I think at one time or another we have all fallen foul of getting totally and utterly lost or stuck and usually, after such a fright, we don’t do it again. Only today, we heard about Filly’s Cousin who took a car ride under the bonnet of a van only to be found by the mechanic 8 miles away from home. A Mechanic in a panic for sure and we have all been warned that if any of us try a great escape like that – we may not be as lucky!
SaBreena took a walk on the wild side a few weeks back when the sun was shining. Unbeknown to Momma, there was a hole in the catproof fencing made, of course, by a Horrible Horrace. SaBreena is a huge Horrace fan and watches the clever little rodents about their work and being a smart arse, she copied their actions and made good her escape. It took Momma and ManSlave and a very long ladder to get her down from the roof. She attempted it another few times and was finally caught in the act and the netting was repaired with cable ties. The next time she went to scale the 6ft fence, hanging on like a primate, pushing her face into the netting to find a gap, she was thwarted and finally jumped down with an almighty huff and slunk back inside, face all ruffled and fur in square tufts from the netting.
I too have been up on that roof and there is an amazing view of the tops of bushes where tiny birds land and tweet away hunting for spiders and bugs. The sparrows, Wrens, Tits and Dunnocks all tootle about around there and Mr & Mrs Blackbird have their nest deep inside the prickly bush and they shout and scream at us which is usually how we are spotted my ManSlave and ‘rescued’. Pfft. It’s not like we are stuck up there, we are cats don’t you know. Although, I do know for a fact, there really is no safe way down and it is through fear and worry that I cling to him on the 10ft decent. I do envy those little birds each evening as they sun themselves and flick about in the dust and watch the sun go down. When I rolled about in that dust, I got mites and was itching for days.
Since Magnus Rex’s little foray into the wilderness, he has never ventured past the end of his nose and sticks around his enclosure and just shouts suggestive comments anyone and everyone. He is like one of those mouthy builders yelling down lewd comments to the women below. “Ere love, wanna take a walk with me on my meat rack?” He just can’t help himself. It’s his Viking ‘name sake’ blood of The Great King Canute. Rape, pillage and plough the land, or any girl cats who fancy a ploughing too! They all shout back as he is quite tasty looking with his white tash, muscular body and spats. But he had better watch out that the law of Momma doesn’t crack down on his unsolicited wolf-whistling, catcalling and skirt bothering behaviours. It just won’t do in today’s society and we don’t want the neighbours complaining.
Ikon used to be a skirt botherer, but now he is more of a Horrace fancier since his PomPoms were removed. Those Horraces tease him rotten with their squirrely ways. He spends hours in the garden just watching them and they come so close, within sniffing distance and then rattle their tails, bark, snort and scream muk-muk quaa at him and go about their business of stealing 20mm gravel and slate and burying it in Momma’s Potato boxes. Only yesterday a Horrace entered his cat run and he just sat there whilst it climbed his tree and stashed a piece of gravel in the fork of the branches and left the way he came in. Ikon then went on to find said gravel and boot it about the enclosure for a good 10 minutes until he lost it under his cat wheel. ManSlave found him hours later on the cold stone floor waiting for it to reappear. What a silly boy.
Ikon has been in the house much more of late and when he comes in he reminds me of one of those bully boys in Private school. The ones who put bars of soap in their socks and go about beating up the weaklings for their pocket money. I have on occasion been at the receiving end of said sock and the wrath of his almighty orangeness. He, only this week, came at me with his sock and I cowered in the corner where he hit me over and over with it and I did a little pee-pee. He really is a big scary beast, akin to an Ethiopian Gelada with the big wafting mane and muscles. So now, when he is in the house, we are separated for good measure and he can pick on someone his own size.
There have been a few more escapes of late. Filly’s kittens are full grown minicats now and have the knack and speed of land lizards and just as slippery. It is not so much escape as attack leaving the fumbling humans to take pot luck and grab their eel like bodies as they slip into and out of rooms like water and trap themselves in cupboards that are only opened fleetingly. Of course, we have all done it at one time or another and some of us sill do. Gazoo, Elton, Sol, SaBreena and moi. The food cupboard is the place to be and whilst ManSlave gets out Horrace food, in we nip and climb to the top and knock all the little things off from the shelves which land in the Horrace food bucket which then topples forwards against the door. Then we cry and create in there to be let out and roll about laughing as down tumbles all the goodies and a bucket of loose sunflower seeds all over the floor. We jump free and race about the house in hysterical mewing at having pulled off the best trick ever.
