Tag Archives: cat

Missing cat returns home

Big news hit the local newspaper here recently. “Missing cat returns home after eight years. Owner hopes it hasn’t come home to die.”

Wow! Anywhere that can have a quarter of page three dedicated to a cat coming home will do for me.

What was on page one? A story about an old building being closed for the third year running. Again. Wow! You’d think that have stopped being news after the original closure of it’s doors. Some stories just run and run.

News like this I can cope with. I think I’m going to like living here.

Douggie and Shazza

Purely by coincidence, this photograph of Douggie the doggie and Shazza the kitty popped up today.


Douggie was about a year old and Shazza about ten weeks old when this was taken. Shazza’s all grown up now and hates the sight of Douggie. Poor pooch doesn’t know what on earth he’s done to upset her.
 Um? Hello? What’s happened to the font?
I can’t get it to change back. Heeeeeeelp!!!!!

Hello or ow? I’m not sure which.

Being an observer of things in general and people in particular I notice things that others may not. It’s my job to see things – and I’m an exceptionally nosy person.

It’s great being an observer. Can there be anything better than sitting in a cafe with a posh coffee and your significant other/sister/son/daughter/bezzie and just watching the world go by? I could spent hours doing that.


Last week I noticed that the  attempt to keep current and ‘dahn wiv da kids’ in soap operas is to have all the actors end every sentence with ‘Yeah?’

Most of the time I’m not sure if they’re asking me or telling me, yeah (?).

Do people really do that in real life, yeah? In case you’re wondering, that was a real question, yeah?

See my point? Yeah? Confuzzling.

Walking down the road yesterday, as is my wont, I saw a woman holding her hand up to her face as if the had severe toothache. Then I saw someone else doing exactly the same thing and wondered if we had a  toothache epidemic.

After I’d seen several other people holding their faces in the same similarly afflicted way I realised that some of them didn’t appear to have toothache but earache as they were holding their faces higher up.  Of course they weren’t really afflicted by anything except modern society and the need to keep in touch and connected at all times. They were all attached to their umbilical cords, aka their mobile phones.

Funny isn’t it how technology has modified our behaviour.

Boofuls nearly has a blue fit if he forgets to take his phone out with him. I don’t get it. What is this need to be connected all the time?  I’m not saying they aren’t useful but actually, it’s quite nice to be out and not at everyone’s beck and call all the time.

While we are on the subject of behaviour, I’ve noticed our little cat, Cooking Fat, has been behaving strangely lately. Eating like food is going out of fashion and drinking water at any opportunity. Yes,  Pebbles, the very Pebbles that this blog is named after and who I regularly trip over in the dark, being as how she’s as black as coal, has developed diabetes.  That’s in addition to her deafness, blindness, toothlessness, senility and arthritis. A visit to the vet yesterday confirmed my suspicions.

Oh crap crappity crap. We’ve never been able to get tablets into her so now we have to make a decision.

Are we going to let her condition take its course and let her see out her days in peace or are we going to cause her upset and distress by trying to get medication into her on a regular basis? At twenty years old she’s  definitely past her sell by date and our inclination is to let her live her last days peacefully.  What are your views?


Happy Birthday Pebbles

Happy birthday Pebbles!

Our little black cat, Pebbles, the very Pebbles who inspired the name of this blog after I once again tripped over her  in the middle of the night, has reached the grand old age of twenty. We don’t know her exact birthday but we believe it to be somewhere around new year.

I remember the day we got her, and the reason why. Let’s take a walk down memory lane together, dear reader and I’ll share my story with you.

Lashes, little more than a curly haired and hazel eyed toddler suddenly and out of the blue  developed a profound fear of cats.  Hardly able to walk down the street without screeching like a banshee every time she saw one, we decided action was needed.

” We’ll get a little, cute kitten, everyone likes little, cute kittens, don’t they?”

“What? To scare her with  every time she misbehaves?”

“No, love. To help her over her fear of cats.”

So started weeks of trying to find a cat. The RSPCA had none, neither did the Cats’ Protection League. After a long trip out to a cat sanctuary, they told us they’d heard of a place near where we lived that had cats they wanted rid of.

We drove all the way back to visit the people with the spare cats.

