Thursday 31st August - by Gemini
What a day! I'm glad sorting out the forum isn't one of my jobs, what a palarver, (how hard can databases be? Honestly, all a lot of fuss about nothing if you ask me). Mind you everything seemed to go haywire today on the technical front (luckily technical fronts aren't my job either). Palarver number two was the folks email thingy having a tantrum. From what I gather it threw it's teddy in the corner and wouldn't play. I must say the most entertaining thing to go haywire today was Colonel Beau. Well not haywire as such, just totally potty! He'd cornereed one of the new catnip mice and to say he was 'going for it' is the most understated understatement since man-in-socks called me 'quite pretty'. When Beau really gets playing he's just a thumping great huge kitten, great fun to watch. He was throwing, chasing and pouncing on that mouse with every last ounce of his thumping great hugeness. I observed with fascination from the safety of the sofa, quite glad that he was jumping on something else for a change. Now for a mystery: We had a visit tonight from man-with-rabbits from over the road (thankfully he didn't bring his rabbits with him). Curiously the folks were showing him where our food is kept, and telling him about the Colonel's special diet and how he'll only drink water below a certain temperature, and explaining about Pickford's 'fill to here' line... almost like he was... going to be... feeding us... or something. No. No, surely not. They wouldn't go away and leave us in the hands of a rabbit-person, would they? Anything could happen - he might start trying to give us carrots!
Wednesday 30th August - by Colonel Beau
I say, that young laddie Pickford is a jolly good sport and no mistake. I haven't had a good chase like that in many a month, not since I chased that calico chappie from up the road off across three gardens back in the spring in fact. Of course now that I'm on my special new go-faster diet for cats-with-dodgy-kidneys I'm speedier than ever - as Pickford found out. I rather think he wasn't expecting me to be able to keep up with him, seeing as he's the young 'un round here, but Yours Truly is still a force to be reckoned with! It started when I decided to nip up onto the bed this morning for sixty winks (forty aren't enough when you're retired), but Private Pickford had beaten me to it. Now although there's technically room for twenty cats up there (or fifteen regular cats and one Colonel), there's no denying it has a 'Best Corner'. Every bed has it's Best Corner, and Pickford was on this one, and suddenly that's where I was too. Always ready for a good game though, Pickford raised his paw and gave me a little 'you-and-who's-army' type dab, so I raised my paw and gave his paw a 'me-and-my-army' dab back, and we were off... bally exciting it was too! He leapt down and charged off across the landing, so I did the same, in hot pursuit. I could've only been inches behind him when he got to the stairs, and he flew down those blighters four at a time, followed by me averaging between three and five at a time(Chaaaaarge!). The tricky bit was at the bottom (due to the lack of claw-holds in our wooden floor planks), particularly the sharp turn by the end of the bannister, and getting along the hall at any speed is not for the faint hearted. I have to say it was all a bit of a scrabble-and-slide manoeuvre that bit, no room for finesse, but we'd both picked up speed by the time we got to the kitchen, and then spectacularly torpedoed out through the cat flap (Tally Ho!). Jolly impressive stuff it was. I hit that flap with a particularly weighty wallop too, still didn't manage to rip the door off though. I'm afraid Private Pickford still holds the trophy for that. (note to self: must try harder on the cat-flap torpedo front, can't be outdone by the lower ranks!)
Tuesday 29th August - by Pickford
Colonel Beau (Sir) really is my mate. He's my best mate in fact. I've said it before but it's true. They say it's only your real mates that tell you the truth too, so I reckon I'm safe in saying I think his memory really is going. It's one thing forgetting about your interesting reports (that probably weren't that interesting anyway) and your important decisions (ditto), but it's a whole nother thing forgetting how not to annoy Gemini. How can you forget that? Sunday, right, Gemini was under next door's car, and Beau's memory forgot to remind him that the last place he should go right then was under next door's car. So under he goes, and then gets all surprised when she has a go at him! They ended up boxing each other under the car, which is not easy for a cat Beau's size. I could see that coming a mile off, which is why I watched from a mile off (well down by our garden wall anyway). I'm sure it was his memory's fault that made him go jumping on Gemini again too. He'd done it before and got boxed round the ears, but he must have forgot about that and did it again, and got boxed round the ears again. I hope my memory doesn't go, I might forget where my catnip mice are, that'd be tragic that would. I love my catnip mice. They're not real mice, but pretend mice are better 'cos they never try to run away. Catnip mice actually like being thrown about, swatted across the floor and having their ears chewed off. I don't think real mice like any of those things. Still, memory or no memory, Beau doesn't forget where his food bowls are. And because he's my mate he lets me share his biscuits, and only really good mates let you do that. So if you want to know who your true friends are, they're the ones who tell you you're going 'senior' and then offer you a biscuit. Oh yeah - can I show the photo where... yeah, that's the one! This was taken just when Colonel Beau (Sir) was telling me about his latest report (I told you they weren't very interesting).
Bank Holiday Monday - by the Cat Chat Cats
Beau: I say chaps, all this lack-of-a-diary malarkey over the last few days has got to stop, don't you think? I mean, if I don't get my reports down in writing, I shall forget all the important 
decisions I made, and I'm sure I must have made at least, well at least several.
Gemini: Yes, you're right Beau. I know the folks have had all these other 'urgent things' and 'stuff going on' with Cat Chat and it's workings, but I agree, it's about time they got back to our 'stuff going on'. I'll go and tell them shall I?
Beau: Well volunteered old girl! They'll listen to you I'm sure. And if they don't, just remember that little manoeuvre I told you about, you know, the one with the claws and the knees.
Gemini: Don't worry Beau, I've been using the Claws & Knees manoeuvre long before I knew you! I'll try the diplomatic approach first though.
(Gemini puts on her best sweet-tabby-saucer-eyes look, wheedles her way round the folks' ankles, head-rubbing and purring, jumps daintily (or as daintily as it's possible for Gemini to jump) up onto the nearest lap, nuzzling and purring some more, in an aren't-I-a-little-angel, you'd-do-anything-for-me-wouldn't-you way... and then dug her claws in their knees.
Beau: Well old Bean..? How did you get on? Mission accomplished I presume?
Gemini: Naturally! Just one more urgent thing to do they said, and they'll be right with us. So, you'd better have some really interesting reports and important decisions ready for them because all I've been doing for the last few days is taking it easy, lazing about and looking gorgeous!
Beau: Oh, right, yes of course. Yes indeed... interesting and important... well now, let's see. I'm sure there was something... I errr, oh dear. The old memory's just not what it was. I say Pickford old boy, what was that jolly interesting and important report I was telling you about the other day? Could you just, you know... give me a little clue?
Pickford: Interesting and Important? Crumbs. Errrr... oh I know! The new catnip mice!
Beau: Hrrmph! No, I'm quite sure it was something far more crucial. I'd say what happened is that it was so incredibly crucial that it took up so much of my Colonel-sized brain working it out, that there wasn't enough of it left to do the remembering part! Yes, it all makes sense now. All the folks fault of course. No diaries for four days, preposterous!