Well, I am going to make good my escape now and find me a nice warm spot to curl up on. Now the kittens have departed, there is so much more space to select for midday naps and a good cleaning session to plot our next adventures from.
From your ever doting Queen Vee =^..^=
SaBreena took a walk on the wild side a few weeks back when the sun was shining. Unbeknown to Momma, there was a hole in the catproof fencing made, of course, by a Horrible Horrace. SaBreena is a huge Horrace fan and watches the clever little rodents about their work and being a smart arse, she copied their actions and made good her escape. It took Momma and ManSlave and a very long ladder to get her down from the roof. She attempted it another few times and was finally caught in the act and the netting was repaired with cable ties. The next time she went to scale the 6ft fence, hanging on like a primate, pushing her face into the netting to find a gap, she was thwarted and finally jumped down with an almighty huff and slunk back inside, face all ruffled and fur in square tufts from the netting.
I too have been up on that roof and there is an amazing view of the tops of bushes where tiny birds land and tweet away hunting for spiders and bugs. The sparrows, Wrens, Tits and Dunnocks all tootle about around there and Mr & Mrs Blackbird have their nest deep inside the prickly bush and they shout and scream at us which is usually how we are spotted my ManSlave and ‘rescued’. Pfft. It’s not like we are stuck up there, we are cats don’t you know. Although, I do know for a fact, there really is no safe way down and it is through fear and worry that I cling to him on the 10ft decent. I do envy those little birds each evening as they sun themselves and flick about in the dust and watch the sun go down. When I rolled about in that dust, I got mites and was itching for days.
Since Magnus Rex’s little foray into the wilderness, he has never ventured past the end of his nose and sticks around his enclosure and just shouts suggestive comments anyone and everyone. He is like one of those mouthy builders yelling down lewd comments to the women below. “Ere love, wanna take a walk with me on my meat rack?” He just can’t help himself. It’s his Viking ‘name sake’ blood of The Great King Canute. Rape, pillage and plough the land, or any girl cats who fancy a ploughing too! They all shout back as he is quite tasty looking with his white tash, muscular body and spats. But he had better watch out that the law of Momma doesn’t crack down on his unsolicited wolf-whistling, catcalling and skirt bothering behaviours. It just won’t do in today’s society and we don’t want the neighbours complaining.
Ikon used to be a skirt botherer, but now he is more of a Horrace fancier since his PomPoms were removed. Those Horraces tease him rotten with their squirrely ways. He spends hours in the garden just watching them and they come so close, within sniffing distance and then rattle their tails, bark, snort and scream muk-muk quaa at him and go about their business of stealing 20mm gravel and slate and burying it in Momma’s Potato boxes. Only yesterday a Horrace entered his cat run and he just sat there whilst it climbed his tree and stashed a piece of gravel in the fork of the branches and left the way he came in. Ikon then went on to find said gravel and boot it about the enclosure for a good 10 minutes until he lost it under his cat wheel. ManSlave found him hours later on the cold stone floor waiting for it to reappear. What a silly boy.
Ikon has been in the house much more of late and when he comes in he reminds me of one of those bully boys in Private school. The ones who put bars of soap in their socks and go about beating up the weaklings for their pocket money. I have on occasion been at the receiving end of said sock and the wrath of his almighty orangeness. He, only this week, came at me with his sock and I cowered in the corner where he hit me over and over with it and I did a little pee-pee. He really is a big scary beast, akin to an Ethiopian Gelada with the big wafting mane and muscles. So now, when he is in the house, we are separated for good measure and he can pick on someone his own size.
There have been a few more escapes of late. Filly’s kittens are full grown minicats now and have the knack and speed of land lizards and just as slippery. It is not so much escape as attack leaving the fumbling humans to take pot luck and grab their eel like bodies as they slip into and out of rooms like water and trap themselves in cupboards that are only opened fleetingly. Of course, we have all done it at one time or another and some of us sill do. Gazoo, Elton, Sol, SaBreena and moi. The food cupboard is the place to be and whilst ManSlave gets out Horrace food, in we nip and climb to the top and knock all the little things off from the shelves which land in the Horrace food bucket which then topples forwards against the door. Then we cry and create in there to be let out and roll about laughing as down tumbles all the goodies and a bucket of loose sunflower seeds all over the floor. We jump free and race about the house in hysterical mewing at having pulled off the best trick ever.
Well, I am going to make good my escape now and find me a nice warm spot to curl up on. Now the kittens have departed, there is so much more space to select for midday naps and a good cleaning session to plot our next adventures from.
From your ever doting Queen Vee =^..^=
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