It transpired that they already had dogs but had taken in a cat out of the goodness of their hearts. This cat promptly had kittens, and before they’d got rid of them all, one of the kittens had had kittens. These people were all catted out. If they never saw another cat again it would have been too soon. Their lives had been a mess of yowling, barking, fighting, pooing smelly animals ever since they’d done their good deed.

In we walked, “We’d like it to be a boy.”

“This is a boy.” they said as they thrust a bundle of black fur at us. To be honest if we’d have said me wanted a martian they’d have told us it was one.

For about a nanosecond, this little, black ball of fluff sat trembling in the palm of my hands. “We’ll take it.” I said, assessing the sadness of it’s situation rather than it’s suitability as a pet for our darling daughter.

As soon as the words were out of my mouth this harmless little kitten turned into a whirling dervish of the grandest magnitude.  It launched itself from my hands onto the sofa, bounced of the sofa and ran round the walls at lightning speed like Evel Kneivel riding the  wall of death. Off  the wall it finally came, by taking a flying leap halfway across the room onto  the curtains which it used as a springboard before  finally coming  to rest – hanging off the tv. It only came to rest there because it got a claw stuck and couldn’t move.   I think that the poor thing had had to fight to not end up as a dog snack from the moment it was born and had learned how to make a quick getaway. Certainly it’s survival skills had been honed to perfection and it was definitely nippy on it’s feet.

I walked over and plucked her ( Yes, her. Not him as requested) from where she was dangling helplessly in front of the television screen.

By now the owner had given up trying to tell me what a lovely wee thing it was and just looked at me wordlessly, imploring me with her eyes to take it away but obviously thinking we wouldn’t after it’s display of ‘cute kittenness.’

Of course we did take her, although we spent the whole drive home wondering what the hell we’d just done.

So that was the inauspicious way Pebbles came to be part of our lives. I’d love to tell you that she was the perfect pet, loving, friendly and relaxed but it would be a lie. I do think she appreciated us for giving her a peaceful and dog free home but   she has never got over her nerves and she continues to be  neurotic, anti social and aloof  but we love her.

Happy birthday, Pebbles.


Our nineteen year old cat seems to have gone a  bit senile. we know she’s a bit blind and a bit deaf and more than a bit unsteady on her pins but now she  thinks she’s a dog. Boofuls’ dog to be exact.

I don’t know if she’s been watching Mrs Woofy follow me round the house and likes the idea or if she really thinks she’s a dog but Boofuls can’t move without her trotting at his heels these days.

She even sits in front of him while he’s eating hoping for a little titbit, just like Mrs Woofy does when she’s here. You know how they do, trying to look nonchalant but secretly peeping sideways out of one eye looking for any sign of goodies coming their way.

Look, she’s even licking her lips.

Tasty Treat

Nonchalant my ars……er……eye.

Munki and me spent a delightful afternoon together yesterday with no sign of the tantrums or power games that have been going on for the last few weeks (hers, not mine).

We sang, finger painted, shared lunch and generally enjoyed being in each others company.

Finger paintingShe was a busy girl, as you can see.

Finger painting 2At one point she left her painting to ‘wash her hands’ that quaint euphemism for going for a wee.  On her way to the bathroom (My God! That makes the place sound like a veritable mansion.) she spotted the cat, curled up in a corner and fast asleep.

She sneaked up to the cat and bent down next to her. That’s notable on it’s own as that’s something she’s have never got away with a few years ago. This cat has a built in childometer and  can usually sense the  imminent  presence of a child at a distance of half a mile or more and make an appropriately quick exit,  not to be seen again till the coast is clear. Friendly this cat is not.

Munki bent down next to  the still slumbering cat and  gently bent her head down to the level of cat’s head. I thought she was going to give her a gentle cuddle so I let her continue.

Oh no, Munki had other ideas.  She  shouted BOO! at the top of her voice and believe me, this kid’s LOUD.

The poor cat shot straight  into the air. I almost had to detach her from the ceiling.

I tried my best to keep from laughing and wipe the smile off my face while I explained to Munki that that wasn’t funny and she really shouldn’t do that to the cat but it was hard.

I think the cat must have used up at least three more of her lives during that episode. No wonder she doesn’t like kids. Poor thing.

Gembolina and me went for a walk in the woods today with Mrs Woofy. As normal I was distracted along the way by the lovely sights that cried out to be photographed.

