Change is Afoot

September 8, 2009


Apparently, I snore. This is how I found out.

“Zeebs”, says The Mushroom, “You snore, mate.” I frigging don’t. I’m a cat. Cats don’t snore. We don’t even sleep deeply enough to think about snoring. Dogs, they snore. That Black Dog sounds like a frigging walrus at night. My Dad, similarly, sounds like some sort of beast of the marshes. I just cat nap. Clue’s in the title. Maybe she dreamt I was snoring cos she’s missing my Dad.

My Dad has got a teaching job. This was the cause of much celebration chez nous. Better still, it isn’t in the Arctic. It is, instead, in The Prairies. This, they say, is much, much better than being in the Arctic. For a start, they have daylight all year round, which is absolutely a bonus. Secondly, it only goes down to minus 30 or so in the winter and, and I believe this is what swung it for them, there are more than three people living there. I, however, have some reservations. Namely, this: Coyotes.

Coyotes are, according to Wikipedia, ‘Big shits of dogs who eat cats’. That’s not a direct quote, but you get the gist. Coyotes live in The Prairies. Quite frankly, I have enough trouble with That Black Dog and it is clear that he never intends to actually eat me. He’s far too old and arthritic and I could totally take him in a fight, but that doesn’t stop him barking at me every now and again and I’m genetically programmed to fluff up like a frigging toilet brush and scarper. It’s so embarrassing. It takes ages for my tail to go down afterwards, as well, so everyone knows I’ve been barked at. But at least I know that he wouldn’t actually hurt me. Coyotes? They would, the scraggy little bastards. I, it would appear, am never going outside again.

Anyhoo, my Dad has gone ahead to sort stuff out in Prairie-land for the three of us to join him, and then, hopefully, they’ll stop moving me around so much. Five moves in just over a year is a bit much for what is, essentially, a territorial land mammal. Cats don’t migrate. What cats do is find an area they like, leave poos along the borders of said area, and stay put. I tell you, I’ve left poos in a lot of areas of late. I will not, however, be leaving any poos in Prairie Land. It would be like putting up a big sign to the Coyotes saying ‘City Cat Lives Here’.

The Cave Troll seems to be taking my Dad’s departure quite hard. He is, now, in a house of women, two of whom are hippies and one of whom is too young to help him out. Where my Dad would sneak The Cave Troll a slice of pizza when no-one was looking, The Hippy and The Mushroom appear to have post graduate degrees in ‘Salt Studies’, and won’t let anyone anywhere near it. Now, there’s nobody to support his cause when he claims he wants something that isn’t made of Soya, or tofu, or granola, or all three of these combined in a sesame oil sauce. With no salt. Poor Cave Troll. He’s taken to watching ‘The Military Channel’ on a loop, presumably as footage of Nazi era Germany reminds him of my Dad.

It is also very clear that The Mushroom is missing him, which is odd considering that when he was here she was mostly telling him to ‘Shush!!!’.  She’s quieter than usual, and is trying to come up with ways of distracting herself.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to take you to play at the Mother and Baby group!”, she says to The Baby, who gurgles.

This is clearly a sign that she is missing my Dad. The Mushroom has been to a Mother and Baby group before, in Hull. Once. It was at this that she learnt that swearing, even anecdotally, is very much not the done thing at a Mother and Baby group in particular, she found, the ‘c’ word. She has never been back. Tomorrow may prove interesting. I think The Hippy is going too. I really wish I could be there.

Now that I know I’m leaving, I am beginning to see The Hippy in a new light. Maybe it’s not so bad to love granola. Maybe it’s okay to keep telling people to ‘Shit, man’. Maybe floating is better than walking. This could also have something to do with the fact that the other day when my Dad, The Mushroom and The Baby were out she spent about ten minutes tickling my belly. Perhaps this is how she got The Mushroom to become a hippy. It’s amazing how persuasive a belly tickle can be. If she keeps doing it, I might even see my way to having a go with that magical pipe of hers.

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2 Responses to “Change is Afoot”

  1. Lorie said

    love it. love it. love it. The loo brush tail is the best.

  2. me said

    lovely, and funny xxx

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