The story of Stalker Kitty

Pooch is a sucker for a good walk. Mostly I just walk her while Mr Chooch is still at work, but sometimes we take her for a spin together. This is the story of when we took Pooch for a spin and met Stalker Kitty.

It was late one evening last fall. Mr Chooch brought an umbrella with him, in case of rain. Little did he know that on our way home, it would rain kittens. At least one kitten. A stalker kitten.

We didn’t see it at first. There aren’t a lot of lights on our street and there are plenty of trees, hedges and shrubs where small furballs can hide. I just happened to turn around as it darted out of hiding, heading straight for Pooch. It intended to introduce itself. I don’t know what kind of experiences it had previously had with canines, but they were clearly deliriously happy ones.

Every now and then Pooch meets a cat in the garden, but HER way of introducing herself involves chasing the cat into the nearest tree. A few of those cats will just turn around and look at her as she’s running towards them and she’s very unsure of how to deal with those. I had no idea how she would react to this one.

We didn’t really think that the dog would nibble the kitten, but we decided it would be best to move on before it caught up. Every now and then we would look and see Stalker Kitty running after us, staring at Pooch as if she was the worlds most shiny toy. Mr Chooch made several attempts at chasing it away. Each time it would hide in some shrubbery, but as soon as his back was turned, its little head would pop back out and it would be in hot pursuit once more. The only effect the scare tactics seemed to have, was that it no longer wanted to say hi to Mr Chooch. It was, however, dead set on saying hello to Pooch.

Pooch still hadn’t noticed that anything unusual was happening. Sometimes Pooch is kinda thick and not terribly observant. She mostly gets by on her looks.

As we walked up our driveway, the kitten was still following us. Because of it's short, little kitten legs, it never did manage to catch up to Pooch before she shot through the front door, heading for her water bowl at 100 miles pr hour. Mr Chooch then sprinted down into the basement to close the windows that we’d left open. Meanwhile I stayed outside to distract Stalker Kitty so it wouldn’t notice that there were ways into the house. It was a very friendly kitten. It smelled kinda like baby powder. I thought about stealing it, thinking it could perhaps live in the hobby room, or something, but reluctantly decided against it.

After I’d gone back inside, I watched Stalker Kitty through the window. Stalker Kitty was staring fixedly at the front door. After a few minutes a bug or something caught its attention. At that moment it completely forgot that we ever existed, as it chased whatever-it-was off into the night.

And that was the story of the very intense, yet very flaky Stalker Kitty.

Photo from BG Plus for iphone.

I thought I saw a pussycat

Last night was fairly… interesting. I’d left my bedroom window open the night before, because I like oxygen when I sleep. But then I decided to go close it before I went to bed, because I’d rather not wake up to discover that my tits have turned into ice cubes.
So up the winding stairs I went, treading very carefully. You see, they’re kinda dark, and I almost kill myself on them yearly, on average. Since I’ve now reached mid-November without injury, I figure that my number is probably coming up.

In my room, I shifted the mosquito net (I also leave Christmas decorations out until August) a bit to the side, and pulled the window closed. Just as I was doing this, something black and far too big to be a mouse shot out from under the bed and out the door.

“I thought I saw a pussycat,” I thought.

Seconds later, a large screech, followed by a great deal of hysterical barking, could be heard from the living-room.

“I did. I did see a pussycat,” I thought.

As I entered the hallway, there was more screeching, barking and general madness. The neighbour’s cat sat on top of my piano, balancing on a gigantic stack of sheetmusic, while my dog, trying to get at the cat, clambered away at the keys, both of them screaming at each other like maniacs. It sounded a bit like the choir they had at my elementary school. Apparently, the animal had climbed up the tree outside my window and made it's way through the window.

It was obvious that the relatively large cat on top of a stack of papers, would eventually be defeated by gravity. It needed a way out. Preferably a way that didn’t go through the dog’s digestive system. So I opened the veranda door, and the cat blasted through it like a bullet, sending sheetmusic flying in all directions. Unfortunately, so did the dog.

I didn’t want the dog to eat our neighbour’s cat. I actually think there’s a law against letting your dog do stuff like that. Neither did I want it to stand outside, late at night, barking its head off. So I did the only thing I could have done – I sat down by the piano and played the “Maple Leaf Rag”.

You see, my dog has a very strange reaction to that particular piece of music. It’s kinda like Roger Rabbit and the old “shave and a haircut” trick. Whenever she hears it, she has got to stand by the piano and howl. This need far outweighs the need to devour passing felines.

Sure enough, the dog came bolting through the door and started to wail. By the time she remembered her cat-sized snack, the door was closed.

After all – you can put a cat in the oven, but that doesn’t make it a biscuit. Or something along those lines.

Head-implosion

I'm bored. I'm very, very, terribly, horribly, excruciatingly bored. In fact, I’m so bored, that I feel as if my brain is imploding inside my skull. It’s the kind of boredom that I usually reserve for my late classes, but here it is. On my day off, damn it.
I thought I might entertain myself by looking out of the windows (it seems to work really well for the dog), but it’s so foggy out, you can’t see a thing.

Something scary happened this morning, though… I got up (and okay, since it was my day off, it wasn’t really quite morning anymore), only to discover that there was only one, single warm degree outside. And a Celsius degree, at that.

C.O.L.D

I actually went into the woodshed to find wood. Why? So that I could stack it in the fireplace. Why? So that I could set it on fire. Why? Because it was that cold. Of course, as soon as I got back inside and had made a nice pile out of it, the sun came up. I also discovered that there's a small hole in the door of the woodshed. Apparently the neighbours cats are convinced that it leads into some sort of kitty toilet. Or maybe they reached that decision by default, I dunno. The happy toilet-days of summer are over now, though.

(Pic by Richard Winchell for www.Flickr.com)