Gemini: (thinks: Just the thought of Beau making crucial decisions chills my blood). Now this is much more crucial... here's me taking it easy, lazing about and looking gorgeous!
Thursday - Sunday: See above!
Wednesday 23rd August - by Colonel Beau
How old? Are you certain? Goodness me, well there's a thing! Seems one of our folks has decided to have a birthday today. Yes well, congratulations and all that I'm sure, but really I wouldn't go shouting about it, and at their age (which I have only just now discovered) I most certainly wouldn't go counting the number of them. That's guaranteed to make you feel over the hill. No, my advice as a veteran of many birthdays myself is to enjoy them by all means (including demanding extra chicken or coley rations, except that they don't eat either so that's all the more for us on this occasion), but most certainly not to go counting the little blighters! Do they realise how old that makes them in cat years? (one suspects they would need a calculator for that one). I will err on the side of confidentiality and just say it's a jolly lot! The good thing about being a cat of uncertain origin is that you never know exactly when your birthday is and therefore you can call in extra chicken or coley rations pretty much as the mood takes you, and the mood has taken me several times this month already, (well one of those days must have been my birthday, surely?). Gemini's always been quite certain that her birthday is 'towards the end of July sometime' and Pickford well, I'm afraid he hasn't got the faintest clue, so we've collectively assumed it's anytime between May and October. So between the three of us there's plenty of scope for 'Maybe-it's-someone's-birthday-chicken' or 'possibly-an-anniversary-coley'. We do manage to procure un-birthday special rations on occasion during the winter too naturally, but that's simply because we are a first class, dedicated and hard working regiment with first class, dedicated and hard working appetites... and well-trained canteen staff!
Gemini Relations Report: Read and digested the Lady Gemini's recent diary, of particular note being the comments on Yours Truly's 'cute pink tongue'. Assessment: She must finally be falling for at least one of my many ample charms (it's a start, a small start admittedly, but a start). Note to self: Rememebr to include picture of said 'cute pink tongue' to illustrate her accuracy.
Tuesday 22nd August - by Pickford
Oh no, not the goo! Take it away, I don't want the goo anymore! It's horrrid, the worst, worse than the worst, I hate the goo! The folks keep on wanting to put the vet's goo on my scabby bits, specially when I've scratched them. It's supposed to make me stop scratching them but it won't, I feel better when I've had a good scratch. They got the goo on me today, not without a struggle though (I'm a good strong, struggler me, I could struggle for England if they had a National Struggling Team). So I went straight out the catflap after and sat in the middle of the wet grass. that showed 'em. I came in after a few minutes though, well I'd made my point. And the grass was wet. Anyway, I don't want to talk about the goo any more, It's horrid, end of. I've been helping out in the office lots lately. I go up on the desk and sit on the mousemat, well I more sort of lay across it to be honest, (I like to do the job properly). It wasn't me who made half the website disappear this morning though, I dunno what happened there, nothing to do with me guv'nor! I can type letters on the keyboard and open the CD tray but making pages disappear is the extra-advanced stuff. Colonel Beau (Sir) could probably do it. And then what about all this stuff about a raffle...
Beau: Ahem! Pickford old boy, I'd stop right there if I were you, that's still classified information that is, I've not cleared it for general release yet!
Pickford: Oh, right. Um... well, I didn't mean, errr.. oh dear. Could we just forget I said anything? In fact, I didn't say anything, no, not a thing. And if I did it was a mistake, a big mistake. A total misunderstanding, I meant something entirely different altogether. Raffle? What raffle? I don't know anything about it. I deny everything!
Beau: Jolly good, jolly good, well done laddie, that clears that up nicely. I'll make a Colonel of you yet!
Monday 21st August - by Gemini
Now I know I moan about Colonel Beau, and I moan at him quite often too, but I would just like to say that he's not all bad all of the time, (except when he jumps on me, that's bad, and I don't think anyone who's seen him do it would argue). No, not all bad, he's actually even quite cute sometimes. No really, he is, mainly when he's asleep admittedly, but cute nevertheless, in a big-white-fluffy-lump sort of way. I'm fascinated by his deep-sleep position to, I sat and watched him for ages tonight while he was sparko on the sofa (opposite end to me of course). It's the way he lays there with his head upside-down and his tongue lolling out between the gap in his teeth where his jaw doesn't quite fit together properly. So cute. Actually, it's probably not so much Beau that's cute, it's just his tongue. Yes, that's more accurate, he just has a cute tongue. I feel sure he'll be pleased to know that he has one redeeming feature! Sometimes when he's had a wash, he forgets to put his tongue away after, so he sits there all normal except for this cute pink tongue sticking out. If only the rest of him was so agreeable. Ah well, such is life. I moan at Pickford too of course, only not quite so much, well he doesn't go jumping on me, plus he's a tabby. Of course I know they both moan about me moaning at them, but they'd miss it if I didn't do it. They would! I mean, if I didn't moan at them, three times a day (four on Saturdays and Sundays), then they wouldn't appreciate the times in between when I'm not moaning at them, would they?
The Weekend - by Pickford
It's a good job the car without an engine isn't in the garage anymore, there certainly wouldn't be room for it now. I dunno how many books make a library, but we must have nearly enough by now - there's stacks of them! Piled up everywhere they are, great for poking round though. Me and Colonel Beau (Sir) went in there on Saturday and had a right good snoop round the book piles (and on them). There's loads more stacked in purple bins to, all ready for another of these 'stall' things the folks do fot Cat Chat. They're doing one next weekend, so I think the books in the bins are all for that, (I hope there's another catless cat show there, I could do with another rosette for my collection!). Anyway, I've been trying out this weird thing I heard about, that means you can make things move by just thinking about them moving. No really - hear me out, I'm not making this up and I haven't gone round the twist (although Gemini thinks I have). No it's a real thing called... um... crumbs, I forget, it's something like Telly Savalas I think.
Gemini: (interrupts) Excuse me Pickford, yes I do think it's a bit round the twist, but just for the record it's telekinesis, OK, Telekinesis.
Pickford: Oh, that was it - thanks!
Well anyhow, I heard, right, that if you stare at something and think really, really hard and imagine it moving, then stare some more and think hard some more, that in the end it'll move. Sounds mad I know, but I've been trying it all weekend by keep staring at the food cupboard. I'm good at sitting and I'm good at staring and I just know I can make that door open and some extra food fall out. It did sort of work once, when one of the folks opened it up and fed us half an hour early. Now Gemini says they just fed us early because they felt sorry for me keep staring at the cupboard but I reckon it could've been my mind making them open it early! I'll keep trying to get it open on my own though. If it works I hope I can get the power of my mind to choose the best flavour. It'd be a right let-down if I went to all the trouble of thinking the door open and then got the wrong flavour. I need to get the power of my mind to open up the packet and tip it in the bowl too, but I'll worry about that once I've got the door open. RIght, I'm off to concentrate...
