Miss Calculations...and the Country Connection
It's Not Impossible...but It Is Implawsible!
I'm just NOT waiting for my turn and that's that! How can she put those dogs - SO MANY of them and their stories ahead of ME and MINE??
It's beyond belief, so I'm taking this opportunity to have MY voice heard, AND - 'When Do We Want to Hear It? 'NOW' - that's when!!
Well really! Was I such a brat cat way back ? Now I'm 3 years old and quite mature, I see Life differently. Here's to a tough edit Mum is doing of what I thought way back when.
I must admit once upon a time as a bairn, I was 'over the top' . Now, it's a different story. Now I'm a mature madam (quite majestic actually). (It's OK, you can hold the applause until my birthday, somewhere in the last week of the year, I do believe). In the meantime, just picture a Queenly wave - that's me. I perform it daily from my chair in front of the fire.
At last - Mum is no longer 'Sleepless in Sebastopol, South Australia' - she's gone to bed and it's finally MY turn on the computer. (And I'm thinking that if I should need a password, I'll use CATACLYSMIC - sounds good to me - although MAGNIFICAT has a certain ring to it, also!)
**NB** The otherwise unmentionable 'them' referred to above are...(shudder)...DOGS. There, I've said it out loud - that ugly, revolting, gutter language word... oh yuk!... double yuk!!...and puke, etc. I'm trying not to be 'catty'... but it's difficult, and that's the truth.
**NB.2** See the photo of yesterday's enemy and myself (and that's not a snake in the photo, it's only some black poly-pipe for water). You can clearly see I am warning - "That's close enough, thank you". Mum insists we will be Pals one day! Hmm-mm, we'll see!
Mum and Dad love this creature to bits...so maybe! Miracles DO happen, they say.
I hate to admit it - but yes, Mum was right. The miracle HAS happened. We tolerate each other VERY well these days. Not exactly bosom buddies, but we're working on our relationship. Well, she is, anyway. But the worst news is that there is yet another dog-type sub-human in the family now. She is called Kelly. Boy oh boy, has she ever taken some getting used to.
Kelly is a Kelpie, with all the rag-tag ratbag antics that particular breed displays so well. Mum and Dad have growled at her so often for wanting to harass me, that these days, she won't even meet my eyes, in case 'the look' is misconstrued. I appreciate her learning where her place is in the 'pecking order' - rock-bottom. As it should be.
You've Heard of 'DRIVING MISS DAISY' -
....well, this is - 'DROPKICKING MISSY'S DAYS'
Oh-h please excuse my manners - I haven't introduced myself. My human mother would be appawled at this lapse (she cares about 'stuff' like that). I am Missy the cat, and I have had an unfortunate childhood - already! Make yourself comfy, and I'll relate the whole sorry saga.
I started out with the 'regulation issue' mother and siblings, and Life was a roller-coaster of drinking and sleeping. A veritable whirlwind of non-activity. Alas, all too soon these halcyon days would come to an end - and parting and adoption would follow. As chance would have it, I was adopted together with one of my brothers - and Life started to settle into a routine of sorts, with only a couple of hitches - two spoilt 'schnitzels' (or whatever these DOG wannabes are called) - for company?? My brother and I took to the trees post-haste, and made our first discovery. DOGS cannot climb trees! Is there any end to their 'inabilities'?
And just when it seemed peace was a possibility, there came a day of unimaginable horror and terror when my brother and I were taken to that Chamber of Tortures - the Vet's Surgery! And he did a 'nip and tuck' on us both (and it wasn't on our chins!!). I've just tucked that memory away in the 'too hard basket' that resides in the deepest recesses of my mind, and as soon as my belly fur grows back into its former splendour - this trauma will be 'buried', FOREVER.
For the briefest of times, things settled down and we siblings thought our troubles were behind us. Sadly, this proved to be the calm before the storm, when just a couple of months ago, tragedy struck! We were the furry child victims of a broken home - apparently unwelcome at the new home my second mother was moving to... despicable! My brother found a new home - and I was beginning to think it was all up for me. Several days had passed with no apparent change in my residential address (thankfully, didn't have to worry about my email address, as I share this with my humans). I am, after all, only a novice 'techno-geek'.
'Don't Overlook Mature Experience'
Along came my Mum and Dad. I checked them out most carefully, and GREAT news! I could tick ALL the boxes.
They smelled good (like farm, and animals I haven't met, and space, and trees) and they felt good (Mum is particularly soft and warm and cuddly - and Dad may have 'Different Strokes', but he's no slouch in the 'spoiling' stakes). And they both talked to me in soft, kind of croony voices, and huffed warm air on my head really gently.They are SO purrfectly purrceptive to my purreferences.
