Cuddles day

If it's Monday it must be cuddles day, not for me, for one of my grey babies, Misty, the smaller of my twin cats. 

Sunday nights I take a weekly dose of Methotrexate along with whatever food I fancy will keep the dreaded nausea at bay. Even if I have just eaten, I must eat again 'on top' of the pills in order to keep them down and to allow me to take the other seven I take each night. Taking before or even with a meal is usually too early in the evening and I get the side effects before I'm asleep. So years of trying other times/combinations have lead to this current practice. The usual snack of choice is biscuit based, gingery or maybe cheesey. Occasionally actual cheese does it, but anything 'sensible', fruity, veggy, or runny is a no no. It has to be dryish, bland and filling. The food police are having a fit just reading this.

There then follows a shortish night of frequent trips to the bathroom, night sweats, thirst, headaches and general feverishness. By the time I have started to sleep properly, around 5.45am, the alarm goes off and WH has to get ready for work.  I try to go back to sleep and frequently fail. I have to take more pills at 6am anyway and Mondays I have the added bonus of a Folic Acid pill too. I have to eat again then, usually breakfast but for those times I really can't eat anything 'proper' it's more biscuits. I tried and failed to get those pills down unaccompanied too but the ensuing nausea was worse than ever.  An hour after that lot and by the time I've dressed, tidied, emptied the dishwasher and pandered to the cats, I'm knackered and ready for bed again.  

This all conspires to make Mondays a waste of time for me. Not so for the smaller of my twin grey cats. He's normally a pain in the bedroom at night, taps me when he's hungry, has a major wash next to my head when I'm fast asleep and has a thing about doors, an open door must be shut, a shut door is only there to be opened. On Mondays however it's as if he knows. As soon as I go near the bed he's there on the corner, getting ready to snuggle in. When I pull up the duvet he shifts into position against my leg and there he stays, good as gold. I get the occasional glance to see if I'm likely to move but for as long as I'm there, he's there. No tapping, no washing, just extremely good behaviour. Of course I might reach down and give him a quick cuddle but he doesn't expect over much and certainly doesn't pester me for more. In fact, the perfectly behaved cat. His brother Nelson, meanwhile is usually outside if the weather's good, if it's not he'll be in his cardboard box in the living room (but that's a whole other story).

My question is simple. If Misty can behave for a few hours each Monday then why on earth can't he do it the for rest of the flipping week?

Staying in

This last fortnight has been one long round of hospital appointments, plasters being removed and replaced, physiotherapy and an operation last Tuesday. WH is still in quite a bad way. The break to the wrist was a 'nasty' one and has had to eb wired into place. The foot is now plaster-less but hurts like hell, we're awaiting the 'Ortho Reg' to call with a new game plan. Plaster, CT scan or strapping. The head injury appeared to have subsided but the anaesthetic on Tuesday had some strange effects and even now he is suffering from vertigo or it's close cousin. The bruised cheekbone is still black. We even had the doctor out to the house on Thursday after a particularly spectacular session. I am learning to be nursemaid and normally have endless patience, having been fairly immobile at times in my past, but even I was weary last night and was thinking it would be lovely to have a cup of tea I had not made myself. Cooking which to me is a welcome distraction has gone out of the window as the patient just isn't eating.

Visitors have been fairly few, although the phone almost answers itself now and I don't mean the answerphone either. Sometimes I wish for more knocks on the door as it would no doubt cheer the patient up no end, we are in grave danger of a deep depression setting in.

One constant has been the presence of two grey fluffy nurses who are attentive at most times although they do have a habit of falling asleep on the job. Misty as Night Nurse snuggles in and stays put for 6 hours plus although if WH gets up to change position or for a shuffle about he's a bit reluctant to move at all. Nelson keeps watch from the back of the sofa, his tail curling down over WH's head. Unusually he has been home a lot, the retired major up the road has lost his furry doormat for the season.

As usual these things always come at the wrong time, not that there is a right time for an accident. I have finally sold the other house, after a 3 month spell of being messed about by the potential purchaser we exchange contracts next week and complete the following one. Hope I have not hexed this by finally putting it in print here. It's not a moment too soon. However and there is always an however in my experience, we had left the removal of some pretty hefty tool shelving in the garage until the last. Now of course it has to be removed and in a hurry. WH was due to do this the day after his accident. Today I hope that Brother in Law and his Best Mate will be coming to dismantle it all and to hopefully remove it to our business lock up for use up there. The grill, bacon and fresh bread are waiting, small price to pay if a few butties help get the job done.

