tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-29809524081642682982024-03-06T03:43:24.043+00:00Mogspot dot BlogspotA funny, illustrated blog about my two cats, Mouth and Tail.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-35966158612143313802013-07-11T18:50:00.000+01:002013-07-11T18:50:01.260+01:00Things That Don't Exist (But Should) - Part IHere are some simple items that, if someone would only bother to invent them*, would make a cat owner's life a whole lot easier.<br />
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*As designer, I take zero responsibility for any act of vengeance your cat may decide to perform after you have used one of these items. Just so we're clear.<br />
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<u>(1) A self-adhering towel</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Ideal for those pill-giving moments.<br />
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As things stand, administering a worming tablet to a cat is a two-person job at a minimum, and at a maximum involves twenty-seven people, two ambulances, a fire engine, haulage equipment and possibly a hearse.<br />
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With this simple device (kind of like restraining straps but less scary), your non-compliant feline's limbs can be safely secured in a wriggle-proof sausage while you deal with the business end. It's win-win.<br />
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<u>(2) A door-gate that actually has a hope in hell of keeping a cat out of a room</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Whoever designs door-gates that are supposedly pet-proof as well as toddler-proof is clearly unfamiliar with the oozing, shape-shifting and generally gravity-defying properties of the average mog. There is nothing on the market that Tail or even Mouth couldn't outfox in two seconds flat.<br />
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I guess you might want something a tad more decor-friendly, but you get the idea.<br />
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<u>(3) A carrier that you can trick your cat into using</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
We all know that the main uses of cat carriers are vet trips and house moves, and neither is a particularly persuasive reason for Tiddles to stride cooperatively into the carrier's plasticky depths. Let's face it, no cat is ever going to get in of his own free will.<br />
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So we need a way of tricking him.<br />
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Maybe it's a carrier that looks nothing like a carrier. (To be truly effective, it would need to change its appearance each time you used it, so some versatility is needed.)<br />
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For extra points, make it look as if venturing inside is strictly forbidden.<br />
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Or maybe it's cunningly constructed to look like a harmless box. Fluffykins creeps inside, and WHAM! A high-tech lid clamps smoothly over her head at the touch of a remote-control button.<br />
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A little extreme, perhaps.<br />
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<u>(4) CCTV-operated sofa protection</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Covert movement-detecting cameras that guard your sofa's most susceptible parts from errant claws. What's not to love?<br />
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<u>(5) A mattress that's the shape you sleep in when you share the bed with a cat</u><br />
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Actually allows two people plus feline enough room to sleep. Brilliant!<br />
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Of course, you'd need to introduce a same-sized line in bedding, but I think it would catch on.<br />
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Comes with clip-on extensions for those stray arms, legs and tails that still fail to conform.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-6426705594725235862013-05-31T18:59:00.000+01:002013-05-31T19:01:35.773+01:00Beware The Bad Chinchilla Bearing A GrudgeAs well as cats, my boyfriend and I have two rescue chinchillas called Billy and Arthur.<br />
<br />
A little off topic, you might think. But no.<br />
<br />
This is the story of the time when Mouth, quite literally, bit the dust.<br />
<br />
Now, chinchillas are strange little things. They look like puffballs with squirrel tails. They can't get wet because their fur is so ridiculously dense. Their diet is insanely specific; they bark like dogs when they're angry; and they need regular dust baths to stay floofy.<br />
<br />
They are basically just meringues in rodent form.<br />
<br />
Anyway, my boyfriend and I agreed to look after Billy and Arthur when their original owner emigrated. For the past two years, they have lived in a big cage in our spare room.<br />
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Billy is a thug. There is nothing he wouldn't do for a raisin.<br />
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He spends most of his time bulldozing around, gnawing at everything in his path. Raisins, dandelions, furniture, he's not fussy. If he has his eye on a thing, that thing had better watch out.<br />
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In the raisin world, Billy is the terror of terrors. Baby raisins see him in their worst nightmares. He is the raisin equivalent of the boogeyman.<br />
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Then there's Arthur. Arthur's a bit of a sad case. He has only three legs (an old injury that our vet is convinced doesn't bother him), and we think he's blind in one eye.<br />
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He's brown, which is unusual for a chinchilla, and he has these weird mottled ears. He gets ten out of ten for rarity value.<br />
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Arthur's life is largely spent being sat on by Billy. Both chins seem happy with this arrangement.<br />
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No self-respecting raisin would give Arthur a second glance. We love him, but he is a bit of a dweeb.<br />
<u><br /></u>
Because chinchillas are native to the Andes mountains, my boyfriend and I reasoned that Billy and Arthur would probably like to bounce around a bit. Their cage is pretty big, but we thought they were bound to get bored of it.<br />
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So we bought a huge zip-up playpen for them. Seriously, this thing is enormous. It was designed for dogs.<br />
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The playpen is great because it collapses and folds up when not in use. It has a waterproof base and a detachable cat-proof net that fits over the top.<br />
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Every couple of days, we get Billy and Arthur out of their cage and let them hop about in the playpen for a few hours.<br />
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They can't come to any harm in there, so we generally leave them to it.<br />
<br />
One day while the chins were in their playpen, Mouth wandered into the room. The cats are usually shut away when Billy and Arthur are out and about, but I was there to supervise and Mouth didn't look particularly threatening. So I let him have a peek.<br />
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What I hadn't bargained for was Billy's reaction.<br />
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Billy was surveying the room from inside the pen, no doubt having a Pride Rock moment, when Mouth approached.<br />
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Mouth's ears loomed over the side of the pen like the shark fin in <i>Jaws</i>.<br />
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Billy tensed. He was preparing himself for battle.<br />
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Now, whatever self-preservation instinct chinchillas are supposed to have, Billy lacks it. He is a chilla on the edge.<br />
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As far as Billy was concerned, there was a Thing that was getting too close for comfort, and that Thing must die.<br />
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As the tension mounted unbearably, Mouth - idiot that he is - raised an inquisitive paw.<br />
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<br />
That was it. Billy finally snapped. He saw red.<br />
<br />
He attacked Mouth in the best way he knew how.<br />
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With a great war-cry, he kicked a giant torrent of dust from his dust bath into Mouth's unsuspecting tabby face.<br />
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<br />
Poor Mouth. He didn't know what had hit him. He had only wanted to sniff the overgrown mouse, and it had unleashed such rage!<br />
<br />
Mice were supposed to submit feebly, not fight back.<br />
<br />
All Mouth had ever known was a lie.<br />
<br />
He retreated to a safe distance and licked his paw in a numb, humiliated way.<br />
<br />
Ever since then, Mouth has harboured a deep respect for the savage squirrel-mice that inhabit the spare room. They possess powers far exceeding his own.<br />
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Billy's ego, on the other hand, has inflated beyond belief.<br />
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I just live in eternal hope that he never tries to take on Tail.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-56002830096065958302013-05-28T10:38:00.001+01:002013-05-28T10:38:11.138+01:00Cat Kit Part IWhen you get a cat, the internet falls over itself to tell you what you'll need to buy. Litter tray, food bowls, bed, collar, flea comb. Everybody wants you to know how to look after your cat.<br />
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Which is good, don't get me wrong. But nobody tells you how to look after yourself once you have a cat.<br />
<br />
Here is a list of must-have items for the survival-bent cat owner.<br />
<br />
You heard it here first, folks.<br />
<br />
<u>(1) Cat-coloured clothes</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
You think feline aficionados suddenly start wearing leopard- and tiger-print because they want the world to know they love cats? Nope. It's because they've figured out which colours hide cat hair the best.<br />
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<br />
Fill your wardrobe with items that match your cat of choice and you'll rarely have to use...<br />
<br />
<u>(2) Sticky rollers</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Buy lots of these. Keep one in the bedroom. Keep one by the front door. Keep another in your car, and keep one at work if possible.<br />
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<br />
A sticky roller will be your saving grace when you realise it's not professional to go to a meeting/the shops/your friend's wedding/your great-aunt's funeral covered in kitty floof.<br />
<br />
<u>(3) Sellotape</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
For <a href="http://spotthemogspot.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/the-taping-of-cat.html">banisters</a>.<br />
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<br />
'Nuff said.<br />
<br />
<u>(4) A room your cat doesn't go in</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Think about it. A room where you can keep real plants, store food without the use of padlocks, hang expensive dresses (for the days when (1) isn't happening), direct allergic visitors and so on.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Seriously. You'll thank me later.<br />
<br />
<u>(5) The Secret Weapon</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
The Secret Weapon is your trump card.<br />
<br />
You have to discover it for yourself. It can be an irresistible flavour of treat, a noise, a smell, a favourite toy. Basically it's something you can produce and gain instant control over your cat. (Yes, it <i>is</i> possible.)<br />
<br />
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<br />
Great for those awkward situations. Like when your gerbil escapes.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-62553601373068361362013-05-07T13:37:00.000+01:002013-05-07T13:37:10.804+01:00Night of the Living BoxA big parcel arrived for me yesterday.<br />
<br />
It was very exciting. Big parcels are the stuff of which dreams are made.<br />
<br />
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<br />
They are on a par with rainbows and sunbeams and chocolate.<br />
<br />
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<br />
For me, at least. For certain felines (naming no names), they are the embodiment of nightmares.<br />
<br />
Mouth took one look at the box and was filled with a mix of terror and incomprehension.<br />
<br />
