Fozzie and the Booby Trap

 Hello everyone!  I'm Fozzie.  My buddy Eddie and I came here from the RSPCA.  We were best friends there and very pleased when Jenny adopted us both.  We have Felix to thank for our fur-ever home.

I love it here and I love Jenny lots and lots, but I need to tell you that she has a devious side.  I know I'm not supposed to, but I love getting up on the kitchen benches - there are so many interesting and tasty things up there.  If she catches me I get put straight back on the ground.  It's a bit rude really, because we all know that cats make the rules, and I rule that cats be allowed on benches!  I wonder just how many times I have to get on the bench before she understands.

The reason I think she is devious is she actually booby trapped my "jump up" spot.  That's the place where it is easiest to leap up onto the bench.  She put this red and grey box thing, right where I jump from.  At first I thought she'd finally got the message and decided to be helpful.  You know, giving me a step up.  More the fool am I for imagining any such thing!

I innocently jumped on the red and grey box and it let out an awful roar.  Scared the living daylights out of me! It sounded like fighter planes getting ready for world war 3. I ran for my life and sought cover in the nearest hiding hole.  But no sooner had I run, than it shut up.  How strange I thought.  Nervously I ventured back, I had to get on the bench because I hadn't yet checked the sink for the evening.  As I got closer, it just sat there.  It didn't move or make a sound.  Oh well, I thought, I'm a brave little fellow, I'll have another go.  What a mistake.  No sooner did my paw touch the thing than it roared again!  Once again - I fled, and it was silent.

I'm not one to give up easily.  My evening bench and sink inspections are a ritual - whether she likes it or not.  I had a couple more attempts with the same result and eventually, when I realised this thing was not going to give up - I did.  I'm not stupid though and there is more than one way to skin a cat!  Oops - did I just say that.  Scratch that (haha).  I have an alternate route to the sink, just a little more difficult, but hey, I'm always up for a challenge.

A few days later she moved the noisy red box.  I don't think she likes it very much because I saw her dragging it around the house by its neck and it was making a horrific racket!  I not sure if she killed it, but it roared until she let it go!

I was chatting to Molly Moo just this morning and she thought my story was quite funny and told me that she too had had an encounter with this thing.  The difference being though, she had the last laugh.  Apparently the thing was sleeping in Jenny's bedroom one night and Molly jumped off the chest of drawers and landed on it.  It let out that horrific roar, but Molly must have hurt it because it didn't stop roaring as she ran away as fast as she could.  She was laughing all the way out of the house because Jenny was practically hanging from the ceiling by her finger nails.  Guess she's scared of it too!

Haze: How stupid can a person be

Hello, my name is Haze and I'm Jenny's first RSPCA adopted cat.  I'm quite a handsome little chap and that's why she adopted me. I looked so cute as a kitten. Tyson looks a bit like me and I hope he appreciates that's the reason she adopted him!

Jenny's very kind to all of us, in fact some people would accuse her of spoiling us.  But I will let you in on a little secret - she's not very smart sometimes.  I know this because I've spent the past three weeks trying to tell her I'm sick and tired of the food she's been feeding us.

How thick can a person be - I've been loitering in the kitchen and meowing.  Whenever she gets food for herself I make sure she sees and hears me but she just pats me!  Doesn't she realise that if I wanted a pat I would say so!

The other day I thought I'd made some progress and she was starting to get the message, but all she gave me a piece of dry bread.  Ha! I'd rather eat cat food.  People think they are smarter than cats, well this is clearly proof that they aren't.

If anyone has any hints on how to get through to Jenny please let me know.  I am getting very frustrated.  I've even tried sitting on her lap, something I'm not overly fond of, but I'm desperate and prepared to try just about anything.  Of course I am not on a hunger strike or anything silly like that.  If the only option is to starve, I will eat dry cat food.

Do you think I should bite her?

Joy of Joys: We are getting outdoor litter trays!

It's the whole gang here today and we are very excited and feeling very spoiled!

Jenny is building us two outdoor litter trays and they are indeed the most majestic of all cat comfort facilities.  She's been working on it for a while now and is quite proud of her efforts, as are we.

Earlier this evening we were all out there supervising.  After all such an important and grand project cannot be left to a human.  We're sure out input is appreciated and will contribute to a significantly superior result.  We even gave it a bit of a test drive.  She said it should be finished in the next few days.