As for the rest of my day it will be very quiet, a planned supper with a few friends cancelled in the light of WH still at risk of throwing up any second. Strange way for me to spend a birthday but hey, there's a first time for everything.

Happy Birthday Babies

Misty and Nelson are 7 today. I can't believe how old they are and the struggle we had to keep them alive when they were little. 2 of 6 kittens born to a feral cat at the top of our garden, one died within 24 hours and 4 of the rest all had cat flu and other nasties. Three months and £400 later we had managed to keep all 5 alive and were advised by the vet not to rehome these two for a while as they were so sickly. 7 years later they are still here. Jack and Lula are in London and Toby is down the village.

Tonight we celebrate with tins of tuna all round.

Happy Birthday Babies.

Loved up and muddy.

At 3am this morning I was reflecting on why the wind-down routine I normally go through every night in order to ensure a few hours decent sleep didn't seem to be working. I think maybe being the sole target of a wet, muddy cat probably had something to do with it. I'd been out last night visiting a relative, WH being currently on his annual skiing trip so I have time to do these things. When I got back around 10.20 it was hammering down in no small way. The grey babies of course were bored stiff and hungry. We're currently undergoing a period when they don't like any cat food at all, not even the regular tried and tested varieties which they will normally scoff without too much bother. Nelson in particular is unusually picky even for him and until and unless the cat food people develop new flavours such as 'Robin' or 'Greenfinch' I have been feeding half rations only so that they are more inclined to eat anything. Having fed them, they turned their noses up at the food and cleared off outside for a run round as the rain had stopped a little and the wind got up. Wind is always an enticing prospect, leaves to chase, the feel of the breeze in the fur and the prospect of other local cats being outside to terrorise too. They might even find some food if they looked hard enough.

Misty returned later to take root on my bed next to my left shoulder. I was reading at the time and finally starting to get drowsy enough to attempt some sleep. Right now I am mid-course a high dose of steroids as a 'test' to see what effect they have on the Psoriatic Arthritis. So far so good, loads of symptoms are going but with the usual unnerving side effects that I always get of sleeping very little, being extremely hot and being permanently hungry. I took off my glasses and shut the book when it hit me, a wet paw at 30 miles an hour across my cheek. Not a savage dig, his claws were sheathed, but like a lightening sort little tap, delicate but with the added frisson of being wet and muddy. It was like a slap on the cheek with a tiny, wet football.
I looked down and he was in full drool, 'I love you Mummy' eyes and making barely audible little mewling sounds to reinforce the message. Misty was in full-on, loved up mode. Unfortunately I knew what was to follow. I stroked his head and turned away to put the book down, the tapping started again. I then stroked him several times more but was telling him I HAD to go to sleep now, it was late enough but of course he wasn't interested. All he wanted was for me to play with him and he started biting the duvet then hoping I would tickle him through it and we could have a real old scrap. He loves all this, the rougher the better but not at 3am. No way. he started jumping over me from side to side and grabbing my hands.
I tried little strokes to calm him down and he got worse. I ignored him and the tapping started up again. Finally he tried his last beguiling move. He walked up along my body and came to sit under my chin on my left hand side. He used to do this as a sick kitten, 6 years ago. He fitted the space then, now he's far too big and ends up slumped across my face rendering me almost unable to breathe. He manoeuvred his head right under my chin and rubbed against my neck, over and over again. He was in 7th heaven and then started to chew his feet, his favourite thing in the whole world. You can always tell when Misty is contented, he rolls on his side, usually up against a person and chews his feet, spreading the toes wide so he can nibble the long, velvety fur between his pads.

I gave up at this point and resumed the book. Half an hour later there was a loud bang outside as something blew down the road in the wind. Curiosity finally got the better of him and he dashed off to go outside through the cat flap and investigate. By that time I was wet, had muddy streaks painted down my face necessitating another wash, and I then put a towel on the bed in case Misty returned and by this time was wide, flipping, awake. I finally drifted off about 4 I think though it could (she says charitably) have been a little earlier.

At 6am the man in the house opposite mine was loading his car with god knows what but it was loud, and shouting to wife at the same time and so I woke with a start. I must have had all of 2 hours sleep. I was then extremely hot and hearing me turn in bed, Nelson appeared. There was noise outside, I was moving, albeit only slightly, so it MUST be breakfast time. He started crying as only Nelson knows how. I got up in despair.

