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Posts Tagged ‘conversations with my cats’

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MY HOUSE, INT, DAY. I AM IN THE LIVING-ROOM, GETTING SOME WORK DONE. OUTSIDE, THE SUN IS SHINING.

Stripeycat: I need you to open the door.

Me: The door’s already open.

Stripeycat: No, the other door. I need you to open the other door.

Me: You want me to open the front door?

Stripeycat: I do.

Me: Even though the back door is already open?

Stripeycat: That’s right.

Me: And you know that the front door and the back door both open onto the garden?

Stripeycat: Yaas.

Me: So you’re going out of the front door. Not the open back door. Or the open downstairs window. But the front door. Which is closed. So you need me to open it.

Stripeycat: Your point being?

Me: No point really. Just checking. There you go.

Stripeycat: ‘kaythanksbye, I’ll bring you back a dead mouse!

Me: No thanks, I really don’t want a –

STRIPEYCAT LEAPS ACROSS GARDEN AND IMMEDIATELY RETURNS TO HOUSE THROUGH OPEN BACK DOOR

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Dear Shycat,

You are very cute. But you are not going to fit inside my boot. It doesn’t matter how hard you try to cram your fluffy self in there. There is simply too much cat to get into a size 6 mid-calf Doc Marten. Also, you are entirely the wrong shape.

Rihanna Doc Marten 1

Just so we’re totally clear on this one:

– Left boot vs right boot will not make a difference
– Pawing at the zip will not make a difference
– Walking away and coming back two seconds later will not make a difference
– Taking your head out, turning around three times, then coming back to try again will not make a difference
– None of this is my fault

Rihanna Doc Marten 4

Rihanna Doc Marten 2

Please find something else to occupy your morning.

Dear Bossycat,

Shycat is not trying to get into my boot because I have put some treats in it for her and not for you. She is trying to get into my boot because she is insane.

Fran on table

Please stop trying to kill her over treats that do not exist and go back to staring out the window and yelling about how you are somehow going to kill all the pigeons on next door’s ridgepole.

Rihanna in a bag Fran has rage because Rihanna is in a bag

Yours sincerely,

Your Owner
(Rather frazzled)
(And late for many, many deadlines)
(And yes, very aware of the irony of taking time out of a frantic schedule to pointlessly blog about her cats)
(Just kill me now)
(It’s probably kinder)

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INT., MY BEDROOM, DAY. I AM MAKING THE BED AS IDLE DISPLACEMENT FROM WRITING THE NEXT CHAPTER OF MY NOVEL.

SHYCAT: I’m going to take advantage of Bossycat’s absence to leap onto the bed and ask for attention in my ridiculous squeaky voice.

Shycat jumping on bed

ME: Aww, aren’t you cute? Give us a kiss.

SHYCAT: Because there is no sign of Bossycat, I will roll on my back and show you my fluffy black underwool. She’s not coming to cuff me off the bed like she usually is, is she?

ME: It’s okay, Shycat. Bossycat is playing in the garden.

SHYCAT: Here is my underwool. You may pet it.

Shycat licking paws

ME: Blimey. Look at how much fur’s coming off you in this hot weather.

SHYCAT: When I catch your hand and pretend to kill it, I am much gentler than Bossycat. This makes me superior. But don’t tell her I said that because she will beat me up.

ME: Look at all of this fur, Shycat. I’m serious. We could stuff a pillow with it.

SHYCAT: Also, my arms are long and silky and look as if I am wearing long black evening gloves. Bossycat’s arms are stripey like Pippi Longstocking. One day you will understand the significance of this and then you will love me best.

Shycat washing

ME: (ROLLS UP THE REALLY QUITE LARGE QUANTITY OF LONG SILKY BLACK CAT-HAIR INTO A LITTLE CLUMP) Look, Shycat, we made a sootikin. This is a sootikin. Well, this is what I think a sootikin ought to be, anyway. It’s much nicer than the real thing.

Not precisely a sootikin 1

SHYCAT: HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT

ME: What? It’s just your fur, Shycat. I rolled it up and made a little mouse thing.

SHYCAT: IT IS EVIL

ME: Shycat, this is your fur. Two minutes ago you were in it. You can’t act all paranoid and upset about your own fur.

SHYCAT: MAKE IT GO AWAY

Me: It probably even still smells like you. Look, have a sniff.

SHYCAT: SAVE YOURSELVES! ABANDON SHIP! RUN FOR THE HILLS!

Shycat leaving the bed

(SHYCAT LEAVES THE BEDROOM AT SPEED. A MOMENT LATER SHE ARRIVES IN THE GARDEN. BOSSYCAT LEAPS OUT OF A BUSH AND AMBUSHES HER. I LOOK AT MY STILL-UNMADE BED AND REALISE I HAVE JUST SPENT TIME MAKING A CAT-HAIR SOOTIKIN TO FRIGHTEN THE PETS WITH.)

Not precisely a sootikin

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