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<br />
His initial reaction was to panic and flee.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7syxywl3GnLMOuIHxnfRGo-3ad-QFKtJh3zbBgibO33QNVvcldAcsRGUOHrsfPv9C6elDPO7PlxQsUR2Feh7LUpLufLTsWTQTMTl6AOTUCKjbck_RQqz-vsiJugoK9f-0IodmV60vUZY/s1600/Box3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7syxywl3GnLMOuIHxnfRGo-3ad-QFKtJh3zbBgibO33QNVvcldAcsRGUOHrsfPv9C6elDPO7PlxQsUR2Feh7LUpLufLTsWTQTMTl6AOTUCKjbck_RQqz-vsiJugoK9f-0IodmV60vUZY/s400/Box3.png" width="333" /></a></div>
<br />
I knew better than to go after him. Sympathy would only reinforce his despair.<br />
<br />
Sure enough, eventually he slithered back downstairs with a look of forced bravado. He gave the box a tentative sniff.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bLHgWU9YfEbJfQwanISf9Nyax1qoiKUfhvtejk31DbMFPckQhj5eSdn2i0dV7saefbFZ6CCxbpr3HHr9chgEnV-s1I_yK69LhyKDtBKhVVhNWfyOcsvANyC0C41hCT6G_nE6pT0O_eHq/s1600/Box6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5bLHgWU9YfEbJfQwanISf9Nyax1qoiKUfhvtejk31DbMFPckQhj5eSdn2i0dV7saefbFZ6CCxbpr3HHr9chgEnV-s1I_yK69LhyKDtBKhVVhNWfyOcsvANyC0C41hCT6G_nE6pT0O_eHq/s320/Box6.png" width="307" /></a></div>
<br />
When this did not result in his immediate demise, he got brave enough to jump on top of it. (This process alone would be a separate post; Mouth believes he is built for climbing rather than leaping. He never really got past the curtain-clambering kitten phase. When he tries to propel himself upwards with his hind legs, like a normal creature, he becomes a flailing mess of limbs and claws and fur.)<br />
<br />
For a while, Mouth sat bravely astride the box. He kept giving little show-off grunts in Tail's general direction.<br />
<br />
When at last he hunched down like a tabby blancmange, I knew he had conquered the box, and I was proud of him. It was a small step for a cat, but a giant leap for Mouthkind.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvJt9aj5Jz2brA36xY7QhPpQn0H5YnOT5-l4bsFA0L7dBFV5SHQClrWadwaPImVO9-xqFAvm9uL8tfU8FVslLcUGRy-GsQonQCKvkJ58-aU8m_7ErGlf2ekQNXwYTED6UpiqszxNOYLCB/s1600/Box5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvJt9aj5Jz2brA36xY7QhPpQn0H5YnOT5-l4bsFA0L7dBFV5SHQClrWadwaPImVO9-xqFAvm9uL8tfU8FVslLcUGRy-GsQonQCKvkJ58-aU8m_7ErGlf2ekQNXwYTED6UpiqszxNOYLCB/s400/Box5.png" width="333" /></a></div>
<br />
I did a few jobs around the house, and when I came back downstairs I noticed how much the box was cluttering up the hallway.<br />
<br />
Mouth had abandoned his new cardboard friend and was busily growling at an ant, so I moved the box into the lounge.<br />
<br />
Little did I realise how catastrophic this act would prove to be.<br />
<br />
In its new surroundings, the box was a greater and more deadly enemy than Mouth had previously imagined. With thuggish conspirators like sofas and tables, the threat multiplied a thousandfold.<br />
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<br />
You can guess what happened next.<br />
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<br />
When, some hours later, his pride got the better of him, Mouth slunk back into the lounge.<br />
<br />
He sat on the beanbag, a safe distance away, and regarded the box the way a banana might regard a smoothie-maker.<br />
<br />
G-r-a-d-u-a-l-l-y, he inched closer to it.<br />
<br />
When he was about a metre away from the box, an unfamiliar expression crossed his face. It was an expression of vague recognition.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, the expression was accompanied by the Sideways Head of Confusion.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp_axP0uItZh7ULA2jbkrVV0NzsYkfcVqP1Qpyvr2A2ffD-9qsoJclmFpl2rAJUc3DjK7vDn3PxmQNMwcnXxS2xed7UJLm28pJc9aTnYQaam_tsaXUitqWi1iR0zCFj7Tz35W5xcNhrg-o/s1600/Sideways+head3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp_axP0uItZh7ULA2jbkrVV0NzsYkfcVqP1Qpyvr2A2ffD-9qsoJclmFpl2rAJUc3DjK7vDn3PxmQNMwcnXxS2xed7UJLm28pJc9aTnYQaam_tsaXUitqWi1iR0zCFj7Tz35W5xcNhrg-o/s400/Sideways+head3.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Even comprehension confuses poor Mouth. He does not expect to understand things.<br />
<br />
I'm pleased to say that Mouth has now come to accept the box. He rubs up against it. He licks it. He uses it as a sunbathing pedestal.<br />
<br />
I hardly dare tell him that I need to open it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-68817040626423083122013-04-10T17:54:00.000+01:002013-04-12T12:48:07.979+01:00"Lay On, MacFluff"Sometimes my morning wake-up call can be quite theatrical.<br />
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<br />
I have to get up quickly in order to avoid a tragedy of an entirely different magnitude.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-43231976260187119882013-04-09T15:23:00.000+01:002013-04-09T15:23:30.089+01:00What Miaow from Yonder Window BreaksMy house is full of cat noises.<br />
<br />
Here are some of them.<br />
<br />
<u>The 'play with me (or die)'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Mouth is very good at looking cute when he wants something. He lets out this odd little two-part <i>brrrrrrp</i>, generally while patting my knee or face with his paw. He's like an excited child putting his hand up in class. "Pick me, Miss! Oh, me! Oh, I know the answer! PLEASE Miss!"<br />
<br />
Usually when he does this, he wants me to wiggle his <a href="http://spotthemogspot.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/toy-story-part-ii-things-that-are-not.html">aerial</a> about for him.<br />
<br />
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<br />
If he doesn't get what he wants, he can transform instantly into a terrifying hellbeast.<br />
<br />
<u>The 'where are you?'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
When I'm not around, my boyfriend tells me Mouth wanders around the house listlessly, occasionally emitting forlorn miaows.<br />
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<br />
His miaows have never been melodious, but this one is particularly ridiculous. It starts off all waily, but then he seems to remember he is a cat and tries to surreptitiously convert his wail into a cat sound.<br />
<br />
Possibly his mother was a banshee.<br />
<br />
<u>The 'THERE IS A BIRD THERE IS A BIRD THERE IS A BIRD'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Like most cats, Mouth and Tail make weird chattery noises when there is a Thing that they want to eat.<br />
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Traditionally it's a bird (Tail excels at bird-chattery), but I have caught Mouth chattering at wholly un-chatter-worthy things like woodlice and fluff.<br />
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Tail's chatters are superb. I'm convinced she is skilled in ventriloquy and a qualified voice projection instructor. Even through double-glazed glass, they make sparrows at the other end of the garden quake with fear.<br />
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Mouth's are rubbish. They sound like a broken power drill. Woodlice flock to my house purely for the entertainment.<br />
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<u>The 'NO'</u><br />
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This is the feline equivalent of a toddler stamping its foot and throwing a tantrum.<br />
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When Mouth and Tail have a stand-off - usually because Mouth has muscled in on Tail's dinner, although once it happened because he sneezed on her bottom - growling inevitably ensues.<br />
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They always make up afterwards. Mouth is a master of the Apologetic Ear Groom.<br />
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<u>The 'service announcement'</u><br />
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This is my favourite cat noise, and a peculiarity of Tail's.<br />
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Whenever she's about to do something she feels I should know about, like jump onto the bookcase, she gives a little chirrup.<br />
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It's very courteous.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-88127614553923476322013-04-01T18:17:00.000+01:002013-04-01T18:17:02.617+01:00Why I Feed My Cat in the ToiletOf my two cats, Mouth is the dominant one.<br />
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I have no idea how this happened.<br />
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He is far jumpier and wimpier than Tail. When we got them both, he was smaller than her, too. I can only think Tail didn't <i>want</i> to be boss.<br />
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Being Top Cat means that Mouth starts eating his dinner first, and he gets to lick out Tail's bowl when she's finished. The bowl lick is strictly symbolic - Tail wouldn't dream of leaving any scraps.<br />
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Last week, however, a strange thing happened.<br />
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We've always fed both cats in the hallway, which has a nice wipeable laminate floor. Tail's bowl is at the end of the hall near the lounge, and Mouth's bowl goes by the kitchen door, like this.<br />
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This has never been a problem.<br />
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But last week, at dinnertime, I heard an odd growly noise.<br />
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It was no ordinary <i>Oi, Tiddles, get out of my garden</i> growl. It wasn't even the lesser-spotted <i>THERE IS A NOISE AND I DON'T LIKE IT</i> growl. This growl was deafening. There are no windows in my hallway, but I pictured neighbours clutching their children and adjusting their picture frames. Extreme weather warnings would soon start appearing on TV.<br />
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I went to investigate.<br />
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Mouth was bolting his food and growling. It was the most absurd thing I have ever seen a cat doing, and I have seen cats do some extremely absurd things. (My parents' cat once woke itself up by sleep-miaowing.)<br />
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"Oh dear, Mouth," I said. I knew this day would come. Life is a continuous struggle for a creature of Mouth's simplicity, and he had finally broken himself.<br />
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I tried picking the bowl up and putting it down again. The growling resumed with renewed vigour.<br />
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I tried moving it along the hallway. No change.<br />
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Tail had abandoned her portion of whitefish and was watching with interest.<br />
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There was nothing I could do but spectate as Mouth inhaled the remainder of his dinner, then moved onto Tail's.<br />
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Tail looked up at me, stricken.<br />
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"<i>No</i>, Mouth," I said, shooing him away from Tail's bowl, but Tail didn't want it anymore. It was evidently besmirched with boy germs.<br />
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Washing up both bowls, I had a think. I'd read a few books on cat psychology, but Mouth was a law unto himself. Perhaps he had spontaneously decided that the hallway was a terrifying place.<br />
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To be on the safe side, for their next meal, I shut Mouth in the downstairs loo. It was a warm, quiet room where he could eat undisturbed.<br />
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It meant Tail could get on with her dinner in the hallway, uninterrupted by tabby-shaped hoovers.<br />
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With painstaking care, I knelt down and peered under the door at Mouth.<br />
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The growling continued, but it lacked conviction.<br />
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As I'd hoped, it dwindled as the meal progressed.<br />
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Eventually, it was replaced by the happy lip-smacking grunts of a feline polishing off his final few mouthfuls of Whiskas.<br />
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When the grunts had given way to a noise that could only mean Mouth was cleaning his bottom, and Tail had devoured every last morsel of her rabbit-flavoured supper, I opened the door to the downstairs loo.<br />
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A newly refreshed, confident Mouth strolled out, fully recovered from his growly episode and ready to take on the world.<br />
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He seemed none the worse for it, but ever since then he has expected to eat his dinner in the downstairs loo.<br />
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I don't question it. I just put his food in there, and do my best to remember to let him out afterwards.<br />
