Ten Ways To Annoy Your Cat

Unlike dogs, (who are stupid, loyal and think everything is BRILLIANT), cats are highly-strung, selfish and supercilious. They take advantage of us and are never grateful – often spending time at a neighbour’s house, to get extra treats… So how can we get even?

Ten Ways To Annoy Your Cat

1) Discuss your cat loudly (while the cat is in the room). Repeatedly say the cat’s name and occasionally laugh. The cat will eventually look paranoid, with flat ears and shifty eyes. Job done.

2) Keep opening cans of peaches, peas, anything that isn’t cat food. The cat will greedily run to the kitchen and then look miffed. Hilarious.

3) Dress your cat up. Baby clothes are good fun, or maybe just a big, silly bow. The cat will try to  hide under the bed, in shame. Take pictures.

4) Copy your cat’s movements, when it is washing. The cat will gradually catch on, until it sits motionless, tongue half out, staring at you in angry disgust. Have fun with this idea but don’t accidentally lick your genitals, or the cat wins.

5) Whistle, in long, low, mournful notes and sit still. The cat will look confused, revolve its ears a bit and then come and try to put its head in your mouth. Stop until it goes away and then start again. Repeat until you get bored.

6) Fuss over a cuddly toy, while your cat is watching. Stroke the toy and tell it how wonderful it is, whilst completely ignoring your cat. The cat will come over and try to get your attention, finally flopping down in a jealous sulk. Leave them to fight it out.

7) Play a game called “It’s Raining”, whenever your cat finds you in the bath, or with your hands in water. The cat will get wet and angry. Pretend to be sympathetic about the unexpected weather.

8) Speak to the cat, in its own “language”, remembering to make it the most grotesque parody possible. The cat will be embarrassed and confused. With luck, you might even miaow something offensive.

9) Keep turning your head suddenly and staring at your cat intently. The cat will feel incredibly insecure and flooded with adrenaline. Priceless.

10) Post about your cat on the internet. The cat will mourn the loss of both privacy and dignity… Well, mine do anyway.

Zuul’s Upstairs Window Plunge!

When Brandon came home from Cadets, on Monday night, Dave and I pretended we had become Mormons. It wasn’t big, it wasn’t clever but it WAS very funny (for us). Some of you read the post I made about it and expressed concern for Brandon’s emotional welfare. Sadly for Brandon, his nerves had a worse test to endure, just 15, or so, minutes after our cruel trick.

Monday night was dark, wet and windy but nevertheless, having finished with our little ruse, Dave decided to pop out and get some Coke. Meanwhile, Brandon went upstairs, followed by Zuul (our youngest cat). Zuul isn’t an ordinary cat – he has a perpetual look of insanity in his eyes, he is a compulsive eater and he often has long arguments with Dave, where he tries to get the last “miaow”. You never know what he will do next.

Suddenly Brandon called me to his room,

“MUM! My window was open and now Zuul is outside, on the window sill!”.

I ran upstairs to Brandon’s room, yelling NOT to reach out to the cat. Bran was still looking out at Zuul, then looked at me, in shock.

“Zuul has JUMPED!” he cried and started laughing hysterically. I mean REAL hysteria.

“WHAT!?” I yelled, horrified.  It was true, Zuul had gone from the window sill and plunged down, into the rainy darkness. We headed down to the back garden, hearts in mouths. I reassured Brandon, by reminding him that our lawn was about two feet high and that in any case, Zuul was so fat he would probably bounce.

At first we couldn’t see Zuul, in the darkness. It was very quiet and I was worried… But then I found him. He was absolutely fine! He was rather subdued and kept blinking slowly, with a far-off look in his eyes, but nothing was broken. Meanwhile Brandon was still in shock, intermittently laughing like an idiot. Dave came in and got the whole story, in a torrent of madness.

Maybe it was some kind of “sign”…

(Brandon has now fully recovered).

She Hated Children!

When I was a child, I didn’t really get on very well with my brother. I was three years older than him, we had no interests in common and his idea of fun was deliberately pissing me off. However, some occasions brought us together and when they did, we had a brilliant time. Some of the greatest of these “bonding” moments happened when we were visiting Roland and Shirley.

Roland and Shirley were a couple my parents had known since Youth Club. They lived far enough away for visiting them to be a family outing and it was an outing we made maybe twice a year. The thing was though, Shirley HATED children. Roland and Shirley had (according to my Mother) asked for “the bit about the procreation of children” to be left out of their wedding service… That’s how much Shirley despised kids. This made visiting them a cross between a surreal nightmare and the funniest thing in the entire world (to me and my brother).

In case you were wondering what Shirley did for a job – she was a teacher. This meant that by the weekends her bitterness towards children was topped up to the max. We normally visited at the weekend. Before we got there, my brother and I would be instructed that because Auntie Shirley was “a bitch about children” (my mother’s words) we would have to be really, really good. Not to please Shirley, oh no, to prove her wrong. Our task was to represent every child in the World and to show Auntie Shirley that children were wonderful and that she was STUPID.

