-
The Battle
As my loyal followers will know, I am not a cat who gives up lightly and I am not about to take this indignity without protest.
Sadly, as of writing, the Catio-abomination remains in my garden and only one person has replied to my advert for a new hoomama. She arrived bearing a packet of catnip flavoured Dreamies so it has to be said that she was a strong candidate.
Apparently she had considered bringing flowers to my recovering-from-surgery-current-hoomama, but thankfully she reconsidered and brought us Dreamies instead – I mean that’s a good hoomun. Clearly she knows where her priorities should lie.
However, while she toured The Abomination (as it shall henceforth be known) she did not succeed in making hoomama take it down, so for that reason, her application remains pending. I might allow her to return for a second interview though – if she brings more Dreamies.
Of course, as the two hoomuns spoke together, hoomama insisted that The Abomination gives us full and free access to the outdoors. Clearly she is utterly delusional about this concept as there is nothing “full” or “free” about a cage, even a large cage. So I remain firmly on the side of its removal. Allegedly at some point soon, she’s installing a tree??? I fail to understand this concept. There are plenty of trees outside of our captivity, just let us go climb one of them! Watch this space for updates.
Anyway, after a fair amount of howling, pacing back and forth, digging at the perimeter and generally shooting filthy looks at hoomama, I decided it was time to up the stakes of my protest. At first I looked for available curtains, but sadly hoomama has gotten a bit more clever with those than she used to be – all of them are either tied up in big knots or hooked over their railings so they don’t reach the floor. I have tried but while I’m quite capable of climbing, I just can’t manage to climb AND pee at the same time. So for now, curtains are out.
However….all was not lost as a plan occurred to me.
On Tuesday night, hoomama was all tucked up in her bed, peacefully snoring. I silently crept into her room, took up a suitable position within two feet of her nose, lifted my tail and noisily peed on her closet. Then, for good measure and to make sure she had heard me, I paddled in my pee to ensure it was well spread around the floor.
I think we can safely say hoomama heard me – from the screech that emitted from the general area of the bed and the hoomama charging after me, she heard me.
(Cat 1 : Hoomama nil.)
Sadly, hoomama was cleverer than I thought or suspected and to my utter indignation and horror, she grabbed me by the scruff of my neck (how very rude!) chucked me outside into The Abomination and then closed and locked the door!
Well! I ask you….! The utter indignity of such a situation! Of course I expressed my displeasure….loudly and at length. Sadly, hoomama then shut all of her windows and even went so far as to turn on her noisynoisy cold air blower to drown me out! Then she went back to sleep and left me out there all alone! I was appalled I tell you, appalled!
(Cat 1 : Hoomama 1.)
Finally, after hours, days and years of utter desolation, in which I cried myself to sleep through sheer loneliness, hoomama deigned to awake. Angus reliably informs me that she cocked her head, listened, then opened her window blinds and laughed! What was the reason for such frivolity? Hoomama discovered it had rained in the night. Quite hard. At that point, because The Abomination was new, she hadn’t yet purchased any particular shelters for it so I had been FORCED to sit outside in the thundering deluge with absolutely no shelter at all! I was SOAKED to the skin! It’s worthy of a phone call to the RSPCA I tell you! Shocking levels of neglect! If only I had opposable thumbs…
Here, of course, Hoomama interrupts: No shelter at all cat? You mean other than the scratching post tunnel that has two hiding holes in it where you could curl up entirely sheltered from the rain, or the fact that you could sit underneath the hammock swing containing a large solid cushion that would have kept the rain off you? Or, at the risk of contradicting your version of the story, the fact that you were entirely dry when I opened the door?
Schrodinger sniffs disdainfully. Details details! Stop trying to defend yourself from the indefensible hoomama! I will not allow truth to get in the way of a good story!
(Cat 1 : Hoomama 2.)
It was now Day 3 and The Abomination still stood. I knew more direct action was required to up the stakes of this particular game.