Friday 18th August - by Colonel Beau
Well they wouldn't leave my bath tap running for me - what was I supposed to do, eh? Tell me that! Preposterous state of affairs. I can't wait around for ever you know, I've got dodgy kidneys, I need my water!
Thursday 17th August - by Gemini
I should have been a detective you know, I'm awfully good at detecting. Maybe I was one in a past life. It's the small clues I pick up on, even Beau with his supposed high-level training didn't work this one out. Our folks normally put any bits-of-vegetables like the ends off the carrots or the leaves off the celery into a little tub and then empty in into the compost bin, but here's the clue: What does it mean if instead, they stick them in a bowl of water for later? I'm afraid Beau's best suggestion was that maybe they were going to make soup. Soup? Yeah right, sure! Our folks... make soup? that would be practically tantamount to actual cooking that would, so not terribly likely. No, I, detective Gemini of the Yard, detected quite correctly that it meant that the folks across the road had gone away on holiday. Obvious really when you think about it (which I did and Beau didn't). They've gone on holiday and therefore our folks are on rabbit-feeding duties. A perfect deduction as it turned out, so I have been accompanying them over the road with the saved-up vegetable bits. I do it for the folks' benefit you understand, not the rabbits. I sit on the doormat and wait for them while they feed them and clear out their poo (completely gross, I know, but that's rabbits for you), and then I accompany them back home again, making quite sue they haven't accidentally brought one of the rabbits with them. Well, you can't be too careful, for all I know rabbits might eat coley fish, and then where would be be?
Wednesday 16th August - by Colonel Beau
Ah jolly good! That's more like it, and about time too. After several weeks of waiting, my requisition for a new clothes prop has finally been fulfilled. I have my doubts about it's longevity on account of it having been 'assembled' by our human of the male variety (failed O-level woodwork), but at least for now it looks like, and acts like a clothes prop. Our outdoor claw-sharpening exercises haven't been the same since the demise of the old prop - top class training tools they are you know. Bare wood for keeping the old paw-weapons razor sharp and a toy-mouse-on-a-shoelace hanging from halfway up the pole for practising prey-to-paw co-ordination (every clothes prop should have one). Yes, you can tell the troops next door don't have a cat in the ranks, they've just got one of these bally twirly-line efforts on a metal pole, what sort of use is that eh? Can't fathom it myself. Totaly useless for sharpening purposes, but even worse, it doesn't have a toy mouse! Of course the real test of a good combat-ready clothes prop is (a) when there are actual clothes on the line, and (b) when there's a good strong wind like today. It becomes a moving target you see, bally tricky blighter under those conditions, but perfect practise. To and fro... fro and to... to and fro etc. Good job I'm as smart and sharp and quick as ever I was - some would say smarter, sharper and quicker even. Retired? Me? In name only I say, in name only!
Tuesday 15th August - by Gemini
It wasn't me! Not this time, oh no, nothing to do with me at all. I wasn't even there - didn't even see it happen. Poor old Beau. Hold on... what am I saying poor old Beau, he almost certainly deserved it the way he's been acting lately. It does look a bit sore though... the silly old fool has gone and got himself two lovely great scratches down either side of his nose. Obviously from the same set of claws, so I can only assume he must have stuck his nose in where it wasn't wanted (yet again). Pickford swears blind it wasn't him, and I believe him (Pickford is the most rubbish liar I've ever known), so there's no telling at the moment which of our neighbouring felines he's been in combat with. I'd bet my last prawn that Beau started it though. Oh, he doesn't mean to start any aggro, not our Beau, it's just that he invades people's space and makes them start the aggro! He'll come right up close, sort of like 'Hullo, here I am come to say hullo really close like this, no in fact, even close than that... here I come', and then he sticks his nose right in your face or in your ear (or sometimes elsewhere), or if he's feeling especially stupid he'll jump on top of you (as I've found out). I've never met a cat quite like him before. You'd think after the first few times of having his nose lacerated that he'd learn, but if anything he's got worse! Maybe he thinks if he keeps doing it, one day the outcome might be different, or maybe he thinks he looks rugged and battle-scarred with big scratches down his nose. Or maybe (and this is my preferred theory), he doesn't actually think much at all - he just does. Beau might be a Colonel and Pickford might only be a Private but I know who has the most common sense out of the two. And at the risk of appearing a wee bit immodest, I think I've probably got more common sense than the both of them put together, which is why I never end up with horrid scratches spoiling my perfect little tabby nose!
Monday 14th August - by Pickford
I knew it! I just knew it! Last night when I was sat on the lap being fussed and they kept finding my new scabby bits, I just knew I'd end up at the vets today. And I did. They thought my scabby bits were going away, well some of them did, but I've grown new ones since. It's cool though, I don't mind the vets, it's true - I really don't. I don't mind the going along in a car bit, I don't mind the seeing the vet bit and I even don't mind the getting injections bit. I'm braver than I ever thought possible. Pickford the Brave, that's me! I'm not quite as brave as the Colonel (Sir) though, I wouldn't go jumping up on Gemini while she's asleep (or even while she's awake) like he does. He's crazy-brave he is. I'd rather take my chances with the vet than a jumped-on Gemini any day. So anyhow, he gave me this injection and he gave the folks some splodgy goo to put on my scabby bits and that was that. Well, apart from everyone saying how BIG I am. Why does everyone say I'm big? Our friend Man in Socks came round last week and he said I was big, the vet today said I was big, and even the man in the waiting room with the little girl cat who had her ears off - he said I was big too. I don't feel big. I told the Colonel about the little girl cat, she was white and went in the sun too much, and that's why her ears had to come off. Beau hates having his sun cream put on, but I told him, it's the cream or your ears, take your pick. It's interesting going to the vets. Well, apart from the dogs in the waiting room, they weren't interesting, they were just... well, just dogs. I had a nice lot of grub when I got back. Injections always make me hungry. Then I fell asleep on the jeans. It's a bit of a favour to the folks really, if I'm on the jeans it means they can't do the ironing and they hate ironing. Dead thoughtful I am.
The Weekend - by Colonel Beau and Gemini
Hrrrmph! I might soon have to admit defeat for the first time in my life. Not good for the old reputation I know, but I'm running out of ideas. It's not even a cunning and ruthless enemy that I'm up against, no ideed, I can hande as many cunning and ruthless enemies as you care to throw at me. No, it's the Lady Gemini, she's a bafflement to me, and no mistake, can't fathom her out sometimes, truly I can't. One day (Friday) she's all friendly and companionable, she even came out on evening patrol with me, and the next day (Saturday) she's all upset with me! Can't understand it. My years of experience and high-level training have equipped me for most things in life, but I'm beginning to think the workings of the female feline mind is another kettle of coley altogether. Most baffling indeed...
