Sunday 24 February 2008

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...

Wednesday 20 February 2008

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.


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.

Sunday 17 February 2008

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.

Saturday 16 February 2008

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.

Friday 8 February 2008

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!

Friday 1 February 2008

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.