**Look at this photo of them in 'prehistoric' days with a predecessor of mine. She was called Tammy, and she was a 'rather posh' Siamese. But they do make a handsome trio, don't they? One day I'll organise someone to get a photo of Mum and Dad now and ME!
What can I say! We fell in love, of course. Now their Casa is my Casa - Home Sweet Home - Heart's-ease - my Soul-sanctuary, and all that jazz! These two are quite old to be human parents, being actually grandparents - but man, do they know how to love a 'furry'!
Oh yes, and I should tell you...my name wasn't always Missy, but Mum (the writer in the family) suggests I look like a Picasso masterpiece, and that my genealogy was undoubtedly a 'Misscellaneous Misstery'. This is ALL complimentary - I think?
What Can't Be Cured -
...MUST be Endured!
Of course, there had to be ONE cloud on the horizon. It was THE DOG - and she's called Muffin. (Why not Boffin, or Boofhead, or one of the great words that rhyme - like Frog, Log, Bog, Smog - don't they all conjure up great images?) Uh-uh-uh - don't be 'catty' now!
No, actually, I would say for some time we were at the 'just barely tolerating each other' stage. The major problem was that she got off on the wrong paw with me by sniffing my bottom when I was deeply involved in rolling in some grass. I mean... REALLY! This is most definitely a DOG thing - you don't see cats Behaving Badly like that. No way, Jose... we're far too aristocratic!
Despite this unpropitious beginning, we can now lay a few metres apart displaying a 'don't care' attitude by faking sleeping 'with' (?) each other. I don't know for sure about the DOG, but I am actually only 'cat-napping' - ready on the instant to take flight.
All of the above has now had to be endured through the frightful puppy stage of the Kelpie, Kelly. We too, are finally getting there. Friends! Never. Acquaintances who never meet eyes? Always, I imagine.
Did I mention that this 'togetherness' phenomenon mainly only takes place when Mum or Dad are present in the near vicinity? Oh well... safety in numbers, I always say. Not to mention the 'escape route' (in through the back door - or a leap into human arms) that they provide.
Funny how it goes, these human parents are indispensable, in many ways.
'real' Home Cooking -
...direct from the Farm door
Mum is a great cook and once again, Dad has his specialities, too. Maybe their history of rescuing and raising all manner of creatures has something to do with it? Whatever, me and 'hopeless' (oops, that should read me and Muffin and Kelly) dine rather well - and that's an understatement if I ever heard one. Like, check this out. Mum or Dad make liverpaste for the dogs to have on rye bread for breakfast each morning. As soon as I saw them eating that, I made the absolute and irrevocable choice this was NOT for me. They've tried the finest of cat food in tins, and I've turned my nose up at all of them. No canned muck for me! At last they 'got it' - they buy packets of frozen fish fillets and cut them into serves, and microwave one for me each morning for my 'brekky'. My mouth starts watering the moment I hear the 'beep-beep' I sit next to Dad's feet, staring imploringly and threatening to trip him up if he doesn't deliver the goods in the next split-second. What can I tell you,
CATS RULE! (given half a chance).
Around lunchtime, Mum gives me new water and some Kitty biscuits, and they keep me going until tea time - lean RAW MINCEMEAT. This is SO good, and Mum says it's good for me too, because in the wild, IF I were a tiger (which I am in my heart - and a little lionish, too), I would catch all my food and that would be RAW meat, and that's because we CATS are CARNIVORES and PREDATORS...GRRRRR!
In the middle-ish of the night Mum sprinkles a few more Kitty bikkies in my bowl in case I get an attack of the munchies (and I do - every single night). Mum thought when I stopped growing and being SO active, they would be giving me less food. We're all still waiting for that day to arrive. For now, I say 'CARPE DIEM' (or Seize the Day... and run with it!), but mostly I simply say -
"Oh-h-h YUM! this is like I've died and gone to heaven"
WASH YOUR WHOLE SELF
NOT BEFORE - Like a Human!
WHY? BECAUSE I SAID SO....CATS RULE...REMEMBER?!
Primary 'indoor' Education
...begins at Home
Here is a CATechism of what I have learned about humans, so far:
MUM does NOT like:
- me poking my nose and myself into drawers and the pantry and her wardrobe, the exact moment they are opened (or any other time, actually), and she particularly dislikes me 'cataloguing' her clothes in new and fun ways,
- waking up to find she's wearing me over her head like a scarf, through the night,
- me getting in her way on her 'comfort' stops through the night. She can't see in the dark... can you believe it?
- me playing with HER ball of wool she's knitting with. Huh? Looks just like MINE to me. I have no idea what her problem is.
- and she also just doesn't 'get it', how much fun it is to unknit her work. It's SO easy - you just run away at top speed with the ball of yarn, and her work just unravels like crazy! Wicked!
- me washing her eyebrows in the middle of the night, when she is sleeping. I really don't see what possible objection she could have against such fastidious cleanliness. Beats me!