Gemini: Beau... so sorry to interrupt your diary, but I do think that if you put your mind to it, you might just come up with a reason why I might not have been quite so friendly to you on Saturday as I was on Friday. Go on, have a really good think... I'm sure it'll come to you.
Beau: ...Oh! Errr, hullo old girl, didn't see you there! I, um... well, I'm sure I don't know what you mean. It, um... couldn't be anything to do with...
Gemini: To do with when you jumped right on top of me again? Remember? When I was snoozing quietly on the sofa and then you leapt up and plonked your big white self right on me? Yes it just might have something to do with that actually. What were you thinking?
Beau: Ah, now... that's a bit of an exaggeration surely. The old memory's not quite what it was, but I'm sure I didn't plonk myself right on top of you... exactly... did I?
Gemini: Yes you did - plonked - on top - exactly!
Beau: Oh dear. Sorry old girl. I can't think what must have come over me. It must be my new diet. Yes! That's it - too much energy you see! Not my fault, no not my fault at all, it's those new biscuits, well, you said it yourself, I'm all bouncy now. Bouncy Beau, that's what you said! I must have bounced up onto you by mistake. Not feeling my old self you see. Hrrmph. Will you um... forgive me old bean?
Gemini: Only time will tell I'm afraid Beau, only time will tell. Mind you... letting me have some of your chicken on a chicken day might help - and some of your coley on a coley day - and first lick of the spoon on custard days - put a memo in your dossier about those would you... 'old bean'!?
Friday 11th August - by Pickford
I dunno where Wednesday and Thursday's diaries went to, or even if they existed, can't find them anywhere! Never mind, today was the best day out of the three anyway. My belly certainly thinks so anyway. We got chicken - lots of chicken. The lady in the chicken shop likes us I think! The folks reckon I actually smile when I've had chicken. I don't think I do, but if I really could smile I'd definitely do it after chicken. Tell you what else we got today - we got winter back all of a sudden. It must've just been hiding round the corner 'cos there we were having lots of summer and then today (just after the chicken) 'Bosh!'.. there it was. Winter... just like that! Rain, rain and more rain, wind too, and cold, and dark, and even more rain. I still loved it though, 'cos these days I can just sit in the dry and watch it. Couldn't do that last year, best I could do then was sit under a bush or something. Well, I wasn't brave enough to come indoors here properly back then, only quickly to sneak food and then leg it out again. I wasn't Pickford back then though, I was just 'SpareCat', and SpareCat was nowhere near as brave as Pickford! You can tell it was winter today, Colonel Beau (Sir) was snuggled up on the spare bed (in his 'upstairs quarters') and Gemini was in her bed-under-the-radiator (even though it's not on). Me, I sat in the window watching the rain with a belly full of chicken. That was great that was - rain on the outside and chicken on the inside. I dunno... maybe I was smiling after all?
Tuesday 8th August - by Colonel Beau and Gemini
Beau: Hullo Gemini old girl, come to admire my new box have you?
Gemini: What do you mean, your box? When did you suddenly decide it was your box?
Beau: Well now, um... when I commandeered it just now. Yes, so about... three and a half minutes ago!
Gemini: A right I see. In that case I think you should know that I've been sitting in that box since before you even lived here. What do you say to that?
Beau: Well now old bean, if that were true, I'd say that was far too long for anyone to spend sitting in a box (unless you're David Blaine).
Gemini: ('sigh') I don't mean I was sitting in it solidly, just, you now, here and there over the last couple of years, so I think that makes it my box. And you're sitting in it.
Beau: I am indeed sitting in it, old fruit, quite so. Suits me though, just my colour don't you think?
Gemini: ..What? I errr... well, yes I suppose it is, in a big white sort of way. But listen Beau, it really has always been my box, and I'd quite like to sit in it actually.
Beau: Would you? Really? Jolly good then, jolly good indeed! Come on in then, plenty of room for two!
Gemini: Oh... no... no I didn't mean I wanted to come in at the same time as you. I meant... oh never mind. I'll um, come back later. Thanks anyway, (walks off).
Beau: Oh, I see. Well, fair enough then. Toodle pip... I'll see you on the sofa later then old girl, eh...?
(thinks: Bally shame, I thought I'd cracked it then, thought she'd fallen for my ample charms at long last. Maybe the Incident at the weekend scared her off? Was I a little too forthright I wonder? Perhaps I should bring her a mouse? Maybe I should have picked a bigger box? I'll keep trying, She really has got the cutest white bib. She surely can't ignore my gentlemanly admiration for ever? It's only been nineteen months, early days yet, yes early days.)
Monday 7th August - by Pickford
Oh this is better - this is loads better. My scabs are going and I feel much more like Pickford again. I didn't feel at all like Pickford at the weekend, right mopey I was, a bit like when I had all my best teeth out. I'm not a mopey sort me, life's too short, so when I'm mopey I know something's up. I used to get scabby and mopey sometimes when I was a stray, but that's all part of the deal, I mean no-one's going to stick flea-stuff on you or take you to the vet when you're a stray so you just have to put up with things. But these days I've got used to feeling good all the time, so it's a bit rubbish when you suddenly don't feel good. At least now I know why though - I'm allergic to fleas! Yeah, mad isn't it, you wouldn't think those tiny little herberts could cause so much hassle would you? S'pose you've got to admire 'em really. The fleas round here are a pretty tough bunch too, the vet said our fleas had got used to the old flea-stuff and it doesn't work on them any more, so now we've got this stronger flea-stuff. But what happens when they get used to the stronger stuff eh? What then? I shan't worry about that now, all I know is my scabs are going and I'm being a proper Pickford again. Being proper Pickford these days involves getting up on the coffee table for a wash, so everyone can watch - look, there I am! I don't know why they call it a coffee table, there's never any coffee on it. I normally sit on the Radio Times, that's posh that is.
The Weekend - by Gemini
What a liberty! What a downright, absolute, gob-smacking liberty! I can't believe he did that - the cheek of it! (disgusted of Tunbridge Wells has nothing on me after this weekend's incident, believe me). Even one of the folks was heard to say "I can't believe he did that!". How he got to be a Colonel I shall never know, I mean, aren't Colonels supposed to be chivalrous, decent and courteous pillars of the community? Well maybe they're not. And he wonders why I grumble at him, well this sort of behaviour is why I grumble at him! Sunday morning it happened - The Incident. A nice warm, peaceful Sunday morning and I'd decided to take a little mid-morning snooze on one of the garden chairs, as one does. Nice garden chairs they are, little round seats just perfectly sized for me to curl up on in an equally nice little round ball. Idyllic it was, untll I was suddenly and most rudely woken up by a great weight landing on top of me; 'Whuumph!', just like that. A great weight that turned out to be Beau, who for some inexplicable reason had decided to just leap up onto the chair and onto me. Of course I went Ballistic (with a capital B), what did he expect? Did he think I was going to go 'Oh hello Beau old chap, yes do join me, I'm sure I can squash over a bit to make room for you'. Unlikely in the extreme I'd say. I've honestly never been so deliberately jumped on in all my life. In fact my horror and outrage are beyond words (if I find any suitable beyond-horror-and-outrage words I'll get back to you). So what about the rest of the weekend? Well so what indeed. I'm sorry, but I'm so outraged I haven't left room for that!
