Insomnia – the chuffin cat’s view

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Sleeping close-upHumans like to spread a common myth: that they need sleep.  What a pile of twaddle.  Cats need sleep, humans merely need to attend to their cat’s every whim.  It is acceptable for a human to take an occasional power nap to refresh themselves, primarily to ensure that they have the energy to refill your food bowl at regular intervals.  Any extra human sleep should be regarded as pure laziness.  As their chief employer, it is your duty to provide your human with enough activity and stimulation to prevent them from falling into a boredom-induced doze at night.  Here are a few ideas which are proven to work:

Allow your human to fall asleep during the evening; this will recharge their energy levels for the rest of the night.  Some humans snooze in a bed, others begin their slumber in front of the moving picture screen.  This can be fun to observe: when their head lolls to one side, you can watch as a string of dribble slowly escapes from their open mouth.  If you’re particularly skilled, you can actually splatter this across their face with a swift swipe of your paw.  They will never know.  A drooling human is a perfect object of ridicule.  Alternatively you can generate some interesting noises if you place your paw in and out of their mouth as they breathe.  No matter how much amusement you can derive from this game however, it is important to be aware that your human needs to be woken the moment they start twitching or snoring.

There are many effective ways in which to wake a sleeping human:

Singing – this should be a cacophonous cry of high-pitched hysteria, performed suddenly, shrilly and preferably next to your human’s ear for maximum effect.  No human can resist a bit of harmonizing in the middle of the night, although sadly they won’t be as melodious as you – hey, they’re only human so your expectations should naturally be very low.

Dancing – humans love to dance.  Once they hear you rollicking about the room, they will be sure to want to join in, waving their arms and stamping their feet in a frenzied, albeit uncoordinated, fashion.

Asphyxiation – sit on your human’s face until they start to splutter.  It won’t take long.  Once they have shoved you aside and have taken an almighty gasp of air, they will be wide awake.  With a mouthful of fur.

Bladder crush – to be used for particularly stubborn humans.  Whether you jump from a tall height, or after running full pelt across the room, just make sure that you land as heavily as you can on the lower belly of your human.  This will elicit an immediate cry of jubilation from them, followed by a mad dash to the bathroom to celebrate.

002All of these methods can be repeated throughout the night if you are unfortunate enough to have an extremely dilatory human who likes to sleep.

Now you need to keep your human awake.  Why not do the Hokey Cokey through the cat flap?  Yes that’s right: in, out, in, out, then shake it all about.  It’s amazing how much noise you can make if you really try.  Of course, your human can easily join in with this as they can fit an arm or a leg through the cat flap.  If they lay on the floor that is.  Bonus.  Or what about finding a nice crackly plastic bag?  You already know that these are hidden in a kitchen cupboard from where they can easily be dragged out using your teeth.  They taste nice too.  The sound of a plastic bag being pummelled at night will really please your human.

By this time, your human will be exceedingly hungry.  Make sure that you sneak quietly outside using the cat flap on stealth mode, to fetch them a fresh protein snack.  So fresh in fact, that they can chase it round the house.  Let’s face it, they could probably do with the exercise.  Your human will show their appreciation by punching the air hysterically with their fist.  Ignore any rude words they might utter – humans say funny things when they’re excited.  Great protein snacks consist of mice, shrews or voles.  You could also bring in frogs or bats. Of course, there is nothing to stop you from bringing in a multitude of snacks, a veritable moving, breathing buffet packed with protein.  Imagine the scene as your human runs, jumps, bends and crawls to catch such a variety of comestibles, thus providing a full body workout.  You can’t do better for them than that.

No matter how much fun you and your human are having though, you must always allow them to go back to sleep about an hour before their noisy timekeeping device is due to sound.  For some strange reason, they like to hit this device particularly hard to start their day.

If you follow this simple guide, you can be sure to maximise your feline:human relationship.  Remember: a haggard human is a much more compliant member of staff.

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How to Train a Chicken

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1  Your chicken needs to know from day 1 that you are important.  Much better than Head Chicken, you are the Top Dog, the Cat’s Whiskers, the Bee’s Knees.  You are great!  Try to remember this when you’re shovelling poo from the chicken coop each day.

Cornflake Phyllis gardening2  Your chicken can easily be trained to help with the gardening.  She won’t need much encouragement.  Barely will you have retrieved your spade from the shed, when she will appear full of enthusiasm.  Once she has finished admiring her reflection in your shiny spade, you are free to start digging.  Point out all the slugs and snails, then watch as she devours all the earthworms instead.  Point out all the weeds that she can eat in the flowerbed, then watch as she devours your prize blooms instead.  Rake all the leaves into a large heap and your chicken will eagerly help.  As you walk away, make sure you turn back for a minute to watch her scattering the leaves with great gusto back across the garden.