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Tail accepts this state of affairs.<br />
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I love Mouth dearly, but I don't pretend to understand him.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-63186081830969157932013-03-21T17:20:00.000+00:002013-03-21T17:20:50.085+00:00My Cats Sleep in ParallelMy cats do a weird thing. Wherever they are in the house, they are usually in parallel.<br />
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I first noticed it when Mouth and Tail were in the same room. It would often make sense that they were both facing the same way, because they were waiting for me to dish up their dinner or wiggle a toy.<br />
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But then I started to realise that they are nearly ALWAYS pointing in the same direction.<br />
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Sometimes they will be hunched up.<br />
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<i>The 'north-south'</i></div>
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<i>The 'east-west'</i></div>
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Sometimes they will just be sitting there.</div>
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<i>The 'centre of gravity'</i></div>
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Sometimes they will be splatting about and generally looking untidy.</div>
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<i>The 'mess'</i></div>
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It doesn't matter if one of them is upstairs and the other is downstairs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrr7wkpJWCqqiZvRS7VucLeYeLI2MW_d2bWjuGPMVzRDD_Z-gS39zA9SClMszjyHOfsWl1MIYl7FeHG1pT5vq-NktUGch9SwupsZqKuygCn0QZ5SQcjufNakZm5sfbrg2KL74d50G0yiOF/s1600/House2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrr7wkpJWCqqiZvRS7VucLeYeLI2MW_d2bWjuGPMVzRDD_Z-gS39zA9SClMszjyHOfsWl1MIYl7FeHG1pT5vq-NktUGch9SwupsZqKuygCn0QZ5SQcjufNakZm5sfbrg2KL74d50G0yiOF/s640/House2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>The 'whole-body-plant'</i></div>
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My boyfriend and I like to think that they are tapping into mysterious invisible forces. Maybe they are acting as feline compasses or weathervanes of some sort.<br />
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But it is more likely that Mouth wants to do whatever Tail is doing.<br />
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He is a very impressionable animal.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-73394932016988280772013-03-11T18:50:00.001+00:002013-03-11T18:50:24.683+00:00The Taping of the CatIn our house, there are wooden banisters beside the stairs. The wood is covered in glossy off-white paint.<br />
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Our house is three storeys tall, so there are lots of banisters.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTtQaY8IyoymjafbB7soFT2edDCxa7NQK9evFQHWugORAoe2rT1U4fNCplV_jh1G2jduC8KWQnYyECdm18D-L4lyYPwMHtGnN4PVDezxfijMXdrx_A36do7pUGUD18mheRoCLSzWhMnIiL/s1600/Banister1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTtQaY8IyoymjafbB7soFT2edDCxa7NQK9evFQHWugORAoe2rT1U4fNCplV_jh1G2jduC8KWQnYyECdm18D-L4lyYPwMHtGnN4PVDezxfijMXdrx_A36do7pUGUD18mheRoCLSzWhMnIiL/s320/Banister1.png" width="306" /></a></div>
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Before we moved into this house, we lived in a flat, so Mouth and Tail didn't know what banisters were.<br />
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They were delighted to find that the new house came equipped with a multi-level cat playground.<br />
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Once they had got over their New House Fear (another story), they began to investigate.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipulyy7Zx6KV8KDikdJ8pWbA0tEZfpB4T1B_KbyYgMqhcqLAGEDCg01zVLHYWAgF72UtICoERUF8xWHH-AN2Rd45GpP7_pOAAHJpyZs1C9kcG3jykSnccfFqOIexUx3T-eaDi6Nu98YJfT/s1600/Banister3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipulyy7Zx6KV8KDikdJ8pWbA0tEZfpB4T1B_KbyYgMqhcqLAGEDCg01zVLHYWAgF72UtICoERUF8xWHH-AN2Rd45GpP7_pOAAHJpyZs1C9kcG3jykSnccfFqOIexUx3T-eaDi6Nu98YJfT/s320/Banister3.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCc_SNzS8zQHMNrY9LMX3bfXTl7qZnYz5bfDMSm48vn_4tqxGSy3VciX455YzuLp5EzcA5WUKEXfUdhQkPH6NSk4T7knK_qK-OLHTkd7yzZyhVH4RxZEEQjEvi3E6O5Km-Q5FVf_ACEeb3/s1600/Banister5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCc_SNzS8zQHMNrY9LMX3bfXTl7qZnYz5bfDMSm48vn_4tqxGSy3VciX455YzuLp5EzcA5WUKEXfUdhQkPH6NSk4T7knK_qK-OLHTkd7yzZyhVH4RxZEEQjEvi3E6O5Km-Q5FVf_ACEeb3/s320/Banister5.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQvdgaMjC-zXAeNsbPdEfwwDbQGDRgUbrZt7o70dQU1javCvPiuD2DnFkWNf91T07jN6NKfbfz7uZ1Hw7ck5fz59Y6Cj_4rvNG4BYfQBIXhWdamcVPOaPXDL9yo5IJfUIRk2EXW7i1w9Y/s1600/Banister4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFQvdgaMjC-zXAeNsbPdEfwwDbQGDRgUbrZt7o70dQU1javCvPiuD2DnFkWNf91T07jN6NKfbfz7uZ1Hw7ck5fz59Y6Cj_4rvNG4BYfQBIXhWdamcVPOaPXDL9yo5IJfUIRk2EXW7i1w9Y/s320/Banister4.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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Soon, their antics became increasingly daredevil.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2nY_4AYztXmzNL8qWU4iqnPJCykBvxYxqzTEsQih6D_hzQd42In5mUZPvFhJ2OgRoz34fo8KsnaMMRbfNnB_mBpZCvNJCtgiMn8Rl7MW3lqdUbZ3INL342kWfpVqX_q39mqUWHeOBjNG/s1600/Banister7.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu2nY_4AYztXmzNL8qWU4iqnPJCykBvxYxqzTEsQih6D_hzQd42In5mUZPvFhJ2OgRoz34fo8KsnaMMRbfNnB_mBpZCvNJCtgiMn8Rl7MW3lqdUbZ3INL342kWfpVqX_q39mqUWHeOBjNG/s320/Banister7.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpj5u1RygrWHa_DbbnmQbqQ8AyxdYbFDbGc7b-0sVci_eVsPpwZXE-NMR48GzDUaBWCO5YPdRidlw3-F1FThfPHktDi3xh6PAF5x3Hw_2homgxRMRshhKhGoDCT1cG4vnhqI4OWjFCy6Fd/s1600/Banister6.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpj5u1RygrWHa_DbbnmQbqQ8AyxdYbFDbGc7b-0sVci_eVsPpwZXE-NMR48GzDUaBWCO5YPdRidlw3-F1FThfPHktDi3xh6PAF5x3Hw_2homgxRMRshhKhGoDCT1cG4vnhqI4OWjFCy6Fd/s320/Banister6.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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However, although Tail is as agile as the average high-rise tightrope walker, Mouth is a simple beast with no comprehension of 'up'.</div>
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Eventually, the inevitable happened.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0cpuhkNXs87TeNF0j1aAxg35nacX3bBeeAqzXYs2_WyxRtaAykLgv9TtUjQSm_23pbwRYVTrScQb0ZGV12THq_EPJqB6kHgs9URYmAKd2Z6q-1rkk9rVr8Rkq1xeyAVmsEUUC0z23ZXxL/s1600/Banister2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0cpuhkNXs87TeNF0j1aAxg35nacX3bBeeAqzXYs2_WyxRtaAykLgv9TtUjQSm_23pbwRYVTrScQb0ZGV12THq_EPJqB6kHgs9URYmAKd2Z6q-1rkk9rVr8Rkq1xeyAVmsEUUC0z23ZXxL/s320/Banister2.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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My boyfriend and I sighed. We should have seen this coming.</div>
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As is often the case, we needed a strategy - to protect both the cats and the woodwork.</div>
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We pondered. And we hit on an Idea.</div>
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The Idea involved sellotape. Lots and lots of sellotape.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXDYRhkznHCjCNTE53St3h7o_4dB7s9zBKFdMgqHWa-k0yY2cnS3DkxOx2563S5E7jWVtrtzj1cQKyruipsvstUYv16DJzUKAxoW2M4FILbIj8asroF7fbjrvXDW4zkH919HVpRzLgGOp/s1600/Tape+tech.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpXDYRhkznHCjCNTE53St3h7o_4dB7s9zBKFdMgqHWa-k0yY2cnS3DkxOx2563S5E7jWVtrtzj1cQKyruipsvstUYv16DJzUKAxoW2M4FILbIj8asroF7fbjrvXDW4zkH919HVpRzLgGOp/s400/Tape+tech.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Yes. We taped up the banisters.</div>
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We taped them sticky-side-up, so that the cats couldn't climb on the banisters without getting their paws stuck.</div>
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We felt a bit mean, but it was the kindest way to dissuade Mouth from subjecting himself to a catastrophic twenty-foot fall. The tape wouldn't hurt their paws, but it would tweak them a bit.</div>
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We surveyed our work. Then we waited.</div>
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After a while, our patience paid off, and Mouth approached the banisters. You could see the Naughty Thoughts filling his rather gormless tabby head.</div>
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He lifted a paw.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwHRmDo-MdFgsa0IF_G46nY9Kf_HdGXVQ5tQh_MyWh0Eo1gn8AzyfXb1Q_07fu4rxltaw3Z6d24gChR3oipV9zzpdGMbu4BQuPjgM4DpOw19XKB-oNVMSXMcDxjSBGUPd2C4bAPxXFsc7/s1600/Paw.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwHRmDo-MdFgsa0IF_G46nY9Kf_HdGXVQ5tQh_MyWh0Eo1gn8AzyfXb1Q_07fu4rxltaw3Z6d24gChR3oipV9zzpdGMbu4BQuPjgM4DpOw19XKB-oNVMSXMcDxjSBGUPd2C4bAPxXFsc7/s320/Paw.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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With what seemed like excruciating slowness, he placed it on the banister. It landed squarely on the tape.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExDI7-qW5MEuvJIUEK09Yb8n-1HnnAjFp7hhD71FBDIgBbWcIbEdF2whSgx2Rb7SySFSUnH9hpf47CmqOmHGnmRQzJ2YRn10xvGdcdFV0YTxbm2wAZHmX2oxG7FTYKTrIp-0-glv1e6pv/s1600/Paw2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiExDI7-qW5MEuvJIUEK09Yb8n-1HnnAjFp7hhD71FBDIgBbWcIbEdF2whSgx2Rb7SySFSUnH9hpf47CmqOmHGnmRQzJ2YRn10xvGdcdFV0YTxbm2wAZHmX2oxG7FTYKTrIp-0-glv1e6pv/s320/Paw2.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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For a moment, he didn't realise anything was amiss.</div>
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Then he tried to move his paw.</div>
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When several paw-moving attempts proved fruitless, it started to dawn on him that all was not as it should be, and he let out a long, plaintive miaow.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5guS_xprHrcdxMG9KnCqAUvrcxQ8UCuUitPO-nhA3ZrTks4To2E6LkMMjLfIgMR7Idr37Ue4srkMGw3Fy0KpJxfBMLkskaO4u1QkKeZsow5yeURh_wIGLYv8h9aeq8ixG0x-6u4lKajEP/s1600/Paw3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5guS_xprHrcdxMG9KnCqAUvrcxQ8UCuUitPO-nhA3ZrTks4To2E6LkMMjLfIgMR7Idr37Ue4srkMGw3Fy0KpJxfBMLkskaO4u1QkKeZsow5yeURh_wIGLYv8h9aeq8ixG0x-6u4lKajEP/s400/Paw3.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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It was heartbreaking to watch. But he had to learn.</div>
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At long last, he managed to extricate the paw, minus a small proportion of its fluff.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLiABeO2BBZlB049xFKwVzOK69E1Xa5P0s-1Q4PHpXnGdDfl1EVJ-LeIO8_qD32j1hWDVcWwQiKMZaxRON4ZfNyRbaQPT0x2D5F9pPIZSkybTXZmqw9mNyp4G8RwcAnwmnr0FEV4oc1FL/s1600/Paw4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNLiABeO2BBZlB049xFKwVzOK69E1Xa5P0s-1Q4PHpXnGdDfl1EVJ-LeIO8_qD32j1hWDVcWwQiKMZaxRON4ZfNyRbaQPT0x2D5F9pPIZSkybTXZmqw9mNyp4G8RwcAnwmnr0FEV4oc1FL/s400/Paw4.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Mouth was aghast. His comrade! His number one ally! Cruelly sabotaged by this peculiar yellow floor! Why didn't the floor behave itself?</div>
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This paw had stuck with Mouth through thick and thin, and the fact that there had been no 'thin' to speak of was immaterial. Mouth vowed never again to honour the horrible yellow floor with his paw's presence.</div>
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I'd like to say that this was the end of the Banister Battle, but Mouth's memory is not one of his greatest assets.</div>
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Of course, Tail grasped the situation after her first adhesive encounter. She licked her paw better and pretended nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.</div>
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But for Mouth's benefit, the tape remains to this day.</div>
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It is largely effective, and has certainly prevented any tabby-themed splats, but Mouth occasionally forgets.</div>
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The tape currently looks like this.</div>
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We love Mouth dearly, but survival is a continuous challenge for him. He is not a creature that would thrive in the wild.</div>
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I'd say he has the temporal awareness of a goldfish, but at least our fish remember when feeding time is.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-33677830363145616752013-03-04T16:52:00.002+00:002013-03-04T16:52:13.591+00:00The Time We Nearly Stole Someone's Cat by AccidentOne day a few months ago, a cat turned up on our doorstep.<br />
