Chufflepuff Chronicles

Birthday Bonanza!

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I am officially the worst human staff member.  Ever.  According to the chuffin cat.

I can’t really argue.  She has a point.

Today is her 6th birthday.  Yes, 6th!  And I committed the worst faux pas possible.  You see, it’s that time of year that Gloria dreads.  Me too.  Plus the vet. Probably the entire vet’s practice too.

*whispers* vaccination time

So I rang up to make the appointment, wrote it on the calendar, and never thought any more about it.  In the current pandemic, I figured the vet would be well enough equipped with PPE and riot gear to successfully tackle this annual fiasco.  Turns out I’d written the appointment on the wrong week, so for some reason I thought it was on the 17th. Had I noticed this earlier, I could have salvaged the situation and rebooked for a different day.  But no, I didn’t realise until the night before.  To be fair, we are now on day 9,743 of lockdown… or something like that.  I really have no idea of even what day it is. Not sure anybody else knows either.  Apart from the chuffin cat.  She has counted each and every day meticulously on her tufty paws, doing a daily roll call to check all human staff members are in place to fulfil her every need. Her lowly staff members on the other hand have stumbled and eaten their way through lockdown, like a perpetual Christmas break without presents. Or visitors. Or turkey.  Anyway, I digress.

I only realised yesterday that I had committed the mortal sin of booking the appointment for Gloria’s annual vaccinations on her actual birthday  *gulp*  I felt truly awful (but not bad enough to cancel it, clearly!).  To make matters worse, I couldn’t go into the surgery with her due to the Covid guidelines.  So in Gloria’s eyes, there she was merrily dreaming about all the fun she was going to have on her birthday, when she was scooped up and unceremoniously stuffed into her far-too-small carrier.  To top it all, after being thrown around in the car whilst her Chief Human Staff Member tunelessly serenaded her, she was then kidnapped – yes, kidnapped! – by a lady in a white coat… who proceeded to maul her, shoved a thermometer up her rear end (the cat’s rear end, not the vet’s in case you were wondering), and stuck a needle in her neck (cat’s not vet’s again, just to clarify)… all while her Chief Human Staff Member sat motionless back in the car without a care in the world.  How very rude!!  Unforgivable, in Gloria’s eyes.

So in an effort to repair our ruler:slave relationship, Gloria felt it only right that I compose an ode to her, to commemorate her 6th birthday.  Here goes *ahem* *cough* (non-Covid cough that is)

*clears throat in a healthy way*

Happy Birthday to my cat.
Your poofy fur makes you look fat.
Your temper’s short, your legs look stumpy,
when woken up you can be grumpy.
Your teeth are sharp, you’re seldom calm,
your breath smells like a sewage farm.
I really love your tufty paws –
a shame they’re hiding sharpened claws.
Your fluffy trousers are quite lush.
Your tail is like a big bog brush.
Your attitude is a disgrace
but we all love you, fluffy face.

What??  Oh apparently that’s not at all what she meant.

*sigh*

Happy Birthday, Gloria Chufflepuff Braveheart, with heartfelt apologies from your Chief Human Staff Member and the kidnapper in the white coat

Innocent? #BlogBattle

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The chocolates have got teeth marks
and the tinsel has been mauled.
The presents have been bashed and chewed,
the Christmas tree looks bald.

There are baubles in the kitchen
and a stocking in the sink,
the fairy’s disappeared
– have we driven her to drink?

The lights are in a tangle,
they’ve been strewn across the floor.
The tree is artificial
but it’s shedding on the floor!

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“What on earth has happened here?
That poor, old Christmas tree,
it’s totally dishevelled
and it’s littered with debris!”

“It looks like you attacked it
in a catnip-filled assault!”
“Who me?” replied the cat, surprised,
“It’s really not my fault.”

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“I’m innocent. I’m blameless.
I’m as good as gold. You see,
I was curled up, sleeping deeply
but the tree… it fell on me!”

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“I might be sitting here with
a bauble on my paw,
I caught that one especially
as a gift for Santa Claus!”

“And I’m fully out of catnip
– to that I must confess –
So human, run and grab some more
… and do clean up this mess!”