3  You can easily train your chicken to eat out of your hand.  Offer some food on your palm and your chicken will eat it.  Hold some food in your hand and your chicken will peck you to reach it.  Place your lunch on a plate and your chicken will jump up to swipe it.  Take a bite of your lunch and your chicken will power jump to snatch it out of your mouth.  Don’t bother trying to reclaim your lunch. Cobweb Gladys running A chicken can run like a first class sprinter when there’s food involved.  Oh, and your chicken will need no encouragement to sup from your cup of tea.  Just make sure that you pick the bits of dead leaves and grubs out of the cup afterwards.

 

4  Train your chicken to recognise the correct hierarchy in the family.  A swift peck between the eyes Cat and chickenwill tell the chuffin cat that she is far less important than anybody else, despite what she thinks.  Shoelaces on big boots can be pulled like worms from the ground, then left loose to trip up the wearer whilst your chicken nonchalantly retreats to a safe distance.  As the chief food provider, you will automatically be afforded respect and adoration from your chicken.  Until the food has gone.  Then you’re fair game just like everyone else.  Arm flappingBend over and your chicken will hop onto your back.  Lean forward and your chicken will jump on your head.  Sit in the sun however, and your chicken will settle down on your lap to sunbathe.  Hierarchy: an important lesson for you to discuss with your chicken at regular intervals.

5  Train your chicken to recognise that the coop is her domain, whilst your house is your domain.  Even if you do leave your patio door open as your chicken roams about the garden: that is not an invitation to house share. Doris DooDah stare There is nothing worse than finding your chicken standing motionless in your kitchen, her eyes fixed on the plucked bird roasting in the oven.  Awkward, very awkward.

6  If your chicken is particularly unruly, you could try hypnotism.  For the chicken, not for you.  Place the chicken on the floor, grab a piece of chalk and draw a straight line on the floor.  Your chicken should be completely mesmerised, staring inanely at the white line.  Unless they eat the piece of chalk first.  Then they’ll just belch loudly and carry on causing havoc.

7  If all else fails, reach for the grapes.  Doris DooDah dancingYour chicken will do absolutely anything for a grape: jump through a hoop, twirl on one leg, somersault on the trampoline.  The moment you hold a grape in your hand, you are the centre of your chicken’s world.  Just for a split second, until the grape is plucked rudely from your grasp.  Then you revert back to your original status of chief poo picker.

The Mystery of an Unfortunate House Guest

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Chuffin cat not amused“There’s not been much to write about on the blog lately,” I remarked to the chuffin cat last night.  Big mistake.

She looked at me and then flounced off, nose in the air, tail bristling with fluffy indignation.  After surveying her empty food bowl she squeezed her rotund belly through the confines of her rather inadequate cat flap, leaving a loud rat-a-tat-tat sound echoing round the kitchen.

I thought nothing more of it.  Second big mistake.

She eventually reappeared sometime later with a new house guest – a small, brown mouse who she proceeded to entertain in a variety of ways: salsa dancing, pole dancing (a new use for the standard lamp), morris dancing (always knew the little bells on cat toys were there for a reason), tag, hopscotch, postman’s knock … you name it, they played it.  Loudly.  Repeatedly.  Around the lounge.

chuffin snoringAt 5am the house fell silent, so I got up to survey the damage and put the lounge back together.  The chuffin cat was fast asleep, curled in a fluffy heap, snoring loudly.  The house guest was nowhere to be seen.  I crawled back to bed, hoping to get a little sleep before the dawn chorus sprang to life with a tirade of twittering.

Later that day I searched high and low for the house guest, but he was nowhere to be found.  I glanced at the cat flap, wondering if a small mouse could punch his way through it: judging by the sheer amount of repeated head butting it takes the chuffin cat to push it open, I thought that unlikely.

The mystery was finally solved by son no 2 as he was getting ready to go to his athletics club that evening.  “Why is there a dead mouse in my trainer??” he exclaimed, looking pointedly at his brothers.

Only one question remained: did the mouse die from exhaustion, lack of food, internal injuries as a result of the over-exuberant, playful nature of the chuffin cat … or was it actually due to the almighty stench of a teenage boy’s running shoe – clearly not the best place to take cover when playing hide and seek with an easily distracted cat.

