Flying Cat - March 2006

Well, swish mah tail and flick mah furry lugs, where has the time gone? It was almost Spring back in February, a time of year when the fpu becomes most entertaining to us felines here in the sunroom of eternity: she crawls around grunting and groaning and cursing mightily, but it is her own dashed fault for not doing the Autumn clear-up..........in Autumn! Anyway, the last few days have put a stop to our fun, as the garden of earthly delights has been several centimetres 'deep' in the white fluffy stuff - I lerv it muchly, for the little birdies do become most awfully hungry and a bit forgetful to boot, and the stalking is excellent. I wish I could change colour like the whichever-kind-of-hare it is, for a stripey coat is a teeny weeny bit disadvantageous. Still I am almost purrfect, so who cares. I'm rather chuffed to see I have a like-minded friend on Westray, sorry for not noticing before, but I got a bit sidelined by Liff and such. My best perch for arousing the thirilled attention of the fpu and the mpu is the top shelf above the computer desk, especially since they 'inherited' son1's iBook; they get really excited when I use it as a stepping stone. And the way they rush about like headless chooks "where have you put the ******* kitchen steps THIS time dammit?" and how eager they are to climb up and give me a big hug.........it fair warms the old cockles so it does. One does ones modest best. I particularly excelled myself in late February by catching what they said was the biggest frog ever to return to the pond so far. clever me. I saved a nice fat leg (which I believe humans eat also, so yah-boo to them) for later and crunched it most satisfactorily in front of the fpu. I heard her say it had glorious markings! Well really, a FROG? now I, on the other paw.........I'm just off to remortgage the hoose, as I know they won't question it, and then I'll put loadsamoney in a hedge fund. I've always had a soft spot for hedges y'know, me and Tessa's man both, they can hide many unsavoury (and some quite savoury) things.........
Flying Cat.

At last, the danger of being walloped by lumps of the white stuff from above is fading, as it suffers death by a thousand drips. Soon the snowdrops will reappear unscathed and the many mauve crocuses possibly rather scathed, especially the clump in the entrance to the Tree Circle, where a size 9 boot unwittingly landed. I shouldn't imagine they will be opening their saffron throats to the sky again. I will be so happy to relinquish my role as Court Jester to the bipeds, as they chuckled mindlessly at what they called the Feline Ministry of Funny Walks: being up to ones oxters in wet yuck is not pleasant - like Queen Vicky, I was Not Amused. But a cat's gotta do what a cat's gotta do. One must patrol boldly and hunt bravely. Dietary supplements are a must-have for the fastidious feline. Vole a la mode d'ici. Bring it on!

Thank heavens for little fur coats. Bye-bye sun-and-snow, hullo grey-and-gale. Voles which were ten a penny in February are now rarer than a simple yes/no answer to a simple yes/no question on Newsnight. Sigh. I wander listlessly from room to room, occasionally taking a shufti out the window at the bird-feeding station, but my feathered friends are in hiding too. Even the B&W brat-cat is not as irritating as usual. Don't the parental units realise cats need stimulating? Fpu is also in the doldrums. Should be working like a mad thing to make enough stuff for her April exhibition, but instead droops aboot the hoose moaning about "the end of the world as we know it; what a lousy year so far; first Christopher Lloyd hangs up his trowel and then Ivor Cutler packs up his harmonium; the grey men in suits are taking over the world, blah-de-blah-de-blah...." JIngs I'm bored. And what's a suit when it's at home? Oh I say, the door under the kitchen sink is ajar, how very......er.... exciting.

I'm lead to believe that 21st March is the spring solstice. No, really. Anyway, several trusting little ribit-ribits laid or whatever they call it, some jellied frogs eggs on that day, only to have them frozen for three consecutive nights. Dear me what a fuss the bipeds made, you'd think they were having kittens! Fortunately these are ribits of strong character and before you could say 'jambon de grenouille', as soon as the ice melted, they were up and at 'em again. Cleverly, and I say this with all modesty, one morning, I contrived to hook one out of the water and onto the groound. Well, b****r me if the female biped didn't come a-leaping out of the sunroom door in bare feet and nightie (but at least had the decency to fling on a coat first, praise the lord and pass the mustard), grabbed MY frog from under MY nose (she said I couldn't see it as it wasn't moving, what a lie!) and plopped it straight back in the water. Sulk? Did I no' jist. The indignity! I had to give myself the full allover bodywash just to regain my feline equilibrium. Sigh.