A prisoner's tale 2

I like to spend time looking over the wall at the harsh world Out There.

But it's a harsh world indoors too. I have been re-arrested, and locked in the sitting room.

Why? I plead, I have done nothing wrong! And it's only 8.45 p.m. - much too early to come indoors for the evening!

In the fireplace, there is a bowl of water, a small dish of cat milk (slightly diluted - she's mean like that), a dish of cat biscuits, and in a corner a tray with some weird white plastic cat litter in it. There are some Dreamies too. I love Dreamies.

I shan't eat any of it. I will go on Hunger Strike.

I think that I may be locked up for a long time; she doesn't usually provide me with the essentials like this when she is exercising her capacity for oppression and ill-treatment of innocent cats. Hunger Strike will show her that I am a brave rebel; she cannot break my spirit!

She says I must wee in the weird white plastic cat litter. Then she will collect a sample, and take it to the evil vet tomorrow for inspection. Humans are very, very strange.

Maybe I will go on Urination Strike instead. Those Dreamies are so nice....

A prisoner's tale

I have been the victim of a terrible miscarriage of justice.

I have been accused of an offence against the State*.

I have been arrested in a brutal fashion**, and imprisoned in a crate.

And Rachel the Merciless drove the prison van and took me to a place that every cat dreads: The Pets Penitentiary Veterinary Surgery***.

The evil vet dragged me out of the crate. Needles were stuck in me. The words 'crystals' and 'cystitis' were used. Are they trumped-up charges against me?****

Comments were made about how I smelled. Rachel said that she now smelled like me.

After being stabbed by the evil vet, I was shoved back into the prison crate, and put back into the van. Rachel listened to Woman's Hour on the way home, where a young woman spoke of being imprisoned in the Middle East. Rachel said I should stop crying and count myself lucky. The callousness of that woman!

When I was returned home, I cried piteously. My friends came to visit, and to plead for my release.

And only then would Rachel let me out. My own cries had fallen on deaf ears and a hard heart, but Lottie and Florence succeeded in my appeal against false imprisonment.

I intend to sell my story to the press.

Rachel says:


* small dark drops of wee around the house since yesterday, coinciding with Scooter's jumps on and off furniture and surfaces. Definitely not spraying, more like leaking due to discomfort.


** a fairly traumatic chasing round room of crying, frightened cat, with accompanying tell-tale trail of aforementioned dark and malodorous wee over furniture and carpet. And on me as he was wedged carefully into the travel basket.


*** the surgery where I had taken a small sample of aforementioned etc yesterday for testing, and where urinary crystals were seen clearly through the vet's microscope. (I hadn't looked through a microscope in years.)


**** painkillers and long-lasting antibiotics administered for this most unpleasant condition for anyone's bladder, feline or human.


And then home to shampoo carpets and chairs, wash my clothes, and give Scooter little treats to compensate for his ordeal. Merciless, me? Ha!

The Interceptor

Rachel and the dogs often try to go out without me. Foolish creatures. 

I wait; there are lots of places to sit quietly and watch out for them. Then I pop out of the shrubbery. Millie the Interceptor!

Rachel doesn't seem thrilled to see me. They intended to walk right through the park, and for some strange reason, they don't like me to walk so far with them.

We walk for a while, and then Rachel has to take us all home. She mutters under her breath.

I let them wait, while I relax amongst the daisies.

And then I'm ready to go home with them.

Rachel hates to see me crossing this road, but how else can I lie in wait for them in the trees?

And then we reach our back door. She seems relieved that we are all home again.

I enjoyed our little group walk.

Rachel will have to sneak out later, when I have my nap.

In the blink of an eye

I have superpowers, me.

Now you see me.

Now you don't.

I am Captain Invisible.

And I'm watching you.

Small yet curiously satisfying

Oooh, ooh, a tiny fly!

This requires the Investigation Team and their beloved Supervisor.

She leaves them to it; it's too small to interest a true pro.

It moves fast; it dances about; it comes to rest.....

Got it!

Job done.

We love flies.

Why cats laugh at dogs

Evening Chorus

It's not just the birds who sing from on high, you know.

I do too.

I have perfect pitch.

People stand in the street below and remark on my voice. Rachel says I remind her of Alessandro Moreschi in more ways than one.



She loves to hear me perform.

"YowooOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! YowooOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" I sing.

Cultural enrichment of the neighbourhood, I call it.