<br />
This isn't an entirely unusual occurrence. Lots of people on our road have cats and I know most of them by sight. "There goes The Fox," we say knowingly, as a fat ginger tabby lumbers past. "I see Hoover has been at the bins again," we tut, appraising the tortie-shaped holes in our rubbish bags.<br />
<br />
But this cat was new. He was a black-and-white tuxedo cat, like Tail, but he had a permanently worried expression. He looked like he had wandered out of a posh dinner party and lost his way.<br />
<br />
We named him Blum. It seemed to fit.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKUlbxybDAWiXfuizZciSoeT_CgzgNgPpqQ-cAOOxuEdavLQmzSS0TdEetpGxXTKrNf-mR5E4DXZ570asi9-kt5G6b8UxdlAeCFi1XOPtql5UZ8I1P2tx3ea_rDtXrhEqBguR1liAaE-P7/s1600/Blum1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKUlbxybDAWiXfuizZciSoeT_CgzgNgPpqQ-cAOOxuEdavLQmzSS0TdEetpGxXTKrNf-mR5E4DXZ570asi9-kt5G6b8UxdlAeCFi1XOPtql5UZ8I1P2tx3ea_rDtXrhEqBguR1liAaE-P7/s320/Blum1.png" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
Being the nice, hospitable people we are, we invited Blum in for a quick bite to eat.<br />
<br />
He seemed very grateful, and - having cleaned his plate - headbutted his thanks politely before heading off. He was frightfully sorry, but he was running late for his next meeting and it was <i>very</i> important.<br />
<br />
Over the coming weeks, we saw quite a bit of Blum. He knew we were always good for a dish of kibble and a saucer of cat milk, and he frequently stopped by on his way to host some charity gala or social function.<br />
<br />
He had a curious habit of jumping up to headbutt things. If you held your hand just below waist height, he would bounce up and give it the full force of his nose.<br />
<br />
We called this move 'the Blum'.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpGcpqb86nNAMtbXVPedZ-0lU2KSYyqQVbV42RhuibUGYmrWP7huYOyVS4JtEs0TMLiAycV6GLdadJCS_0jUSWZLNDCrjeExxb1splTbMuZ3qxmLWhjRXPXXegcg2hRVfdPjWcz6urum4/s1600/Blum2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpGcpqb86nNAMtbXVPedZ-0lU2KSYyqQVbV42RhuibUGYmrWP7huYOyVS4JtEs0TMLiAycV6GLdadJCS_0jUSWZLNDCrjeExxb1splTbMuZ3qxmLWhjRXPXXegcg2hRVfdPjWcz6urum4/s400/Blum2.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
We soon found ourselves getting Blummed with alarming regularity, and we began to wonder whether he had a home to go to.<br />
<br />
We were growing rather fond of him.<br />
<br />
After pondering for a while, we decided to buy him a collar with our phone number on. That way, if anyone was looking after him, they could get in touch. And if they weren't, well ... maybe we could step in.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMy2V3oplSULlpsb8Ps4SV1TxkXEAv0iQ-zXngpohTlGrc9PA6X-EuhYjDp-PkJr7divgcBlLRu7qIXcpTond14xqYqFqsbUbKYPoeXVfah_Zc87BRbRwSQ6LyPxsU6ZlVR6yBkizrG7l/s1600/Collar.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMy2V3oplSULlpsb8Ps4SV1TxkXEAv0iQ-zXngpohTlGrc9PA6X-EuhYjDp-PkJr7divgcBlLRu7qIXcpTond14xqYqFqsbUbKYPoeXVfah_Zc87BRbRwSQ6LyPxsU6ZlVR6yBkizrG7l/s320/Collar.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The collar was a quick-release one in fluorescent green. It wasn't easy to miss.<br />
<br />
Blum evidently wasn't used to wearing a collar, and he wasn't very impressed by it. But he seemed to give it the benefit of the doubt.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDf_SHb_18Bee0wNhLpM6_1Y9Yo-x-7CA275jiGrs5diOAqymjlgAsAp8rZo-EgLvGQamdiw90rS_5ivR2zLqg91B_RNPQtKsme0jlumAhlfbgsf0Awl4nnYVFxmbofywwkXhfa7YIpGri/s1600/Blum3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDf_SHb_18Bee0wNhLpM6_1Y9Yo-x-7CA275jiGrs5diOAqymjlgAsAp8rZo-EgLvGQamdiw90rS_5ivR2zLqg91B_RNPQtKsme0jlumAhlfbgsf0Awl4nnYVFxmbofywwkXhfa7YIpGri/s400/Blum3.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
That night, Blum pootled off, cheery as ever, sporting his new accessory with indifference.<br />
<br />
We didn't hear anything for a couple of days. We didn't even see Blum in the street.<br />
<br />
Then one afternoon at work, my mobile rang.<br />
<br />
"Hello?" I said.<br />
"WHO'S THIS?" came an angry-sounding man's voice.<br />
"Who's <i>this</i>?" I said.<br />
"THERE'S A GREEN WHATSIT ON ME CAT!" the man roared, clearly enraged.<br />
<br />
Suddenly I realised who he must be.<br />
<br />
"Ah, sorry about that," I said quickly. "We'd just seen him around and wanted to check he had an owner."<br />
"HE DOESN'T LIKE COLLARS," growled the man.<br />
"Well, I do apologise," I said. "Next time he's about I'll take it off."<br />
"NO YER DON'T. I'M TAKIN' IT OFF MESELF," the man said, with an air of finality.<br />
"Um, OK," I said.<br />
"BECAUSE 'E HATES 'EM."<br />
"Alright."<br />
"AND HE'S MY CAT, YER SEE."<br />
"I quite understand."<br />
<br />
I thanked the man for calling and we hung up. Well, I was glad somebody was taking care of Blum, and cat people come in all guises. I thought that would be the end of the matter.<br />
<br />
But the next day, Blum was at the door. He was still wearing the collar.<br />
<br />
Smiling, I reached down and took it off.<br />
<br />
You never know when we might need it again. An 'owner please call' collar is a key item in a cat lover's armoury.<br />
<br />
Not wanting to hijack the scary man's cat, I sent Blum packing without his usual dish of Whiskas, and he scampered off happily. He probably had a tombola to run or an exhibition to unveil.<br />
<br />
We still see Blum around sometimes, although he tends to keep to Scary Man's end of the road.<br />
<br />
If you see him, you can bet he'll be headbutting the hand of a well-meaning passer-by.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK0rhpGMsusV2BygCd_YHz3_MkkaeaJUOJT_mf-XJ_kH_VCzwC5AXBtxzxom3F113TmWqJsN_k4QlXcVln8ajrIkpedI1VP8DSy3DbUl_8C_8Mjmlqdw8JiCUQZ4gVm3Osxhs_29xgM8I-/s1600/Blum4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK0rhpGMsusV2BygCd_YHz3_MkkaeaJUOJT_mf-XJ_kH_VCzwC5AXBtxzxom3F113TmWqJsN_k4QlXcVln8ajrIkpedI1VP8DSy3DbUl_8C_8Mjmlqdw8JiCUQZ4gVm3Osxhs_29xgM8I-/s400/Blum4.png" width="400" /></a></div>
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Old habits die hard.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-74928344541873791232013-03-02T13:40:00.001+00:002013-03-02T13:40:47.077+00:00Mouth's NemesisThis is Mouth's all-time nemesis.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4GqF8lb_q6FvJXu-1N3C0B1pv-7hXm8b8axsvRAVSmAdQk13QBJG8wybc1N2qsZqFkskWjsFfNc5eNeaVbcr6-HHG3Co0RLM3efvPw_W1DtoWejSRIZPwfLGsZ7LmhyFd_kRgkdmF3NtB/s1600/Laser1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4GqF8lb_q6FvJXu-1N3C0B1pv-7hXm8b8axsvRAVSmAdQk13QBJG8wybc1N2qsZqFkskWjsFfNc5eNeaVbcr6-HHG3Co0RLM3efvPw_W1DtoWejSRIZPwfLGsZ7LmhyFd_kRgkdmF3NtB/s320/Laser1.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
No, not the Japanese flag.<br />
<br />
It is the elusive Laser Dot.<br />
<br />
The Laser Dot holds a certain mystery for Mouth because it is the one thing he has never been allowed to catch.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWnS_XsKX-TA1HsXg-vUhuahohVtFvdNlc5BVP-XSR1q0Pck-Pxoil78F_4NcBGwKIL469DCHpXypWyAgrB26Ce-SCPJHtKTfhTyAVt9beHp7xoTOGAF_iGAtTCz21s7-GsNG6TZm1HESf/s1600/Laser2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWnS_XsKX-TA1HsXg-vUhuahohVtFvdNlc5BVP-XSR1q0Pck-Pxoil78F_4NcBGwKIL469DCHpXypWyAgrB26Ce-SCPJHtKTfhTyAVt9beHp7xoTOGAF_iGAtTCz21s7-GsNG6TZm1HESf/s400/Laser2.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
He seeks it here. He seeks it there. That tabby seeks it everywhere.<br />
<br />
The Laser Dot is Mouth's own personal Scarlet Pimpernel.<br />
<br />
It can scale walls; it can traverse the ceiling. There are no limits to its paw-evading capabilities.<br />
<br />
It maintains a deadly alliance with Watch Face Reflection, which is more skittish by nature and seems only to appear in sunny weather.<br />
<br />
Often, Mouth will pounce victoriously, convinced that he has managed to trap the LD this time.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOqxfP2OurwzYSCcdpsSUlqHJfL8EJNCN3leP8MjfTj99bngwrtP-Zs6rjMjKLQyRGN7o5v0UU2xtCaTGh7xFqqudyhEbhGT4elf2xV8Ws_npe-FeMDGDJjz8DaZqhj3iOqVLjRYbDvYe/s1600/Laser+pounce.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVOqxfP2OurwzYSCcdpsSUlqHJfL8EJNCN3leP8MjfTj99bngwrtP-Zs6rjMjKLQyRGN7o5v0UU2xtCaTGh7xFqqudyhEbhGT4elf2xV8Ws_npe-FeMDGDJjz8DaZqhj3iOqVLjRYbDvYe/s400/Laser+pounce.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
But when he lifts his paw, it is nowhere to be found.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOBF2V04MdLxKhGQQYF1IcVWFzBdL4eaYav_cUuyfSEa2-MHfyjUVABNz6LvFTD5RBz0eUf7_c2EhuhGrmNg2r5-Cc9pK0V-3tHNiKRMSAfr9uY-eKHBRQrfJz5pfRJqsT7bMWyr5_VtR/s1600/Laser+gone.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOBF2V04MdLxKhGQQYF1IcVWFzBdL4eaYav_cUuyfSEa2-MHfyjUVABNz6LvFTD5RBz0eUf7_c2EhuhGrmNg2r5-Cc9pK0V-3tHNiKRMSAfr9uY-eKHBRQrfJz5pfRJqsT7bMWyr5_VtR/s400/Laser+gone.png" width="336" /></a></div>
<br />
It breaks Mouth's poor little mind.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxylx441NE3kPDeK2viwCTNhQqq71P6G-qtT4fQiN7oDdi0-2jCJ8vPPUCqew4jf0E99hYhuh6AObAwAcz8rHPFfIwGlvXPPn-vkNcV7iYr_6RXWFgNPbn5w2_uCj_FrdYWBK5uWaDurk/s1600/Laser+gone2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="331" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxylx441NE3kPDeK2viwCTNhQqq71P6G-qtT4fQiN7oDdi0-2jCJ8vPPUCqew4jf0E99hYhuh6AObAwAcz8rHPFfIwGlvXPPn-vkNcV7iYr_6RXWFgNPbn5w2_uCj_FrdYWBK5uWaDurk/s400/Laser+gone2.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Sometimes when he is sleeping, Mouth will clasp his paws together and make happy faces. We think he dreams about catching the LD once and for all and showing it who is boss.<br />
<br />
When he wakes up, it seems to dawn on him that the enemy remains at large.<br />
<br />
For Mouth, the Laser Dot is the holy grail. It is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qlX02KjLMnsSgBQIhyM72uDar5YYgoxtS4UZy3Y-11530GnU253NhBHCDj6VEwMyoSbUwRwfYt2oYdWFjL7MLNxKC8ISjkDHRtYZa-TITviG2EP0ivKO4-Xkyj6tgzKSVsE-5BqA8ii-/s1600/Laser+rainbow.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6qlX02KjLMnsSgBQIhyM72uDar5YYgoxtS4UZy3Y-11530GnU253NhBHCDj6VEwMyoSbUwRwfYt2oYdWFjL7MLNxKC8ISjkDHRtYZa-TITviG2EP0ivKO4-Xkyj6tgzKSVsE-5BqA8ii-/s320/Laser+rainbow.png" width="247" /></a></div>
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Well, ambition is a healthy thing.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-25408478934869832602013-02-28T17:05:00.001+00:002013-02-28T17:05:33.676+00:00The Best Cat PartsThese are my Top Five Cat Parts.<br />
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<u>Paws</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Cat paws are one of life's awesome things, not just because they are fluffy and squishy and a bit sort of silly and blobby, but also because they can transform into terrible weapons at the flick of a claw.<br />
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Their general appeal is perhaps best summarised by point 5 in <a href="http://pusheen.com/post/21466063041">this list</a>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVmd2z_JuVgEthcNxu6cuHaIl43L4QnofZQEeasBHgClRaqKHoGi8Xp7flKjrzcMhyphenhyphenaLwc5-ErhqZi8IDr0-RxbijVpqnq-Gk47Cgltjc8pcfOblIYjiFwPNSb0oqt7tYIfTHwHOk9XOe/s1600/Paw2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOVmd2z_JuVgEthcNxu6cuHaIl43L4QnofZQEeasBHgClRaqKHoGi8Xp7flKjrzcMhyphenhyphenaLwc5-ErhqZi8IDr0-RxbijVpqnq-Gk47Cgltjc8pcfOblIYjiFwPNSb0oqt7tYIfTHwHOk9XOe/s320/Paw2.png" width="302" /></a></div>
<br />
It is no small accomplishment.<br />
<br />
A cool thing about Tail's paws is that the pads are two-tone (well, she has always been precocious).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8In3r4nzrWoovY5VC6ABgLLu10Tx0hGPfutRUhTtrt34KYahmJ5yoX01DnFg6dnn4RZhOeGU2x1Uibfs9fv8JFnLPU8ZAnXUgnf3Sko7HZVnTz1YBbLO8Xm1JpHI_BJ6cs0b-fwIizaq5/s1600/Paw1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8In3r4nzrWoovY5VC6ABgLLu10Tx0hGPfutRUhTtrt34KYahmJ5yoX01DnFg6dnn4RZhOeGU2x1Uibfs9fv8JFnLPU8ZAnXUgnf3Sko7HZVnTz1YBbLO8Xm1JpHI_BJ6cs0b-fwIizaq5/s320/Paw1.png" width="303" /></a></div>
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Also of note is the fact that paw pads are usually the same colour as a cat's nose. Felines are masters of interior design.</div>
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This does not mean they have any inbuilt respect for sofas or wallpaper.</div>
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<u>Tails</u></div>
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<u><br /></u></div>
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A cat's range of tail signals is far more advanced than that of a dog.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwNOmTauVJijsMItoPjnSFNEoqz6Fjurt54M3dfsal5lT87TOrF_7wVAkVcD8Eivd94gy-aEJMeFK6FpMWD1wX3akkff6Hs6I3HG4zYocy5nMieVUhbMRofj_XzpPuPTRyWJJdgTidGzI/s1600/Tails.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="404" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuwNOmTauVJijsMItoPjnSFNEoqz6Fjurt54M3dfsal5lT87TOrF_7wVAkVcD8Eivd94gy-aEJMeFK6FpMWD1wX3akkff6Hs6I3HG4zYocy5nMieVUhbMRofj_XzpPuPTRyWJJdgTidGzI/s640/Tails.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Of course, in Mouth's case, you have to bear in mind that his tail is probably just where he left it.<br />