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Fluffy Festivities

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Who me?

Gloria Chufflepuff Braveheart the first!
You might be a cutie, but you’re by far the worst
for fluffy attitude and arsiness and grumpiness galore,
when you don’t get your way and we shout out, “No more!”
as you cavort round the house, knocking things on the floor,
swinging from curtains and causing uproar.
Stalking the birds as you stare at the skies,
then running to hide from the big, bad magpies.
Splashing in water that you’re meant to drink
and shouting out, “Ham!” as you sit in the sink.
Swishing your tail and shaking your floof
with your nose in the air as you act all aloof.
Until darkness falls and you creep to my bed,
where you snore and fidget and sleep on my head
– one paw in my mouth, another up my nose.
Who knew that cats had such sharp elbows?!
But today is your birthday! I’ve tried not to shout
when you leaned in to kiss me but gave me a clout,
when you nuzzled my head and then spat in my hair,
when you coughed up a furball and fell off the chair.
Because we all still adore you even when you act tough.
Happy Birthday you infuriating bundle of fluff.

Blowing raspberries in the garden

 

Floof

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img_7358Ever wondered what your cat does all day?

I know exactly what mine does.

She floofs.

Everywhere.

I’d only been out for the afternoon.  I’d left a relatively tidy house.  Yet I came home just 3 hours later to a white, mohair carpet.  It was like an explosion in a candy floss factory, minus the pink.  Floof central.

Strangely enough, the cat is grey, which goes nowhere to explain how my carpet was covered in white floof.  Plus the sofa.  And the curtains.  The table too.  Come to think of it, the standard lamp was also rather skew.

Domestic duties

As I surveyed the scene, in sauntered the chuffin cat – not looking bald as I had expected, but maybe a little dishevelled.

“Holy moly!  What have you been up to?!”  I yelled.

Gloria gave me a withering look, then looked at the floor.  There I spied a mangled fly.

“You spent 3 hours chasing a fly??” I exclaimed.

Wa ha ha haaaaGloria let out a sigh.  I got the impression that she would have rolled her eyes if she could have.  Instead she adjusted her tufty paws, swished her tail (oh look, more floof) and stared at the fly again.

Then I understood what she meant: she had spent 3 hours waging war against a monstrous man-eating menace, who had threatened to destroy the house and everything in it.  So what’s the problem with a bit of floof and a few broken ornaments?

Satisfied that I now had an accurate grasp of the situation, she stood up and nonchalantly padded to the door.

Then with a turn of her head, she cast her eye across the scene and fixed me with that familiar glare, the one that says, “Look at the state of this place, human staff member, you really should perform your housekeeping duties to a higher standard.  No feline needs to spend her day paw-deep in discarded floof!”

Peek a boo!

#BlogBattle Loss of Marbles

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My cat has lost her marbles
It’s pretty clear to see
she’s as nutty as a fruitcake,
as moronic as can be.

She doesn’t climb like other cats,
hugs tree trunks like a bear
to hide from birds and squirrels
and pretend she isn’t there.

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My cat has lost her marbles,
she’s just stark raving mad,
using my poor stomach
as her personal launch-pad.

Don’t move your head too close to her
and mind those tufty paws,
for when she gives a head massage
she uses teeth and claws!

My cat has lost her marbles,
she’s a little bit ‘cuckoo’.
She cavorts around the bathtub
and then tries to lick the loo.

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She doesn’t drink like normal cats,
but uses both her paws
to throw the water everywhere
then lap it off the floor.

My cat has lost her marbles,
it’s fairly safe to say
She’s demented, daft and dizzy
in a bonkers sort of way.

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She’s checked under the sofa,
with a wiggle and a bound,
to alleviate her loss although
no marbles can be found!

But I love my potty pussy cat,
my fruit-loopy feline.
She might be cracked and crazy
but she’s special and she’s mine!

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I wrote this post as an entry for the February #BlogBattle as seen on Blog Battlers and reblogged on the excellent Anita Dawes and Jaye Marie, where I found it.  The word prompt is ‘loss’… but Gloria twisted my arm with her fluffy attitude and rather than writing about something entirely different and rather sombre, the post naturally became all about her … as always! 