An Ornithological Observation

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Being a parent can be confusing at times ,especially when you tend to suffer from foot-in-mouth syndrome.  As your young child grows older, you often have to be careful not to read too much into what he says, and you most definitely need to take time to consider any reply.  Failure to do so could lead you into all sorts of problematic situations.

Take yesterday for instance.  There I was, washing up in the kitchen when son no 3 appeared.  As he merrily chatted away about nothing in particular, I nodded my head wisely.  To be honest I was barely listening, instead pondering the important question of what I’d cook for tea if Robin Thicke ever came to visit.

Suddenly son no 3 exclaimed loudly, “If Dad was a bird, he’d be a Great Tit!”

006Snapped out of my reverie at such a statement from a small boy, I turned to look at him as I tried to suppress a giant guffaw.  I didn’t know whether to reprimand him for being so rude, or to slap him wholeheartedly on the back for cracking a funny, albeit a naughty one.

Wondering how on earth to answer, I felt my eyebrows shoot skywards.  Barely keeping my hilarity under control, I just managed to utter a scarcely audible, “Errrm, what??”

Son no 3 pointed innocently to a large bag of bird food on a shelf.  He smiled and said, “Look at the bird pictures on the packet.  That one looks like Dad and it’s called a Great Tit.”

Oh.  Right.

 

*breathes a sigh of relief*

 

Party Planning, Chuffin Cat Style

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Games Best Avoided048

Musical Chairs – By all means play some music.  Pick a Chair.  Just don’t pick the chuffin cat’s chair.  She won’t move.  Unless there’s food involved of course.

Hide and Seek – Initially you may think this is a good game to play with the chuffin cat.  Think again.  The fun of the search is completely ruined when you walk into the bedroom to be greeted by a purring wardrobe.

Dead Lions – No.  You will never win at this game.  The chuffin cat can lay on any surface and sleep.  For hours.  However if you lay down on any surface, she will eagerly take the opportunity to use your bladder as a springboard.  It’s been proven.  Repeatedly.

Rock, Paper, Scissors – Or as the chuffin cat calls it: slap, bash, wallop.  With added claws.  In other words *ouch*

Musical Statues – So you sit or stand in one position, motionless.  That’s what the chuffin cat practices for several hours a day.  Every day.  How on earth could you win?  Oh, and never enter into a staring contest with the chuffin cat either, unless you want to end up with an inferiority complex that is.  Plus if you find yourself inexplicably near the chuffin cat’s food bowl, you’ve most certainly been hypnotised.

Simon Says – Game or not, nobody tells the chuffin cat what to do.  Even if your name is Simon.

Pass the Parcel – Another bad idea.  If you hand something to the chuffin cat, you won’t get it back in a hurry.  Particularly if it’s wrapped in crackly paper.  Only once she has chewed it and boxed at it with her back legs will she relinquish her ownership of it … by which time you won’t want it back as it’ll be completely mangled and covered in cat dribble.

Recommended Games

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Balloons – Oh yes.  Balloons are a fantastic idea.  Particularly if there are small children around.  The resounding <pop> of a balloon when it meets a sharp claw is immensely satisfying.  Plus there’s nothing better than giving a human a heart attack at a party.

 

 

 

Karaoke – The chuffin cat rocks at this.  Feel free to join in with some harmonies, if you can sing soprano that is.

Salsa Dancing – The chuffin cat’s forte.  Particularly with an army of small rodents.  Just make sure you don’t tread on any though, as that could really ruin the party atmosphere.

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Oh, and just remember: if you lose sight of the chuffin cat at a party, she can usually be found in the corner of the room sucking on a bun case.  How uncouth.

 

 

A Buffeting of Bear Ears

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051So, the anxious wait is over. Your 17 year old son saunters down the garden path, cheeks rosy with excitement, a self-satisfied grin on his face.  Yes, he has just passed his driving test.  No more grey hairs for you, no more white knuckle rides with your foot crushing the imaginary brake pedal.  Or so you thought.

“I’ll take you for a drive in my car now Mum!” he declares.  He’s referring to the little kit car that he has lovingly spent the last 6 months renovating and titivating.  “It’s OK,” he adds, “I’ve put 5 litres of fuel in it.”  Ah.  Welcome back to the world of student poverty.  And even more grey hairs.

There’s less room to squirm about in the compact car.  There’s also no “Jesus handle” to grab in moments of sheer terror, as your loving son has thoughtfully taken the roof off for your first ride.  Perhaps he is expecting a lot of fright-induced flatulence.