So, in full daylight, I sauntered up to hoomama’s bedroom and found her sitting on the edge of her bed. With clear and unblinking eye contact, I walked over to where I was in her full eyeline and positioned myself against her metal hot wall. I lifted my tail, wiggled for a moment, then peed all the way down it, leaving a nice puddle of complaint on her bedroom floor.
Well, of course she ROARED at me, and chased me downstairs but I just laughed at her. That’ll teach you hoomama, I am NOT taking this lying down!
(Cat 2 : Hoomama 2.)
But here, I discovered something new and strange occurring in The Abomination. One of hoomama’s friends was outside building something. I crept out for a closer look and discovered it was something called “an outdoor cat house”. By the time he had finished putting it all together, hoomama decided to tie a number of feather and fishing line toys to the side of it, put some straw into the hidey holes and even sprinkled catnip inside.
For that reason, I thought it would only be polite to explore it for a while but make no mistake, the first skirmishes in this war may have been exchanged but the battles are definitely not over! I shall prevail! The Abomination WILL come down!
-
House Arrest
I, Schrodinger, have reluctantly come to the conclusion that it is time to advertise for a new Hoomun to take over the role of serving me and meeting my every need.
My loyal fans will of course know that I have struggled with Hoomum’s utterly unreasonable behaviour for quite some time but I am sorry to say that this time, she has simply gone too far. The situation is now untenable.
Of course, any new applicants for the role will be expected to move into this house box as I am not prepared to move out (why should I? It’s my home after all) but clearly, I will need to give hoomama notice that she will need to find alternative accommodation.
What has propelled me to such a disruptive decision you might ask? What has hoomama done to finally push me over the edge? Well, it’s a long story so I suggest you find a suitably comfortable cat bed, maybe a touch of refreshing catnip or a tasty mouse to snack on and I shall begin my tale.
Three weeks ago, without any warning whatsoever, Hoomama disappeared. She was dragging a big box on wheels behind her but I didn’t think much of it as hoomuns often do strange things. She was muttering something about the hoomun V.E.T. as she kissed my brother and I goodbye, but I was sure she didn’t really mean it. I mean who would willingly go visit the V.E.T if they have another choice? Besides, she was dragging a box on wheels, she wasn’t inside the box and everyone knows that when visiting a V.E.T, one is always inside the box. I decided I must have misunderstood, returned to my nap and forgot all about her. I wasn’t after all hungry so I had no need of her at that time, she was welcome to get on with her strangeness and good luck to her, I decided.
Unfortunately though, I was soon to learn that hoomama really had disappeared. In fact, she was gone forever and ever and ever, or six days and nights – whichever is longer. Someone called a Kitty Angel came to visit us twice a day, just to ease our aching loneliness and make sure we had at least some sustenance to prevent us fading away into insubstantial nothingness, but of course I absolutely hated her visits.
Here Hoomum interrupts: You hated her visits hmmm cat? Shall I share the photographic evidence of you hating her offering you dreamies, catnip, toys, strokes, scratches and food? Or the point when you were actually inside her bag choosing your own toys to play with?
Schrodinger: Hoomum, shush. I’m telling a story here.
Hoomum: Ah, my apologies cat, carry on.
With a lash of his glorious tail, Schrodinger picks up the tale…. (See what I did there? See? Oh never mind…no one appreciates artistry these days.)
Anyway, by the fifth day of forever, my brother quite understandably decided that Hoomama had utterly abandonigated us and was never coming back. He therefore disappeared to try his paws at being feral. At first I wasn’t much bothered, I mean who wants a brother hanging around anyway? All the more dreamies for me!
But by the end of day two, when a very weak and tired looking Hoomama unexpectedly reappeared, I was getting worried. I told her so, quite loudly and on repeat. “Oh, you’re back. WHERE IS MY BROTHER? HE HAS DISAPPEARED AND YOU MUST GET HIM BACK FOR ME. AT ONCE.”