 

There's just one thing that's confusing us - she keeps referring to it as a vegetable garden!  What on earth would we do with a vegetable garden.  Silly, misguided person she is.  But, if it makes her happy, we'll let her call it that.

Madroom and the Hep Cats

From Jenny.

In the early eighties I lived in Surry Hills, Sydney and my friends were musicians - all relatively unknown, but none the less very talented.  My closest friends were the members of Madroom, an innovative, experimental band with a very dedicated underground following.  And just to name drop - their manager was Tim Ritchie, then of Triple J, now of ABC Radio National.  Why am I writing about this?  Because of the cats.  This is the time when Ubu, member of the Hep Cats was an important part of my life.

You see, the members of Madroom were all cat lovers!  Singer Goose and his percussionist partner Suzie had the inscrutable Lurch - a strange little girl who frequently lived up to her name (taken from a character in the Adams Family).  One can never be sure whether the name or the behaviours came first, but either way, who could blame her.  Then there was the guitarist Kim and his partner Alison and their gorgeous British Black - Wellington, with the adorable chubby cheeks and amber eyes, who looked just like a 'Beef' Wellington.  And of course there was Ubu.  He was my Havana Brown Oriental - the most amazing mahogany brown with crossed jade eyes and sabre tooth tiger fangs.  My partner at that time was the bass player.  And for those of you who think that men don't like cats, think again.  The men in these partnerships loved the cats as much as the women.

Three childless couples in their early to mid twenties and their much loved cats.  As Tom Cox notes in his book Under the Paw, other people just assume the cats are substitute children.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  As far as I know, none of the six people in this story have ever had children. [I do have a step daughter - Leticia - and I couldn't ask for a more amazing daughter.  She is like me, for better or worse, and has a deep love of cats also.]

Ubu became quite infamous in our crowd who were a eclectic mix of punks, goths, heavy metal, beat generation and anything a bit underground.  With his strangely crossed eyes and vampire fangs he had the perfect look for this crowd.  His personality endeared him to all and he developed quite a talent for shocking people.  He used to build up a static electricity charge and then his tail would zap you as he walked past.  I even saw the spark one day. We used to charge him up by rubbing him on the carpet.

As a kitten he had 'cracker cat' moments.  He would get a manic look in his eyes and run around as if the devil himself was chasing him.  When afflicted by 'cracker cat' nothing was sacred, not even the tomato soup I was eating one evening.  All of a sudden, Ubu burst out of the bathroom, ran to the front of the house and then back via the coffee table, through my soup, across my bread and butter and through to the kitchen leaving a trail of red footprints on my bread, coffee table and carpet.  Once in the kitchen he sat down and calmy licked the soup off his paws.  'Cracker cat' was spontaneous and usually didn't last long, and while I suspect it affects all cats every once in a while, Ubu's outbursts were reasonably frequent.  Given that the first two houses I shared with him were supposedly haunted, I often wondered if he knew things I didn't.

The Hep Cats were city cats.  All lived indoors and never went outside.  They were happy, much loved and deeply mourned when they passed away.

I'm not sure if the cats actually inspired any music, although some of the Madroom songs did have sections that some people described as sounding like screeching cats.  But the Hep Cats didn't screech!

Cats are more suited to city living than dogs.  They don't need to be walked and can live comfortably without a routine.  In an environment that is so unnatural and contrived they provide a special connection to nature and a kind of spirituality.  As any cat owner will tell you, stroking a cat that's asleep on your lap is by far the best remedy for stress or anything other affliction arising from the fast pace of city living.  Cats have the amazing ability to just be there.  If you want company but not intrusion then find a cat.  I think this is what we all found in our cats and why they were so important. There is no doubt in  my mind that the 'tortured' artist finds what they need in a cat.  A kind of kindred spirit. When I think back on these friends, they all had their own demons and I'm sure this side of them was what was drawn to the cats, who were not trying to help, understand, demand attention - just there.  There were some dark times back then for us all and they knew they could count on their feline guardians just as I did on Ubu.

