Chuffin Tales

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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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.

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 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.