<br />
If you see Tail waving her tail around, it's likely she's simply trying to download the latest series of <i>The Big Bang Theory</i>.<br />
<br />
<u>Whiskery bits</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
I don't actually know what these bits are called. Cheeks? Jowls? Lips?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5upRg0AlDm1yBKChUDfMBi9V9U4HrBGlQ4Jry2d88cm-X8HUuu0kL5TRApXWvjYkyCua0ihib6x9oYC7p0qS08Vh7sU8YkjVwZgCWiQuI-VDztgxdOpp7z5uFh0L6_8O5JzhjQAYbLZf/s1600/Wheek.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5upRg0AlDm1yBKChUDfMBi9V9U4HrBGlQ4Jry2d88cm-X8HUuu0kL5TRApXWvjYkyCua0ihib6x9oYC7p0qS08Vh7sU8YkjVwZgCWiQuI-VDztgxdOpp7z5uFh0L6_8O5JzhjQAYbLZf/s320/Wheek.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
What about philtrums? Do cats have philtrums?<br />
<br />
Mouth's approach to whisker-growing is notoriously haphazard. Unlike other cats, whose whiskers tend to be uniform in colour, Mouth's are an array of colours, patterns and lengths.<br />
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<br />
Perhaps it is his own special way of being expressive.<br />
<br />
Whenever my boyfriend and I find a discarded whisker on the floor, we 'plant' it in the rug. We pretend it will grow into a cat tree.<br />
<br />
Mouth and Tail enjoy this game and delight in nibbling the whiskery sapling.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aiVBEgf9CTriyFBOUfuYTKIUkKCUt8__7uOyCy6NeGFuW1W31bnLIBfp7yZ54ZGgRCJDDP1N_gxDtgjSfiqFOKHi8fFRVtLsfN09LvE2D0dl7YnJk59C0oxHGKEg-2SuVDIrzPs4_Xqk/s1600/Whisker+tree.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_aiVBEgf9CTriyFBOUfuYTKIUkKCUt8__7uOyCy6NeGFuW1W31bnLIBfp7yZ54ZGgRCJDDP1N_gxDtgjSfiqFOKHi8fFRVtLsfN09LvE2D0dl7YnJk59C0oxHGKEg-2SuVDIrzPs4_Xqk/s400/Whisker+tree.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Good thing really - we couldn't cope with all those new-seeded kittens.<br />
<br />
<u>Feet</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Something that has always entertained me about Mouth is that he has no tabby pattern on the back of his lower legs.<br />
<br />
It's as if the Cat Design Factory were working to a tight budget when they drew up his blueprint. I imagine the conversation going:<br />
<br />
"It's bad news, boss. With this month's cuts we can't afford to finish the tabby spray on this one."<br />
"Ah, just leave out the hard-to-see bits. Nobody'll notice."<br />
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<br />
Mouth does not care, because he doesn't look under his feet. He has no subtlety and is all about the obvious.<br />
<br />
However, he has an amusing habit of lifting his legs in the air to clean his bottom and then forgetting and leaving them up there, so we get a good view of them pretty often.<br />
<br />
<u>Ears</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Cat ears are GREAT. They are like owl ears. They swivel about like furry antennae.<br />
<br />
If you are ever bored and in the company of a cat, you can do a lot of fun things with its ears. You can make them pointy or flat or backwards-facing.<br />
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I reckon ear-spotting could become a legitimate hobby. They are infinitely more interesting than birds or trains.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-18518433138373218242013-02-21T19:36:00.000+00:002013-02-28T22:27:56.396+00:00House of a Cat LoverIf you have cats, there is a fair chance your house is like this.<br />
<br />
If it isn't <strike>yet</strike>, treat this as a <strike>warning</strike> speculative case study.<br />
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<u>There is cat hair in everything</u><br />
<br />
Food, cups of coffee, mascara, you name it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7GtfHV-4LedzfDMjmIEIr3WmPuBJBTeku0ZqUXU234z_wmV6chYLKs0Jz55H2Cg-3Xv3NkZ0Nn-NJe81-A37aWume7EQR3bItbBiWG_ykmlGndka0JltzVyEeXjmyd_k5gE6HvBMe7DRt/s1600/Tea.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7GtfHV-4LedzfDMjmIEIr3WmPuBJBTeku0ZqUXU234z_wmV6chYLKs0Jz55H2Cg-3Xv3NkZ0Nn-NJe81-A37aWume7EQR3bItbBiWG_ykmlGndka0JltzVyEeXjmyd_k5gE6HvBMe7DRt/s320/Tea.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There will come a time when you stop trying to fish the hairs out of your cuppa and learn to appreciate the added flavour.<br />
<br />
<em>Essence du rodent</em> is an acquired taste.<br />
<br />
<u>There is cat hair on everything</u><br />
<br />
If you have a black and white cat, it will expertly shed black hair on your white clothes and white hair on your black clothes.<br />
<br />
Do not react with anger; this behaviour reveals genius tendencies.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdlJmfEb1nYSYNuzqgzS4CyOKPreKHVPWFVj04PJeMOJAkGenKshdjiNh8Ce2cadcifUrhEaPE8KZRIMV7MMLl0aSVwBhyJVtap4XEuHcirF3JJkD1PQhJF0s4Ej1a4R9OP6ZAaSL657a/s1600/Dress.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMdlJmfEb1nYSYNuzqgzS4CyOKPreKHVPWFVj04PJeMOJAkGenKshdjiNh8Ce2cadcifUrhEaPE8KZRIMV7MMLl0aSVwBhyJVtap4XEuHcirF3JJkD1PQhJF0s4Ej1a4R9OP6ZAaSL657a/s320/Dress.png" width="273" /></a></div>
<br />
Unfortunately, you are unlikely to convince your cat to use them to your advantage.<br />
<br />
<u>The loo seat is always down</u><br />
<br />
Cats are drawn to toilet water like ducks to ponds. Except that the cats do not intend to swim in the water. They intend to drink it, bathe in it, then regurgitate it all over your kitchen floor. When your mother-in-law has come to visit.<br />
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In time, your toilet-seat-closing behaviour will become compulsive. "LEAVE THE SEAT DOWN!", you will bark at the nice lady from next door who only wanted to powder her nose. Your friends will start to think of you as a lavatory-obsessed fiend.<br />
<br />
Ignore this; those who do not have cats will never understand.<br />
<br />
<u>Your sofas are clawed (like, <em>a lot</em>)</u><br />
<br />
Initially, you will resist this.<br />
<br />
"BAD KITTY!", you will admonish. You may even squirt your sofas with stuff that claims to discourage errant paws.<br />
<br />
Enjoy the illusion of control while it lasts.<br />
<br />
Before long, your sofa will be scratched to within an inch of its life, while the scratch post stands untouched beside it.<br />
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Be savvy. Buy cheap sofas.</div>
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<u>Your cupboards contain more cat products than human ones</u></div>
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<br /></div>
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Stocks of cat litter, dry food, wet food, treats, supplements, flea powder, worming tablets and That Spray That Always Gets Cat Vomit Off The Lavender Carpet will be eternally replenished.</div>
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If you fancy a meal yourself, however, you may need to venture to the shops.</div>
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<br />
You will find yourself feeling grateful that "at least we have enough of the important things".<br />
<br />
As your stomach rumbles.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-37550270086993427512013-02-19T18:24:00.000+00:002013-02-19T18:24:11.586+00:00The Day I was SavagedWhen my boyfriend and I moved house last year, we took the opportunity to buy lots of new matching furniture.<br />
<br />
It was awesome. We bought tables and chairs and drawers and a new bed and loads of shelves, all in the same colour. We were in New Furniture Heaven.<br />
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One of the things we bought was a big 4x4 set of box shelves.<br />
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We put them next to the bed, so I could use them to store my clothes.<br />
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<br />
I had great plans. I could organise my clothes by colour, style, label, fabric, sleeve length... The possibilities were endless.<br />
<br />
However, until I could find time to unpack my clothes and sort them into categories, the shelves stood empty beside the bed.<br />
<br />
Naturally, the cats assumed we had bought them an elaborate new fortress, and made it their business to sit gloatingly in the lower rows of boxes. Tail, who is a master of jumping and has a sense of balance to rival a trapeze artist, even managed to conquer the third row of boxes.<br />
<br />
Now, something you need to know about Mouth is that he has no concept of 'up'.<br />
<br />
Once an object has vanished from his line of sight, it is gone for good and will never be seen again.<br />
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<br />
This works well for Tail, because if she ever wants a bit of time to herself, she need only climb onto the table.<br />
<br />
Tail is very good at getting down from high places, so we don't worry about her.<br />
<br />
It never occurred to us that Mouth might accidentally stumble upon a high place.<br />
<br />
One night while we were asleep, he must have somehow found his way into a fourth-row box. I have no idea how he did it, but I think Tail may have had something to do with it. She had a guilty smirk on her face all day.<br />
<br />
At first, Mouth was excited about being in the top row of the box shelves. He doesn't understand how height works so he thought he was enormous.<br />
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However, we weren't awake to see him, and the novelty soon began to wear off.<br />
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<br />
After a while, terror set in.<br />
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<br />
Unfortunately, my boyfriend and I are heavy sleepers. We're also used to the random miaows and howls that the moggies make at night, so we remained oblivious to Mouth's peril.<br />
<br />
Mouth's panic grew. He was scared of getting down, but he was scared of the up more.<br />
<br />
There was only one thing for it.<br />
<br />
I was lying in bed about five feet below him when it happened. I was fast asleep, but if I had chanced to open an eye at that point, this is what I would have seen.<br />
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<br />
For a cat who seldom leaves the ground, Mouth had judged his leap well. He landed safely on the bouncy softness of the bed.<br />
<br />
He also landed on the bouncy softness of my face.<br />
<br />
I was in the middle of a dream at the time. I can't remember what I was dreaming about, but suddenly the dream took a violent turn and my fellow dream-people started attacking my chin.<br />
<br />
It was most disconcerting.<br />
<br />
After a moment or two, I realised that the attack was not dream-based and that I had, in fact, been air-bombed by a vertically challenged tabby.<br />
<br />
Having lived with Mouth for a few years, I wasn't as shocked by this as you might think, so despite the wetness I could feel on my chin (drool or nose juice, I thought sagely), I went back to sleep.<br />
<br />
I was woken in the morning by my boyfriend's screams.<br />
<br />
"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?" he yelled, rather unflatteringly in my opinion.<br />
<br />
I tried to remember.<br />
<br />
"Oh, Mouth fell off the shelves in the night," I said dismissively.<br />
<br />
"DO YOU NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL?" my boyfriend squawked.<br />
<br />
"Er, no?" I said. But I decided I'd better have a peek in the mirror.<br />
<br />
OK, there was a fair amount of blood.<br />
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<br />
Hardly life-threatening, I told myself. All part and parcel of the rewarding Mouth-owning experience.<br />
<br />
I went into the bathroom to wash the blood off.<br />
<br />
Once my boyfriend had stopped hyperventilating and I'd cleaned my face, it wasn't nearly so bad.<br />
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<br />
There was a definite scratch, though, which took a lot of explaining to people at work.<br />
<br />
"Why do you love cats so much when they <i>savage</i> you?" they said.<br />
<br />
They didn't seem to appreciate that my injury was due to Mouth's incompetence at life, rather than any malicious feline intent.<br />
<br />
The only really annoying thing was that our office ID photos were taken that week, so I look like a serial killer in my picture.<br />
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<br />
Thankfully, the resolution isn't great, so you can only tell if you look <i>really</i> hard.<br />
<br />
I filled the box shelves with clothes sharpish, though. Mouth is a hazard to himself.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-14343504625445142372013-02-18T18:51:00.000+00:002013-02-18T23:38:48.055+00:00Stuff I Have Found on my Cats<u>Yoghurt</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Tail once calmly strutted in with a dollop of yoghurt on the end of her tail.<br />
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<br />
