MARCH 2009

 Mwow, everyone.

 My two-legs have been away for a while, and Diananextdoor looked after me. I like Diananextdoor. Her real job is as Miss Bella’s servant, but Bella gave her permission to put in some extra hours giving me food and games and cuddles. I call that very gracious. Of course I could have gone to Barcelona too, but to be honest I’m not very keen on travelling. No, I’ll rephrase that: I HATE travelling! If I have to go to the v** (sorry, can’t bring myself to say that word!), then as soon as I’m put in the carrying basket I just YOWL, and I don’t stop until I’m back home again! Well, do you blame me? I mean, it’s not dignified, is it? It wouldn’t be so bad if the travelling conditions were better-a basket the size of the two-legs’ bed, say, with velvet cushions and a lovely dish of raw steak to distract me.

            Since my two-legs returned, they’ve been working nearly all the daylight hours in the garden. I must say it needed it; everything was getting very overgrown. But they do make it unnecessarily complicated. They ought to let someone sensible, like me, redesign the whole thing. Then they could have catnip trees, a catnip hedge, catnip beds, topiary catnip, bonsai catnip … it would make their lives so much simpler! And I was particularly annoyed when that lovely pile of old leaves and grass mowings was “cleared up” (as they call it) and taken away. I used to like sleeping on that!

            Actually, though, I have got a new and special cat seat. Louise bought it for me, and put it on her desk beside the screen thing with the moving pictures on it (she works the pictures herself, with something she calls a Mouse, though it certainly isn’t like any mouse I’ve seen. I mean, it doesn’t even squeak when I pounce on it!). Where was I? Oh, yes: my new seat. I didn’t know what it was at first. It’s a sort of silvery-grey colour, very square, with compartments that open, and when Louise fiddles with it, it makes whirring noises. So I sat on it-purely in the interests of research, of course-and as soon as I discovered that it was just the right size and shape for me to curl up on, I understood. The compartments are obviously for storing food and toys, while the whirring noises are electronic purrs to make me feel at home. And when it gets warm as well as whirring-what luxury! I think it’s a very clever design.

            I thanked Louise with my very best purrs and nose-rubs. She said something that I didn’t quite understand (human languages are very garbled compared with Cat!) but it sounded like, ‘Look, I know you like sitting on it, but it’s my new printer and I want to USE it sometime…’

Anyway, she’s put my favourite blue blanket on top of it, so I think, roughly translated, her words meant ‘My pleasure’ !

For all my fans, here’s a picture of me on My New Seat. Arty, or wot???

Prrrrewew till next time,

SIMBA

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20th June

I was feeling lively, wasn’t I? So naturally when the sparrow flew past in front of my nose, of course I was going to chase it! It was a young one, and it really was a bit dim. First it flew in through the window of the two-legs’ bedroom and got itself in a tizzy because the wardrobe door was open and it just had to investigate. Then, when Louise finally managed to get it to fly out again, what does it do but charge straight for the fruit cage in the garden and get under the netting (which is supposed to be un-get-underable**). Cheep, cheep, flap, bounce, flutter squawk—you’ve never heard such a racket! Louise to the rescue again, and that was when the idiotic bird shot past me at about Mach 3. Well, I ask you! I’m a cat. Pure reflex took over, and I made a hurtling dash, followed by a magnificent leap, and—CRUMP! I landed wallop in the middle of a large fern, legs sprawled, dignity hurled to the four winds. That dash-dot-comma bird perched on a branch of next-door’s apple tree and smirked at me. And did Louise sympathise? No, she did not! She doubled up with laughter, hooting and cackling like a madwoman. I extricated myself from the fern fronds and stalked off with my tail lashing and ears laid back. I was so furious I wouldn’t speak to her for a whole two minutes! And if she laughs at me again, I will harden my heart and refuse to bring her any more presents of tasty mice at 5 o’clock in the morning!

Anyway, the two-legs went away last weekend. They sometimes make these extraordinary noises that they call ‘singing’, and apparently they and some of their friends were ‘singing’ at a ‘sea shanty festival’. I don’t really know what one of those is (as far as I know you can’t eat it, play with it or sleep on it) but no doubt Louise will tell you more in her journal. I think she’s up to something else, too, because she’s been muttering about ‘news’ and ‘See Dees’ and things. I’m as much in the dark as you are! Oh well, we’ll all find out soon, I expect.

Another of my servants, Kim, came to look after me while Louise and Cas were away. Having staff come to my home is far better than staying in a cattery. Cattery service really isn’t up to the mark, and some of the other guests can be very noisy or vulgar. I remember a Persian who had the room next to mine in a cattery a couple of years ago—pedigree as long as your tail, but her manners…  Anyway, I like Kim. She makes a fuss of me, and she doesn’t know me well enough to see through the pathetic ‘I’m-starving-to-death’ look that I can do so convincingly (I’m a very good actor), so I can persuade her to serve extra portions of food.