Unfortunately, even though she gently stroked my head to say hello, she flatly refused to pick me up or let me curl up on her lap as is my due. She kept saying some kind of odd, weird word called S.U.R.G.E.R.Y. I don’t know what that word means, but it seems to involve sharp cutty things and Hoomama definitely wasn’t happy when I tried to jump on her. I mean how unreasonable can you get? She disappears forever and then doesn’t want to offer me the cuddles that are my due when she does reappear? If she was stupid enough to let another hoomun near her with a knife, then that’s her problem. She should have fended them off with her murder mittens but it should not impact my rightful need for snuggles.
See? Murder mittens. Use them. Anyway, the next eight days blurs in my mind because by then, I was really missing my brother. I tried looking for him, and calling for him, and occasionally Hoomama called for him too, but he simply refused to come home.
Brother, where art thou???? Eventually, Hoomama found a magical way to put a picture of Angus on lots of flat shiny things, and recruited other hoomuns to walk through our neighbourhood to hand them out. I really was getting most put out with my brother, as there was no need to cause everyone such upset but it seemed there was nothing I could do, so I demanded plenty of dreamies to comfort myself in his absence. I assure my readers this was an entirely selfless way of ensuring hoomama remained calm because if I’m calm, she’s calm.
Finally, after eight forevers, and in the very middle of the night, my brother jumped back through the window yelling about how hungry he was. He was filthy too, clearly he hadn’t bothered to take a single bath while he was off playing field cat. Despite that, hoomama swept him up into her arms and gave him dozens of cuddles! How utterly unreasonable is that? The prodigal cat returns and gets cuddles, while the one who has been here all along gets nothing! I was shocked I tell you, shocked. I’m sure no one could ever have imagined such an extraordinary tale happening before!
Ok, so I admit I was at least a little bit relieved that he was back, for at least thirty seconds anyway. But I couldn’t understand why he was so hungry, after all there are plenty of mouses down in the fields but apparently he wasn’t quite as good a hunter as he always says he is because he fell on our food bowls and devoured every scrap of biscuits in them. Then hoomama refilled them with meat! I mean who gets the best meat in the middle of the night?! What was she going to do next, kill the fatted calf?! Put a ring on his finger?! It was so unfair.
Hoomama kept making these weird bleating sounds and her eyes were leaking so I don’t know what that was about but she seemed happy despite it. Hoomuns really are strange beings. It didn’t take long for me to be feeling quite jealous, she never cried like that when she saw me and I don’t know what all the fuss is about, he’s only a brother, but I decided to let it pass.
Here Hoomum interrupts again: Oh come on, you spent at least a day and a night all curled up with him too!
Schrodinger sniffs disdainfully. I did not! HE was curled up with ME because he was so relieved to be back together with me. I mean who wouldn’t want to spend all their time with my fabulous self???
Anyway, you could be forgiven for thinking that this is a happy ending to our story because we were all back together again. You may of course then be confused as to why I have decided to advertise for a new hoomama. I did tell you to be patient as this is a long story so here you might want to take a munch of your mouse to break things up a bit because sadly, I’m afraid this is only the beginning. At this point, hoomama started cooking up her dastardly plot, as I was soon to learn.
She started talking about ‘house arrest’ and while I have no idea what that actually means, what I do know is that she refused to open any windows or doors. It didn’t matter how much I launched myself at them, yelled, paddled on them, tried to trip her up on the way to a window or any other trick I could think of, she simply wouldn’t open them. I tried to sit at the window and point out that I hadn’t disappeared, while also pointing out how handy the nearby curtains were, but it made little difference. Hoomama refused to relent.
She also spent time staring at her lightbox muttering a strange word that sounded a bit like “catio” – now I didn’t know what this “catio” business was, but it didn’t sound good, particularly because she kept smiling strangely at my brother and telling him he wasn’t putting her through THAT again.