Bridge and ButtercupFlower Since we had that bad storm last year which blew down dozens of trees the council have obviously commissioned someone to carve figures of woodland animals into the stumps. It’s a really nice idea and I enjoy seeing them as we walk but this one just makes me laugh. It look just like a badger with a bad back. I can just imagine it saying, “Ee, my lumbago’s giving me jip today.”

Ee. Me back's killin' me

Then just round the corner we came across this very devilish uprooted tree.

Scared the bejaysus out of me, it did.

Scary tree roots

That badger’s reminded of of old Fred, Lancashire born and bred.

His wife died a few years back and he decided he wanted a nice headstone for her.

His instructions to the stonemason were very clear.

“I want ‘She were thine’  written o’ th ‘eadstone.”

After a couple of weeks the headstone was ready and Fred went for a look. He was most disconcerted to see that the headstone read. ‘She were thin’

“She were thin? Thin? Yer daft bugger. You’ve missed off an ‘E’.”

“Terribly sorry Sir, we’ll put it right for you.”

Fred went back the day after to see the corrected headstone.

This time it read:

‘Ee, she were thin.’


It’s a bit early in the day

What the hell am I doing awake at 6.30 on a Sunday morning?

I must say I’m loving this bank holiday business, even though I’m getting my days are all muddled,  every one feels like a Sunday. It is Sunday today, isn’t it?  *checks diary*.

There was a comedian on telly last night who really made me laugh. He was talking about all the different tv channels we have now, including one called ‘Yesterday’

Can you imagine telling your already confused elderly parents that ‘The Day After Tomorrow’ is on Yesterday today?  Hahaaaaa!!

Anyway,  ahem, moving on.

Yesterday I had to take our nineteen year old  cat to the vet for her toenails cutting again. This time she didn’t get the usually obligatory antibiotic so it only cost £20 instead of the £40 it cost last time which left me traumatised for a week.

This time it was the cat who was traumatised. When we got back home I let her out of the basket expecting her to run upstairs and snuggle down in her usual corner and spend the rest of the day giving me the evil eye.

That didn’t happen at all. Instead she spent the whole of the rest of the day wandering round the house screaming at the top of her voice: “MY FEEEEET! MY FEEEEEEET!!! HELP! HELP! HELP!   Ooh, tuna and goats milk! *lap, lap, lap* HELP!! MY FEEEET!!”

What a bloody racket. There was no consoling her. At least she’d got it all out of her system by bedtime or it would have been a night on the tiles for her.

In between the trip to the vet and all the howling I managed to get the spare bedroom repainted. It’s now a lovely soft shade of hospital green as opposed to the lovely soft shade of sludge green that it was before. There is really only a few shades difference but it looks so much lighter and more feminine.

While I was doing that Boofuls continued to carry out the building work in the garden. How, I have no idea. He’s managed to pull a muscle in his back and he’s walking a bit like Galen from ‘Planet of the Apes’ at the moment.

Not much point in asking him if he fancied a walk in the woods then. He doesn’t walk at the best times. I asked Batty if she fancied going with me to the enchanted wood to take some photos.  Batty is the only other member of the family who likes walking so she snapped up my offer in no time. Off we trotted to the woods, well, actually, we drove to the woods.

Now I could have taken a hoofing great camera with me, the plan was after all to take photos but I’ve decided to challenge myself and come up with an exhibition’s worth of photos of the various moors and woodlands I walk on a regular basis, all taken on my phone. Not that I’m planning an exhibition, it’s only a project for my own amusement.

Whaaaatt? On your phone? How ridiculous!  I can hear you saying. Well, actually, no.

The camera on my phone is amazing. All the photos you’re about to see were all taken using my phone. It’s not easy having no meter to take light readings from but that adds to the fun of it. All of these photos are pretty much SOOC (straight out of camera).

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This afternoon should be FAB-U-LOUS!!  Boofuls, me Lashes and Len are going to an Argentine tango workshop. I can’t wait for that!!!!  If there’s no lesson on after the workshop I think Boofuls and me might stay for a while after and get a bit of general practice in. We haven’t been dancing for weeks and it’s starting to become an issue. Let’s see how Boofuls’ back holds out first, eh?

Our “Big Adventure” to go and see the northern lights isn’t progressing terribly smoothly. I got a quote from a travel company who I think thought of a price and doubled it.  Apart from the fact they have completely ignored what I told them I wanted, they’ve quoted almost £3000 for three nights. Crikey!!

