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Thursday 8th May - by Gemini
Well it's official! I, Gemini Cat, Lady of the house, me, Top Tabby, Founding Feline of Cat Chat and honorary Trustee, 'Marm Gemini' to some, 'Sweet Thing' to others, nearly thirteen years young, officially have beautiful teeth! I already knew that of course, but it makes all the difference when the vet says so too. Pickford's favourite vet it was (the one who sorted out his lumps), only it was little old Me she saw today. It was just routine, you know, a feel round the tummy, a little sit on the scales (no I'm not telling), the usual injection, then a look in my ears, eyes, and mouth... which is when she remarked on my beautiful teeth. A full set in fact, which I am proud to point out, is more than anyone else in this house has. Now... get this... then I had to wait around while they sorted out Pickford's prescription for his arthritis jollop! Oh yes, Pickford should have been there too, only where was he? Somewhere else, that's where. Unavailable for comment he was, and also unavailable to be put in a cat-box and taken down the vets. The folks searched high and low for him, but if Pickford doesn't want to be found then Pickford won't be found. Especially on nice sunny days like today. Typical though - he was waiting for us when we got back! He'll get taken another day though, that's for sure. Then he'll get his tummy felt, and have a sit on the scales, and his injection, and all that. I know one thing though, she won't be remarking on his beautiful teeth. Beautiful tooth maybe, (he does still have one left). He looks just like any normal cat you know, even without teeth, well... until he yawns!
Saturday 3rd May - by Pickford
It's been a funny old week. It changed from bein' winter straight into bein' summer for a start. Just like that it did, no messin' about, just suddenly... 'Bosh!' there you go, summer's 
here. I'm not complainin' though, I like summer, I do, it's me favourite. I can laze around in the sun out the front, or I can laze around in the sun out the back, or I can even mooch down to the pond and laze around in the sun down there if I want. I done all three today, (and I even lazed around in the sun somewhere else for a bit too, only I'm not sayin' any more about that 'cos the folks don't know I go there). Colonel Beau (Sir)'s changed this week too. Instead of sleepin' on his blanky on the spare bed at night, he's started comin' in on the folks bed instead. Now that's odd that is, he's hardly ever done that and now he's up there every night. I don't mind, so long as I still get the in-between-the-folks position (I always get up there first and bagsy me spot). The Colonel likes sleepin' down the feet end anyway, so he's happy. Dunno what the folks think though, there's not much room left for them with us both up there too. Still, I reckon they'll be OK all the time they stay put, and don't do anythin' daft like try to move! Gemini's still been tryin' to work out the bath tap thing, she's been in there every day this week, and she still can't get it right. I have to give her ten out of ten for effort though. Me, I prefer natural, normal, proper water, you know like what you get in dirty old garden buckets, or from the pond, or... the best water of all... puddles! They should make puddle-water come out of taps, that's what I reckon. Anyhow, listen, I gotta go - there's another hour's sun to go out the front, and if I don't go and laze in it, it'll all go to waste!
Sunday 27th April - by Gemini and Colonel Beau
Gemini: Listen Beau, much that it pains me to ask your advice, but I've tried and tried, and for the life of me I still can't work it out - how do you drink out of the tap without getting wet?
Beau: Ah well, that all rather depends. Do you mean a sink tap, a bath tap, a basin tap or a garden tap?
Gemini: Oh! Err... well, I just sort of assumed the technique would be the same, whatever tap it was. Isn't it?
Beau: The same, old girl? Oh no, no, not a bit of it, they're all quite different! Each one has a different trajectory for a start, each requiring a unique angle of attack. Then there's the height of the tap to take into account, and the width of the available space beneath it, then of course there's the shape of the tap itself (which of course affects the shape of the water stream), and not forgetting the crucial difference between your rank-and-file, regulation issue standard taps and those mixer-tap blighters. My favourite tap has to be the....
Gemini: OK, OK... I think I get the picture. Could you just tell me the technique for our bath taps then? I don't think I need to know all the others.
Beau: Bath tap eh? Good choice old bean! Right then, first thing to remember is your positioning; face-on, directly in front of and immediately below the tap in question. Not to the side mark you, that'll wet your whiskers that's for sure. Then wait for the folks to get the pressure just so... then it's all down to the tongue. Keep your head straight, then it's 'Out... in...out... in (swallow), out... in... out... in... (swallow), repeating as necessary, you see?
Gemini: Right, yes, Ok, I think I've got that. I'll give it a try now, thanks Beau! (Gemini gets in the bath for her third try in a week). Blast! I still can't do it! My paw keeps going out, and my tongue keeps staying put. I can't help it! Grrrrr, I hate it that Beau can do something I can't!