Now I'm exhausted, my eyes want to shut and go to sleep but the oil delivery is on it's way, I have to go shopping and I have several phone calls to make. The greys naturally are fast asleep on their own beds in the kitchen in the sun. I'm going to get a big piece of fish from the supermarket and cook it about 9pm tonight to feed them at 10. Hopefully with a massive meal of their second favourite food inside them they might sleep a few hours downstairs before they start the night shift again.

And please don't anyone tell me to shut the downstairs door so they can't get upstairs and into the bedroom. Last time I did that I couldn't sleep for the noise of 2 cats head butting a door for 2 hours in tandem and when I got up to open it having given in, I found they had wrecked the carpet behind it too.

The smallest ones are the most aggravating

The greys are more settled now. Never having lived anywhere with central hating until now, they have finally realised that the radiators are not going to jump off the wall and chase them, the odd little noises they make usually indicate that they are getting warm and that sitting on a window cill above a warm radiator is treat worth being brave for.

Usually in the day time they are together more often than not and now the weather has turned colder they stay indoors. Last week they were on the sofa and around the living room. This week they are on my bed, the living room having been moved round yet again awaiting the impending delivery of the fireplace.

So here they are, together but apart, as always. Misty at the back has his customary little sly look, as though he is wondering what to do next, watching me taking the photos as Nelson begins to snuggle down for a snooze after a long leisurely wash. Misty is always on the go, nervous as a tick, waiting for the moment to do some damage, play with something or just plain be his annoying self. Nelson has a new peace about him and is calmer now, life after Goggins has altered the dynamic and he revels in not being bullied and in the much larger house to lose himself in.

(Misty Back, Nelson Front)

Not for long though. Misty waits for me to finish the pics then he pounces, biting Nelson's ears and trying to dislodge him from the warm bed. Nelson however is developing a whole new temperament too, he feels more secure now and so for once he gets the better of his smaller, more fiesty brother. A swift smack on the nose has Misty scurrying, beaten, down the stairs and the bang of the cat flap tells us he has gone off in a huff. Looking through the front window I can see he is already out in the road on the trail of the Skankies six houses down. Now those miserable cats he can always beat. This new bold brother of his has finally got his measure and it's all becoming a bit hard to take.

(Misty Front, Nelson Back)

Even as I write the end of this Misty has returned and tried again, the Skankies couldn't have been out to play. Nelson refuses to budge and so the bored little Misty goes into the back room and beats hell out of the growing pile of christmas presents instead.

Settling in - part 1

We're a two cat family again since the demise of Goggins a few weeks back and the fur babies are finally settling down. I still think of them as kittens although they were six a couple of months ago. The house was very strange to them at first but now Misty is taking it well in his stride and Nelson is getting there slowly.

The day of the big move I was awol in Exeter whilst WH and mates did all the hard work. Firstly he caught up the three babes (we still had Goggins then) took them round the corner in the van and deposited them in his new bedroom which was all furnished and lovely and complete with their toys, other favourite things, food, water and litter tray he'd made from an upturned manhole cover. So far so good. He shut the door on them and the move commenced. So did the noise. All three started howling as only a cat can and kept it up for a good couple of hours. I'm glad I wasn't here. When all was done about noon, WH duly opened the bedroom door so that they could have a look round. Misty shot off and wasn't seen again, Nelson and Goggins had decamped to either side of the window cill and would not be prised off, not no way. No food had been eaten and the litter tray untouched.

And there they stayed until I got home at about 7pm. Misty was still missing though how he could have got outside was a mystery but then he's that sort of cat. I wasn't so convinced, I was sure he was holed up somewhere and just knew that when his stomach got the better of him he'd re-appear. The other two still stayed put too. Eventually I began to sort out my room and make up the bed, emptying bin bags full of clothes into drawers and all the while talking to myself in a very loud voice.

The scuffling started in the corner of the soon to be second bathroom behind a pile of mattresses, then a whimper, then an anguished cry. Finally a little face peeped out of the side of the pile and the hiding place was revealed. Misty had been there all along, not a metre from the door of the bedroom. Nelson stayed on the window cill but Goggins bravely followed WH downstairs, had a quick, manly cuddle, a mouthful or two of tuna and went out of the back door to explore the garden with WH, down the side of the house and back in via the front door. Piece of cake. He'd got his bearings and went in and out a few times quite happily. Being senile I suppose he forgot where he was and so long as he had WH in his surroundings he was OK.