Doing some independent research, it looks like we can’t get a direct flight from Manchester or even Heathrow and we need to stop overnight in Stockholm. No big hardship, that. Stockholm’s lovely. Except.

We would arrive in Stockholm in the evening and fly out first thing the next morning so not a lot of opportunity for sightseeing, just a night in a hotel.  Major faffage!!

Research is continuing but I need to be aware that winter is peak season in Scandinavia so things are going to book up if I don’t get a wiggle on.

It’s much easier booking a holiday to Spain or Greece or somewhere!!

Ninja Terrorist Cat

Well, what a surprise!  It would appear that my little cat, Cookingfat i.e. this little fella:

Ninja Terrorist Cat

moonlights as a Ninja terrorist cat.

The clingons got up this morning full of complaints that the cat forced his way into their bedroom against their will, violently resisted all attempts to remove him and they were left with no option but to let him sleep on the bed with them, “And he was a nuisance!”

“How many times have I told you that if you leave the door open he’ll come in.”

“It was shut, honestly.”

“You left the door open.”

“We didn’t.”

“So let me get this right.  The cat leapt up to the door handle, pushed down the handle and at the same time pushed the door open with his little ninja paws while hovering in slow motion 3 feet in the air wearing a black outfit and a mask screaming HAAAAAI-YA?”

“Well, we couldn’t get him to go out and the door was definitely closed.”

Riiiiiiiiiiiight.  So it’s a case of the cat got the better of  not one but two humans by bullying them and refusing to leave after breaking and entering their bedroom.

Or maybe………just a bit of………….Oh yes, there it is, can you smell it?

Let’s move on.

Being Mother’s day today I got a nice little round of pressies and cards, thank you all very much.  Big N started the day off nicely with a bottle of sparkling rose.

The Rev and Gembolina came up later with a beautiful little white kalanchoe and tiny teddy combo.

Mother's Day gift and card

Later still in the day Len and Lashes came up to visit with  a beautiful red kalanchoe.

Munki of course decided that she wanted to play with tiny ted. “What’s teddy called, then? I asked her.  She looked at me wide eyed for a minute and then decided that it should be called, ‘Panda.’   Panda, eh?   Not feeling that vibe myself  but it’s innovative, unconventional and challenging, I like that in a name, and who am I to argue?

” So. Is Panda a boy or a girl?”  Quick as a flash she replied,  “it’s a girlyboy.”


Sharp, very sharp, she’ll go far, that one.

Evil Eye

As I’m sitting and staring at my computer screen wondering what delightful things I should write about today, I can feel a prickling on the back of my neck.  I sneaked a nervous peak over my shoulder a moment ago.  I say a nervous peak because I’m all alone in the house and yet the feeling of being watched is overwhelming.

Yup, I’m being watched alright. Our fluffy cat is sitting on the back of the armchair in the living room giving me the evil eye because the back of the chair is where he goes when he wants to be brushed and I’m ignoring him.

His beady, bright blue, gimlet eyes are practically boring a hole in me.  Tail swishing angrily, I can see he’s not a happy cat. Oh well, he’ll get over it or I’ll give in and go and brush him which is probably the most likely scenario.

Now. I need your help. For mine and Boofuls’   Big Adventure to see the northern lights we have narrowed down our location to one of two places: Tromso in Norway or Fairbanks in Alaska. Which do you think we should go for? Answers in the comments section please.

Attempting to work out which currency  will give us the best exchange rate left my poor blonde head all confuzzled the other evening.  Norway, we already know is ludicrously expensive but will it work out in the end to be cheaper than travelling halfway cross the world to Alaska or will Alaska be better value even taking into account the distance we have to travel?  I’m not  used to having to take all these things into consideration. I just want to take photos.

Culturally, Boofuls might be better in Alaska. A week or so in Norway could very well see him starving to death, he needs food he can readily identify. When we went to Hong Kong a few years ago he lived on ham sandwiches from very westernised hotel we were staying in.  He came back from that particular jaunt as a shadow of his former self. Not much chance of that happening to me, I’ll have a go at just about anything. Just tell me again why I’m not a size 10?

