Goodbye and welcome

We've moved house. No one asked us; it was a forcible eviction.

Our new address is:

http://catsdinnertime.wordpress.com. Just click HERE and you'll find yourself on the front door mat.

Moving house is horrid, and we need our friends. We hope you'll pop over and visit us. 

Bring fish.

Four!

It's my birthday today.

I am four years old. 

I have been promised treats. 

Cream, I hope. I love dairy products!

I wish I had this cat's life!

Oh, here's my treat. Perhaps this life is fine as it is. 

Happy Birthday to me.

Despair

I try not to.

But - sometimes - I do.

Busy

What do you mean, we're a bunch of idle slackers? We are simply too busy to write blog posts, that's all.

We have much to be getting on with.

Maybe during the winter. Don't go away. But don't hold your breaths either.

Everything comes....

to he who can wait.

One of Hamish's greatest longings is to have Queen Lottie be nice to him. And usually she ignores him.

Queen Lottie rules with an iron fist in a velvet paw, and being nice to the lowest in the pecking purring order doesn't feature strongly in her reign.

But yesterday, busy doing her nails, she mellowed, and the lowliest of her subjects was allowed to creep up to sit on her chair. And then - oh joy! - to have his face and ears washed very thoroughly, as he drooled and purred like a little motor bike, and to sleep afterwards, snuggled up and happy at last.

Not that it will last, of course. Rulers have to maintain their status, subjects have to know their place, and law enforcement round here is not always a pretty sight.

But for an hour, one little ginger cat was in heaven.

PS from Millie:

Action has been taken. Situation returned to normal. You may stand down.

Thoughtful design

A garden bench is so useful. This one is mine. I like it because it has a handy gap at the back that allows me to hang my tail down rather comfortably while I think.

I say Rachel should give me a cushion.

Rachel says I'm sufficiently well-padded.

She also says I should have moved along a bit to hide the patches of missing render on the kitchen wall.

I say she should stop fussing and leave me alone to think.

She can call me when it's supper time.

Change and no change

Catkin is getting more confident. She spends a lot of time in the utility room.

She sits there as though she owns the place.

I still hate her.

Everyone know it is I who owns the place.

Friend

I have a new human. He says we can be friends. 

So I come out from under the sofa and hang out with him. He doesn't scare me.

We play with cameras. My friend says I pay attention really well, and I am learning lots.

Lottie isn't interested in photography. It must be a boy thing.

Sulking

We are very upset.

We have been sacked.

All those hours spent frog-watching, often at night, as well as all those hours spent frogspawn-gazing, and what happens?

She decides she's not having a pond any more.

She was very dramatic about it. "Three frogs in the sitting room in one week!" So? Isn't that our job, fetching frogs to amuse her?

"What if all that frog spawn hatches? Tiny frogs would never survive being carried in like that!" Well, we could eat them, I suppose. The big ones aren't nice to eat; we have to clamp them tightly in our jaws, and drop them when they're safely indoors. That's what she seems to object to the most; frogs hiding under the bookshelves and cupboards.

Millie says it was the same in Newcastle with the field mice. No appreciation of our efforts.

It's tiresome.

Rachel writes: Three large frogs in as many days, one rather too bulky for the cartoon cat to carry without damaging it slightly. Little froglets wouldn't stand a chance, and the constant vigilance required on all sides - cats and mine - is nerve-racking. Much as I love the cats, I can't bear to see small creatures tormented by them, no matter how instinctual and natural this might be.


So the frog spawn has gone to a neighbour's pond, and the pond itself - small and ugly, and on the list for upgrading - is to be filled in instead. There will be nature-friendly plants introduced in its place. No argument.


Scooter will no doubt continue to bring live frogs indoors, but at least I'll know I didn't provide him with the source.

Aliens!

We all went for a walk today.

They tried to go without me - again. I had to break through the locked cat flap to follow them. I simply hooked the flap towards me, as Rachel had only locked it one way to stop me getting out,  forgetting that I am the cleverest cat in the household.

We had a lovely walk. A little girl on a pony went by. I watched her with interest.

Then we got to the field at the very end of the road, and....

I couldn't believe my eyes!

Enormous creatures with fluffy trousers! Aliens, obviously.

I looked at them.

They looked at me.

I looked at them some more.

Tricia took my photo, because I was mesmerised.

And then we all came home again. Sadly, the aliens didn't follow us.

I loved those aliens.

Glowing report

Hello.

It's me, Hamish. The golden boy.

Rachel loves me.

I can see why.

Oh, all right then, Scooter. She loves you too.

Sibling rivalry. So ugly.

I rise above it.

WTF?

Rachel - a woman of strange ideas at the best of times - says "No Swearing on your blog!" We say "WTF? (What's This For?) isn't swearing!"

Anyway, this award thing: what is it for? Does it scamper about and let us catch it? Can we eat it? Does it smell nicely of catnip? No.

Annie gave it to us.

We have to say thank you, apparently, although we can't fathom out why. No one says thank you to us when we give them something they don't really want, like a hairball.

Hmmmmm.....maybe Annie just wanted to be rid of it. Like we do with hairballs.....

Ah, now we understand. Thanks, Annie; we'll save ours up for you.

Exercise class

Just after I finished my last post, I had a bit of a think. What if Rachel was right? What if I was portly, as she calls my sturdy build? Should I start taking regular exercise?

And I realised that I should, if only to tone up my lovely curves a little. So I'm going to run my own Bums and Tums class, several times a week. Each class will include exercise, a nutrition seminar (practical), rest and relaxation.

I've had two sessions so far.

For the first one, I went outside, and hopped up onto the wall.

I had a good look over into Next Door's garden. They are the people who Hamish and Scooter spy on through the bedroom window.

And then I hopped down again. I have to ease myself into this; no point in straining myself.

I invited Scooter to join in. He's curvaceous and gets called portly too.

Scooter said he wasn't a body fascist like some. He'd stick with his lovely curves, he thought.

So I came indoors for the nutrition part of the class. I checked the dinner dish and went back upstairs for the rest and relaxation session.

The following day, I tried the other wall. First onto the wheelie bin. A promising start, I thought.

And then onto the wall.

I had a good look up and down the other Next Door's drive. That's the house where Millie's Enemies live. She goes into their house to tell them that she is in charge of their drive.

I got a bit stuck under the weathervane thing. Rachel commented that Bums and Tums was just what I needed to focus on, and maybe reduce the nutrition class element. What nonsense.

I cooled down, hopped off the bin, and went inside.

I checked out the dinner dish as part of the nutrition seminar,and went back upstairs to relax.

I didn't do anything today. This exercise lark is a bit boring and repetitive, is all I'm saying.

Maybe meditation is more my thing. I'm good at sitting still, just breathing.....