Thursday 24th April - by Gemini
Well as I suspected, thr RSPCA lady came and picked up the seagull yesterday morning. And as I further expected, she didn't take either Beau or Pickford away with her too, despite me looking pleadingly at her. Oh I'm sure she understood my plight, but I expect 'injured seagull' was all she had on her paperwork, and so 'injured seagull' was all she could take. No room for Blustering Old Colonel Cats or Lap-Hogging Pickfords. Ho hum, looks like I am well and truly stuck with them both. I did think for one glorious moment this afternoon that next door lady might in fact have liked to adopt Beau. Well he was asleep on her wall when she came home and as soon as he saw her he went into his 'look-at-me-aren't-I-handsome-please-come-and-fuss-me' routine, which she fell for straight away. He did the whole bit too - the head-rubs, and the endearing little miaows, which of course she loved, and fussed him even more. Even though I was over on the other side of the plum tree I could hear him doing 'Purrs-R-Us' quite plainly, thank you, and if that wasn't enough, for an encore he did a sideways flop (or 'thump' in his case) exposing his Colonel-sized belly for even more fuss, well humans are suckers for all that aren't they? I swear she was considering scooping him up and taking him indoors with her. It's nice next door though... they've got a conservatory... he'd be happy there... I know he would... I only want what's best for him... except I doubt the folks would see it that way! Or Pickford in fact, he reckons I'd miss Beau if he wasn't there. Yeah, well, maybe I would. But you don't know til you try, do you?
Tuesday 22nd April (late evening) - by Gemini and Colonel Beau
Beau: I say old girl, could you repeat that... I'm not sure I can have heard you correctly. Exactly what did you say the folks have in that box in the garage?
Gemini: A seagull Beau, it's a seagull.
Beau: Ah right, yes, I see. A seagull. I thought that's what you said. Hrrmph! So, errm... what's the jolly idea behind that then?
Gemini: Well I don't think they want to keep it as a pet! It's probably been hurt I'd say. They rescued one before, the summer before last, don't you remember? When the RSPCA van came, and you and Pickford thought they had come to take you away, only they'd come to pick the seagull up - remember that?
Beau: Oh that, yes... I errr, do remember something about a van coming, and... umm, they do only take seagulls, don't they old bean?
Gemini: Well, in our case, yes, I think they do only take seagulls. Unfortunately.
Monday 21st April - by Gemini
After so long of wondering what Beau's fascination is with the bath and with drinking out of it's taps, I finally decided today that the only way to really find out was to go in and investigate for myself. Not while it was full of water I should say, even Beau's not that stupid. So this morning, much to her surprise I followed our human of the female variety into the bathroom, and jumped in the bath. So there I was... so OK it's a bath... it's got taps and a plug-hole... so what now? Well she must've assumed that I'd want to do just what Beau does and have a drink in there, so she turned the tap on for me. Now I discovered a problem; when the tap's running, the bottom of the bath gets wet, so how does Beau get round that I wonder? I know he drinks out of the tap, I've seen him, but now I can't see how he does it, I mean, if you go up close to the tap you get your paws wet - well, that's not for me I'm afraid! And as for sticking your head under the tap, one might get one's whiskers wet, or one's ears, or... no, I'm sorry I can't risk that. Cats aren't meant to get wet. It's not what we do. Cats are meant to be dry, and warm, and dignified and gorgeous all the time... or is that just me?
Sat 19th & Sun 20th April - by Pickford
Nah, listen, before Gemini says anythin' it wasn't like that at all, I didn't run away from me food! I'd never run away from food, that'd be daft that would. What it was, right, was I was just bein' cautious that's all, nuthin' wrong with bein' cautious. Our folks weren't here this weekend see, so Rabbit Man came in to feed us. Well, I don't mind Rabbit Man under normal circumstances, I mean I see him outside and everything, but that's when I'm in his garden and that's not the same as seein' him in our house, in our kitchen is it? Nah, that's not the same thing at all. Well I mean, he might've wanted to put me in a cat-box and take me to the vets for all I know, or even worse... he might've wanted to pick me up and cuddle me! Well you just dunno, do you? So when he came in the front, I went out the back. I went back in after he'd put the food down and gone home, you know, once it was safe. Gemini and Colonel Beau (Sir) took their chances and stayed indoors while he was there, but that's just a bit too trustin' in my book. I stay indoors if next-door-lady feeds us, but that's 'cos she's done it lots of times and she's never tried to but me in a cat-box or pick me up, so she's good she is. I let her fuss me sometimes too, so I s'pose I might let Rabbit Man fuss me one day... maybe next time... or the time after that. Or if he's got chicken.