The Hep Cats were publicly thanked on Madrooms album, testament to the special status they enjoyed in our lives.  Unfortunately my dear friend Goose passed away in his early thirties after a short battle with cancer.  He was an inspiration to me and thanks to the wonderful writers he introduced me to I ended up studying English at university and started writing.  He was probably the single most influencial person in my life.  Thanks to the wonderful times we had together and the deep affection he had for Lurch and the other Hep Cats, my memories of him will be forever linked to cats.

We've all moved on since then and I don't know if the others still have cats, but as you all know, I do!

In loving memory of my dear friend Goose 'Stephen' Gray who never knew just how much he impacted on my life and left this world far too soon.  RIP dear friend.

Elsie: The First Lady

Hello readers.  I'm Elsie or Little Cat (LC) and I am the first cat.  In fact I was the only cat for almost seven years so adapting to all the new comers has been quite a challenge.  I tolerate them, but expect them to keep their distance.

I was originally called Little Cat because when Jenny took me I was six months old but the size of a small kitten.  The people that owned me thought it best that cats look after themselves, which meant if I wanted to eat I had to catch it myself.  That was difficult for me, competing with my mother and the other cat that lived on the farm.  But I've been a survivor since birth. I was the only one in my litter that was allowed to live.  I also have a disability that means I have a rather funny walk.  Don't feel sorry for me though, the disability is only cosmetic as far as I'm concerned and when I was  a kitten I caught a rabbit - and ate it!

I really scared Jenny one night when she was visiting my previous owners and she saw me wrestling a huge huntsman spider (She's a bit scared of spiders, but I'm not).  I won and I ate it too!  In those days I couldn't afford to be fussy about food.

When I first moved to Jenny's house she had a partner who didn't like cats in the house.  So to keep me safe from the dogs and other predators I lived in the vegetable garden.  I liked it in there, but used to get frustrated when she was walking the dogs as I wanted to go too.  I got very good at coaxing the dogs to come close to the fence and then swiping them on the nose.  People think dogs are smart but I can assure you they are nowhere near as smart as cats.  You wouldn't believe how many times they fell for that one.

I also learned that pretending to have a fit elicited a fantastic response from the whole family.  It even include a trip to the vet the first time.  That vet finally figured it out it was just attention seeking behaviour and once the partner left and I moved into the house I stopped doing it.

I know more about Jenny than the others so I can tell you lots of secrets.  I think the funniest one is when she tried to learn to dance.  This sort of behaviour should be against the law.  After 'he' moved out she decided she needed to learn to dance.  She played some music and started convulsing around the house.  I was horrified and tried to stop her - gently of course.  I tried to rub against her legs and distract her, but she ignored me.  I swished my tail to try and attract her attention.  Nothing seemed to work so I was forced to take more drastic action.  I cried and swished my tail as angrily as I could - it scared the living daylights out of her.  She could see I was furious and was too afraid to continue this ridiculous behaviour.  Thankfully she turned the music off and went to have a shower.  I was so relieved, but wanted to make sure she never did this again.  As she walked out of the bedroom I launched myself at her and bit and scratched her calf - now I was absolutely sure she understood that she must never, never, never try to dance at home again.  I suspect she does it when she's out though, but I suppose I should be grateful that I don't have to see it.  Humans have no shame.

I'll be back another day to tell another story, so stay tuned.....

Sooty: A Kink in the Tail

Hello. I'm Sooty.  I'm just over three years old and have lived here since I was 12 weeks old.  Jenny's friend Corrie found me at the local cattle dip.  Not sure how I got there, but I'm sure glad she found me.  Jenny was supposed to take me to the RSPCA but instead she fell in love me and I became cat number three.

Although I'm usually a very quiet and reserved fellow, I like to flirt with danger every once in a while.  I don't remember my first reckless deed, but it left me with a permanent reminder - a kink in my tail that I now carry with great pride.  I settled in very quickly with the other two cats Jenny had at the time - Eslie and Felix.  I'm quite honoured actually because I am Elsie's favourite - the only other cat that she allows anywhere near her.  I guess its because I was such a cute little fellow when I arrived.  Felix quickly took me under his wing, showing me the ropes and helping them settle in.  In time, as the others arrived we found he was always a good uncle to the young cats.