Signed: Disgusted of Ramsgate.
Friday 4th August - by Pickford
Just as well Colonel Beau (Sir) re-classified the Dangerous Sofa to just The Sofa, or he'd have been in a right bit of bother today. He's getting really brave these days, even braver than me with my brave head on - he got up on the sofa right next to Gemini! Now I go on the sofa loads, and even I wouldn't go that close. Still, he got away with it - this time. I'm impressed, he's so cool sometimes, I'm glad I'm in his regiment. Me and the Colonel did combat training together yesterday too - oh, not combatting each other, no, I mean we did shoelaces together, chasing and pouncing and stuff. Haven't done that for ages, not since it's been summer. Shoelaces are a winter game I reckon, you know, the sort of game you only play when you're indoors 'cos it's cold and raining outside. A bit like Monopoly. So yesterday was cold, and it was raining, and we've lost the dice from our Monopoly so out came the shoelaces. Took my mind off my scabby bits for a while too. Dunno where they came from all of a sudden, but they get in the way when I have a wash. The folks said if they haven't gone by Monday they're going to get the vet to have a look at them. Blimey, that's a rubbish job isn't it, being a vet? I mean would you want to spend all day looking at scabs? I wouldn't!
(I was only joking about the Monopoly, we haven't really lost the dice, I only said that so we didn't have to play it. I always lose).
Thursday 3rd August - by Colonel Beau
I quite agree with Field Marshall Gemini, we should have had something really special to report on after not posting our diaries for a few days. The Stinky Flea Stuff is all very well, but that's just routine frankly, stinky, but routine. No, what we needed was an event, something of singular importance highlighting an aspect (or two) of our unique characters or our finely tuned and expertly refined cat-skills. Something like...ah, now let me think... ah yes! By jove I have it - something like catching a bird. A stroke of genius if ever there was one I'm sure you'll agree, (well you might not agree I suppose, the folks didn't). Now let me see, who's the most likely candidate to catch a bird these days? Well, Pickford should be the obvious choice being the youngest at only eight years, but no - he hasn't caught a bird or indeed any sort of 'edible other' since he's been here. Maybe Gemini then, with her Top Tabby, Queen-of-all-the-road reputation to keep up? No, in fact she hasn't bagged a single bit of wildlife this year to my knowledge. So, as usual the task of saving the reputation of the whole Regiment fell to Yours Truly. Oh yes, I'm twelve now you know, the oldest (and possibly wisest) of the Cat Chat Towers troops, but there's plenty of life in this old soldier yet! And so it was that today, I, Colonel Beau, despite my dodgy kidneys and my distinct lack of major molars, brought down a bird in one swift manoeuvre - in broad daylight too. Swiped with the paw and clamped in the jaw, just like that - absolutely text book it was. What did I do with it? Well I ate it of course! Fresh sparrow is good natural protein, just what I need for my dodgy kidneys. There you see - the Colonel's not over the hill until the Colonel says so!
Wednesday 2nd August - by Gemini
You'd think, what with not having written up our diaries for the last few days, that our folks would have made sure we had something really good to write about, like some kind of treat, wouldn't you? Fair enough, so we did get a few prawns on Sunday and we did get chicken today, but nothing spectacularly good. In fact, the Big Event of today was about as far from a treat as you can get, particularly for poor old Pickford (he was not a happy bunny). We were all subjected to the horrid, smelly, freezing-cold-on-the-back-of-the-neck ordeal of the Stinky Flea Stuff. They cornered Pickford first, but really sneakily, so that me and Beau didn't know. They did it while I was out 'doing the necessary' and Colonel Beau was on his stair ('halfway up the stairs is the stair where I sit, there isn't any other stair quite like it...', etcetera). Pickford isn't so used to the flea stuff as us two, so he was quite freaked out poor lad. Mind you, he needed it the most, he's started to get some of these little flea-allergy scabby bits, quite revolting really, I hope the Stuff sorts them out. Then Beau was plucked from his stair half asleep and suspecting nothing (his advanced enemy detection programme hadn't detected that little manoeuvre!). So by the time I came back in they'd both been 'sorted' and had scarpered off somewhere to sulk, so I was completely unaware and walked right into the folk's trap. Why is it, no matter how many times I have the flea stuff every time seems colder and smellier than the last? Personally I don't think it's the chemicals in the Stuff that kills the fleas, I think they just jump off and run away because they can't stand the smell. On that basis, wouldn't Old Spice work just as well?
Friday 28th July - by Colonel Beau
RIght now then, listen up! I've made an executive decision! This may not be the most popular decision I've ever made, but someone's got to take charge, so I'm taking charge, just like that! Due to the greatly increased activity 'in the background' here I'm calling for a temporary break of a few days on the posting of our diaries. Yes, yes I know, I can hear the dissent in the ranks already... "how can he do this?" and "what's the Colonel playing at?" well I'm afraid I seem to be the only one round here brave enough and qualified enough to spot, and state the obvious. The plain fact is that for the next few days there is far too much 'to be done' and 'going on' to allow the due time, effort and dedication it takes to satisfactorily record our daily doings. And there's the point. If the human troops are going to be skimping on the facts, missing out vitals bits of information and generally doing a shoddy job (like their gardening) then I say it's best not to do it at all until everything's back to Normal. By my reckoning Normal should be achieved by around Wednesday, with a bit of luck. In the meantime I shall leave you with a rather splendid view of Yours Truly in my latest "Who goes there?" position on the stairs. I've always said nothing gets past the Colonel, and now nothing does - well, only things that can jump two stairs at once! Toodle Pip!
Thursday 27th July - by Pickford
I never thought I'd be cut out for any of this officey stuff, like computers and everything, but I surprised myself today. I went into the office for a play with one of the catnip sacks and I just got this strange urge to jump up on the desk. So I thought, 'couldn't hurt' so I jumped up on the desk. Our human of the female variety was sat there and I don't reckon she gets many cats land unnanounced on her mouse mat, 'cos I didn't half make her jump. Still, then I got fussed, and she told me I was a sweetheart, (well I try my best, but still it's always nice when someone tells you). So then I went on a Learning Curve, well I actually went on the keyboard but it's the same thing. OK so I can't do anything really fancy yet, but I typed 23. and opened up the CD tray, so that's not bad for a first effort is it? I bet there's not many cats who can type 23. with their back leg and open up the CD tray with their front paw both at the same time. I reckon I'm smarter that I look you know. I got right in the swing of it then, so I went behind the computer screen too, well I've seen Gemini do it and she never will say what's behind it. Well I'm an up-front sort, I've got nothing to hide so I'll say what's behind it - a strange box with wires coming out, a couple of paper clips and a load of dust, that's what. Nothing secret after all (well it's not secret now anyway). I reckon a couple more lessons on that keyboared and I'll be an expert. Who'd have thought it, me, Pickford, an expert... I wonder if I could get a certificate to go with my rosette?
