KItten of EVIL
Oct. 6th, 2014 10:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
blamebramptonIt was a long weekend in Sydney. On the Saturday we went on a little night-time bushwalk with friends in the mountains to a glowworm cave, which was nothing short of delightful. It was particularly good to see how physically adept most of the kids in the group were and how open to Odd Things in the Outdoors. The one who wasn't was actively helped along by some of the others, which was lovely.
Yesterday, the rugby league team we sort of support (we don't really follow league, but they are Erskineville locals and were always so lovely when they were training at the oval or grabbing a kebab that we started to watch their games and cheer for them) won the premiership for the first time in 43 years. Their opponents were enormous, one of them looked like a polar bear, and for the first 65 or so minutes of the game it was very scary and could have gone either way. And then in the last quarter hour, the Rabbitohs went from securing the lead to streaming away to 'Chaps, are you still playing? The game is still on, you know.' I may have cheered quite loudly, which made this morning a little awkward when I realised my neighbours had bedecked their house with flags for the opposing, losing team.
They're still going to like us more than the previous person who lived here, he was a bastard.
Today I was catching up on the gardening. One of the biggest jobs was laying new pavers in the front yard, where there was originally a muddy path and where we've been making do with slabs of sandstone I just plonked down when we moved in.
Mr Brammers said that he was going out the back to read a book and let the cats have some outdoors time. I told him to keep an eye on the cats, as Rusketus had been eyeing off the Catproofing, looking for ways to thwart our efforts. Some half hour later I could hear a little chirruping miaow. I looked around and could see nothing. 'Have you got the cats?' I called down the side passage. 'It's fine,' came the reply.
I went back to digging in the concrete-like ground (the WORST soil: building waste, stones, cinders in one bit. HOW?! And full of onion weed …) and then heard the same sound. I looked up to see Ruus with his tail straight and high (the position that says 'I am cleverer than my humans! Hurrah!') trotting across the front garden towards the gate.
He had slipped through the catproofing at the side of the house, trotted down the passage to the gap under the neighbour's fence, squirmed through, made his way down to the front where he could hear me and offer commentary on my work, then squirmed through another gap to return to our garden.
The good news is that he does come when called, and since I had just dug a hole, things were relevant to his interests. He was extremely offended to be returned to the indoors. This was his face:
I suspect he is plotting my death. It will probably involve divebombing from the shelves beside the bed, and occur around 5am.
Yesterday, the rugby league team we sort of support (we don't really follow league, but they are Erskineville locals and were always so lovely when they were training at the oval or grabbing a kebab that we started to watch their games and cheer for them) won the premiership for the first time in 43 years. Their opponents were enormous, one of them looked like a polar bear, and for the first 65 or so minutes of the game it was very scary and could have gone either way. And then in the last quarter hour, the Rabbitohs went from securing the lead to streaming away to 'Chaps, are you still playing? The game is still on, you know.' I may have cheered quite loudly, which made this morning a little awkward when I realised my neighbours had bedecked their house with flags for the opposing, losing team.
They're still going to like us more than the previous person who lived here, he was a bastard.
Today I was catching up on the gardening. One of the biggest jobs was laying new pavers in the front yard, where there was originally a muddy path and where we've been making do with slabs of sandstone I just plonked down when we moved in.
Mr Brammers said that he was going out the back to read a book and let the cats have some outdoors time. I told him to keep an eye on the cats, as Rusketus had been eyeing off the Catproofing, looking for ways to thwart our efforts. Some half hour later I could hear a little chirruping miaow. I looked around and could see nothing. 'Have you got the cats?' I called down the side passage. 'It's fine,' came the reply.
I went back to digging in the concrete-like ground (the WORST soil: building waste, stones, cinders in one bit. HOW?! And full of onion weed …) and then heard the same sound. I looked up to see Ruus with his tail straight and high (the position that says 'I am cleverer than my humans! Hurrah!') trotting across the front garden towards the gate.
He had slipped through the catproofing at the side of the house, trotted down the passage to the gap under the neighbour's fence, squirmed through, made his way down to the front where he could hear me and offer commentary on my work, then squirmed through another gap to return to our garden.
The good news is that he does come when called, and since I had just dug a hole, things were relevant to his interests. He was extremely offended to be returned to the indoors. This was his face:
I suspect he is plotting my death. It will probably involve divebombing from the shelves beside the bed, and occur around 5am.
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no subject
Date: 2014-10-07 10:23 am (UTC)I have always wanted a cat that looks exactly like the one in your icon, you know. And a small country to rule. Every official photograph would involve the cat.
Now that I think on it, it wouldn't be that hard to become Prime Minister of New Zealand …
no subject
Date: 2014-10-07 10:57 am (UTC)But he does look devilish and he has a habit of lurking on the stairs and yelling. Recently we had a plumber call to give a quote for some minor work and, as he was coming upstairs, Kurt appeared in the darkness at his eye level and yelled at him. He jumped about a foot and yelled, "What the hell is that?" Furthermore, he did not really believe he was a cat...
I am most envious of your boy's spots - they are much nicer than we ever achieved when we were breeding Oriental Spotted Tabbies.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-07 12:11 pm (UTC)Kurt sounds magnificent. I have always wanted a Siamese, too, but all my pedigree cats were Persians, because my grandmother thought they were hilarious, or British Shorthairs. I found a Siamese one day while I was out riding in one of the lower fields, which were furthest from the roads. It sat there yowling at me. I dismounted and it ran over to demand pats, so I picked it up and went to remount with it, which was apparently akin to throat cutting. I wrapped it in my jacket, then remounted and rode home, accompanied for the first five or so minutes by a chorus of 'I AM BEING MURDERED EVEN NOW!', immediately followed by the chirps of 'Oh my goodness, I am so tall and I am moving quickly without having to move a single muscle! Excellent work, staff!'
We had that cat for six months, it would wake me to entertain it when it was bored, and organised all the house and farm cats into a retinue, audience or row of suitors depending on their bidability. And then someone saw one of the old ads in a local paper and told a friend of theirs, who rang on the very off chance … and it really and truly was their cat, so back it went.
Sadly, my commitment to rescue cats as an adult means I may go many years without fulfilling these cat dreams. But if I am ever PM of NZ …