Tuesday 15th April - by Gemini, on: One Man and his Pigeons
I was laying on my compost sack today looking gorgeous, and trying to work out which is the smartest sort of pigeon. There's two types you see, the one's who live in trees, like in the Pigeon Tree next door, and there's the ones who live in sheds, like the ones in the Old Chappie's garden near the back of our house - in fact I think the Old Chappie should henceforth be known as Pigeon Man. The ones in the tree can do what they like, when they like, coming and going as they please. Tree Pigeons can sit in their tree all day and do absolutely nothing if they want, and that seems quite smart to me. Then again, the ones in the sheds (yes I did say sheds, plural, he has five now) only seem to fly about when Pigeon Man asks them to. Now this is weird - he does all these little calls and clicks, and the pigeons understand just what he wants... but how? He does a call and they fly round one way, he does another call and they go the other way, and after a while he'll do his special clicks and they all go back to their sheds again! Whatever it's all about, you can't deny they're pretty smart birds. But who decides which ones get to be tree pigeons and which ones become shed pigeons? And why don't the shed pigeons ever just fly off and live in a tree instead? And why don't the tree pigeons fly down to the sheds when they hear the special clicks? At least being a cat, the only click I need to know about is the one when the food cupboard opens!
Wednesday 9th April - By Colonel Beau
Yes, there... you see? The evidence is quite plain I think you will agree! All those months... no, years in fact, which I've spent expertly tutoring my troops, training my regiment to defend our base against many and varied enemies (and that's a jolly lot), teaching them all I know (and that's a jolly sight more), all my dedication, my selfless devotion to duty, and at the first glimpse of a bit of bally sunshine, and what do my loyal, highly trained troops do?Go sunbathing, that's what! Just as well Yours Truly was on hand to guard the cat-flap. Hrrmph! The whole world and his wife could have come through that cat-flap if I hadn't been on guard, and where would we be then, eh? Well, I know where Field Marshall Gemini and Private Pickford would be - no doubt still bally sunbathing!
Wednesday 2nd April - by Gemini
Oh this? This is my compost sack of course! One should always have one's compost sack set up ready for the summer I feel. There's no actual compost in it though, just 'garden clippings', but it's the sack (soft and squidgy) and the location (in the sun) that counts. Pickford didn't get it quite right with the compost bin next door which he loves to sit on (four hours on end). Oh, it's a nice enough bin, but it's not in the sun, so what's the use of that? I do wonder sometimes whether it's only us girl cats who have any sense at all. What with Pickford and his compost-bin-in-the-shade, and Beau with his rather annoying habit of weeing up anything new. Like the new fence panels, like the new garage door, like... well, no, not like the big parcel in the hall today, but only because the folks had the good sense to put it up on a cabinet before he had the chance. He'd have almost certainly wee'd up it if they hadn't. Yes, and I'll bet you won't find distinguished, respectable old soldier Colonel Beau (retired) making any mention of that little 'duty' in his diaries! Don't get me wrong, he doesn't normally wee up things in the house, only things that are new, and in his opinion in the wrong place. So learning from experience, the folks never leave parcels on the floor, in the hall, and especially not if (like today) the parcel is for the nice folks next door. Can you just imagine it... "here's your parcel, oh and by the way, it's a bit, umm... damp!". Doesn't bear thinking about. Still, that's retired Colonels for you I suppose!
Sunday 30th March - by Pickford
I've never been much of a one for maths, but one thing I do know and that's two tabbies into one lap doesn't go! It's alright when both the laps are sat down, then we can have one each (Colonel Beau (Sir) only does laps once a year) but if there's only one, then it's first-come-first-served, every-cat-for-himself and all that. Well, 'cept if Gemini comes along and gives me the Evil Eye, then I let 'erself have the lap, I'm not daft, me. Only tonight, right, it was different. Tonight there were two tabbies and only one lap, and somehow, without me hardly noticin', Gemini was kind of... nearly... almost... all bar a whisker... close enough for jazz... up on the lap with me! I was there first, so she must've crept up behind while I was snoozin', so when I yawned, and stretched, and got up to turn round and sit the other way (like you do)... there she was! So there we was - nose-to-nose on the lap. Now you know that thing where somethin' sudden happens, somethin' that's such a shock you don't know what to do, and everythin' goes in slow motion? Well that thing happened right then, and I looked at her... and she looked at me... and our human of the female variety looked at us both ('cos it was her lap we was sat on), and we were all frozen there for, I dunno, maybe a whole second (only it seemed like longer in slow motion). Then Gemini biffed me round the ear. See - I told you two tabbies into one lap doesn't go!