The only thing I do feel like grumbling about at the moment is the weather. It’s wet. I hate wet. In June I think wet certainly shouldn’t be allowed. I woke Louise up at 6:30 this morning and told her what I thought. For some reason she didn’t seem very interested. And all right, I know the duvet cover’s cream coloured, but it wasn’t clean on last night, and I think dark brown paw-prints on that pale background look rather stylish… prrrr.  

The only sensible thing for a cat to do in weather like this is sleep. So that’s what I’m going to do. I shall dream of sunshine, and what I’m going to have for my tea (salmon and shrimps is favourite at the moment) and wish you all many purry things until next time.

Wwwrr-mow, prr, prr (yawn) mmmpfff…

Simba

**L – There’s no such word 

S – Yes, there is. I just invented it. Mrow.

P.S. It’s me again. I’ve woken up, the rain’s stopped, and I’ve been outside playing with my new toy. I thought you might like to see it. I found it, though I’m not telling anyone where because it’s one of my secret places thateven Louise doesn’t know about, but I’m not quite sure what it is. But it’s lots of fun, and none of the other cats round here have got one. Here’s a picture of me and it…

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Which, roughly translated, means: WELCOME TO MY BLAT! 

Why a Blat, and not a Blog? Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Blog rhymes with Dog. I’m not a dog; in fact I don’t like dogs at all. Nasty, panting, wagging, woofing things… (*)  Blat, however, rhymes with Cat. So my Blog isn’t a Blog but a Blat.

So let me introduce myself. My name—at least, the ordinary one (my real one is, of course, known only to me)—is Simba, and for the past four and a half years I’ve been living with Louise and Cas, my two-legged human servants. I’m a Cornish cat, and for several months I had to stay in a rescue shelter run by Cats Protection. It wasn’t so bad—nice and warm, plenty to eat, and the humans all made a fuss of me. But there’s no substitute for a real home, and I’m pretty pleased with mine. I’ve got a garden, a wide choice of chairs, rugs, shelves, computer equipment and the humans’ bed for sleeping on, and I’ve successfully trained Louise to serve only the foods I particularly like. She really is quite bright, provided you’re patient with her. Mwow.

I’m a black cat, and very lean and large. A human I met once called me ‘a tall cat’, because if I stand on my hind legs, I can easily rest my front paws on the kitchen worktop. I don’t do it very often; it isn’t dignified. But if Louise is preparing a particularly appetising meal for me, I will make an exception now and then. My hobbies are sleeping, eating, sleeping, chasing things, sleeping, purring, squeezing on to Louise’s work chair when she’s trying to write, and sleeping. I talk a lot, too, though I’m sorry to say that my two-legs don’t speak Cat very well, so many of my wise words go unappreciated. Perhaps in a future Blat I should give some translations of basic Cat phrases, to help any other humans with a similar problem?

A lot of other cats live round here, and some of them visit my garden—not always at my invitation, though, which I think is rather rude. Next door is Miss Bella, whose human servant is called Diana. Unlike some cats I could mention, Miss Bella is very ladylike. She also has an admirer. His name is Stimpy, and he’s passionately in love with her. He sits outside her gate for hours on end hoping for a glimpse of her, but, unfortunately for him, she isn’t really interested. I call him her Toyboy. She calls him “SssssYOW,” which I can’t possibly translate in a polite Blat like this one.

Then there are George and Mildred across the road. I don’t see much of Mildred, as she doesn’t venture out very often, but George (who is black like me, though fluffier) often takes a stroll into the adjoining field to see if there are any mice or voles around. I’ve never seen him catch one, but he claims he does. QED, I say!

And of course there’s the ginger saucy piece from a few doors away. She’s quite a looker, and she knows it—what a flirt! Anything male and furry only has to glance in her direction and she starts purring and preening and pirouetting, blinking her big green eyes and…. MrrrROW! If you ask me, it’ll all end in tears. Or kittens. I think I’m better off keeping well away…

Well, this is my first effort at Blatting, and I must admit it’s been quite hard work. Cats’ claws aren’t really made for typing, and I’m still getting to know Louise’s computer system. I’ll master it soon, of course I will; though I must admit this thing called a Mouse is a bit confusing. For one thing, it doesn’t look the least bit like a mouse. For another, it doesn’t taste like one (I tried it). And when I creep up on it, it doesn’t even try to run away. Very strange! So now I think I’ll go and sit on the printer and meditate for a while. I hope you have enjoyed learning a little bit about me. And if there are any other computer-wiz cats out there, I would be delighted to hear from you, too.

I’ll meow to you again soon!

SIMBA  

 *L.  You’re only saying that because you’re scared of them.

S.  I’m NOT scared of them!

L . Oh yes you are! You’re scared of everything.

S. Hhhhh….

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