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| Arrrrggggghhhhh! |
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| Perfecting "The Chicken Stare!" |
Austin's third anniversary has come and gone. I don't actually think he even noticed. His age must be somewhere between 3½ and 4 now. To say he's settled and feels at home is a bit of an understatement. He totally rules the roost, except in one area - bedtime sleeping arrangements. The negotiations are still ongoing as to where he lays his not-so-weary head. Trouble is, as with most cats his awake times are very early morning and very late at night. This is when, of course, we are well and truly ready for ZZZZ and are shouting for him to "Austin, come, now" at the top of our voices and peering myopically out into the North Wales night, which is "starless and bible black" as all stereotypical Welsh nights are!
If he's not out pillaging the countryside then he's stuck like velcro to my lap and I have to heave myself to my feet and shuffle along with Austin clinging on like a koala on a eucalyptus tree. Totally bizarre scene! Whatever way it's done, getting him to bed is a painful experience.
It has been interesting to see, how, over these three years, Austin has learnt to "work the system" so that he achieves the maximum amount of comfort for the minimum amount of effort - I'm sure there is a universal law about it? Oh I know! I think it's "the law of perPETual transmutation of energy". This is the law that says all pets have the power within them to change the conditions in their lives by harnessing the principle of energy sapping!! Cats are the masters of this and in addition Austin has been spending a lot of time lately studying "CATegorical Imperative" the seminal work of that famous German ailurophile Immanuel KAnT.
Here are just some of the many imperatives he's adopted - you will see how he employs the law of "diametric contradiction" in many cases:
- Every exit door has to be checked with human panting along behind when it's raining.
- No internal door must be closed to a cat or severe trauma to the carpet will ensue.
- A cat should not go up the stairs unaccompanied at any time and the accompanying human must be raced up the stairs and thwacked on shoulder through the bannisters.
- All food must be picked at disdainfully when human is watching.
- A cat must never let on that he knows how to use a cat flap, as it could mean that all the time saved by not running from door to window to window to door would weigh heavy on the human's hands and she could become bored and grumpy.
- The cat must always jump onto lap of human to have a long nap at the very moment she decides to get in the car and go shopping.
- And finally ...... when the human decides to sit down and write interesting blog post, cat must jump up onto keyboardd aanndf kfkbjdhfihfgoh ujrkjld khf kfgj;phpuoteio.
Now I realise I'm a bit OCD about giving Austin his flea gunk and worm pill, but one needs to prepare for this kind of confrontation. I've gone on about the process at great length before, so won't go down that route again - well not too far! However, the planets were once again in alignment and I had to do both at the same time(ish). I've not had too much problem with the pill bit before, funnily enough; it's always been the flea potion that's caused such pain and discomfort (mostly mine)! So this time we thought we'd do the pill first to ease us in gently. Big mistake!
This time it took several pairs of plastic gloves, one bottle of TCP, several plasters and twenty-four hours before the offending tablet was finally despatched down the correct orifice. By then it had been pre-sucked, acquiring a thick coating of cat saliva plus black fur and beige shag pile. I suppose it's all my fault as I'd lent him a book all about a cat, called Lucky, who belonged to a hypothetical physisist called Schrödinger. Austin obviously now believes I wish him ill and has started a course in quantum mechanics and a torture diary. Talk about overreacting!.
No amount of me calling "here kitty kitty," in a soft seductive voice will bring him out from behind the large-chair-in-the-corner-by-the-radiator. Normally he'd be winding himself around my legs tripping me up and impeding my progress to the fridge, cupboard, sink or wherever - see Reflection post (3)! And he growls!!! Oh yes he does; from the safety of his hidey-hole he becomes the King of the Jungle. It's quite a terrifying sound coming from such a small creature. So while he's morphing into Mufasa, all I can do is weakly squeak the refrain from Hakuna Matata and wait patiently until starvation, bladder urgency or a "wave function collapse" draws him out.
While I'm waiting, I whip out my compass, protractor and slide rule to determine the correct angle for administering the pill. I've realised, after all the failed attempts it is vital that the angle of trajectory is correct, so the point of firing and the point of swallowing have to be plotted to within 0.001/100th of a degree. I consult my copy of Euclid's Elements (courtesy of Ruislip Library, date due for return Dec 1975) to obtain the most exact measurements possible.