I have no idea where it came from, but I presume it was deliberate. Tail does everything on purpose.<br />
<br />
Fashion is a curious thing.<br />
<br />
<u>Burs</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
The moggies frequently sport burs and other plantlife on their fur.<br />
<br />
The burs tend to congregate sneakily in the hardest-to-scratch places.<br />
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<br />
Being a cat of very little brain, Mouth doesn't mind them. He is flattered that they seem so attached to him and would like them to stay there forever, please.<br />
<br />
<u>Carrier bags</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Mouth has a love/hate relationship with carrier bags. One minute he will be casually wearing one, and the next it is a scary suffocating monster that wants to eat his legs.<br />
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<br />
My boyfriend and I hide our carrier bags away, but this doesn't seem to stop Mouth seeking them out.<br />
<u><br /></u>
<u>Eye gunk</u><br />
<br />
Most cats produce eye gunk, but some make a hobby of it. Mouth generates the stuff with disarming regularity.<br />
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<br />
<u>Slugs</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
I once found a slug slithering blithely up Mouth's leg.<br />
<br />
He seemed oblivious to its presence. The slug, for its part, was tackling the upward climb with gusto, apparently convinced that it would find a year's supply of lettuce at the leg's summit.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-82174764806322938732013-02-15T16:29:00.000+00:002013-02-15T16:44:03.698+00:00Toy Story Part II: Things That Are Not MiceHere, as promised, is a list of Mouth and Tail's favourite non-mouse toys.<br />
<br />
(5) In fifth place I give you the Catnip Sausage. This was a Christmas gift from one of my cat-owning friends. She tells me the catnip is so strong that her own cats attacked the postman when it arrived.<br />
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<br />
The Catnip Sausage bears a brown stain that looks worryingly like a bodily secretion of some sort (Tail <i>does</i> get excited), but my boyfriend assures me that is just what catnip does when it is drooled on.<br />
<br />
I give it a wide berth just in case.<br />
<br />
(4) At number four I present ... a box. This is no ordinary box; it is exactly the right dimensions to house Mouth's rather ample bottom, and, if he hunches down, allows him to demonstrate the 'Muffin Top' position.<br />
<br />
Judging by the bite marks around the edges, it also appears to be very tasty.<br />
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<br />
The box originally contained some books I bought online. When the supplier asked me to write a review of their product, I was tempted to write: "Excellent packaging. My cat has barely moved since product arrived. Would buy again. <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 23px; text-align: center;">★</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 23px; text-align: center;">★</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 23px; text-align: center;">★</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 23px; text-align: center;">★</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: HelveticaNeue, 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 23px; text-align: center;">★</span></span>"<br />
<br />
(3) In third place comes my nose. Not a conventional toy, I'll admit, but it is one of Mouth's most treasured things to lick, paw, show his bottom and sleep on.<br />
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<br />
My nose has come to accept this.<br />
<br />
(2) In the coveted number two spot is the Weird Wiry Thing. We don't really know what it is. It is basically just a wire with wooden chewy things at each end.<br />
<br />
We bought it at a pet fair for about £4, and it came with a paw-shaped sticker so you could fasten it to the wall. "WARNING: STRONG ADHESIVE," warned the label. "THIS TOY WILL NEVER COME OFF YOUR WALL," it said. "YOU WILL PROBABLY NEED TO BULLDOZE YOUR HOUSE IN ORDER TO REMOVE IT," it cautioned. (I may be misremembering slightly, but it was <i>very</i> insistent.)<br />
<br />
It fell off the wall after a couple of hours, so we just gave Mouth and Tail the wire.<br />
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<br />
They love it though, so it has earned its runner-up slot.<br />
<br />
(1) In prestigious first place comes an old aerial that fell off my boyfriend's car.<br />
<br />
No, really. Mouth cherishes this aerial like nothing else (it is on a par with Tail's <a href="http://www.spotthemogspot.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/ode-to-sparkly-ball.html">sparkly ball</a>), and will even abandon freshly plated food to chase it.<br />
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Friends never cease to be entertained by Mouth's devotion to his aerial. He will fall asleep clutching it lovingly between his paws. He will carry it in his mouth like a dog with a particularly impressive stick. He will give it a lingering lick now and then, to reassure it of his continuing adulation.<br />
<br />
Mouth has a distinctive Aerial Miaow (<i>mrrrOO-OO-OOWW!</i>) that means "I feel I have not spent a sufficiently high proportion of my time chasing the aerial of late, and this displeases me". The only acceptable response to the Aerial Miaow is to find the aerial, pronto, and drag its tip along the floor for him to pursue.<br />
<br />
Well, it is the only thing he stands any chance of catching.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-91398783834065195232013-02-14T13:57:00.000+00:002013-02-14T13:57:13.969+00:00Cat vs RoseI have decided that cats are better than roses because their sharp pointy bits are less generously distributed.<br />
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Cats are also squishier and more open to being snuggled.<br />
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Roses smell better, though.<br />
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Happy Valentine's Day!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-23701564908330680582013-02-10T15:11:00.000+00:002013-02-10T15:11:13.435+00:00My Cat is Afraid of BrasI bought a new bra last week.<br />
<br />
It is nice. It is pretty and purple and supportive in all the right places.<br />
<br />
When I got home, I decided to try it on. I left it on the bed while I nipped in the shower.<br />
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Little did I know that purple bras are the stuff of Mouth's worst nightmares.<br />
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In his eyes, it was a demonic chest-hugging monster that wanted to devour him.<br />
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He peered at it anxiously from the side of the bed, keeping low to make sure it didn't see him.<br />
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Mouth considered his plight.<br />
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If this beast was to be defeated, it must first be approached.<br />
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He extended a nervous paw.<br />
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<br />
No. No. This would not do. He would need to sneak up on the purple monster from behind and catch it unawares.<br />
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There was no telling what it might do.<br />
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Mouth reached around to try and surprise it.<br />
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With painstaking slowness, he gave the right cup a ginger prod.<br />
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Instantly, he withdrew in horror.<br />
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<br />
Mouth was beside himself. This was a pioneering triumph. Never again would cats be terrorised by lingerie.<br />
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He sat on the bra and gave it a good lick, just to show it who was boss.<br />
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When I came out of the shower, Mouth and the bra were amicably intertwined. Mouth was even giving his bottom a casual groom.<br />
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I was pleased to see that my cat and my bra could learn to coexist peacefully.<br />
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Just then, Mouth spotted a dangerous-looking piece of fluff on the floor, and shot out the door.<br />
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Well, you never know with fluff.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-84223088848368799402013-02-09T16:43:00.002+00:002013-02-09T16:47:54.727+00:00Why My Cat is a Hypocrite (But Doesn't Know It)When Mouth was younger, he used to sit on top of the TV.<br />
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Sometimes he would swipe at the screen. He would swipe at the ball when we watched tennis or pool, but his favourite programmes were nature documentaries.<br />
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He loved it when there were fish, even though he probably didn't understand what a fish was.<br />
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One day, my boyfriend and I decided to buy a fish tank.<br />
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It seemed a good idea. My boyfriend had wanted to keep tropical fish for ages, and it would keep Mouth entertained. It would be like a permanent TV for cats.<br />
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We set the tank up in the living room, where Mouth could sit and watch it from the sofa.<br />
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But Mouth was unconvinced. There was a big thing with water in it, but he couldn't drink the water, and the water had floaty things in it. And Mouth could not float, so why did these things get to float? There was something suspicious going on.<br />
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Predictably, the <a href="http://spotthemogspot.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/the-embarrassing-millipede-story.html">Sideways Head of Confusion</a> was unleashed.<br />
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<br />
Mouth soon realised that the Sideways Head of Confusion was not making the floaty things disappear, so he threw caution to the wind and gave the tank a tentative lick.<br />
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<br />
When he had finished making slurpy tongue marks on the glass, Mouth sat down and considered matters.<br />
<br />
On the downside, the licking had not resulted in noms, nor had it got rid of the floaty things.<br />
<br />
On the plus side, he was not dead, and the floaty things were quite cool.<br />
<br />
Mouth decided they would be his friends.<br />
<br />
Once he had decided this, he seemed much happier. He curled up on top of the tank and went to sleep on it.<br />
<br />
He didn't know what these 'fish' things were, but he would not eat them. He would stick with his pouches instead. Yes.<br />
<br />
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<br />
Nowadays, Mouth and the fish are inseparable. They gaze adoringly into each other's eyes. When Mouth places an affectionate paw on the side of the tank, the fish swim up and bump the glass with their noses.<br />
<br />
It's lucky his pouch food looks like sludge.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-66157611824378075672013-02-05T02:56:00.000+00:002013-02-05T02:56:40.531+00:00Why I Moved House for a CatMost people wait until they have a house before they get a cat.<br />
<br />
Not me.<br />
<br />
This is the story of how we came to adopt Tail, and, coincidentally, how we also came to have a house.<br />
<br />
When I finished university, I moved back in with my parents for a while. I knew that I wanted to move out at some point, and I knew that I wanted to get a cat, but I wasn't in a rush.<br />
<br />
One Wednesday night at about 1am, three months after I moved back home, I was sitting in my parents' living room using the computer. (I was awake at this time because my brain still thought it was a student.)<br />
<br />
Suddenly, I saw a torch beam flash across the curtains.<br />
<br />
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<br />
My first thought was that we were being burgled.<br />
<br />
"I must apprehend these felons!" I said to myself, courageously wiggling my toes in my fluffy slippers.<br />
<br />
Being careful not to make a noise, I put my dressing gown on and unlocked the front door.<br />
<br />
I was immediately confronted by two excited children, who were running in circles round our front lawn, whooping and giggling and generally having a whale of a time. Inconspicuous was not what they were being.<br />
<br />
"These are not very efficient burglars," I thought.<br />
<br />
