with another devilcat tip -- on feet & ankles.

The first thing to remember (the only thing, really) is that ankles -- human ankles, that is -- are your enemy. For this reason, you must ATTACK whenever you see bare feet and ankles. ATTACK with claws and teeth. Pretend you are trying to disembowell the ankle and you should do fine.

The best thing is that the moment your human lifts his foot to get it out of the way -- there's the other foot to attack! They can't possibly win, except by lifting feet onto a chair, and boy do they look stupid then! He he he.

I should also add that drawing blood is perfectly OK. Your humans won't like it, and will probably shout at you, but this is about being a devilcat, after all!

NOTE: Any human who kicks you during your foot/ankle killing endeavours is evil and not worth your time, let alone devilcat skills. Leave such a human immediately and without regret. Find one who loves the devilcat persona within.