Friday 28th March - by Gemini
I must say, not having a diary in nearly a week is fairly unforgivable, but I shan't feel guilty because, after all, it is completely our folks' fault. Just as well we got fish today, at least they made time to get that bit right! Proper fish it was too, not chip-shop fish or those little oblong-shaped slabs out of the freezer that don't look ike fish at all, no this was proper, honest to goodness fish. Big enough to go between the three of us it was, and smelly enough to stink out the kitchen all afternoon. Apart from chicken, proper fish or being asleep are the only things that can really shut Beau up for more than ten seconds, and for that we are truly grateful. Apparently, when some cats get old they can go a bit deaf, and their miaow gets louder. Well I reckon that might be Beau's problem, I think he's going a bit Mutt & Jeff. I wouldn't say that to his face though. For a start he can't lip read, (heh heh heh!).
Easter Sunday - 23rd March 2008 - by Pickford
'Ere, what's goin' on? Only last week I was sunbathin' on the bench, and the frogs had done all their spawn and everything, and it was proper Spring! So how come, right... how come today it's back to being proper Winter again? When I came indoors it looked like I had dandruff on me back, but it wasn't... it was snow is what it was! Still, snow or no snow, I still have to go outside to do the necessary. Not like Gemini, she does her necessary in the litter-house indoors when it's cold out. It must be a girl thing, 'cos Colonel Beau (SIr) does his necessary outside too. He wee'd up one of the new fence panels today too, he did (see photo). The folks got these two new panels, see, for the fence, 'cos the old ones were all broken with the tops hanging off. Gemini said that was due to Beau charging up over 'em several times a day for the last three years, and she said our fence wasn't built for Colonels who weigh a stone chargin' up over 'em, and I reckon she's right. Anyway, he only wee'd up one of 'em, so I'm wonderin' if I should do the other one. Well I mean to say, you don't want some total stranger weein' up your fence, do you? Oh yeah - I nearly forgot - we got cream today! I like cream I do. And I licked it off a spoon too... just like a posh cat!
Tuesday 18th March - by Gemini (Honorary Trustee, in case anyone forgot!)
Errr... excuse me... so what did we do wrong then, eh? Are we not good enough any more? And what about my total lack of cheesy snacks (particularly the biscuity ones I can lick til there's a hole in the middle), did anyone consider those? A lady could be quite offended you know, especially when that lady has been locked in the garage! Un-believable it was, I haven't completely got over the shock even now. Tonight, for the first time ever, the meeting of the Trustees - yes our Trustees - the Cat Chat ones (of which I am of course an honorary member) decided to hold their meeting somewhere else. And not only was it held somewhere else, meaning that us, the fine upstanding felines of Cat Chat Towers, had no say in the goings on, but also...
...Sorry? What was that? Oh! Oh I see - well that's even worse! Apparently, wherever it was did in fact have a cat. But that's not the point at all - the point is that it wasn't one of us, I mean, you can't have just any old cat voting at our meetings! Mind you, that wasn't the worst of it, the folks decided to go to wherever this 'somewhere else' was on their ridiculous bicycles... which live in the garage... so I followed them in (as one does), and well, not to put too fine a point on it - I got locked in - all evening! I despair, I really do, not invited to the meeting... locked in the garage for literally hours... and to cap it all - no cheesy snacks (particularly the biscuity ones I can lick til there's a hole in the middle). I hope they don't treat all theTrustees like that!
Friday 14th March - by Colonel Beau
Pigeons! Pigeons, pigeons, bally pigeons! The Little blighters disturbed my Upstairs Windowsill Duty - again. Errr... not that I was asleep on the job or anything, oh no no, not at all, well... not exactly, I might just have umm, you know, been resting the old peepers for a minute that's all. Anyway, never mind that, the point is they disturbed me - must have been fifteen or twenty of the jolly things, flew right up past my window they did, a whole flapping flock of them in fact! One minute I'm enjoying a nice peaceful, uneventful, comfy, warm bit of windowsill duty with my tail hanging down over the radiator... and the next minute... 'Whoooooosh!" ther's a complete squadron of Pigeon Pilots flying en masse, up onto the roof, blocking out my sun in the process. By jove, they gave me a shock and a half I can tell you, completely preposterous behaviour! It's all the Old Chappie's fault of course, the old chappie who lives over toward the rear of our base, well a few weeks ago he put up this bally great shed contraption. I must say we thought at the time it was a bit on the large side, I mean sheds are for... well, lawnmowers and the like, aren't they? I'd say there was room in his shed for a couple of dozen lawnmowers, and no mistake... only he didn't get lawnmowers, he got pesky pigeons! The folks reckon it was the storm on Monday that snapped our television aerial off, well I beg to differ, my working theory is that it gave way under the weight of fifteen or twenty bally pigeons!