When you sit down in the little convertible, your knee hits your chin as you wrestle your legs into a comfortable position.  Resisting the temptation to hug your knees to your chest while rocking back and forth like a total loon, you settle down and fasten the seatbelt securely.  Without thinking you pull the belt tighter, then have to loosen it slightly to enable yourself to breathe: it’s not advisable to pass out through lack of oxygen before you’ve even set off.  Son no 1 looks across at you, his eyes bright.  He hasn’t stopped smiling all day.

Then he turns the key in the ignition.  The engine starts to splutter and cough.  Just as you think it’s refusing to join the party, the motor roars into life with a giant belch.  Son no 1 glances across at you again.  You share a wide-eyed look of excitement and apprehension as a blizzard of butterflies swirl in your stomach.  You try to loosen your grip on the seatbelt, but your fingers are glued tightly in place.

Then you’re off.  Not so much a white knuckle ride as a heart-stomping assault on your senses: the smell of burning oil, the boisterous burble of the engine as you thunder down the road with the wind slapping you rudely across the back of your head.  You can feel the ears on your bear hat being buffeted about in the breeze.  What a total blast.

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You feel 20 years younger as you remember the last time  you rode in an open-top car: memories of your brand new Handsome Hubby staggering to plonk you on the car seat as the netting on your wedding dress threatened to engulf him.  Ah, those were the days.  When he could lift you in the air without giving himself a hernia.

 

Talking of Handsome Hubby, it was his turn next for a ride in the kit car.  On their return, son no 1 filled me in on his latest journey.  “That was great!” he said cheerfully, before mumbling something that sounded like “We went 83”

“You went 83 miles per hour??”  I asked, shocked.

“No Mum,” he replied.  “We went on the A3..”  As I breathed a sigh of relief, he added quietly, “We actually went 85” before plodding off into his bedroom.

I can feel more grey hairs sprouting by the second.

Rules of the Chicken Coop by Cobweb Gladys

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1  The appointment of Head Chicken will be decided upon every 5 minutes.  Or sooner.

2  Broodiness is not to be mocked.  A broody hen is always Head Chicken.  She can eat all the food and is never wrong.  Is she.

3  If you must poo in the dust bath area, make sure that you do so after your bath and not before.

4  Cats are not allowed in the coop.  They bury their poo and eat your food.

5  The nesting box is only to be used for laying neggs.  And sulking.  And hiding.CobwebGladysfull

6  Neggs can be laid at any time.  Or not at all.

7  Singing is good, whether or not you need to lay a negg.  Humans love to hear a chicken sing, especially at 6am on a summer’s morning.

8  When roosting, only one perch should be used, regardless of how many chickens or how many perches there are.

9  Tomatoes are not to be touched.  They will kill you.

10  Grapes are not to be squandered.  Or shared.

11  All bugs found on a chicken’s body are the property of the finder, not the host.

12  If you find a bug, you can eat it; if you drop it, anybody can eat it.

13  Regurgitated food is the property of the chicken who eats it first.

14  Preening should be practiced every hour on the hour, and 60 times in between too.  A well-preened chicken is a happy chicken.  Unless all your feathers fall out.  That would make you a cold chicken.

15  Human living quarters should be inspected on a regular basis.  Just remember to wipe your feet on the way out.

16  Any freshly-laid cement in the coop surroundings should be trodden on as quickly as possible.  It’s always important to leave a good impression and you can pick the dried lumps of cement off your feet later to prevent boredom.

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A Cat and Mouse Collaboration

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The chuffin cat prides herself on her prolific hunting skills.  There are times however, when I think that she’s more into socialising with the local rodent population than hunting them.  I do wonder if one day I will come home earlier than expected, only to find her hobnobbing with an assortment of mice, shrews and voles at a cheese and breadcrumb party.  Of course, if there’s any chance whatsoever of illiciting help to irritate or embarrass her human staff, she will grasp that wholeheartedly with both paws: a laugh at a human’s expense is always worth pursuing.

For example, picture the scene: a glorious day, the sun is shining leaving a hint of warmth in the air, whilst the sound of sweet birdsong floats in the gentle breeze *sigh*

I step outside and take a deep breath as the chuffin cat approaches me. She carefully deposits the lifeless body of a small, brown mouse at my feet and steps backwards. Shaking my head sadly, I grab a tissue from my pocket and bend down to pick up the peace offering. 

So what happens next? 

Yes, that’s right. 
The mouse gasps, springs to life and runs straight up my leg. Aaaaggghhhrrrrr.