Finally, yesterday, there was a knock at the door and hoomama allowed two new hoomuns into our house. They were carrying big bits of something that looked quite heavy and they made the most appalling screeching, banging, sawing noises that my brother and I spent the whole day underneath hoomama’s bed (operating on the understanding that cats are quite capable of becoming liquid during dire circumstances as there is only a two inch gap between the bed and the floor).
Finally, the noisy hoomuns went away and to my relief, I heard hoomama open the big glass door into my garden. My brother and I charged downstairs and straight outside….only to discover an utter abomination. Well, it was so vile, I can’t even begin to express my rage.
The Great Escape The Great Escape2 My brother immediately fell to digging but apparently he broke a claw so gave up (lightweight) so I then took over. Between us, we dug and we dug and we howled and we scaled the walls of this appalling captivity. We shot filthy looks at hoomama and insisted she take the dreadful thing down AT ONCE but she simply smiled and ignored us.
This, apparently, is the meaning of the word “catio” and I HATE IT!!
Note from the hoomun: With thanks to the team at www.protectapet.co.uk for the catio! I like it, even if my furry overlords do not!
Final note from Schrodinger: We offer no thanks. None at all. Get back here this instant and GET RID OF IT! IT IS AN ABOMINATION!
That is all.
The advert for a new hoomama runs tonight.
Thanks also to the wonderful ladies at http://www.kittyangels.org.uk He loves you really….
Schrodinger: Harrumph. Maybe.
-
The Takeaway…Part 2
Dear My Brother’s Readers,
Hoomama is not happy with me. I don’t understand why, but she explains below. I haven’t really done anything wrong have I?
Love Angus
Dear Angus,
This is the result of your nonsense, laid out clearly and simply.
Yes, this is also why you now have a bell on your collar. Deal with it.
Love Hoomama
-
The Problem of the Takeaway
Dear Readers,
Today I, Angus, am temporarily borrowing my brother’s blog because I have a pressing problem that I would be immensely grateful for your insight into.
The problem is that of The Takeaway.
You see, hoomama relatively often goes to another place, collects some freshly prepared food, and then brings it home to our place where she sits in the lounge, usually while watching her light box, to eat her food.
This seems relatively reasonable to me, after all, it’s good to spend the day wandering through one’s territory before returning home for food, shelter and rest.
I do not complain at her bringing her food into my house, indeed, I often invite her to share it with me because it generally smells quite tasty. Furthermore, this food often includes animals that hoomama has presumably hunted during the course of her day, and can include birds (chicken) and animals found in fields (lamb) or in water (fish). All of these have sacrificed their humble lives to contribute to hoomama’s sustenance.
As a cat, I see no problem with this. I too am a carnivore.
The problem comes with the inconsistency in hoomama’s approach. Because while she is apparently allowed to bring a takeaway into our home, it appears that I am not.
Indeed, when I succeed in hunting for birds or mouses and attempt to bring these takeaways back and into our house, hoomama does a great deal of shrieking, chases me around the house and (with much utterly unreasonable shuddering) deposits my takeaway back outside.
She then calls me the most awful names such as, “Disgusting Cat!” or shouts, “Cat, you do not pay enough rent for this malarkey!” (Note, she does not use the word malarkey, I edit for the sake of readers with gentle ears) Sometimes she even shrieks, while chasing me, “CAT DON’T YOU DARE TAKE THAT INTO MY BEDROOM!!!!!” or “CAT QUIT MURDERING THE NEIGHBOURS!!!!!”
Honestly, I’m sure the next step would be taking out her broom and sweeping me out of the house! It is utterly confusing, and quite unreasonable behaviour – not to mention noisy!
So, my brother’s readers, please would you help me understand: what is the difference between my takeaway and hoomama’s takeaway? I truly see no difference so would be grateful for any assistance you may be able to offer.
