Flying Cat - October 2006

Mine has been a hectic week, since being set free once more from Big Cage (note to bipeds - pleeease no more incatceration this year!): settling back into the Sunroomm of Eternity; reinforcing territorial integrity in Rolling Acres; beating up intruders (it wasn't MY blood in the bath, Friday night!) and generally Setting Things to Rights. My Marmalade chum had a close encounter the other evening and, ever one to prefer flight to fight, crashed through the Catflap of Confrontation sporting a brush of which Basil would be proud, a right Foxy-loxy fluff. Which reminds me of one of my favourite tails, filled with great ingredients/characters like Henny-ten-a-penny and Chicken-finger-lickin-good.........you can keep your gingerbread.
The bipeds came home from their Idyll strangely beige and have gone immediately into food&drink denial mode "Until Christmas" *SNORT* The proof of THAT pudding..................errrrrm, possibly not. Very impressive weekend though - with the use of cultural distraction techniques they managed to avoid excess - but, there are strange inexplicable rumblings to be heard when lap-sitting......
Fpu pushed her glutious maximus to the limit, chopping down what is laughingly referred to as The Wildlife Meadow with hand shears, most thoughtfully driving a wee froglet straight into my gaping maw - I object to the choice of words there (TOUGH! mpu.) - it was a quick and painless end and a jolly nice snack. Rolling Acres is green and lush mostly - some trees have that brown crunchy look around the edges which denotes autumn here; marigolds and verbena bonariensis provide scatterings of intense jewel-colours; Red Admirables flock to the iceplants and plump shiny rugosa hips hang like fat rosy lips waiting for kisses.
If I bump into Thylvethter or Dopplecat, it'll be Paisley Kisses and no messing. Wha daur meddle wi me! Touch not the cat but with a glove! Avanti populo!!!!!

Last night the female parental unit had a dream: now, I'm not saying it was a deeply philosophical, life-affirming, society-changing "I had a dream" sort of dream; rather, it was the quite small, globally insignificant but purrfectly-formed sort.
And it was this:- she had whiskers.
No sensible feline would ever admit, in so many words, to deliberately shedding a magnificent, albeit surplus, whisker onto the human person just before cat-snooze time. Look at any one of us cute, fluffy 'pets', and you're quite convinced we're just not capable of such forethought. That's because we want you to feel secure and unthreatened . And to carry on keeping us in the style to which we have become accustomed. No witchy familiars here!
Anyway, these whiskers were as tough as forged steel, as whippy as willow wands and as white as a White Wizard's liberty bodice - in short, magnificent. And yet, oddly, she spent the duration of the dream frantically plucking them out. Moles, out of which (or is it whom?) the whiskers were growing, had invaded her furr-free face. In my book (Small Mammals Monthly - a Catalogue) moles are a delicacy and Good to Eat.
Would the world not be a better place if all the bipeds could be purrsuaded to wear fur, grow whiskers and long swishy tails and just generally Look More Like Us? Integration and assimilation, not alienation and separation! This is the Flying Cat Manifesto - next stop, the Wee Pretendy Purrliament. The Smirk with a Dirk wouldny stand a chance!