BUT she DID laugh the night I climbed right into her doona (that's Danish for eiderdown - see I'm already becoming multi-lingual. And I know some Sign Language too, except when Mum claps her hands, I don't think she's applauding me!). Actually, i crept in between the doona and its cover and snuck up towards where I thought her head should be, and instead, hit a dead end and had to be rescued. Even though she had to get right out of bed to sort me out, it all ended in cuddles and kisses, so the trauma was ALL GOOD in the long crawl!
PRACTICE MAKES 'PURRFECT' - ...well, only indoors so far, but I'm working on it...look -Click thumbnail to view full-size
...happens outdoors sometimes.
**On this day I practiced 'stalking', but I think I was maybe out of my league with this 'critter' (can you see it through the bush?). It's SO BIG!!!
Some of you humans won't like to know I've caught a few birds. But Dad is happy for several reasons. First of all they were sparrows, and sparrows are an 'introduced' species (or ferals), and they breed like rabbits (and that's PROLIFIC), and they 'poop' on his beloved old Mercedes that he's waited ALL his life for - on the bonnet, attacking mirrors, harvesting squished insects from ALL over the car. They just keep 'pooping' merrily along - EVERYWHERE they land. Some even 'bomb' whilst 'on the wing'! They've simply overflown the boundaries; worn out the old 'welcome' roost; stretched the bonds of mateship further than a rubber band could tolerate on a warm day. You get the picture?
And their other behaviour that also REALLY gets up his nostrils, is that he believes a cheap morse code message has been sent to the entire sparrow population of the South East of South Australia, informing of his 'feeding the chooks their grain' schedule. He says he's fed up with the feed bill - especially as the fodder store doesn't offer him pensioner prices. And he also reckons the chooks are pretty fed up, also. This War of the Sparrows must be brought to a satisfactory end. (The greatest worry is that the 'girls' might take strike action - and that's eggsactly the last thing we want)
Actually, Dad's not as blood-thirsty as I find I am. He'd be totally satisfied if I had the same effect as a scarecrow (or Miss Muffet's spider) - and frightened them all away. He also reckons sparrows have more than a 'fighting chance' at Life, given their potential speed, velocity and altitude in the wild blue yonder - AND they can choose higher and flimsier branches in trees than I can. Hmmm. Have to give that one some consideration - behind my eyelids, when I'm curled up in a ball and well-wrapped in my tail.
And Mum reminds me 'mouse season' will come with warmer days. I LOVE 'mouse' time. My motto is 'If it moves - it's MINE'.!
I HUG TREES - ...it's been a CAT thing FOREVER!
(Pardon me for stating the obvious - but you humans are VERY slow to pick up the BASICS sometimes. Luckily, you do have many other virtues that compensate... I think.)
I have discovered that I am an amateur ARBORIST - carefully checking the health and welfare of trees and scaling them to great heights to ensure their well-being. Unlike humans, who require all types of 'gear' to accomplish this, I come naked and unencumbered, with nought but my claws and great climbing prowess! (I think I may have left the 'modesty' bit on the ground - oops!). (If you doubt my words, check Wikipedia - Arborist )
I have heard that some 'city slicker cats' (also alley cats and others of that ilk) often climb trees and can't get down again! They say Emergency Rescue Services have to come with ladders and ropes and bring them back to earth... huh? (I mean... what goes up MUST come down, MUSTN'T it? - or am I a Missy missing something? or making misstaken assumptions?) UN-BE-LIEVE-ABLE, and basically DIS-GRACE-FUL (for a REAL cat, that is).
PS: The tree I am 'arboristing' is Mum's apricot tree, and she is seriously 'hanging out' for me to scare birds away from here. She says she is NOT prepared to share 85% of her apricots with them. That is gluttony...and way bad!
ALL THIS ACTION or 'CATWOMAN' stuff
....leaves me near CATALEPTIC
OK., big word again. As usual, you can check it out at Wikipedia - Catalepsy
Think I'll rest up for a bit (like all day - ready for tonight), but you will be hearing more of my chronicles soon - promise - cross my paws and hope to catch something. So until your next view of my best life in the world -
MAY YOU ALWAYS LAND ON YOUR FEET - like I have!
AND SO I LAY ME DOWN TO SLEEP - ...and Pray the BIG-Cat-in-the-Sky my Soul will KeepClick thumbnail to view full-size
I considered 'STALKING' these... whatever they are...
But they just looked too cute... even to me! Don't you agree? Too gorgeous for words and barely 24 hours old! Gotta love them.
Ah-h-h-h-h well... win some, lose some, I guess.
....wanna know something cool about my Mum?
She has TWO Diamonds...truly!
One has been on her finger for decades now...and the other one was a Diamond status award on another of her writing platfroms - Christine Larsen on EzineArticles