Many thanks
Angus
-
Ode To Curtains
The scene opens in darkness as Schrodinger is contentedly surveying his work. He sits, quill pen in paw, attempting to compose a poem. Hoomum continues to snore in the background.
“Roses are red, violets are blue, oh my dear curtains, how I have missed you….”
If the quality of his poetry leaves something to be desired, it must be remembered that he IS a cat.
He stretches, nudges his brother and between them, they decide it is breakfast time.“OOOOFFFF!!!”
Indeed, this is the typical way hoomum starts her day as first one, then the other, cat jumps onto her bed and like a guided missile, one aims for her belly while the other aims for her chest.
Of course she pushes them away, but then Angus spots it: is that a mouse under hooomum’s pillow? Well, as an act of purely selfless charity, he must of course dig out the mouse, so he sets to work, back paws braced on hoomum’s neck, front paws scrabbling into the bedding for all he is worth. With a grunt, hoomum pulls him into what is known as “the cuddle brace” – it looks like a cuddle, to the inexperienced, it could feel like a cuddle, but in fact the entire furry body is pinned to her side in a death grip, so it cannot therefore be considered a true cuddle. With a squirm, a scrabble and a POP, Angus dispenses with the cuddle and jumps off the bed.
Here, Schrodinger takes over. His approach is more nominally affectionate, having already been outside – in the rain – he stands in the direct centre of hoomum’s chest, pushes his damp nose into her face and then with a FLUMP, lies down on her face – all four kilos of soaking wet fur of him.
With a *few* expletives, hoomum finally agrees to get out of bed. Sleepily, she stumbles in the direction of the bathroom as Schrodinger waits patiently, watching her.
She stops.
She sniffs.
She has smelled it.
And Schrodinger smiles.
“CAAAAAATTTTTT!!!!! You BLOODY MENACE!!!!!“
Schrodinger looks at her quite reasonably, “but hoomum, Lent is over! You can’t possible have expected me to maintain such a strict discipline once the new liturgical season of the church year has arrived? Surely not!”
Spitting with anger she replies, “Forty days abstinence should have been MORE than enough to break this disgusting habit cat!”
“Oh no hoomum! Forty days was only enough to remind me of how much I MISSED curtains. They are my favourite you see. Besides, you hooomuns who give up chocolate or alcohol or other things in Lent, don’t permanently give them up do you? You didn’t HONESTLY think I had permanently given up curtains did you? Really?”
The cat blinks in innocent astonishment as hoomum starts to remove the curtains from their curtain pole.
Besides, Schrodinger continues, “You DARED to invite a second hoomun into MY house and allowed her to stay in my FAVOURITE bedroom. You can’t possible have thought I would allow you to get away with that, did you?”
“Are you kidding me cat? Debbie regularly offered you obeisance and adoration. She stroked you every time you jumped up on the sofa – even when you repeatedly put your furry bum in her face – she talked to you, reminded me that you are indeed superior in the household and fully in charge. What more could you possibly have wanted of a houseguest?!”
“Well duh.” Schrodinger replies. “For there not to be a houseguest of course. It’s MY house. Besides, you didn’t ask my permission first.”
By this point, hoomum is spluttering with barely contained rage. Schrodinger is of course entirely unruffled (which is saying something with his quantity of fur).
“By the way hoomum, it’s breakfast time.”
“Breakfast? BREAKFAST?! You’ve got to be kidding cat! You’ll be lucky to be on bread and water rations for a week!”
Schrodinger is quite calm in his reply, “And is such an ungenerous and cruel act truly in the spirit of your priestly calling hoomum? Really? You must ask yourself, ‘What would Jesus do?’”
With a flick of his glorious tail, Schrodinger jumps up and out of the window but, in a parting shot, his amused voice echoes back from the roof:
“Oh, hoomum? You might want to check the kitchen curtains too. After all, confession is good for the soul.”
Schrodinger's Diary 