Category: Pets

Conversations with my cat – 88

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This is Chester.  He had reminded me that it is Dr. Seuss’s birthday

Or perhaps that of the Cat in the Hat.

Chester told me once he auditioned for the role of Cat in the Hat, but he couldn’t get the hat to sit right.

A stitch-up, really, he added.  There was this fat cat, and he told everyone the role was his.

Period.

So, I had to ask, did he get the role?

No.  You’ve seen the Cat in the Hat, haven’t you?  Nothing like him.

So, other than trying to intimidate the competition, what was so scary about him?

Oh, I wasn’t scared or anything like that.  I just didn’t want to make a scene in front of the ladies.

I take a minute, trying to equate the cat in front of me, and that of the Cat in the Hat.

No resemblance at all.

And as for the scaredy-cat part, I decide not to remind him of his all-conquering fear of the grandchildren.

I’ll just wait until the next time they visit…

In less than two hours.

Conversations with my cat – 87

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This is Chester.  He was looking very benign before he left.

Now I can’t find him.

Anywhere.

He’s in none of the usual hiding spots.

He’s not hiding under any of the beds.

He’s not hiding in any of the cupboards.

I’m worried.

 

He’s planning something.  It might be my demise.  I’m still trying to figure out what he could gain from my death.  Not having to listen to me reading chapters of my books?

That, to him, might be a blessing.

I found a magazine on the floor open at an article entitled, ‘Ways to check if your spouse is trying to kill you’.

It’s got me doubly worried now.

I saw him on the kitchen bench near my coffee cup.

How hard could it be for him to dip his paw into some poison or other and then put it in my coffee cup?

That expressionless expression gives him away.

It’s what he’s not saying that’s telling me everything.

Behind that bland face, there’s the heart of a plotter, plotting something bigger than blowing up parliament by Guy Faulks.

I’m going to keep a very close eye on him.  Very, very close.

When I find where he’s hiding.

Past conversations with my cat – 49

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This is Chester. We are at the delicate stage of peace negotiations.

The ceasefire has been rocky, to say the least.

Blame is being thrown about like confetti at a wedding.

And to top it off, it’s Friday the thirteenth.

Im fuĺly expecting Chester to change his coat to black, and walk in front of my path with an evil grin on his face.

There’s already been signs of his mischievousness.  A long time ago we bought him some fake mice to play with since he didn’t have the inclination to chase the real rodents. Little did we know he had hidden these away, to bring them out on black Friday.

And, sitting on the floor, giving me the death stare, I wonder what his intentions are.

Not good.

So, I ignore him. I go back to the computer and get on with the day’s work. I have episodes to write, some research for a project one of my granddaughters is working on, and a novel in the throes of a third edit.

Still, I can feel those beady eyes drilling into my back.

Enough.

Do what you like, I say, turning suddenly on him, causing him to jump. Just go away and let me get on with my work. Instantly, I realise I’ve lost the battle, as he stands, gives me a final smug look, and leaves the room.

Was that a swagger?

Past conversations with my cat – 48

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This is Chester.  I’m not sure if we are still speaking.

For a few days now he has been skulking around the house, turning up, under my feet, without me knowing where he is.

This, I’m getting to understand, is his stealth mode, and to be honest, he’s getting quite good at it.

I’m wondering if this is because I told him to be seen but not heard, because in the last few days he’s been sitting by the back door, and making a lot of noise.

It’s unfortunate that several birds have decided to drop by every morning, and sit on the fence.  Perhaps they are doing the avian version of thumbing their noses at him.

Then, I thought it might be just another ruse to get outside, thinking that if he makes enough noise I just let him out to get some peace and quiet,

We’re now at the getting under my feet phase of the escape plan.

But…

With all plans, there is always a tiny wrinkle that comes out of left field and sends everything spiraling towards disaster.

Someone, someone who will remain nameless, left the back screen door slightly ajar, thinking they’d closed it.  It’s a little tricky that way, and I had been promising to fix it but hadn’t got around to it.

And, yes, Chester is clever enough to realize that a slight gap is all he needs, along with a few unsupervised moments.

And silence.

That’s what brought his cunning plan undone.  Days and days of annoying me, then suddenly nothing.  If it was a child you’d be immediately suspicious.  But a cat?

Damn straight.

He was half out the door as I caught him, just six inches from freedom.  Six inches.  And good living, because the gap was just not quite wide enough for him to squeeze through quickly.

Now we’re definitely not speaking!

 

Past conversations with my cat – 46

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This is Chester. I just told him it’s Dog Appreciation Day.

And it got the expected response, you don’t have a dog.

Ahh.

Then I tell him that a neighbour had a dog just like the one we’re thinking of getting, and they’re going to lend him to us for a few hours.

You can’t do that. This is not a dog-friendly environment. Remember the last time you had a dog. Fleas in the carpet, stains on the wall, and as for toilet training…

Yes, he has a point. The last dog we had was almost a disaster, besides the fact it was ten times larger than Chester. Friendly though, when Chester didn’t hiss at him.

This dog, I say, is smaller, not much bigger than you. A jovial chap who doesn’t bark much, just when recalcitrant cats annoy him, so I’m told.

Who are you calling recalcitrant?

No mistaking that distinct look of displeasure, almost recalcitrant I thought.