Wednesday 26th July - by Gemini
Me? Afraid of seagulls? Sounds ludicrous doesn't it? I can honestly say that until today I've never been scared of any seagull, and in fact I'm still not scared of most seagulls, but we've got this one... well, he seems to have gone a bit crazy (or maybe he's a she, I wouldn't like to say). I've never seen anything quite like it, he keeps dive-bombing the garden. He's not after the goldfish in the pond like previous seagull raiders, he seems to be aiming for us cats! What we've done to upset him heaven only knows, but he definitely looks upst to me. He first went after Pickford, that was yesterday morning, and quite frankly me and Beau didn't believe him. He came crashing through the catflap (Pickford, not the seagull) going on about having been chased up the garden by a mad-eyed seagull. I muttered a skeptical "yeah, right", and Beau's reaction was something along the lines of "Come, come old boy, that's a bit far-fetched, seagull indeed! Hrrmph!". Beau wasn't 'Hrrmph-ing' today though when that seagull swooped down after him so fast and low that he had to nip up onto the fence at the double (the bit under the pigeon tree). He didn't give up even then, he kept circling round and swooping right in close to the fence (and close to Beau) pulling up at the last minuite. Scary stuff. A bit of an Alfred Hitchcock moment. So later on, there I was by the pond minding my own business, when out of nowhere came the mad-eyed seagull, right at me, and yes, I ran! When something's that crazy you don't mess with it. I ran indoors to the safety of my Made in China box. It's my favourite box at the moment, just my size, and out of sight of mad-eyed seagulls!
Tuesday 25th July - by Pickford
Colonel Beau (sir) might reckon we didn't miss the folks being around all weekend, but he doesn't need as many fusses as I do! He can get by on two or three a day, Gemini's the same, but that's not nearly enough for me. Sorry, but I've got used to having loads of fusses, starting with the special morning one in the loo (only I'm not meant to say about that one, so don't tell anyone). But with the folks away, that meant I was one fuss down both days, even before breakfast! See, then on a normal day, I usually manage to get at least two fusses during the morning, one at dinnertime and maybe another one mid-afternoon (unless I'm asleep on the bench, then I just dream about getting a fuss and go and cash it in for a real one later), and then anywhere between two and six more in the evening (weather depending). So they're away, and what am I s'posed to do? I've never let next-door-lady fuss me before, but by Saturday, I tell you I was desperate! So in she comes, and I put my brave head on and stood my ground instead of legging it. So she kneels down and puts her hand out, all slow like... honestly I don't know why I never let her do it before, she's pretty good at fussing, (for someone who hasn't got cats). She was dead chuffed about it too, I heard her telling the folks: "...and Pickford even let me stroke him!" like it was something special. Well... I suppose it was really.
Monday 24th July - by Colonel Beau
I'm sure these bally human troops think they can just do what they jolly well please half the time. Don't they know I have a regiment to run? Taking 'leave' this last weekend is all very well, but there's procedures to be followed, applications to be made, that sort of thing... or not, in this case. At least the relief troops from next door seemed to be fully briefed, that's something I suppose. I'm sure they were impressed with us, we're a damned fine regiment these days I'm proud to say. Within seconds of them stepping through the door we were all lined up perfectly at our respective feeding stations, even Private Pickford. He's shaping up nicely these days (shaping up a little too nicely in the midriff region some might say). Still, thanks to my expert tuition and unparalleled leadership skills and Field Marshall Gemini's... how shall we say... disciplinary tactics, we've moulded him into a most respectable member of the ranks. Hence, much to the folks' disgust, we didn't really miss their presence, hardly at all in fact. So, I'm afraid their homecoming welcome committee consisted of Gemini squeaking a brief greeting as she went off out to start her security shift under the cherry tree, and Pickford opening one eye from his off-duty position on the garden bench. At least Yours Truly showed a tad more loyalty and volunteered to help their unpacking by carrying out a full bag inspection. I can honestly say there was nothing whatsoever of interest inside it. Heaven knows why they took any of that stuff away with them, (or indeed why they brought it all back again). Still, I figured that bag might as well make itself useful, so I commandeered it as a wash & rest station (photo taken during the 'wash' part, prior to the 'rest' part). The black sets off my uniform splendidly, don't you think?
Friday 21st - Sunday 23rd July
The folks have gone AWOL. Next door folks have been issued with updated feeding instructions (to account for Beau's new 'Special Requirements'). The hedgehogs substitute puddles have been topped up. All internet access denied.
Thursday 20th July - by Gemini and Pickford
Pickford: Is it me, or is even hotter today than yesterday?
Gemini: Both I think Pickford. I mean, it definitely is you, I'd know you anywhere, and according to my tabby temperature gauge it is even hotter today.
Pickford: Thought so. I've been doing that thing where I stretch out really long in the shady bit on the path, and try to get some air round the pink ('that's where he keep his pyjamas') bit of my belly and still I'm too hot!
Gemini: I know what you mean, but I don't know what else you can do really. Well, you could go in the pond I suppose. George used to go in the pond sometimes and he always said it was colder in there.
Pickford: In the pond? Did he? Honest? I thought he was quite a smart cat from what I'd heard, but the pond... that's all... well, it's all wet!
Gemini: I know, he got soaked in there several times. A couple of times it was when he dived in after a bird (and he caught one once too), but the other times he just fell in by mistake. George wasn't ever so smart, not really.
Pickford: Oh, OK. That makes me feel a bit better. I'm still not going in the pond though. I'd rather be hot.
Gemini: At least we've both got normal fur, being tabbies, not like Colonel Beau, his fur's miles thicker than ours. He must bake like a jacket spud in that lot.
Pickford: Yeah, his fur's so thick you can't even see his 'that's where he keeps his pyjamas' bit. ...where is he anyway?
Gemini: Oh, he's trying to keep cool under the bushes out the front, by one of those new water bowls.
Pickford: What new water bowls?
Gemini: Those two dishes out under the front bushes with water in, haven't you seen them? The folks put them there yesterday.
Pickford: But we've got water bowls indoors, why do we need dishes under the bushes?
Gemini: They're not for us silly, they're for the hedgehogs! There's no rain puddles for them at the moment, so these are sort of like substitute puddles.
Pickford: Substitute puddles? Blimey, I learn something new every day!
Wednesday 19th July - by Gemini, Pickford and Colonel Beau
Pickford: So... where exactly have the folks gone then?
Gemini: Well I don't know exactly where it is, it's further than the end of our road, I do know that, and it's called 'round the pub'.
Pickford: Round the pub. I see. So... what do they do round there then?