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“Remember, you play dead and I’ll drop you right at her feet!”

The Futility of a Feline Rooftop Protest

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The news of the chuffin cat’s rooftop protest was spread quicker than a flock of chickens in a drumstick factory.  Whilst I am loathe to publicise and thereby condone this type of manipulative feline behaviour, I feel that some kind of explanation is needed.

The chuffin cat is well-known for her outspoken views on a variety of subjects, particularly concerning the inappropriate use of thermometers by veterinary surgeons (vets).  As such, a trip to see the vet can be a very traumatic event: it takes me a long time to calm down on such occasions.

The appointment was booked for yesterday.  Gauntlets, goggles and earplugs were gathered, along with the riot police on standby.  The cat carrier had been left in the corner of the lounge: the elephant in the room (An elephant?  With hindsight that might have been a good addition).  All bedroom doors were closed, windows shut, cupboards blocked off.

Half an hour before the appointment time, I realised that the chuffin cat had disappeared.  I also realised that I had neglected to lock the most important door of all – the chuffin cat’s personal security door (cat flap).

I ventured outside and stopped when I heard an indignant but distant <miaow>.  Looking up, I spied the chuffin cat on the very top of the roof, a black cloud hovering above her head in contrast to the vivid blue sky beyond.  I won’t demean myself by giving too much detail on what followed next; suffice to say lots of calling, begging and pleading could be heard.  Expletives littered the air (mainly from the chuffin cat).  A food bowl was fetched, along with a crackly food bag, biscuits, cat toys, cat nip spray, cat nip bubbles, a pot of cream, a banana (great for throwing), a bar of chocolate (I was really working up an appetite) but all to no avail.  A small crowd began to gather on the other side of the path, adding to the pressure – who would win?  The negotiator or the protester?

 

Rooftop Protest

 

After 30 minutes, I felt it necessary to ring the vet.  When he had stopped laughing, he told me to make my way to the surgery once the offender had been captured.  By this time, the chuffin cat had made her way down to the porch roof.  A much better position – high enough to stay out of reach but low enough to eyeball her negotiator in defiance.

 

I then had a sudden thought.  I waved goodbye to the chuffin cat, came into the house, locked the front door behind me and hid.  After 3 minutes there was an almighty explosion of scrabbling and wailing outside.  As I opened the door in strutted the chuffin cat, nose in the air, tail rigid like a fluffy toilet brush, wondering why she was no longer the centre of attention.  Quick as a flash, I grabbed the errant animal, stuffed her headfirst into the cat carrier (bit of a squash) and dashed off to see the vet, with a swirl of dust and a squeal of tyres.  There was no need to play any music en route as the chuffin cat serenaded me for the entire journey.

Walking into the surgery was particularly awkward, especially as I felt obliged to announce, “I’ve got the rooftop protester here for you.”

Back home a little while later, I wondered what had caused such extreme behaviour from her naughty chuffness.  As I glanced across at the calendar on the wall, it all became clear: when listing the appointment to see the vet, I had for some strange, unknown reason written ‘take cat to Sainsbury’s’ instead.  She clearly hates shopping far more than she hates the vet.  And I really should get tested for Alzheimers.

How to Wrestle a Frog from a Chicken

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1  Look the chicken in the eye and say in a very stern voice “DROP!”

2  Chase the chicken round the garden.

3  Offer the chicken a grape.  If the chicken drops the frog to eat the grape, problem solved.  If not, panic.

4  Stop panicking and fetch a strong boy.

5  Chase the chicken round the garden.

6  Wait for the chicken to run head-first into a bush.  Extract the chicken by grabbing it firmly and pulling it backwards.

7  Pick yourself up off the floor and chase the chicken round the garden.

8  Corner the chicken and grasp it firmly with both hands.  Instruct your boy to grab hold of the frog’s legs as they dangle from the chicken’s beak.

9  Shout “PULL!”

10  If the chicken’s eyes begin to bulge, you are gripping it too tightly.

11  If you end up with 2 uncooked chicken drumsticks in your hands, you are pulling too hard.

12  If your boy ends up with 2 frog’s legs in his hands, you can share the meal with the chicken.

13  As the frog starts to dislodge from your chicken’s beak, pray that the chicken’s innards don’t follow too.

14  Once chicken and frog are separated, make sure that the frog discovers a new talent for flying (preferably over the garden fence).

15  If the frog’s flying talent remains undiscovered, watch in dismay as your second chicken excitedly scoops it up in her beak.

16  Refer back to point number 1.