Tuesday 11th March - by Pickford
You know there's only one thing better than havin' fresh catnip in your catnip sack, and that's havin' the box too! 'Ere - now this just goes to show how much (or how little) humans know, right, our folks used up the last of the catnip box today, and they were only going to recycle it! Yeah I know, hard to believe innit? They just reckoned it was an empty box - and empty boxes get recycled... right? Wrong - very wrong, not when its a catnip box anyway. OK, fair enough, recycle your cereal boxes and your ready-meals-for-rubbish-cooks boxes, that's alright, but you can't recycle catnip boxes without grappling with em', sticking your nose in em', sniffin' all the catnippy smell and then licking the cardboard clean first, cat you? Nah, you can't, that'd be criminal that would. Lucky I caught this one in time, otherwise it would have gone to the great wheelie bin in the sky before it's time. I love catnip, I do. Now I dunno if I'm supposed to say about this or not, but Colonel Beau (Sir) threw up big time this mornin', all over the chair by Gemini's sunbathing window, and it went all down the curtain too, great it was! That's part of being a Colonel I reckon, he even has to do being sick bigger and better than anyone else!
Friday 7th March - by Colonel Beau
Red Alert! Red Alert! Intruder by the pond! I say chaps, that's just not on you know - uninvited, and unknown feline personnel helping themselves to our frogspawn. It's an outrage, that's what it is! Wouldn't have happened in my day of course, oh no, in my day such blatant interlopers would have been marched off the premises in a trice, with a large flea in their ear (didn't have frontline back in those days you see). I'd have marched this bally intruder off today too, had I not been on Upstairs Windowsill Duty at the time - which of course, is how I spotted the blighter in the first place, but one can't desert one's post, can one? I rather thought Field Marshall Gemini might have seen him off, but apparently she was on her 'early afternoon, post-luncheon, pre-nap break'. As for Private Pickford, well I'm afraid he just hasn't grasped the full importance of defending one's base. Instead, I gather he was 'sunbathing on the bench'. Sunbathing? On the bench? While some opportunistic ball of fluff steals our frogspawn... in front of his very eyes! When questioned later (by me) he admitted he'd witnessed this outrage, but thought it was 'no big deal' because none of us like frogspawn. Do you see? Do you see what I'm up against? I'd never have made Colonel with those sorts of lackadaisical attitudes that's for bally certain. Hrrmph! Youngsters these days... can't get the staff... no sense of duty... not like the old days...
Monday 3rd March - by Gemini
Paul McCartney was quite wrong you know. He obviously hasn't got a pond with frogs in. If he had, he'd know full well that frogs don't go "Croak, croak-croak... Croak, croak-croak" all sweet and jolly, all nicely in time and in harmony with each other. Well they don't at this time of year anyway, and they certainly don't in our pond! In our pond at this time of year, they are loud, not in time or harmony, and they just all croak willy-nilly, seemingly non-stop for several days! Frog Chorus, my hind quarters, more like Frog Deafening-Racket! The only thing that appears to shut them up at the moment is Pickford's number one fan. I should explain: Over the last few weeks Pickford has gained a furry admirer, in the shape of a young whipper-snapper of a tabby boy who keeps following him around, (wisely stopping short of coming through the cat-flap). He appears to see our Pickford as a sort of been-there-done-that-bought-the-tee-shirt role model, which I suppose his is in a way, well all except the tee-shirt. Anyway, Pickford's furry fan has taken to laying by the pond, his front end dangling over the edge, poking at the frogspawn and trying his hardest to swat a frog. I'll say one thing for our frogs, they might be rubbish at holding a tune, but they're quicker and smarter than any young tabby rookie fresh out of kitten school!
Friday 29th February - by Colonel Beau, Gemini and Pickford
Beau: Jolly well done troops! I've been most impressed with both your efforts over the last week or so, lifting the morale of the human members of the regiment, good show chaps, jolly good show!
Gemini: Well thanks Beau, that's decent of you. Yes, I think we did a good job considering what a state they were in last Tuesday. I don't know what they'd have done without us to be perfectly honest.
Beau: Quite right old thing, what with you dribbling in their faces in the mornings, and me engaging them in combat games in the evenings, well, that's enough to keep anyone's spirits up in the darkest of times I should say. Well done to us, old girl!
