Bored, bored and extremely fed up

The cats that is, not me! It has rained continuously here for 3 days, the back garden is under water and everywhere is damp and muddy. The younger cats are totally fed up as they hate rain so are staying indoors and trying to find entertainment.

Malmesley, the ginger elder-statesman, at almost 16, has seen it all before. He is sleeping his way through it, apart from the odd occasion when senility leads him to sit on a garden chair for 10 minutes then wonder why he is getting so wet. Coming back through the cat-flap in the kitchen, with a disgruntled expression on his face, he then goes to the front door to see if it raining that side of the house too. It is indeed, so back he slinks onto his special chair and dreams of sun and the birds he almost caught.

Goggins, at 14, is sulking and still pining for WH. He had a quick trip out, got his feet wet, his long fur even wetter, so comes skittering back indoors and sits sodden in the middle of the lounge waiting for someone, anyone, to grab a towel and dry him. He moans his displeasure then goes grumpily back to his regular post on the sofa.

The grey twins, at only 3, are bored to distraction. Misty, the smaller of the two, stands at the cat-flap for ten minutes banging it from the inside until I chase him away. He dives past me then shoots into the hall and wees up the wall. Yuck. I know he has done it out of spite. I spend the next few minutes scrubbing with disinfectant whilst two beady eyes watch from the top of the stairs and I swear I can see a hint of a grin.

Meanwhile Nelson is growling on the bed. He is fighting with the quilt cover and chasing his tail. This goes on for several minutes, his eyes flashing white and the growling getting louder. Suddenly a yelp and he has bitten his own tail hard. He jumps up to look for the perpetrator and runs down the stairs before they can get away. Seconds later he is back closely followed by Misty. A writhing, growling, heap of limbs lands on the centre of the bed. They spring apart and glare at each other from opposite sides, tails lashing and teeth chattering. Eventually they give this up and jump onto the window cill, one looking through the window at the rooks outside, one underneath trying to catch his tail.

And so it goes on. The action moving round the house over time, the main bedroom, the back bedroom, the kitchen, the lounge. Only when the tumbling mass of fighting cat lands on Goggin's tail does he bat an eyelid and immediately jumps up to smack his attacker sharply on the nose. The twins turn on him then, united in chasing him onto the window ledge where they can't reach him without disturbing Malmesley and they're too frightened of his wrath to attempt that. It goes quiet.

Misty siddles into the hall and gets the mat up from behind the front door. Nelson looks on, bemused. The mat starts to walk towards him so Nelson disappears behind the sofa and falls asleep. A paw emerges from the mat, Eureka, it has found his hazelnut lost a month ago and now just the thing to entertain a bored little cat.

An hour later Misty is still roaming around and tries to annoy me by jumping onto the desk and walking on my keyboard. I put him on the floor, he bites the leg of the chair and bats my ankles. Not for nothing do we call him Mr Naughty.

A cloudburst and heavy rain against the window wakes Nelson up, Misty rushes down to him squeaking all the while. The action begins again, another few rainy hours to occupy.