Just a thought but after being Gloria’s Chief Human Staff Member for 4 years, maybe I’m the one who has lost my marbles…

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Enjoy.

Teeth and Fluffy Trousers

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Today I had an argument with the chuffin cat.  It wasn’t a pleasant experience. I have the scars to prove it.  That’s the last time I try to wrestle a piece of holly from her armpit. Until next week that is, when I’ll have to do it all again.  But then it will probably be a bramble stuck in her bum fur, just to change it up a bit. Maybe I should sell ring-side tickets to watch the battle.

Anyway, keen to put our differences aside, I bought her a catnip ball.  Not a tatty, fabric shape infused with 3 solitary leaves of catnip.  No, this was an entire ball constructed of compressed catnip: a deluxe treat.

IMG_5480As I handed the peace offering to Gloria, she eyed me suspiciously.  Two minutes later, having wrestled with it, batted it, pummelled it, dribbled on it and sat on it, she promptly stood up and cast it aside.  Then she flounced off outdoors without even giving it a second glance.  Assuming that put an end to our disagreement, I made a well deserved cup of tea.  As I headed outside with my mug, I felt content in the knowledge that I would be able to sit peacefully in my bear chair, without the worry of being clawed through the wooden slats by a revenge-seeking tufty paw.

Ten minutes later, I received an unexpected present from Gloria in return – a plump, soggy, brown mouse deposited carefully at my feet.  A very much alive mouse who promptly took two large gasps of air, and then waddled off at a brisk pace.

The face of disapprovalGloria looked from me, to the mouse and then back to me again.  Clearly she was expecting some form of action.  We watched together as her ‘offering’ disappeared back into the undergrowth, like a mini spy on a secret mission, having infiltrated enemy lines. He was only missing the dark glasses and briefcase.  Maybe he’d left them in the hedge earlier.

Gloria threw herself on the grass in front of me, an air of disgust hanging like a dark cloud over her fuzzy head.  She glared at me.  I glared back.  And thus we ended up right back where we started from.  In my role as Chief Human Staff Member, I had yet again failed abysmally in trying to live up to Gloria’s high expectations.

Note to self: you can never win a fight when teeth and fluffy trousers are involved (just to clarify, both of those relate to the chuffin cat and not to me).

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You Know it’s Autumn When…

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1  You go for a walk in the woods and emerge looking like Miss Haversham, complete with delightful, new cobweb-infested accessories.

2  It’s communal shower time again, when your ablutions seem to be shared with all manner of uninvited moths, spiders and insects.  What’s worse than finding a spider in the shower?  Just finding the leg of a spider… leading you to die inwardly as you check the soles of your feet for the rest of the innards *shudder*

3  You step out of the shower, go to grab your towel, and instead find yourself shaking hands with a large spider.  It’s very nice of him to introduce himself formally before taking up residence in your bathroom, but I’d say his timing is a little off to be honest.

4  The chuffin cat develops a new coat – consisting mainly of dead leaves and garden debris – which she gleefully spreads around the house at regular intervals.  As a bonus, she might even bring you in a slug or three, stuck to her belly fur.  Having thrown the slug(s) across the room (any room, she’s not fussy), she will then provide you all with some evening entertainment as she proceeds to noisily suck all the slug snot off her body in a particularly uncouth manner.

5  You realise it might be time to invest in some little tin hats for the chickens, as the coop is positioned directly beneath a giant oak tree, and a heap of hooligan squirrels take obscene delight in lobbing acorns from a great height.  Alternatively, just rename your chickens Chicken Licken, Henny Penny, Turkey Lurkey and Cocky Locky, and live out your very own live version of the children’s classic tale.

6  The apple tree in the garden bears fruit, not that you get the chance to eat any of it as the marauding gang of squirrels snaffle the lot, once they’ve finished using the chickens as target practice that is.

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An Important Day

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Dear Gloria

img_4417You may have woken me up at 6am (it’s Saturday, that’s really quite rude) by clattering a ping pong ball around the kitchen floor.

