Tag: Pets

Conversations with my cat – 66

This is Chester. He’s feeling very smug.

Our focus has mainly centred on getting the NaNoWriMo project done each day, but in between all of this, a number of issues have arisen.

The first, the Maple Leads, and what Chester calls my obsession with ice hockey.

He doesn’t get it. No one plays ice hockey in this country at the same level, and you can never find it mentioned anywhere, so why bother.

Besides he adds in his most cutting tone, they’re a bunch of losers.

So they’ve lost six games in a row and sacked the 50 million dollar coach, but…

To him it’s but nothing. Chester now refuses to watch the ice hockey with me, not until they win again. That 6-1 drubbing two games back was the start of the slide.

I tell him that we’re missing key players and with the newish lineup it takes time to work as a team.

Right.

So we move to God Friended Me.

What the hell is going on there. Miles and Cara are stumbling, with doubts seeded, Rakesh has just had his heart torn to shreds and the incoming Bishop is at a crossroads.

So, for a little early advice…

What’s going to happen to Miles and Cara?

Chester: I’m cynical, their the heart of the show, they won’t be forced apart. It’s all about the ratings.

What’s going to happen to Rakesh?

Chester: Draw out the angst for another 14 episodes, we’ll have to keep tuning on to see what happens.

And the bishop and his girlfriend?

Chester: Send them to another parish, they’re just a distraction we don’t need.

I’m inclined to agree with him.

Except about the Maple Leafs. They’re in Pheonix tomorrow, maybe with a new head coach they might pull off a miracle.

Conversations with my cat – 65

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This is Chester.  We both agree that summer has come early.

But that’s about all we can agree on.   I’m going to start calling him a cranky cat.

For the last week or so the temperature has been hovering in the low 30-degree Celcius mark, and we have been subjected to the constant aroma of smoke from bushfires raging north and south of us.

Normally, the hot weather doesn’t arrive until after the middle of November, and then the temperatures are around 30 degrees with moderate humidity.

Now, it is hot, with Sunday being about 36 degrees Celcius, and not a day to venture outside the airconditioning.

And, that’s where the cranky cat and I disagree.

He likes to sit at the back door and collect the breeze that flows from the front door to the back door and hates it when I run the airconditioning because I have the doors closed.

When that happens, he comes into the office and sits on the table next to the printer with his angry face on.

I figure using the printer might disturb his protest, but it doesn’t.

And to ignore him is at your own peril because, after a few minutes of silent protest, he comes over and starts pushing keys on the keyboard.

One day I expect he will type ‘you are a very bad servant’ for that I am.

Now, where’s the food he really hates!

Past conversations with my cat – 26

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This is Chester. He’s being somewhat difficult.

I’m trying to discuss the nuances of a Mexican standoff, a concept I’m sure he is fully aware of.

Except…

He keeps telling me that he’s part Siamese, so how the hell could he be in the middle of a Mexican standoff.

He then says, in a tone that drips sarcasm, I’m not Mexican either, but part British, so would it not be more appropriate to call it a British-Sino standoff?

Wow!

I’m doubting he knows what a standoff is anyway.

And since this encounter started he’s avoided looking me in the eye, except for one condescending as, when I first arrived, as if to say I was interrupting his morning siesta.

I’m wondering if it’s not time to get another cat and update our mouse catching equipment.

Oh, yes, now I’ve got his attention.

New cat, what’s this about a new car?

Have I found his Achilles heel?

We’ll find out next time when I pull the new cat routine on him

Conversations with my cat – 64

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This is Chester.  He’s decided to look the other way.

We are not on very good terms.  Three times in a row he’s decided to wake me at some ungodly hour of the morning on the pretence that he needs feeding, and three times he’s sniffed it and walked haughtily away.

If that was not bad enough, he’s now barracking for any other team than the Maple Leafs.  And to make matters worse, he’s now calling them losers, which technically is correct, but we are missing Marner, and Tavares needs more time to get back into it, and I can’t tell you where Mathews is, but he needs to come back real soon.

On top of this, I’m starting to feel for Anderson because they got rid of Hutchinson as a backup goalie and I didn’t think he was that bad.

Trust Chester to say that Hutchinson hadn’t been in a winning side for a while.  Obviously, he’s a keen observer of the game, or he’s figured out how to use my phone and the NHL / Maple Leafs apps.

OK, enough of the boring stuff.

I’m in need of some mood music so I put on Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.  Yes, it’s definitely annoying Chester.

Karma!

 

NaNoWriMo Day Fourteen

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Distractions, distractions…

You guessed it, the Maple Leaf’s are playing the New York Islanders, and it’s not going to be pretty.

It’s made worse by the fact Chester has decided to barrack for the Islanders.

Turncoat!

But, it gives me an idea to dig myself out of a plot hole, and there’s more scribbling before I go to the master plan, now on the computer, and can easily move things around.

I was writing yesterday, and somehow my mind took the story off on a tangent.