It is a sad reflection on society when even the crooks cannot master their trade. I thought about slipping them my purse and some jewellery, just to give them a head-start.<br />
<br />
"Excuse me," came a voice from under the hedge, "I'm trying to catch my kitten."<br />
<br />
"Oh, I see," I said, my faith in the criminal underworld restored.<br />
<br />
A lady, presumably the children's mother, crawled out from under the hedge and shone her torch further up. There, sure enough, was the back end of a kitten, flailing inelegantly in the midst of our leylandii.<br />
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<br />
It had a tail of immense proportions.<br />
<br />
"Wait a sec," I said, "I've got some cat treats inside."<br />
<br />
My parents didn't have a cat (my dad is allergic), but several neighbourhood moggies liked to pop in from time to time and it would be rude not to feed them.<br />
<br />
I located the treats, along with a better torch, and returned to the front garden, where the lady was swiping in vain at her kitten's posterior.<br />
<br />
The kitten did not seem overly concerned by this; in fact, it appeared to be making itself at home.<br />
<br />
The treats didn't help either.<br />
<br />
"Shall I just grab its leg?" the lady said hopefully.<br />
<br />
My knowledge of cat parenting was not very advanced, but I was pretty sure it was not good practice to yoink infant felines by their appendages.<br />
<br />
"Erm, I wouldn't," I said, and had a think. "Look, how about you give me your phone number and I'll try to entice it down in the morning? It'll be tired by then."<br />
<br />
The lady looked at her watch. It was almost 2am.<br />
<br />
"OK then," she said, and jotted her name and number on a scrap of paper. Then she and the boys went on their way.<br />
<br />
I could swear I heard the hedge emit a small sigh of relief.<br />
<br />
The kitten was clearly an expert on evasive manoeuvres. There was no getting at it tonight, so I went to bed.<br />
<br />
The next morning, I was greeted by a curious sight. My mum had scattered some grated cheese on the path for the birds, and the escapee kitten was tucking in with delight.<br />
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<br />
Once it had had its fill, I scooped it up and took it inside. Then I dialled the lady's number.<br />
<br />
"I have your kitten!" I said triumphantly when she answered.<br />
<br />
"Um, can you hold onto her for a bit?" said the lady. "I'm a bit busy at the moment. I've got to get the boys to school and then there's the shopping and the... Can I come at about 10 o'clock?"<br />
<br />
"All right then," I said.<br />
<br />
While we were waiting, the kitten decided to explore. It assessed the dining room and the kitchen before eating a few cat treats and casually falling asleep in the cupboard under the sink.<br />
<br />
Not long after 10am, the lady rang our doorbell.<br />
<br />
"Come in," I said. "She's sleeping in the cupboard."<br />
<br />
The lady looked a little surprised by this, but then seemed to remember that I had found her under my hedge, and said nothing.<br />
<br />
I showed her into the kitchen.<br />
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<br />
The kitten had woken up to see what all the commotion was about.<br />
<br />
I reached into the cupboard and lifted her out. I passed her to the lady.<br />
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<br />
"I bet you're so happy to have her back," I grinned.<br />
<br />
"Oh, until she escapes again," said the lady crossly. "This is the third time we've found her in your garden."<br />
<br />
"Really?" I said. I hadn't seen any kittens about recently. "Where do you live?"<br />
<br />
The lady told me her address, and it was at least a mile from our house.<br />
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<br />
"Wow!" I said, impressed. "How old is she?"<br />
<br />
"Hmm, I don't really know. Three or four months, maybe."<br />
<br />
I looked at the kitten with new respect.<br />
<br />
"We need to find a new home for her anyway," the lady sighed, "our other cat doesn't like her."<br />
<br />
An idea started to form in my head. But I didn't have anywhere to keep her.<br />
<br />
"I expect you have lots of friends wanting to take her," I said.<br />
<br />
"No, no. We're going to have to take her to a shelter next week. We're going on holiday so it has to be sorted out by then."<br />
<br />
I nearly offered to take her on the spot, but I knew I couldn't. She couldn't live here.<br />
<br />
The lady left and took the kitten with her. <i>Well, that's that</i>, I thought. I hadn't even given her my phone number.<br />
<br />
I tried to forget about the kitten. She'd be snapped up in a rescue shelter. People love kittens.<br />
<br />
Then one snowy December day, I saw a familiar silhouette outside the front door.<br />
<br />
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<br />
It was freezing outside. I opened the door and let her in.<br />
<br />
The kitten scampered to her cupboard, squawking with happy recognition.<br />
<br />
I didn't think twice. I dug out the lady's phone number and called it.<br />
<br />
"Have you found a home for your kitten yet?" I gabbled, not bothering to say who I was.<br />
<br />
"No," said the lady, "But it doesn't matter, she's gone missing again anyway."<br />
<br />
"That's because she's in my garden again," I said.<br />
<br />
"Oh," said the lady, realising who she was talking to. "I don't suppose you want her, do you?"<br />
<br />
I did. I did. I wanted her very much.<br />
<br />
But, of course, it was impossible. There were lots of reasons why it was a bad idea.<br />
<br />
"Yes please," I said.<br />
<br />
"Ah, that's good then. You'll have to take her today because we're going away tomorrow morning," the lady said. "I'll bring her things round later."<br />
<br />
Her 'things' consisted of a pink bed, a pink collar and a big metal cage.<br />
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<br />
"The cage stops her escaping," the lady explained, wrestling it out of the car. Then she handed me a pack of chocolate biscuits and half a carton of milk. "This is what she eats."<br />
<br />
She cast a last glance in the kitten's direction. "The boys will miss her," she said sadly. Then she drove off.<br />
<br />
I looked dubiously at the cage. Then I folded it up and put it away in the garage.<br />
<br />
I put the pink bed in the kitten's cupboard, but she ignored it.<br />
<br />
I remembered I needed to tell my parents what I'd done. It wasn't going to be a fun conversation.<br />
<br />
"She can't stay here," they said, once they had finished pulling their hair out and drinking strong coffee. "What <i>were </i>you thinking?"<br />
<br />
I don't know what I was thinking. What could I do? I desperately wanted to give the kitten a home, but I had no home to give her.<br />
<br />
I would need to find one.<br />
<br />
Luckily, my boyfriend was visiting at the weekend anyway. We'd been vaguely talking about moving in together, but we weren't expecting to do it straight away.<br />
<br />
"When we get our own place, can we get a kitten?" I asked him, testing the waters.<br />
<br />
"Well, I don't know about that," he said. "Kittens are expensive, and -"<br />
<br />
"What about this one?" I said quickly, and deposited the kitten on his lap.<br />
<br />
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<br />
The kitten did all the right things. She purred, and she did her big cute eyes, and she was extra-specially careful to sheath her claws.<br />
<br />
My boyfriend adored her.<br />
<br />
From that moment on, we were a two-person-and-one-cat family.<br />
<br />
It was glorious. The sun was shining and the grass was green and we had a kitten. Everything was perfect, apart from one minor technicality.<br />
<br />
Our family was homeless.<br />
<br />
We spent the whole weekend on the phone to estate agents, viewing flats and doing sums. By the time my boyfriend went back home, we'd signed a contract and were due to move in two days.<br />
<br />
That is how we came to live in our landlady's converted loft.<br />
<br />
We've come a long way since then. We've acquired Mouth (that's another story), moved house and changed jobs.<br />
<br />
But Tail is pretty happy with the way things turned out.<br />
<br />
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<br />
We have never fed her chocolate biscuits, but she does like the odd lump of cheese now and then.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-33160560489595649642013-02-03T17:35:00.002+00:002013-02-03T17:35:27.832+00:00"The Writing on the Floor": Litter Tray Graphology<u>The 'OK, so where is it?'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
You just <i>know</i> it's in the plant pot. Or behind the sofa. Or worse...<br />
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It's a dangerous game. Follow your nose.<br />
<br />
<u>The 'bullseye'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
True test of a cat person: this sight makes you indescribably proud.<br />
<br />
Enjoy it while it lasts.<br />
<u><br /></u>
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<u><br /></u>
<u>The 'oops'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
When the front paws don't know where the back paws are.<br />
<br />
A+ for effort, C- for results.<br />
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<br />
<u>The 'how on earth do they do that?'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Kind of spooky.<br />
<u><br /></u>
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<u><br /></u>
<u>The 'I hate you'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
A common sight after vet visits, house parties, worming treatments etc.<br />
<br />
Watch out for hidden messages - it's like reading tea leaves.<br />
<u><br /></u>
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<u><br /></u>
<u>The 'almost'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
"Well I didn't quite know what it was going to be, so I waited a bit, and by the time it happened I was too late."<br />
<u><br /></u>
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<u><br /></u>
"I - I just don't know what to say. This is so embarrassing."<br />
<u><br /></u>
<u>The 'cat grass'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
The reason cats like to eat grass and then project it from all orifices remains uncertain.<br />
<br />
That is just the sort of animals they are.<br />
<u><br /></u>
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<u><br /></u>
<u>The 'modern art'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
Take photos. In later years, your cat will be hailed as the next Picasso. You will make millions.<br />
<u><br /></u>
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<u><br /></u>
<u>The 'festive'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
The inevitable result of Christmas, birthdays, or pretty much any occasion where there are sparkly things involved.<br />
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The harder you try to stop this happening, the more spangly your litter tray will be.<br />
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<u><br /></u>
<u>The 'apocalypse'</u><br />
<u><br /></u>
No. No. Do not dwell on the negative. Just be thankful your house still stands and you are alive.<br />
<u><br /></u>
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<u><br /></u>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-17756548393709217952013-02-01T16:00:00.001+00:002013-02-01T16:00:45.108+00:00Toy Story Part I: Of Mice and MogsFor your reference, I have put together a comprehensive guide to Mouth and Tail's top five toy mice.<br />
<br />
(5) At number five comes Intervening Mouse, also known as The Mouse of Inordinate Size.<br />
<br />
Noted for his sheer bulk and gormless expression, Intervening Mouse is so named because his timely insertion effectively prevents squabbles, furniture clawing, food stealing and so forth. His strength lies in his Distraction Strike.<br />
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An amusing fact about Intervening Mouse is that the company who manufactured him also made a toy fish of a similar size. We didn't buy one because they were creepy (they had no eyes - what's with that?), but the company clearly used the same fabric parts to make both toys. That is why Intervening Mouse's legs look suspiciously like flippers.<br />
<br />
IM's aquatic capabilities remain untested.<br />
<br />
(4) Coming in at fourth place we have Alarmed Mouse.<br />
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Alarmed Mouse does very little except look alarmed. AM's mere presence is enough to disconcert even the most composed animal.<br />
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Points for bringing worry and apprehension to even the calmest of situations.<br />
<br />
(3) It's getting tense now. At number three, for comedy value, comes The Label With The Mouse Attached. I'm sure you can guess why we called him that.<br />