You may have run your teeth along my foot when I tried to go back to sleep.

You may have initiated an affectionate head-butt, but then turned at the last minute and yelled, “Sucker!” whilst slapping me round the face.

img_4525You may have insisted on going outside despite the rain lashing down, and then come in dragging wet leaves and debris across the freshly-vacuumed carpet.

img_4536You may have sat in the middle of the floor with your fur stuck up on end, looking like a giant fluffy porcupine, swiping away any offers of a towel, preferring instead to wipe your wet fur along the soft furnishings.

But today is an important day for you, so I didn’t shout.

I cleaned out your litter tray, since you prefer to use it like a ball pit, albeit with white grit in place of coloured balls.

I cooked a big roast beef meal, not because you like beef, but because you like the crispy bits from the roast potatoes.

img_4551I tried to take some pictures. You refused to smile for the camera.  You refused to sit still for the camera. You hate my camera.

I bought you presents, which I then wrapped in catnip-infused paper.  I did the same with the card I made for you too. You ignored that and chewed the foil bow instead.  You went berserk when you saw your new toy, but then ignored it when I removed the packaging.

But this is an important day for you.  Today is your second birthday.

And what did you do in return?

You decided to indulge me in a touch of forensic anthropology – my favourite subject. You left 3 dead mouse carcasses scattered in the front garden: fly-infested, mangled corpses, carefully placed in full view of the garden path.  Your very own body farm.  I only hope it wasn’t a warning for the postman.

img_4543So Happy Birthday, you mischievous heap of fluff and mayhem.  Here’s to another year of sleeplessness, irritability and attitude… I’m talking about you, not me, sweet cheeks.  Hope you’ve enjoyed your day more than I have *mwah*

with much love from the Chief Human Staff Member xx

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How To Take Down A Christmas Tree When You Have A Cat

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1  Remove the cat from the tree.

2  Unplug the fairy lights.

IMG_39003  Explain to the cat (for the umpteenth time) that the wiring on the fairy lights is not to be used as dental floss.

4. Unwrap the wiring from the cat’s teeth.

5. Fetch the bag for the baubles. Remove the cat from the bag.

IMG_32376.  Look for the baubles on the tree. Note that there aren’t many left. Observe how the top half of the tree is still decorated whilst the lower half is completely bald (save for the odd mangled, half-chewed chocolate wrapper). Glare at the cat who is nonchalantly polishing her claws underneath the tree.

7.  Remove the cat from the tree.

8.  Pluck a bauble off the tree.  Drop the bauble on the floor as the cat pounces at your hand.

9.  Retrieve a plaster and stick it on your bleeding finger.

IMG_313110.  Chase the cat who is chasing the bauble round the lounge.

11. Retrieve the bauble from the cat and place it in the bag.

12.  Remove the cat from the bag.

13.  Remove the cat from the tree.

14.  Collect the remaining baubles from the tree, repeating steps 7-13 until all the baubles are safely deposited in the bag.

15.   Nip to the chemist to stock up on plasters.

16.  Remove the cat from the tree.

17.  Take hold of the fairy lights and gently unwind them from the tree branches.

18.  Remove the fairy lights from the cat’s mouth.

19.  Remove the cat from the tree.

20.  Replace the plasters on your fingers.

IMG_311821.  Keep unwinding the fairy lights from the tree branches.

22.  Unwrap the fairy lights from the cat’s neck.

23.  Remove the cat’s claws from the wiring on the fairy lights and stick another plaster on your bleeding hands.

24.  Lay the lights across the floor as you remove them from the tree.

25.  Remove the cat from the tree.

26.  Remove the cat from the lights.

27.  Run round in circles as you try to wind the fairy lights into a ball before the cat can throttle herself again.

28.  Find the box for the lights. Remove the cat from the box and place the lights in it.

29.  Take the tree down one segment at a time and place each segment in a large bag. Place any broken branches in the bags too, with the intention of reattaching them next Christmas… knowing full well that you will never get round to reattaching them.

30.  Pour yourself a large drink and dress your wounds whilst watching the cat sulk in the corner.

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