Monday, April 14, 2008

Say what???

I haven't mentioned it but since the last time I wrote about cats we've added two (count em, two!) to the family. That makes a total of five cats and, as much as I love cats, I think that's at least two too many. And this isn't even counting the neighbourhood strays who take advantage of the cat door to snatch a free feed.

The first to join us was Casper (I call her the Little White Bastard) or LWB for short. She came to live with us a week or so before Heino came over for his visit. The typical story 'if you don't take her we'll have to put her down'. Sonya bought it.

It's always hard to tell if the story is true or not; certainly there are enough people out there who'd think nothing of bunging half a dozen kittens in a sack with a rock and dropping em in the nearest canal. But are those the kind of people who would even bother trying to farm em out? I suspect not.

Casper took to Heino but how could she not? To know Heino is to, well, to know him!

The most recent arrival is Tiny Guy. This is his 36th day with us. You might wonder about my naming of cats; I've mentioned it before methinks but I don't go for the tame names 'Tiger', 'Casper', 'Tom' and so forth. I'd much rather give a cat a robust name like Voskoboinikov or Kafka or Katzen. But lots of luck trying that with this lot; their idea of originality is to take a pale tabby and call him Tiger! Or take a black cat and call her Shadow.

Hence the disparity of names. If they persist in having the imagination of a square of toilet paper I'll dumb it down for em; hence, Shadow is Kitten and I always call her that, Kitten and never Shadow. Tiger is 'The little guy' and since I can hardly change his name now when he knows he's 'The little guy' he remains that even though he's a big cat now. I'm sure you can now see why the latest addition is called Tiny Guy.

Tiny Guy was not house trained when he arrived. Not a big deal. How much can a kitten of six weeks pee at a time anyway? Not a lot I can tell you! He's almost house trained now but occasionally forgets himself. Hence, the other night, I espied him squatting on a cushion. Now I'm sure you know the drill here. Grab the little bastard immediately and spirit him away to the cat box. The power of association is amazing and they do quickly learn the appropriate location.

Which left a peed upon cushion. I showed it to my wife and she said 'oh, is that peepee?'. After spluttering in amazement I replied. 'Peepee? Bloody peepee? Who are you talking to? It's cat piss and don't you forget it!'. She laughed.

Perhaps you had to be there!

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