Gemini: I'll be honest Pickford, I don't really know, only they always seem to be, how can I say, a bit sort of wobbly when they come back. That's why I go up the road to meet them every time, I'm not sure they'd find our house otherwise.
Pickford: Crumbs! I wouldn't go there if I were them then, not if it makes you go all wobbly.
Gemini: Well, I also know that they go there when they need answers to something, you know it's like a place to make decisions. That's where they went to decide on your name for a start, did you know that?
Pickford: Really? Oh well, that's OK then. I like being called Pickford. I feel like I was meant to be called Pickford all along, only no-one realised it 'til I came here. That's worth getting a bit wobbly for I reckon.
Gemini: Yes, you're probably right. Anyway, by my reckoning they'll be wobbling down the road in precisely... 15 minutes, so I'd better get in position.
Pickford: Can I come too? I know the way down the road, I could help!
Gemini: Oh, listen, now, Pickford... I'm really not sure...
Beau: Hullo you two! Did I hear mention of a little up-the-road mission? That'll require a leader you know, missions always do. Never fear, the Colonel's here! Off we go then, chop chop!
Gemini: But.. but... hold on! I'm not sure it needs all of us... they're only used to me escorting them home... I mean, come on, if all three of us meet them together, well, it's not normal, they'll be all, I don't know... all stunned! Hold on..!
(Gemini, Beau and Pickford all troop out to the front garden and wait for the folks to return, which they do, precisely 15 minutes from the point that Gemini said they'd be back in 15 minutes) The folk's precise reaction cannot be printed here, but suffice to say they were indeed stunned. Very pleased, slightly wobbly and extremely stunned!
Tuesday 18th July - by Pickford
I've found a new thing to do. I enjoy doing it so much I've done it loads lately. I spent, crumbs I dunno, at least a couple of hours doing it today. What it is... is surveying. Surveying my place. My garden in fact. My domain. Pickford's place. I do it by just sitting, sometimes lying down but mainly sitting (I get a better view from up there), and just gazing out over my grass. I gaze down at my pond and my bushes, and at the tree at the bottom. I even gaze at the fences and the weedy bits and those little pink flowers that came from nowhere. It's really fantastic, I mean, it's just all there for me, Pickford, to do what I like in. I do my best surveying when the sun's gone over the house (my house), when it's cooled down a bit. I sit there 'til it's dark sometimes, and sometimes Gemini joins me (not today though). She never growls when we're surveying. In the daytime I like walking in my garden, on my grass. I don't even have to be going anywhere, I just mooch about, you know, nosing at things. The folks watch me sometimes, mooching, I think they find it funny. I don't care though, I'm just happy mooching. And sometimes I feel so good after my mooch that I trot up to them and headutt them on the hand or rub my head round their legs. They think that's funny too I think, but they always give me a fuss. I like summer. I wouldn't do surveying or mooching in the cold, it's not the same. I mooched this morning and I surveyed this evening, and I'll do it again tomorrow if it's still summer. Hey look! There's a photo of me surveying... I didn't know that was being taken! They must have done it from inside out, sneaky lot!
Monday 17th July - by Colonel Beau
Ahem! Right listen up! I have an important announcement to make. After careful consideration, and extensive research, I have decided to re-classify the Dangerous Sofa. So, I'd like it on record that it will be henceforth known as 'The Sofa'. I haven't taken this decision lightly I'll have you know, I've checked, double-checked and triple-checked it, and despite it's notorious history, it is now most definitely un-dangerous. It's still got danger potential though, when the Lady Gemini's on the middle cushion, (but then I've observed that anywhere at all has danger potential if it's within half a cat's length of Gemini), but Private Pickford and I are both smart enough not to test it's danger levels under those circumstances. Mind you even proximity to the Lady Gemini is nothing like the danger potential of our Western Front (garden path) today, that was spectacularly dangerous at one point. All down to the shoddy workmanship that went into making our clothes prop. You know the sort, a wooden pole contraption designed to hold the washing line up... or not, in this case. I'll admit we've all used that prop for claw sharpening exercises and combat training (there's a furry toy mouse tied to it) over the years but still, you don't expect these things to just snap in half do you? Frightfully bad design if you ask me. Lucky one of us wasn't on the bit of grass it came crashing down on to today, eh what? Bally lucky indeed. The demise of the prop is one thing, and never mind the washing line, the question is where will the human troops hang our toy mouse now eh? I demand answers, and I demand them now! My troops can't operate without their clothes-prop-mouse, he's not just a regular civvy street mouse, he's a vital training tool!
The Weekend ('Phew what a Scorcher' - again) by Gemini
I didn't think we were really having a task on Friday with the supper thing, I thought it was a bit of a joke, but now I'm not so sure. If it was a task then we failed miserably. The bit about not spilling food on the floor, well Beau always spills food on the floor, he can't help it on account of his broken jaw, he just can't eat straight. We also failed on the bit about not nicking food from each other's bowls. Well, that's not a fair task really, isn't it fairer to share and share alike? I mean, I prefer biscuits as a rule, so if Pickford leaves some biscuits surely it's better I eat therm, than let them sit there looking forlorn and unloved? And Pickford prefers the wet, meaty sort of food, so quite often I let him finish my meat while I finish his biscuits, that's fair isn't it? I don't see how that's nicking food, it's more um... swapping, isn't it? Well, task or no task, we didn't get coley fish on Sunday. Yes, I know, outrageous as Beau might say (well he did say it in fact), completely outrageous. You'd think seeing as the folks actually went 'down to the sea' that they'd have been considerate enough to go and catch us some fresh fish, wouldn't you? I know they don't have fishing rods or anything, but they've got a net they use for the pond, that would do it, surely? In fact, ludicrous though this is, I believe they even went in the sea, right in, getting wet and everything, and still they didn't catch us any coley fish! I really can't see any other reason for getting that wet. Still, that's humans for you. At least they've got one thing right recently - the acquisition of a patio table and chairs. I particularly like the table, it's metal with a sort of criss-cross pattern of holes in. Perfect for weekends like this, you know, when you want to sunbathe, only it's too hot, and you want the shade, only it's not sunny enough... well this table is both at the same time. And the even better thing about it, is there's only room for one cat underneath - and that's me!
Friday 14th July (a diary: to be read slowly, in a broad geordie accent)
Day 293 in the Cat Chat House. 8.35 a.m. - Gemini and Pickford are in the kitchen. Beau is in the folks' bedroom, miaowing. He hasn't eaten for nine hours and ten minutes.
(Beau: 'Mriaaaaaooowwl!'.) (Later, after breakfast and several hours of lazing around in the shade and minor goings on far too yawn-inducing to recount):
(ready with the accent again) 12.45 p.m. - Pickford and Gemini are in the garden. Gemini hasn't growled at anyone for one hour and twenty two minutes. Beau is in the kitchen, miaowing. He hasn't eaten for four hours and seven minutes.