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The moggies have always preferred the label portion to the mouse portion. Figures.<br />
<br />
(2) In highly contested second place I present Ex-Mouse. EM has served her country loyally for many years, earning medals for being Most Chewed and sacrificing her squeaker for the greater good. Although she is now essentially a heap of mangled fluff with one eye and a distinct lack of tail, Tail loves her dearly.<br />
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She is of a size that means she is frequently deposited in shoes, water bowls etc.<br />
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<br />
(1) Aaaaaaand in first place, for rarity value, is Psychedelic Mouse. PM has style. She has character. She is the hippy of the mouse community and believes in free cheese.<br />
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Among her many talents, Psychedelic Mouse is easy to spot when accidentally sucked into the Hoover.<br />
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We suspect the person who designed her may have been consuming questionable substances.<br />
<br />
To follow: a countdown of Mouth and Tail's less conventional, less rodenty playthings. Check back soon, folks!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-79108666716555957692013-01-29T18:49:00.001+00:002013-01-29T18:49:55.604+00:00The Difference Between a Cat and a SentenceOne has a pause at the end of its clause...<br />
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<br />
...and the other has claws at the end of its paws.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-80929650584334586332013-01-28T04:31:00.000+00:002013-01-28T12:15:27.595+00:00The Roof WarBefore my boyfriend and I moved house, we lived in a flat above our landlady's bungalow.<br />
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We were living there when we first got Mouth and Tail, so it was the first home they ever knew. And as everyone knows, a cat's home is his castle.<br />
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<br />
Tail took her castle-guarding very seriously.<br />
<br />
She would spend hours sitting at the window, surveying her domain.<br />
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<br />
Tail would fight tooth and claw to defend her territory against evil intruders like the postman, the electrician and that odd-smelling bearded chap who came to fix the boiler.<br />
<br />
Now, something you need to know about our flat is that it was a loft conversion with dormer windows. The windows looked out onto a low, shallow-sloping roof.<br />
<br />
We hadn't really thought about it, but the low roof was fairly easy to climb onto. Especially if you used the tree or the wall by the side of the house.<br />
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<br />
We remained in blissful ignorance of this fact until one fateful night, when we were woken up by a bloodcurdling yowl.<br />
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<br />
It was a truly terrifying noise.<br />
<br />
I went into the living room fearing the worst. Judging by the sound effects, a full-blown massacre had been taking place around the dining table, and I would surely find bloody corpses strewn across my lovely new Ikea rug.<br />
<br />
What I found, instead, was an extremely distressed Tail.<br />
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Thinking that somebody must at the very least have stolen her dinner and questioned her parentage, I cast a wary eye around the room for signs of forced entry. But there was nobody there.<br />
<br />
Tail seemed to be harbouring particular disdain for the window, so I peered out into the night.<br />
<br />
What peered back at me, improbably enough, was a brown tabby face.<br />
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<br />
For a moment I thought it was Mouth, but this tabby was all too evidently in full possession of his faculties. Looking more closely, he also had bigger black splodges and a general thuggish air about him.<br />
<br />
He was the quintessential bully of the feline world. A trespasser, voyeur and marauder of the worst sort.<br />
<br />
Before I could counsel him on the errors of his ways, the Striped Bandit had disappeared into the night.<br />
<br />
He'd be back, though. They always come back.<br />
<br />
And over the weeks that followed, come back he did.<br />
<br />
I could tell when Tail had glimpsed him because she had a slightly shell-shocked look. Her fur would be spiky and dishevelled and her whiskers just a teeny bit frazzled.<br />
<br />
But the Bandit was sneaky. He waited until we'd gone to work before attacking. We would have to trick him.<br />
<br />
The first way we tried to trick him was by sprinkling the contents of Mouth and Tail's litter tray around the windows.<br />
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<br />
At the time, of course, this seemed perfectly logical and appropriate behaviour. Besides, our tenancy agreement said nothing about the acceptability (or otherwise) of adorning the guttering with faecal matter.<br />
<br />
But the Striped Bandit was unfazed by Mouth and Tail's poo. Quite the reverse: he seemed to relish its presence. He made his own generous contributions to the pile, thereby fashioning something of a bizarre shrine to feline excretia.<br />
<br />
The next thing we did was try to catch him off guard. We crept home from work early on a Thursday. (<i>On a THURSDAY!</i> we thought, chuckling to ourselves. <i>That'll get the scallywag. He knows we're late home on Thursdays.</i>)<br />
<br />
Lo and behold, as we crawled through the undergrowth disguised as shrubs, he was there - sat bold as brass on the roof.<br />
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We had sighted our nemesis, and by golly, we were going to vanquish him.<br />
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<br />
We jumped out and shouted loudly to catch him unawares, but he didn't bat an eyelid. (The neighbours did, though. I think they were a little alarmed by the sight of us dressed as trees and shouting raucously, but it may have been because it was a Thursday.)<br />
<br />
"Wait here," my boyfriend said, "I know what to do."<br />
<br />
He came back seconds later with a bucket.<br />
<br />
"A bucket?" I said.<br />
"A bucket full of water," he winked.<br />
"Oooh," I said.<br />
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<br />
It was a bit mean, yes. But this cat had no morals. He had terrorised poor Tail for weeks on end, and now he must pay.<br />
<br />
My boyfriend raised the bucket and swung it in the Bandit's direction. A great torrent of water shot into the air.<br />
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<br />
There was no going back now.<br />
<br />
I stood there, frozen to the spot. I could see what was about to happen but I was powerless to stop it.<br />
<br />
The water did not land on the Striped Bandit.<br />
<br />
It did not land on the floor.<br />
<br />
My boyfriend had thrown it straight up into the air, and what goes up must come down.<br />
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<br />
Yes. It landed on us.<br />
<br />
There are times in life where you evaluate your actions. You stop and take stock; you learn from your mistakes and you emerge from the experience a wiser person.<br />
<br />
This was not one of those times.<br />
<br />
My boyfriend and I were standing in our landlady's driveway, utterly drenched, while a gatecrashing tabby sniggered at us from the roof. He knew what he had done. Oh, he knew.<br />
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<br />
When he had watched us suffer for a while, he turned and walked lazily down the other side of the roof. Taking his time, you understand.<br />
<br />
For him, it was a sublime victory.<br />
<br />
Oddly enough, we never saw him again. Maybe he had decided we weren't enough of a challenge. Maybe he had found a new family to harass.<br />
<br />
Whatever the reason, Tail is a much calmer animal these days. She still gazes out the window, but she's a lot more casual about it. And if we catch her looking too serious, she'll pretend she has some urgent paw-cleaning to attend to.<br />
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Paw-cleaning is a serious business.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2980952408164268298.post-43310993876390752972013-01-25T17:16:00.000+00:002013-01-25T17:16:02.330+00:00The Awkward Moment with the PrawnMouth and Tail have a well-rehearsed eating regime.<br />
<br />
They have dry food for breakfast, because I can leave it out when I go to work. (This has never been an issue, though. Mouth and Tail inhale it within about 30 seconds of me putting it down.)<br />
<br />
Then they have a wet pouch when I get home at night.<br />
<br />
I am a bit suspicious of their wet food, because it all looks the same. It can claim to be cow or sheep or bird or fish, but it's always the same sludgy brown stuff.<br />
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<br />
I got excited once because I thought the salmon-flavoured sludge looked a bit pinker than the beef, but it turned out to be Mouth's tongue getting in the way.<br />
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<br />
Another thing I can't understand is why they put cows and sheep in there. I doubt any cat has ever caught and eaten a cow.<br />
<br />
But they adore their sludge.<br />
<br />
Anyway, for Mouth's birthday I decided to buy him some prawns.<br />
<br />
These were not just any prawns. They were ultra-expensive, Taste the Difference, you-have-never-eaten-anything-so-good prawns.<br />
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<br />
A real treat, I thought. His little tabby tastebuds won't know what's hit them.<br />
<br />
I placed an experimental prawn in his bowl.<br />
<br />
Mouth waddled over to inspect it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM3Gx6oYGIZF_ZaP_aVzUfyttY-Xv95r1vsudbRSr7khCEMiy4AqfFY0rIi4Nusjv-G_0vdnobPLFU3E53APMchyphenhyphen8iG5NjKciPX2M8hbdpEAWapcDIOwE7vzgcjRHJxBBAhvdv3hpx8zSM/s1600/Prawn.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM3Gx6oYGIZF_ZaP_aVzUfyttY-Xv95r1vsudbRSr7khCEMiy4AqfFY0rIi4Nusjv-G_0vdnobPLFU3E53APMchyphenhyphen8iG5NjKciPX2M8hbdpEAWapcDIOwE7vzgcjRHJxBBAhvdv3hpx8zSM/s320/Prawn.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
He leaned in closer to give it a tentative sniff.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJNncXvLFHX7xYu84bbqkp9DOvzTxgjjx6lQsG8PT5MLKMcY4h1Vxk_HkZbNwboko8VgoDMxe4Sjup_B1e7fgVgHg2SQB1vtI1ukTi4fAMw17IQA2UlkeU-NzObDlEadQ-6c2NU7ZJoVMi/s1600/Prawn3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJNncXvLFHX7xYu84bbqkp9DOvzTxgjjx6lQsG8PT5MLKMcY4h1Vxk_HkZbNwboko8VgoDMxe4Sjup_B1e7fgVgHg2SQB1vtI1ukTi4fAMw17IQA2UlkeU-NzObDlEadQ-6c2NU7ZJoVMi/s320/Prawn3.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Mouth was not sure about this prawn. As he looked at it, it seemed to be looking shrimpily back at him.<br />
<br />
He glanced at me.<br />
"Go on!" I said encouragingly. "It will be delicious. You'll see."<br />
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Dutifully, Mouth extended an intrepid paw.<br />
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There was a split second when nothing happened. The tension was so palpable, you could have sliced it with a litter scoop.<br />
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Then the next thing I knew, Mouth gave an involuntary shudder of revulsion. His paw panicked in its haste to detach itself from this slimy pink monster and the prawn went sailing over our heads.<br />
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It was a crustacean aerodynamic display the likes of which my kitchen had never seen before.<br />
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Eventually, the prawn came to rest on the floor in the corner of the room.<br />
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Mouth had hidden under a nearby chair and was now growling in a very un-brave and whimpery way, as if in acceptance of certain death.<br />
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Sighing, I picked up the prawn and threw it away.<br />
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Normality was restored.<br />
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Mouth wound himself round my legs with new respect. I was his saviour. I had conquered the pink demon and obliterated its very corpse.<br />
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I fetched some rabbit-flavoured sludge from the cupboard and dished it out for him.<br />
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Mouth tucked in delightedly.<br />
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<br />
As he ate, his little body reverberated with happy purrs.<br />
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Salvation AND a nice rabbity supper! It had been the best birthday EVER.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17835928365434009593noreply@blogger.com4