I believe I am now prepared, so I leave the vicinity of the cat. Austin eventually emerges. I stop breathing. He becomes "low-slung" and skulks round the side of the room. He sticks his head out the door. Ha! Got him! Executing a perfect a pincer movement, I pounce from behind, while elderly mother smiles at him menacingly as she bears down from the front. Working as one, we scoop him up, wrench open his jaw, angle the pill (47.1768 °) and "fire". The optimal circumference of the gape also has to be gauged and is crucial to a successful outcome. Being the altruistic and thoughtful person I am I've calculated the following equation for those who would like replicate my thesis and apply in their own situation.
So now you know! When it came to the formula for flea gunk application to the back of the neck, the equation was much more simple.
Broken ampule + parted fur = job done
Schrödinger could have made it a lot easier on himself, hypothetically!
By nature cats are not followers. Even when they are following, they tend to do it from the front! Am I the only one to have noticed this? Many's the time I've indicated to Austin that he should "come with me please" (for instance, to the kitchen) to find that he's taken his natural position right in front of my feet so that when I take a step forward I have to decide in a jiff whether to tread on him or swerve sharply to the side, thus causing myself an injury.
Being an animal lover, of course, I would much rather do myself serious damage than harm a hair of his little feline personality. So we proceed on our journey, all the while his ears are like antennas checking constantly for any change in movement or direction. And I shuffle along behind in a kind of one-legged hop as I try to predict which way he's going to veer. I stop to regain balance; he stops as he's "following" me. I place my left leg to his left and right leg to his right. So now I'm straddling him! He looks at me:
"Make up your mind!"
I hop over him and gain the advantage of being at the front. He nips round the side of me and stands on my left foot. We reach an impasse. Confusion reigns. We pause to consider our positions and then the whole thing starts over again; but by this time I have forgotten what it was I was supposed to be doing anyway, so I swivel round on my one free foot and hobble back to base camp in the living room for a regroup and a bit of a think. Austin goes back to rolling on his catnip stash behind the piano.
I have taken to wearing thick denim jeans and shin guards of late! He, who must be appeased, has devised a new game. It's called "screeching like a banshee and hurling fur, tooth and claw, onto the leg of innocent passing human, who's just minding her own business".
I don’t know why he does it? It's not nice. It's not cricket. It hurts. I end up looking a bit like Quasimodo dragging his hunch back and misshapen leg around the Notre Dame! He thinks it's great fun and tries again from another angle - just to even out the damage I suppose. I put it down to too much protein in his diet, or possibly it's his TV viewing habits. He's gone off Fiona Bruce (BBC news reader). He's discovered Extreme Furballing on Sky Sports. So I have had to restrict his channel hopping activities to CBBC and CeeBees (or whatever it's called) by utilising the parental control facility. It will only last as long as it takes for him to work out that the pin number (that's personal identification number number, so why do we say it? It's tautological) is three digits from my mobile number plus one other taken at random from the telephone directory (have to be careful you know!).
Austin is most likely to indulge in this antisocial behaviour when he's come in from his nightly rampage around the neighbourhood. So I have taken precautions when opening the door. Armed with a tea towel in one hand and brandishing a plastic water bottle in the other I approach with trepidation but proclaiming loudly that if one iota of my life blood is shed during this encounter then it's back to the car engine from whence he came:-
Open door, he shoots in, I scream, he screams, I step back, he advances, I retreat into corner holding tea towel like some neophyte matador first time in the ring. He edges round me, I start whimpering. He loses interest, sticks his leg in the air and starts cleaning his fundament with contrived indifference. I'm a gibbering wreck! He's king of the castle. We move on ...... ..
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| Austin - aged 7 mths (approx) |
Well what can I say? It was a damp, dark late October day in 2007 that I accidentally picked up this young fellow from the RSPCA rescue centre in Colwyn. I say “accidentally” because I went there to get a dog! However, all they had there at the time were 7 dalmatians and a suspect pit bull terrier cross. Crossed with what? I have no idea - and that is a cul de sac I will not venture down.
On the way out I popped into the cat section and that was my first mistake. One couldn’t fail to notice this little tuxie. He was making a big fuss trying to climb up the glass cage thingy that was his jail. “Ahhhhh he senses my feline empathy” I thought and that was my second mistake! All he wanted, it transpired, was to head straight out the door and up the A55 to Rhyl, Chester and all points east!
It seems that Austin was a stray found a few weeks before, injured and keeping warm inside a car engine - hence the name! Yep, he’s named after a car, not the place in Texas.
We don't know what traumas he suffered, except that one of his back legs was badly broken. Whether someone tried to start the car I don't know! Good news is he’s mended very well, except for a "bumpy" hip. We were told he would make a good indoor cat because he would probably be lacking in the necessary agility needed to make it in the big outdoors. Yeah right!
It took a few days to close the deal, but soon I was able to bring him home and that was how it all began.....