I'm good friends with all the cats here now, but do enjoy time on my own and in particular sleeping in flower pots.  I had a brush with death a few weeks ago and probably only have eight lives left.  How was I supposed to know that the reason the grass tasted so sweet was that Jenny had just sprayed it with round up!  It was delicious!  Unfortunately it poisoned me!  I'm not really a silly cat so as soon as I started feeling weird I raced into Jenny's bedroom, jumped on the bed and cried.  I drooled and trembled (actually I was having fits but we didn't know that at the time) so I was raced off to the vet where I was sedated and placed on a drip.  Snake bite and cane toads were ruled out and then Jenny remembered the dreaded weed killer (and potential cat killer).  Who would have thought I'd end up poisoned by my very own Jenny.  She was devastated to think she had done such a thing.  

Well, as you can see, after a couple of nights at the vets I have totally recovered and made it home - just.  You won't believe what she did   She forgot about me! Can you believe that.  She really is getting old and forgetful.  I think some humans call it CRAFT disease (Can't Remember A F***ing Thing) - believe me, she has it.  The day she was supposed to pick me up, she came into town for her hairdresser appointment.  Two things she had to do - get her hair done and pick me up.  She got the date wrong for the hairdresser (was only two weeks early), so she trots off to do some shopping and have lunch. She must have been having a wonderful time because she  forgot to pick me up and I had to spend an extra night at the vets!  I was not only upset but deeply offended that I could be so easily forgotten.

I'm not a cat to just lay back and take that sort of treatment.  I spent my first two days back at home stuck to her like glue - didn't let her out of my sight.  I reminded her what a loving and charming little bloke I am and that she'd better not forget me ever again.  I'm pretty sure it worked!

This photo is me as a cute little kitten - how could anyone forget me!

Felix the cat, the wonderful, wonderful cat

I'm not here anymore.  I passed away in October last year after my work here was finished.  Work? you wonder.  Yes, I was sent to Jenny for a very special and important reason.

I arrived in February 2008 after Jenny answered an advertisement saying that I had limited time to find a new home otherwise I would have to be put down.  She didn't really want a second cat, but couldn't bear the thought of what might happen to me.  As I was 11 years old at the time, it was always going to be difficult for me to find a new home - but that was the plan.  I had to end up with Jenny! and I did.

I was very different to her other cat Elsie who is quite aloof and likes to do her own thing.  I liked to sleep in the bed with Jenny and sit in her lap when ever I could.  Jenny and I formed a very strong bond, and as this story unfolds you'll see why this was so important.

Two months after my arrival Jenny was diagnosed with breast cancer.  She had a mastectomy almost immediately and then began chemotherapy.  I sat with her every day and provided endless comfort. Then when her hair fell out I would sleep on the pillow above her head to keep her warm at night.  It was winter and she had to keep her head warm but found it difficult to sleep with a beanie on, so that's where I took over.

Later that year Jenny developed a DVT in her arm and was hospitalised for two weeks.  She had to have blood tests twice a day and due to the state of her veins they were trying to take blood from her feet which is excruciatingly painful.   Two relax and help endure these sessions, she would stroke her stomach as if I was there, thinking of me.  This was a great help to her and when she explained what she was doing the nurses thought it was such a wonderful way of coping they said they would see if it would help children undergoing the same experience.

By October last year Jenny was ready to have reconstruction surgery and I knew the tought battles were over for her and my work was finished.  I was tired and had always battled with urinary tract infections because I never drank enough.  This last one was serious and I was very ill.  Jenny did everything she could to help me and even made a special place on her bed for me to sleep.  I'd become a bit incontinent so special arrangements were needed.  Eventually she had to make that very hard decision because there was nothing left that could be done for me.  I was ready.  We'd only had a short time together but it was an important time for us both and I knew I'd played a vital role in her coping and recovery.

Jenny decided that my legacy would be a new home for another cat - a ginger one, just like me.  She looked on the RSPCA website and there were two little fellows, Eddie and Fozzy.  I'll let them tell their own story, but as you can guess they are both now part of the cat clan at Jenny's house.

As for me, well I'm happy, pain free and content.  I'm still Jenny's guardian angel and watch over her and the other cats.  I had a wonderful life and still encourage Jenny to do what ever she can to give other cats the same opportunity that she gave me.  All cats have a purpose, even if sometimes it's not obvious to their humans.