Sleeping on it, it led to another part, and then will neatly fold back into the masterplan later on.  It’s a twist no one will see coming, simply because I didn’t, at first.

As of last night, my word count is sitting on 25,044 words, which is good and gives me a buffer in case I get a blockage of some sort.

Today’s word count looks like it will be about 1,400 words.

The Maple Leafs are 2 to 0 down, and I think I’ll change the channel to a repeat of Murdoch Mysteries.

All I have to do is get the channel changer out from under the cat.

Maybe not.

 

Conversations with my cat – 63

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This is Chester.  He’s decided to be my personal alarm clock this morning.

It was a two-pronged attack.

First, he jumps from his bed, which, in our room, is a pile of blankets on a massage chair, on to our bed just about where my pillows are, regardless of the fact I might be lying there.

It can be quite disconcerting, as he decided to go for a walk across the back of the bed.

Even more so if he decided to let us know he’s not happy.

Come to think of it, when is he ever happy?

Second, he wanders down the end of the bed and lies down on your feet.  Being a Tonkinese, he’s a lot heavier than he looks.

If you decide to gently ease him off with a few subtle foot movements, he then starts attacking your feet.  This can be a painful exercise in summer if all that covers your feet is a sheet.

So, this morning…

We stayed up late to watch the last four episodes of Jack Ryan series 2.  It’s one of those things where you get hooked, and don’t realise the passing of time.

Consequently this morning I’m tired, and it’s past cat feeding time.

I should know better than to ignore him.

When the first two wake up calls fail, he goes to a third, comes right up in my face and taps me on the shoulder, then lets me know just how unhappy he is with me.

Oh well, sleeping in is over.

 

 

Past conversations with my cat – 25

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This is Chester.  He’s trying to keep a low profile.

He thinks that he had found a new hiding spot that I don’t know about.

He’s the scoop news, my friend, you leave a trail of cat hair.

But…

That’s not the main reason we need to talk.

He seems to have forgotten what mice are and what his primary job is.  It’s a subject that we seem to discuss a lot these days.

I wonder if that is because he’s 16 years old and now a senior citizen, one who now thinks he can milk the selective memory, selective hearing thing.

That’s my excuse, mate, not yours.

I can see he’s trying to keep that look of contempt off his face, but it’s not working.

You’re the cat, there’s a mouse, get to work.

I leave, shaking my head.  It’s like talking to a brick wall.

 

 

Past conversations with my cat – 24

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This is Chester – as you can see, he’s not very happy with me.

I thought I might run the current political climate past him, see what he thinks about watering down gun laws, politicians taking bribes, sorry, campaign donations, and who would make the better leader.

Pity, he said, a cat can’t run the country.

A typical response, I’m guessing, but it does give me a momentary pause to consider the possibility.

Cats sleep all day.

So, it seems, do our politicians.

Cats ignore everything we tell them.

So, it seems, do our politicians.

Cats sit around all day when not sleeping, looking like they’re working, but they’re not.

So, it seems, do our politicians.

Perhaps he’s right, we could no worse having a cat run the country.

Any chance I can be his campaign manager?

 

 

Past Conversations with my cat – 23

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This is Chester.   He had asked the question; why doesn’t he get to go on holidays

I think we both know the answer to that.

It’s not the first time he’s asked, but this ‘simply forgetting he’s asked before’ is a ruse.

If he asks enough times, maybe…

But…

A few questions first,

Do you often find the sunniest spot, lie down and have a nap?

Hmmm, thinking

Do you only turn up in the dining room at meal times expecting the food to be ready?

Hmmm, thinking

Do you sleep in every morning?

Hmmm, thinking

Do you find your self thinking more about relaxing and less about working?

Same questions as the last time, and same no answer.

I think we both know you’re already and have been for a while, on holiday!

 

 

Conversations with my cat – 62

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This is Chester.  You wouldn’t think he would have an interest in horse racing.

But…

He does.  Today, in Australia, is the day the Melbourne Cup is run.  It seems to be the biggest thing on the racing calendar, not only in Melbourne but the rest of the country.

Chester, as usual, doesn’t seem to think it’s all that great.

He wants to know why the cat races are not televised.

What cat races?

It seems he had been watching Fox Sports, and there’s dog races, greyhounds he says.

I’ve heard of them, even went once or twice when we lived in Melbourne, where there was a dog race track.

\Well, he says, if they can race dogs, they can race cats.

I appear a little sceptical.  What are they going to chase?

Mice.

Isn’t that a little cruel, I mean, you’ll get the animal rights people up in arms.

Over mice, he snorts.  No one likes mice.  But if it’s a problem, why not rats?  Everyone hates rats.

So, I say, you’re up for it then.  We could make a killing.

A shake of the head, and nose in the air.  “Of course not, I’m a pedigree cat.  That’s for the alley cats.  I’ll be watching from the Royal box thankyou.”