We tried to feed Misty and Nelson their supper in the hall, hoping they'd come downstairs. They didn't. I took some smelly fish on to the landing and they still stayed put. Eventually we gave up worrying and went to bed. Once in the dark, they shot out of hiding and jumped on my bed, only to spend the entire night as close to my head as possible to make sure it was really me. About 2am they were joined by Goggins who had spent the intervening period walking up and down the landing looking for WH and not quite finding him. I was second choice so I had to do. Needless to say I had no sleep whatsoever although WH did his customary 'head-on-pillow, sleep-for-10-hours' trick. At six am I got up and was followed downstairs by two starving, grey cats. I fed them then let them out into the garden, going with them for a few minutes. Nelson shot back in, Misty shot off over the fence. Nelson retreated back to bed for safety. Later I spent a few minutes showing him where the cat flap was but he hated it, he'd rather go through the patio door. Goggins was fine, had a second breakfast and went to sit on his garden chair which we had thoughtfully moved to the new garden and placed in the sun for him.

At about 10 I thought I'd take some stuff to the other garage, I drove up, parked, and then my neighbour accosted me, just as Misty peered sheepishly out from behind a bush glaring at me and staring at the old house. I must have been on form that day as I quickly grabbed him, shoved him in the back of the car, covered him with an upturned box weighted down with another heavier one, and drove the 200 metres back to the new house. He was mad at me for doing that and kept up a stream of abuse even whilst I got him out and put him back in the kitchen. I gave him some fish to reinforce the fact he was now 'home' and he forgot his anger for the thirty seconds it took him to eat it. Since then he always returns. Now Nelson is the problem. He goes visiting his old haunts and can't remember his way back.

A little light went out today

Goggins

01.08.1991 - 14.08.2008

For his entire life he battled infections, cat flu and lung damage, today he lost his fight. He fought with all the local cats for no apparent reason, guarded anything he took a fancy to, drains, ladders, a space on the floor, a cardboard box he had for 6 years, his special chair and loved his playmate Twilight so much that he never really recovered from her sudden death 8 years ago. This photo was him in May after his last bout of pneumonia. Last week it came back with a vengeance. He was a cat with a real attitude problem who loved the brine out of the tuna tin, freshly cooked bacon and worshipped the ground Worst Half walked on. No longer will they have manly cuddles on the sofa and fall asleep together watching Bruce Willis. When I returned from a six week visit to New York he flew round he room he was so, so happy to see me. The little green chair he fiercely defended sits empty, the drain covers under the trees no longer diligently cleared of spiders and the greys no longer have anyone to smack them down and give them a swift bite when they misbehave.

We are now a 2 cat family for the first time in 17 years and oh boy it hurts like hell.

More snippets from last week

"I'm singing you my butterfly sitting in the car song" - Grandaughter aged 4.

We found a dormouse living in an olive tree in the garden.

In a restaurant the waiter insisted in calling me Momma. Was it my size or my organisation skills which prompted that? Or maybe because I paid the bill, for 11.

Grandaughter managed to turn upside down in her inflatable in the pool. "I forgot my arm bands wasn't I silly?" Dad jumped in fully clothed and hauled her out whilst the assembled group breathed a huge sigh of relief. Daughter 3 remarked he had managed to preserve his cigarette which was still between his lips. "Well you try and relight that then".

Asking for a 'Greek' breakfast in San Stephanos we were offered 'Full English' full stop. What on earth is going on?

Two cats spent the night on a chair outside my window. They hung around for breakfast and shared a lizard. After that we never saw them again.

Collecting the hire cars we were given the keys in order of the driver's name. 4 days later we discovered we were all driving the wrong cars! Note to self: In future check the documents as well, even if they are in Greek.

One whole watermelon is just about big enough for 11 people for a whole week. The pips get everywhere though.

In 30 degree heat I can walk and walk and walk. And swim and swim and swim. Am I better than I was? You bet.

A regular visitor

Herbie used to live with me, he shared my bed, cuddled close all night and regularly washed bits of me. He stroked my hair, sucked my ears and told me he loved me. One day he ran away and went to live with someone else. That was 5 years ago and now he's back, over the road with my neighbour.