We were up for that.

Being a well-behaved child is actually f*cking hilarious, if you adopt the right attitude to it. I wish I could go back in time and watch, as my brother and I sat in Roland and Shirley’s immaculate lounge; our hands folded in our laps, our faces frozen in expressions of gentle innocence. We imitated good children with such beautiful irony that we didn’t dare to look at each other, in case it set us off. Shirley would try to break us, often by handing around biscuits to all of the adults and then putting the lid back on the tin, without offering them to my brother or me. We never so much as frowned, we just smiled on weakly and meekly. We were like artists; it was performance art of the highest level.

Sometimes Shirley cracked a little and let us play with a small bag full of plastic toys, saved from cereal packets. This was Shirley’s only concession to visiting children. We played but we didn’t really play, we were “Good Children Playing” and we competed to make our tiny characters the most polite toys on Earth “Hello Mr. Elephant, how very nice to meet you!” – all the while smirking at the floor, or making the toys copulate, when Shirley wasn’t looking.

The best time I ever had at Roland and Shirley’s house, was when my brother and I found ourselves alone in the kitchen -  with Shirley’s cat’s litter tray.  Shirley’s cat was a spoilt Siamese, who was only allowed out if it was tied on a long string. But we liked the litter tray even better than we liked the cat, because in the corner of it Shirley had neatly folded a few squares of toilet paper…

One of the funniest things I have ever seen in my life was the sight of my little brother, whispering “Mioaw, miaow” and miming a cat, wiping its bottom with toilet paper.  Hilarious and of course, made funnier by the fact that I was trying NOT to laugh.

On the way home in the car, my family always had a debriefing session, after a visit to Roland and Shirley’s. My brother and I always came in for a lot of praise, followed by a quick stop at the Fish & Chip shop, to collect our reward for being good. But we didn’t do it for the chips – we did it for (what would now be known as) the lulz.

Yu Gi Oh!

When Brandon found a website that allowed him to design his own Yu Gi Oh! cards, he couldn’t resist. He found this picture of Dave and created a lasting tribute to Dave’s role in his life. Also featuring Stouffer as a kitten.

Cat Collars Of The Week

When you own cats (as I sadly do), you have to put up with a lot of things: Biting, scratching, the expense, the smell, fleas, worms, the vet, vile cat food, litter trays, random vomit, ruined furniture, tripping over them, that look they give you, dead mice on the bed, constant meowing and having to keep pushing them off your lap… For a start.

This misery is only offset by one thing – Buying cat accessories. Having cats as evil as Zuul, and as grumpy as Stouffer, means I need to buy a great many accessories. I’ve just bought these collars for them, aren’t they just darling? The design is called “Hello Mouse” - I suspect the designers of “Hello Kitty” will soon be saying “Hello Lawyer”!

Cat In A Box

I was looking at the pictures on my phone today and found this picture of Zuul, back when he was about 4 months old. Look at his evil face! 

I’ve Corrupted A Kitten

I have a confession to make – a confession so bad that you may want to pour yourself a strong drink before reading it. No, honestly. I have done something dreadfully bad and my only defence is that I didn’t mean to do it… But when Judgement Day comes that may not be enough to spare my soul from burning in Hell forever. You see, I’ve corrupted a kitten.

It started out innocently enough. Like most sensible cat owners, I decided to let my growing kitten enjoy the outside world. To me the idea of an “indoor cat” is just wrong… Cats are independent creatures, hunters, explorers. Our garden is full of fun, mice, trees and other cats to hang out with – so (once he’d had his shots and been “doctored”) I took my kitten, Zuul, outside a few times and (being aware that he was a tad vulnerable) stayed with him.

But I am not just a responsible cat owner, I’m also a responsible smoker. In other words, I do not smoke indoors. This led to me making the worst (and most irresponsible) decision of my life – the very decision that has possibly damned me forever. I decided to combine trips into the garden with my kitten, with trips into the garden for a cigarette.

It was cute when he used to hang out on the step with me and sniff around the dropped ash. It was funny when he tried to bat at the cigarette and miaowed, as I stood there blowing smoke rings. It was endearing how he started to stand on the fence, positioning himself downwind of me, so that the smoke I blew out would waft straight into his face…

And then it hit me. I’d taught my kitten to smoke.

It’s true - I have turned my kitten from a little black and white ball of  innocent fluff into a three-cigarettes-a-day (I don’t smoke much) nicotine addict, with smelly fur and a monkey on his back. God help me.

He stares at the packet. He cries to go out and then cries more if I’m not smoking. He climbs onto my lap and shoves his head into my mouth, if I’ve had a cigarette without him. Poor Zuul, he is the most corrupt kitten on Earth and it is all my fault.

Judge me harshly if you must but understand that you will never judge me as harshly as I judge myself.