Prisoner (complete overreaction)

I should have guessed that Ellen would completely overreact and start locking me inside every day now. Basically, unless she's home, she locks my cat door so I can't get out.

And last night, when I finally managed to get outside, she locked me out all evening! She's certainly never done that before. So there I was, forced to stay outside until she got home at almost midnight!

And NOW she tells me she's going to the island for a few days, leaving me locked inside the whole time! She's putting additional litter trays down, and the auto-flying-saucer-feeder, and then I'm stuck here with my own company until Saturday night!

I can't wait until she gets my flap fixed and the magnet works again. That will hopefully mean she'll allow the door to stay open when she goes away, because the evil demon ginger cat will be unable to get inside.

I confess I would probably rather go with her to the island, even with that pesky Jeddah dog there, than stay at home locked inside on my own. (sob)

(And now, to make matters worse, that evil ginger cat is once more trying to get inside my door! That'll just convince Ellen that she's right. Sheesh!!)

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.