It’s going to happen, get over it.

Was that a cat shrug I saw? Another icy stare just to chill the atmosphere in the room, and he leaves.

Yes, I do like stirring the pot. You think he’d know by now.

Past conversations with my cat – 45

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This is Chester.  We’ve been getting quite a few scam calls lately.

Like today, the caller said they were a technician from Telstra, our leading telecommunications company in this country.

The scammers think that most if not all people are with Telstra.  The problem is, it’s a lot less than they think.

Hence getting the phone slammed down in their ear, because nearly everyone knows they’re scammers.

So, Chester gives me the death stare after today’s effort.  it’s not the first time, and the banging noise startles him if he’s asleep.

That’s enough yelling and banging the phone, he says.

Then you answer the phone and sort them out.

You know I can’t do that.

Well, you should I say.  They always ask for the owner of the house, and that’s you isn’t it?

No, I just live here.

I snort this time.

I make your bed, get you foot, clean the little, put up with your cantankerous ways.  If you’re going to behave like that, then you have to start taking responsibility.

He gives me that condescending look reserved for the servants.

The phone rings.

Funny, Chester just disappeared.

 

 

Conversations with my cat – 83

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This is Chester.  He has reminded me that it’s Groundhog Day.

So I had to ask, where on earth did you get that from?

Everybody knows it’s Groundhog Day.  He sits there with this knowing look in his face, and it dawns on me, he’s been looking up stuff on the computer again.

I am going to have to remember to turn it off.

In Canada and America maybe, but we don’t have it here because we don’t have the cold and snow like they do.

We have cold because you light the fire.  I’m sure there’s been snow.

Now I know he’s finally losing it.

It’s 35 degrees Celcius outside, and even when it is cold it’s still 16 degrees Celcius, not Fahrenheit.

Look, get with the program here.  We need something to celebrate.

Why?  And a second later realizing I should not ask.

It’s been a bit dull, no mice, no treats, all bad news on the internet.  Oh and by the way, since cats only get cat flu, you want to be careful not to get that new coronavirus going around.

I shake my head.

Now I’m definitely turning off the computer at night.

Cat flu indeed!

 

 

 

Past conversations with my cat – 44

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This is Chester.  I’ve just dropped the bombshell we’re thinking of getting a dog.

So, the first response from him:  Well, the last dog didn’t turn out so well, did it?

We didn’t tell him what happened to the dog, but maybe he’s psychic.

Or is that psycho?

Anyway, the last dog we had moved to my son’s place when he moved, and shortly after, broke his hip and had to be put down.

So I say, that dog moved when my son left.  I don’t have any more sons living in, so that won’t be a problem.

It’s going to be a mistake.

Oh, how?

You know they all start out like soft furry balls, like cat’s I’ll admit, but then they grow up, and up, and up, and up.  And eat you out of house and home.  Not like us lovable cats, we stay small furry balls, and don’t eat all that much.

No, you’re just fussy, and it’s like hell on earth getting you to eat.

Then stop buying the cheap stuff.

Cheap?  Cheap?  That last lot of food cost an arm and a leg.  At least with a dog, it will eat anything, including scraps from the table.

He gives me that condescending look reserved for people who think they own or know cats.

As you wish, my Lord.

Then he walks off, head in the air and tail swishing in annoyance.

Conversation with my cat – 82

This is Chester.

It’s been a long summer, and it’s not only the heat that’s been bothering him.

It’s been school holidays, and along with many households where it’s not possible for parents to go on holidays, it falls to the grand parents to mind children. It’s a job I take seriously, and also a time to be spent with them before they grow up and disappear into the adult world.

Chester, however, only sees it from a cat’s point of view. To him, they’re trouble, but perhaps not without reason. They did torment him something terrible when they were young.

Of course, what he fails to realise is that children when young don’t quite understand animal etiquette, that is they should be treated with care.

But, I said in their defence, when you were a kitten you were an absolute monster, sinking your claws into everything, ruined lounge chairs and curtains, unravelled balls of wool, and, this was the cruncher, refused to chase mice.

Of course, as usual, when the arguement goes against him, those eyes close, and he pretends he’s asleep. It doesn’t fool me. But once that happens, no one scores any points.

And something else I’ve noticed, his memory is fading.

Of course, I didn’t tell him that they don’t officially go back till Wednesday, so he’s in for a surprise tomorrow morning.

Past conversations with my cat – 43

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This is Chester, he’s just reminded me that it is International Cat Day.

I ask, are you really an international cat, because you live here, and haven’t travelled anywhere.

A studious glance at me, then at a map of the word, he then tells me I haven’t taken him anywhere, but he’s been with me in spirit.

Yes, and while I’m away, well, you know how it goes…

Again apparently that was my fault, I didn’t leave strict instructions on what he could or could not do.

I thought we’d set those boundaries a long time ago.

I’m old, is the quick retort,  Memory is failing.  I’m lucky if I can remember what I was doing yesterday.  You’ll have to remind me.

Every morning.

And even then I might still have trouble remembering.

Anyway, don’t you humans have a saying, respect your elders?

OK.  Now we’re back on the age thing.  And, by the way, I don’t think my granddaughter gave you permission to sleep on her pillow.

Seems it’s my turn to eave in a huff!

International cat day?????