Pickford: I went on the bed every night with 'em, I did. I squidged right down the middle and purred them to sleep, well that helped too didn't it?
Gemini: Strangely, yes Pickford, I think that helped a lot actually.
Beau: Of course I knew Uncle Sid before I came here, did you know that? Oh yes, long before I even lived here, he used to come and visit me and my... well, my previous human companion. Hrrmph. Yes, well... less said about that, the um... still miss her you know. Lovely old thing she was, loved Yours Truly to bits she did. Hrrmph!
Gemini: Beau, I never knew that! I didn't know you knew him before, and I'd forgotten you lost your, you know, your previous person. When you came here I didn't really think to ask, you know, and you never really said... not about where you came from. Still, the folks love you to bits too you know.
Pickford: Ere, I been thinking - why don't they just bury 'em in the garden?
Gemini and Beau (simultaneously): ...What?
Pickford: Well... people. Why don't they just bury 'em in the garden like they do cats. You know, under a bush with their favourite toy or something?
Beau: Errr, well, I, ummm... no no laddie, you can't ummm, not people. It's err, well... it's just not, ummm...
Gemini: That's a nice idea Pickford, but I think they're just too big!
Pickford: Yeah. Yeah, I s'pose so. Shame really. I hope they let people take their favourite toys though, they should let 'em do that even if they're big.
Friday 22nd February Notice: Apologies for the lack of diaries at present, this is due to a family bereavement. Normal entries will be resumed soon.
Tuesday 19th February
The folks are very sad today, and the world has lost a very great friend to animals. He won't be known to most people reading this, but that doesn't matter. On behalf of animals everywhere, we'd like to say 'thank you' for the life of a wonderful man, who throughout his eighty-six years cared for all creatures, great and small, furry, feathered and otherwise. A man who looked after and loved many rescued animals, who supported a whole raft of animal charities, who's compassion was instinctive and who's respect for all creatures lives on in all those who were priviledged to have known him. Safe journey Uncle Sid, you'll be missed. See you at the Rainbow Bridge one day.
Love from Gemini, Colonel Beau, Pickford and the Folks
xxxxx
Thursday 14th February - Pickford
I've been tricked into a cat box soooo many times the last few months, and every time I've ended up down the vets. Well, I figured I'd have to get right smart not to get tricked again. I specially don't want to get tricked in the mornings 'cos that's the worst time to go to the vets, that is, you go to the vets in the mornin' that's a serious vets visit, and you're likely you'll end up with stitches and stuff, and I've had enough stitches and stuff to last all year, I have. So I'm gettin' to know the clues now, see, like our female human gettin' up first in the mornin' - well that only ever happens on a serious vets day. So when she got up first today I thought 'uh-oh, here-we-go, watch out Pickford' I thought, keep your ears open for more clues I thought. Well I could hear voices out the front, and then I heard the garage door open - well that done it, they keep the cat box in the garage, see. So that was two clues in a row, so I legged it out the cat flap and over next door's. They can't get me over there see, I've got secret hidin' places, over there. I went back after a bit though (I'd legged it without havin' me breakfast), so I went back, had me breakfast, then found out from Gemini they weren't gettin' the cat box out after all, it was just some bloke come round to measure the door. Yeah... well, I didn't know that did I? I know the clues I do - trouble was I was asleep on the bed this afternoon when the real clues were goin' on, and still half-asleep when I got tricked into the box again. Still I saw my favourite vet again, and I let her take the stitches out of my belly without even a grumble. And I never tried to attack the dogs in the waiting room this time neither.
Reckon I'll have to buck me ideas up, or 'Pickford-the-Brave' might start turning into 'Pickford-goin'-Soft-in-his-Old-Age', and I can't have that.
Wednesday 13th February - by Gemini
Colonel Beau doesn't know it yet, but he's been sussed! Found out, sussed and caught in the act, in fact. The last few weeks, his morning perimeter patrol has been taking a lot longer than usual. He only has to do ours and next doors', so even doing both front and back gardens shouldn't take more than 20 minutes at most, but lately he's been gone for over an hour, some days longer. He just keep saying he's on some highly classified mission, so classified even, that Private Pickford hasn't been invited to accompany him. Well that's what made me curious really, I mean, they normally go on evening patrol together, one waits for the other and off they trot like, oh I don't know, like Starsky and Hutch... no wait, more like Laurel and Hardy! So anyway, what's so different about mornings? Well, I went on my own little surveillance mission this morning to find out, up on the front bedroom windowsill, to watch when Beau went out. Well he started out predictably enough, sniffing round by the old tree stump then down along the weed borders, but he didn't come straight back as I'd expected, so I watched... and I waited... and then I spotted him, sneaking over rabbit man's wall, across the next garden and over their wall too. Then I lost sight of him for a few seconds, untiil he emerged the other side of number ten's wheelie bins - then he went straight down their path and disappeared round by their back door - where he stayed for a good half an hour! Now I know about Number Ten Lady, sadly she doesn't have a cat any more, and she does love cats, and I reckon Beau's going round their taking advantage... getting 'extra rations', that's what I reckon, only I can't prove it... yet. Crafty old codger!