Me, Mrs Woofy and Gembolina were on the moors before 9 o’clock this morning. A lovely brisk walk in -2 temperatures blew the cobwebs away and set us up for the day. Lovely!

Ok, I can’t stand it any longer, I’m off to groom the cat.

Human 0  Cat 1

£2 a toe

The trip to the vet was carried out amazingly smoothly this morning. Boofuls had the cat basket ready and hiding in a convenient place then he lulled the cat into a false sense of security, carrying her downstairs and backing in through the kitchen door so she wouldn’t see the box till it was too late.

That didn’t stop her putting up a fight but it was a fight she knew she’d already lost so she didn’t battle for long. The usual format is for her to wriggle all four feet out of your grasp and then brace herself, locking her knees (do cats have knees) against the edge of the cat box all the while howling like a banshee.

Of course, it’s a different matter at the vets.  No fighting there. There she gets as far to the back of the box as possible, just out of reach of my stupidly short arms. The only option then is to tilt the box she slides out and ends up on the examination table in an undignified heap, disorientated and eyes blinking against the bright lights.  Haha!! Advantage to the human!  Do the deed before she regains her composure.

The vet grabbed the clippers and began to snip away, the cat, much to the surprise of all of us, hardly moved at all. The only sign she was still alive was an occasional squeak and the rapid beating of her frightened little heart that I could feel through her fur.

Five minutes later and the deed was done.  The cat was declared to be in incredibly good condition for 19. The obligatory antibiotic was administered ans we were sent on our way with a cheery, “That’ll just be £40 please.”

Just? Cough. Splutter. That’s £2.00 a toe!!!

As I write this a jet plane appears to be doing low circuits above my house. Six times now it’s gone over, making it’s almighty din and I can just hear it coming back again for another go.  What a racket. If it carries on the bloody cat’ll have a heart attack and snuff it. What a waste of my £4o that’ll be.  Tsk.

Nearly due a telegram from the queen

After a quick tot up yesterday, we realised that our old cat is very near due a telegram from the queen. If she can only last a few more months….

Our people/child/dog/attention/vet  intolerant delicate little ingenue witch cat has reached the grand old age of  19 which is 92 in human years.   As you can expect at that kind of age, she is a bit rickety. The eyes have clouded over and she limps occasionally, ‘specially when the weather is cold, not that she goes out much these days.  She just holds court on the landing where the warm pipes are, and sleeps her days away.

Yesterday, during  a rare moment of playfulness with Boofuls, he noticed that her claws have grown so long they are stating to curl under. Ow! Ow! Ow!  I’ve felt those claws and they’re bloody sharp.  That means yet another trip to the vet then. That’ll be fun. NOT!

There is a grave danger that one or both  of us, or the vet or all of us will lose our faces tomorrow courtesy of those claws. She doesn’t take kindly to being messed around with, this cat. That’s always supposing we can get her to the vet’s  in the first place.

She seems to have a bit of a sixth sense when it come the the arrival of a cat basket and she can’t half shift a bit smartish on those feline tootsies when it suits her. I can see a bit of a pantomime ahead.  When she doesn’t want to go out she runs downstairs and hides under the table, when I shoo her out she runs back upstairs so we can repeat the whole performance two or three times. I swear I can hear her laughing at me puffing and panting as I teararse round the house.

Here she is in her usual spot looking all sweet, innocent and harmless. Don’t be fooled, she is a finely honed killing machine. Many a small furry or winged creature has lost it’s life because of her. Doesn’t she look gentle? Don’t get too close to your monitor or she’ll have you too:

Black cat

The other cat, you’ll be glad to know has made a full recovery. he still looks like he’s been pulled through a hedge backwards. Mostly because  every time I’d administered the greasy ‘orrible ear drops that the vet gave us he’d give his head an almighty shake and most of the thick and unctuous liquid went all over his fur. It might take a while before he regains his usual regal features:

Sulking Ragdoll cat

That floppy ear and the bedraggled coat make him look a bit of a bruiser, don’t they? He’s not at all. This cat is the most gentle creature ever.  Oh how deceptive appearances can be.

Mrs Woofy and me had a lovely walk on the moors today. It wasn’t in the least bit cold, instead it was foggy and gloomy, I suppose you can’t have everything.  Here are a few foggy photos taken on my phone. Yes, I know I’m overusing the lomo app, I just love it.

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Doncha just love that heart shaped puddle?