He came into my life about 10 years ago, one hot summer day when the back door was open we saw this little face and two black ears peeping over the threshold. When he was noticed he slunk back down and just two tiny ear-tips remained in view. After that evening the little kitten became a regular visitor. Where he had come from no-one knew. My then neighbour, a merchant seaman, was home on extended leave and somehow this kitten managed to climb through the open kitchen window, scale the stairs and sleep on his bed. He was very hungry and the neighbour would walk down to the village shop and get a tin of corned beef to feed him. After a month or so of this I was asked why I wasn't feeding my new cat. "I haven't got one," I retorted. I suggested cat-food would be more appropriate, the neighbour had never thought of that. Another neighbour, also a single chap, had been sleeping with his patio door open due to the heat, every morning when he awoke, the kitten was curled up around his head. He hated cats and tried to get rid of him but still he came. Eventually the general consensus was that I, as the owner of 3 cats already, should adopt him. He needed food, vast quantities, he was too tiny to be out and about on his own and above all he needed somewhere safe to sleep. My other cats protested but really he was just too small to make much of a fuss of so they gave in and just let him be.

Very quickly we named him Herbie, he was a right Herbert, always into something, determined, courageous, and a real fighter. The merchant sailor neighbour returned to sea, only after making me promise I would always look after Herbie. Something about that kitten had struck a chord in his heart and he wanted to know he would be cared for. It was a strange conversation with a totally unsentimental, macho-man. It was the last time I would speak to him, he died 5 days later of a massive brain haemorrhage in the South China Sea, too far from land to be able to get him treatment. He was 42. I lost one of my best friends and Herbie lost his protector.

And so it seemed that Herbie had been given to me for some reason. Shortly after that he started disappearing. The first time was for a couple of days and he came back with a collar which he hated. He spent 5 hours trying to remove it until he got it stuck over his teeth and I had to finish the job. I realised he must have been going somewhere else. To cut a very long story short we discovered he really belonged to the house immediately behind mine even although the owners had initially denied it. He didn't like their dogs and so started a long 2-3 year period where he lived between the two houses. The real owner tried keeping him in, he always escaped. They had him neutered and he came back to me, escaping from their car as they returned from the vet and sleeping off his anaesthetic under my coffee table for 2 days. I tried to give him back but the owners were always out, didn't answer the phone or just said we''ll be round later. They didn't usually bother. They shut him in a shed for 4 days, his cries were driving me to distraction, the owners were away and I was on the point of breaking in when they returned and let him out. I wonder now why I didn't do it straight away. One Christmas, apparently on the vet's advice, they kept him in for 6 weeks. I was frantic. I didn't know where he was, the owners again denied they had seen him. I put up posters all round the village and had several false sightings. Oh lots of people knew him but no-one had actually seen him recently. I was quite sick at the time and very depressed. I was cold at night, my furry hot-water-bottle was missing. I went to the surgery for a blood test early one Monday morning. Imagine my delight when he was sitting on my front window on my return. I later found out he had once again escaped. At this point the owners gave up and subsequently moved house, leaving him and a dog behind. The dog was taken in by neighbours, Herbie remained with me.

At night he slept with me, down under the bedclothes, a furry, warm bag of obliviousness which I could mould into whatever shape I liked and he would never wake up. I had to stroke his head, then he would wash my knee, then came a big sigh and clunk he was fast asleep until morning. He sucked my ears and chewed my hair, he like to lick my scalp. I tried to stop him and consulted our vet. They suspected he had been taken from his mother too soon and I was a comfort. I explained the problems with his real owners and that he just didn't wouldn't stay with them. Even when I handed him back over the fence he had come straight back again. The vet decided he just needed me and wanted to be with me instead. It was just his way.

The wanderings continued, Herbie was seen in other parts of the village, at the shop, on the recreation field and in other houses. He had regular route, across the road, play under the pampas grass, down another road, cross the main road, visit a house near the shop, cross a field, visit an old lady in a bungalow, round the bungalow estate, cross the main road again, visit another house by a stream, slip under my opposite neighbours fence, go under her gate and be back out at the front of my place. It took all day. He left on his rounds at about 10 after a late breakfast and returned at 5 for tea. All this after his first walk of the day with a lady round the corner and her cat-friendly collie. Herbie would race out at 6, meet this lady at the end of the road, walk about 400 yards and then return for a quick snooze before breakfast.