Monday 11th February - by Pickford
'Ere I've got some news, I have - great news! My lump, right, the weeny one that my favourite vet took off me belly last week - well it's been looked at by the people-what-look-at-lumps, and that's all it was - just a lump! Just a fatty lump. A weeny fatty lump. Nothing to worry about (not that I was). No nasty stuff in in, not like the first lump I had taken off me leg. All fine and dandy this lump was, so I could've kept it really. Well, 'cept that my favourite vet doesn't like lumps on cat's bellies, she likes to whip 'em off. Anyway, you know what, I'm going to spill the beans on our folks, I am. We'd have known about my weeny lump being all fine and dandy last Thursday only the vet had left the message about it on their mobile phone instead of the normal one, dunno why. Anyway, our folks hardly ever swtitch that on, and the vet's message had just been sittin' there in the phone's tummy for the last four days! It don't bother me though, I'm not the one who's been worryin' about it, but if they could do technology properly they wouldn't have been worryin' neither. D'you know they don't even know how to do texting? Neither do I mind you, but then I haven't got a phone. They were really chuffed about my lump being OK though, so I got fussed to bits tonight (but not round me belly, the stitches are still sticking out there). They said I'd never know how much they loved me, that's what they said. They said I couldn't think that big. Well, they're wrong about that. Anyhow - what about this then - Gemini came up on the bed with me tonight - look! Sorry Colonel Beau (Sir)... latest round to Pickford!
Saturday 9th February - By Gemini and Pickford
Gemini: Here Pickford, how's your stitches doing? You haven't picked at them, have you?
Pickford: Stitches..? Oh yeah, those stitches! I'd forgot about 'em to be honest. 'Ere look - here they are, see..? (Pickford rolls over showing his pink belly with stitches sticking out)
Gemini: Oh! I see, yes... thank you Pickford. I'd have taken your word for it you know, I didn't really need to actually see your belly, thanks.
Pickford: Yeah, but it's a nice belly though innit? Even with no fur on. Can I go back to me sunbathing now?
Gemini: Sunbathing? In February? Errr, well I suppose so - just, umm, just don't roll over like that again without warning me first, OK?
Pickford: OK, that's cool, see ya!
Friday 8th February - by Colonel Beau
Bally humans, you'd think they'd know the drill by now, having three fine, upstanding cats in the regiment. As I understand it, the house rules for harmonious co-habitation of cats and humans are practically law, and should be adhered to at all times. In particular, I refer to the ancient house rule number 37 which reads, as I recall, as follows: "Any unattended foodstuff (provided such foodstuff is acceptable to the feline palate under clause 8 of the catfood code) automatically becomes the sole property of the aforementioned feline palate and it's owner, by virtue of the fact that said foodstuff is, and continues to be, unattended." Perfectly jolly plain in anyone's language I'd have thought. So either our humans don't understand anyone's language, or they had foolishly forgotten that particular ancient house rule. Either way - I was well within my rights! I, (being the owner of the feline palate in question) was the first to happen across a couple of unattended slices of bread - topped with some rather acceptable, and equally unattended butter. Naturally, Yours Truly took command of the situation and licked the bally lot off! Oh, I left the humans the bread of course, (I like to be fair). Whoever originally devised house rule number 37 must have been a cat of superior intelligence, who knows, maybe they were even as smart as me, but most assuredly smarter than any human! As witness the ensuing conversation when our folks discovered their bare bread: "Weren't you going to butter this bread?" ... "Yes, I was, and I did!" ... "You can't have, there's nothing on them" ... "Yes there is, there must be" ... "No there isn't" ... "Yes there is!". Being a smart Colonel, I retired to my upstairs quarters at that point and left them to it.
Tuesday Morning, 5th February - by Gemini & Pickford
Gemini: Pickford! What are you playing at - where's your cone-collar? You're supposed to keep that on for ten days, I heard the folks say so - and your favourite vet said you should!