Then came the day a feral cat had six sickly kittens at the top of the garden. We took them in and eventually nursed them back to health, keeping the two worst, Misty and Nelson. This was too much for Herbie and he left home when the kittens were only 5 weeks old and still living in the garden, he had been betrayed. He still walked his daily route, now including 10 minutes or so at the front of here, sitting staring up at the windows in disgust. If we went out to speak or to stroke him he tried to bite us and spat. He spent 18 months living near the shop, where we don't quite know. Then he moved again and lived with an elderly couple about 300 yards away from here, one of the houses he had always visited. He took over, slept in their bed to the point of lying full length on the chap's stomach with a paw on either shoulder. Just after Christmas the lady of the household went into hospital. Another betrayal, so now Herbie is over the road at my opposite neighbour's most of the day and night. He doesn't like their cat's prescription cat food so eats elsewhere but otherwise has made himself at home yet again, sleeping alongside her disabled husband in his downstairs bedroom and keeping his back warm at night. Yesterday morning I opened my curtains to see him sitting on her window cill.

He's been getting a bit friendlier again recently and I have stroked him a few times although I wouldn't pick him up. He's a big strong cat now, twice the size of when he lived here. I still miss him at night, no other cat has come so close and been quite so trusting. He still misses me too I'm sure if I see him outdoors he keeps watching for ages and will follow me from a distance. Occasionally he will come round the back and just look until he realises he has been seen, then he runs off. I wonder if he will ever come back, I like to think that one day he might and his wanderings will turn full circle.

The cat with his own overnight bag

Nelson is in love. He purrs, he is happy, he sleeps peacefully and he is calmer than he has ever been. His neurosis on the back burner for once. He spends a lot more time in the house now, to the annoyance of Misty who thinks that he rules the roost. Nelson has found a new permanant place to sit and cuddles up with the object of his affections, totally ignorning the ploys of his mad brother.

It all started about 6 weeks ago. I had ordered some Christmas stuff from a catalogue here on the internet. When the goods arrived they were accompanied by a 'wonderful free gift'. I examined the package. It was a small very tacky-looking, supposed 'overnight bag in faux suede'. Well overnight bag for a dwarf or a Barbie doll perhaps, it would just about contain a toothbrush and flannel. I tossed it on the floor with disdain until I could decide what to do with it. The bin seemed too good, maybe it could go into the next charity shop bag. I promptly forgot about it for 24 hours, being hidden from sight as it was under the dining table.

The next thing that happened was Nelson disappeared. One minute he was there, the next he wasn't. Then he seemed to keep appearing from nowhere. Finally my brain did a bit of joined up thinking: Nelson was under the table. Strange. On closer examination there he was having dragged the bag into the corner of the room underneath the floor lamp, and was happily seated on it purring loudly. Not something he does very often. When he finally moved the next morning I moved the bag en-route to the garage and the charity bag. Nelson shrieked and walked round in circles. He cried, he jumped up onto the arm of the sofa and looked into my eyes. He kept crying, real tears. I put the bag back again and on he leapt and rolled on it waving his legs into the air. He settled down again and, after breakfast, fell into a deep sleep.

So now I have a tatty, tacky hold-all under my dining table and one very happy, chilled-out cat. I presume the fabric is warm as it has a plastic lining and that the 'faux-suede' is soft to his paws. It can't be very comfortable, having two thick straps, a buckle and zip on it's top surface but Nelson loves it. After 5 years he has finally found a bed he loves and a peace which which has calmed us down too, life wasn't easy with a neurotic cat.

A Misty mystery

On Sunday we put a collar and a bell on Misty to try to stop him terrorising the local bird population. To say he went berserk is an understatement, he shot up the stairs and then immmediately turned tail and shot out of the cat flap. WH reckoned he was faster than a greyhound. Anyway that was the last we saw of him for over 24 hours.

We searched, called and rattled his favourite biscuit tin, all to no avail. Eventually we went out on Monday, we had a 9th Birthday party to attend. When we got back at about 9pm there he was, large as life and angry. See that wild look in his eyes, that was nothing. His wimp of a brother wouldn't go near him because of the noisy collar so we had to remove it. The twins then raced round for an hour or so until they were exhausted. True to form Misty was starving too and has eaten non-stop ever since.

What we can't undestand was where he went. He obviously had no food or water during that time and now he's making us pay. It's the second time he's disappeared completely but surely he didn't choose to hide like that. Strange cat that it is that can be so angry he misses a whole day's food. And that disapproving scowl, that's permanent now!