Pickford: Nah... well... look, I know they mean well and everything, but I couldn't, I mean I can't, it's like that sock-thing they wanted me to keep on my leg before, I just couldn't, you know? I'm a proper Pickford I am, and Pickfords can't have socks or cone-collars on, well this one can't anyway - it's just not right, see?
Gemini: But what about the stitches in your tummy? If you haven't got the cone-collar on you might try to get them out, and then you'd... you'd... well, you'd be in big trouble!
Pickford: But I won't though, will I? I won't try to get them out. I didn't try to get me other one's out did I? So if I don't try to get 'em out, why do I need a cone on me head?
Gemini: Well, because... umm, because - you've had an operation for goodness sake! And the vet said you needed a cone, and, oh I don't know, it's just that you're supposed to do what the vet tells you, aren't you?
Pickford: I did do what the vet said - the vet said I should only have light meals for a bit, so last night I had two light bowls of coley, and a couple of light prawns. Anyway, I couldn't have eaten any 'light meals' with that cone-collar on - did you see it? Like close up? It got in the way of me bowl, I couldn't even reach the food with it on - I'd have starved!
Gemini: Yes, well I did sort of see how awkward that was. Well, you'd better not pick at those stitches, that's for sure, or you'll be straight back down the vets. Anyway, what happened to your lump?
Pickford: Oh you know, the usual thing, they've sent it off to the place where they know about lumps. Dunno why they're so interested really, it wasn't a big lump, and it didn't look nuthin' special to me. Still that's up to them, if they collect lumps they're welcome to it.
Gemini: Look, Pickford... don't read too much into this OK, but it's good to have you back. I mean, nothing personal or anything, just that me and Beau, well, we were sort of worried about you, and we have got used to you being around. Kind of. You know, just being there. Well, that's all really. And... don't pick at your stitches, OK?
Pickford: Errr, yeah, I mean no, no 'course I won't pick at 'em. (thinks: Crumbs, I think that might have been Gemini being nice!)
Monday 4th February - by Colonel Beau & Gemini
9.00 am
Beau: They caught him then, old girl! Thought young laddie Pickford was going to get away with it this time. Better out than in though, eh old bean?
Gemini: I suppose so. He knew there was something up when we didn't get supper last night, he's not daft. And come to that - nor am I - I do think it's a bit mean that when Pickford isn't allowed supper because of having some lump or other taken off, that we don't get any either. Pickford's tummy might not mind missing supper, but mine does!
Beau: Oh come on old bean, never mind, Private Pickford went without breakfast, and he'll be going without luncheon too - just think about that!
Gemini: Err, well no, I don't think I will think about that actually - thinking about things like that make me come over all faint. Now, where's my biscuits....
4.00pm
Gemini: Hey Beau - come on, hurry up... Pickford's back... time for Coley!
Friday 1st February - by Gemini
You know, I often say I don't know what goes through Beau's head (usually, I suspect, not very much), but today it was quite obvious exactly what had gone through his head - someone else's claw, that's what. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, in he strolls with a nice new scratch down his nose, and this... this thing, sticking out of the middle of his forehead! It reminded me of some gruesome scene from a Quentin Tarantino film, you know the sort of thing. Anyway, the folks saw it too, and first off it looked like a stray tuft of fur, so they tweaked it out, only to find it was someone's claw sheath! Now I know what you're thinking, but no, it wasn't one of mine. I might grumble at the old fool from time to time, and box his ears if he sticks his nose in my comfort zone, but I wouldn't waste my perfecty formed and meticulously cared-for claw sheaths on him. Pickford was up in his current 'favourite spot' on the folks bed so it wasn't his either, (and in any case those two big girls blouses only box each other when there's a glass door between them). No, I know full wlll who's it was, it belongs to Calico Cat from a couple of doors up. Beau and him quite often have yowling sessions under next door's pigeon tree, twice this week in fact. I have to say I'm surprised it resulted in actual Combat though. I mean, Beau can talk a good game, but I've always seriously doubted his claims of any genuine Active Service. Well maybe that's it, Calico Cat put his talk into action, and his claw into Beau's head. Suppose I should feel sorry for the old duffer really, he is on our side after all. On a rather tastier note, the folks went out last night, and brought us back the most yumptious, scrumptious things - chicken drumsticks! Now I'm quite used to having drumsticks around the place (on account of our human of the male variety liking to hit drums with them, and after twelve and a half years I still have no idea what this is meant to achieve), but I've only ever seen wooden ones or plastic ones, I never knew they made chicken ones! That make so much more sense - even I'd practise every day if my drumsticks were made of chicken!