(Beau: 'Mriaaaaaooowwl!'.) (Later, after lunch and yet more hours of lazing about and rampant inactivity, nothing to write home about):
(accent time, here we go) 3.36 p.m. - Beau and Gemini are at opposite ends of the Dangerous Sofa. They have been asleep for the last twenty seven minutes. Pickford is on next door's compost bin, watching the birds on the feeder.
(nothing much happens for the next couple of hours apart from a seagull landing in the garden, and Beau coming out to 'do the necessary' under the Big Bush, so nothing that would make good telly):
(you're getting good with that accent now!) 5.45 p.m. - Gemini and Beau are in the kitchen. Pickford is outside looking in through the catflap. Gemini has finished off Beau's special biscuits and Beau is miaowing.
(Beau: 'Mriaaaaaooowwl!'.) (After tea, and several hours of studious and dedicated yawning and snoring practise):
(OK one more time with the accent) 10.35 p.m. - Pickford is in the living area. He has been playing with his catnip mouse for the last four and a half minutes. Gemini is on the sofa watching him. Beau is in the kitchen, miaowing. He hasn't eaten for four hours and forty five minutes.
(Beau: 'Mriaaaaaooowwl!'.) (This time Beau is disappointed, gives up, goes back to yawning and snoring):
(last time, promise) 11.15 p.m. - The folks have gathered the house-cats in the kitchen for today's task: Eating supper from the bowls provided, without spilling any on the floor, and without stealing bits from each others' bowls. If they succeed, they will be rewarded with coley fish on Sunday.
Gemini: What on earth sort of diary is this? Was this your doing Beau? Was it?
Colonel Beau: Hrrrmph! No not me old girl, seems a most curious effort. I can't imagine who might've...
Gemini and Colonel Beau together: "Piiiiickfooord!!!!!"
Thursday 13th July - by Pickford
The Colonel's gone bonkers, I'm sure of it. I've never seen him like this - he's doing all this really un-Colonel-like stuff, like whacking and chasing my catnip mouse round the living room, then just stopping mid-chase, boiinngg-ing up in the air and running off behind the sofa. Then he comes whizzing out the other end, pounces on the rug and skids along the floor like a kitten! A blinking great huge kitten, but definitely a kitten. It's all happened since he came back from the vets last week after having a couple of teeth out. I don't get it. When I had some teeth out last year I didn't go all bonkers, in fact I went all grumpy. I remember it well 'cos I'm not normally grumpy, but my mouth hurt and I felt horrid, and I certainly didn't want to go whizzing round sofas and skidding about. And he's supposed to have dodgy kidneys too, load of old rubbish if you ask me. He looks better now than he ever has. I reckon he made that kidney stuff up just to get this special new food he's on. I wouldn't put it past him, he's a crafty old codger. The really strange thing is that he's started kipping on the sofa - the dangerous sofa - Gemini's sofa! The same sofa that he warned me never to go on (but I do), but he's never kipped on it before, and now he's up there all the time, like it was normal! It's like the old Beau went off to the vets and a new Beau came back wearing his fur! I know it is him really, but he's acting like a five-years-younger Beau. Crumbs. Maybe that's what a second kittenhood's like. All very well for him but pretty scary for the rest of us. He's still my mate though, whoever he is. He let me sleep on his Seagull Blanky today - look!
Wednesday 12th July - by Gemini
Pickford might be a cheeky young whipper-snapper who gets too big for his belly sometimes, but he's always up for a game, I'll give him that. I hadn't played the Curtain Game with anyone since George went to the Bridge, and I didn't really mean to play it today, but it just sort of happened. Oh, you know the Curtain Game, it's that one where you have one cat behind the curtain (by the window) and one cat in front, and the one in front has to guess where the one behind is and 'box' the curtain at the spot you think they are. Then if you get it wrong (or even if you get it right) the one behind has to 'box' the curtain back. Well Pickford went behind the curtain by my sunbathing window tonight, and well I just had to play - he'd left the end of his tail sticking out! I knew exactly where to make the first 'box', tails are a dead giveaway. So I got him through the curtain, right on target. Now any smart cat who knew my reputation and who didn't want any trouble, would just have let me win and would have sneaked out from behind the curtain while the going was good, but not our Pickford. He's fearless he is, well, either fearless or completely daft. He went and 'boxed' right back, missed me of course, I was ready for him. What he doesn't know is that I was Curtain Boxing champion three times in a row back in 2003! Come on Pickford, have a go if you think you're hard enough!
Tuesday 11th July - by Colonel Beau
Dashed good things these pills I'm on, what with those and my 'special' diet I'm feeling decidedly chipper these days! Gemini's rather lighthearted description of me becoming a 'Bouncy Beau' isn't too far off the mark if I'm honest. I felt chipper enough to climb up the unclimbeable tree earlier on today (haven't tackled that blighter since last summer), and chipper enough to jump up on the living room windowsill this evening (on the outside), thumping my ample frame rather soundly against the window and scaring the life out of our trustees, who were having a meeting (on the inside) at the time. It's particularly gratifying because I've never attempted that particular windowsill before, and neither, I gather, has the Lady Gemini or Private Pickford. So not only have I once again proved the impossible to be entirely possible, but I've also proved that Yours Truly is not yet over the hill, or 'past it' or indeed ready to be put out to pasture. Furthermore I've proved that our trustees are far too easily startled and should jolly well pull themselves together! (no wonder none of them are Colonels). I'm afraid my newly discovered vitality has it's downside though - not for me, but for the calico cat from a few doors down. Now, had he decided to invade the decking area on next door's parade ground this time last week, I'd have most likely just given him a little verbal ticking off from the safety of the fence, or called in Private Pickford to do the honours, but this morning, well I just felt like I should do something, challenge him head-on, forward into battle and all that... tally ho! The folks heard our combat cries and came rushing out like the cavalry - too late though chaps, much too late! The formidable Colonel Beau, just like the old days, out on the frontline. Less than a minute it took, and I'd won the battle, and the war, and seen the enemy off back over the fence! They were far too slow too get a photo of my finest hour though, so I thought I'd show me on my new favourite blanket, (it's just been washed, on account of having a seagull wrapped in it last weekend.) Toodle Pip!
Monday 10th July - by Pickford
Crumbs! Guess what... I'm Highly Recommended I am. Highly Recommended Pickford, that's me. Who'd have thought, little old me, now with two rosettes to my name. Oh yes, that's right, two rosettes, like as in winning ones! The folks did another one of their 'stall' things yesterday and there was another Catless Cat Show, like last weeks, only bigger. This one had loads of entries, and I was up against hundreds of others... well, dozens anyway. Now last week I came second to the Scalextric cat which was fair enough, but I didn't expect to get anything this week, so being Highly Recommended...
Gemini: Ahem, Pickford... it's actually Highly Commended, not Recommended. Your rosette was for being Highly Commended after the first three winners.
Pickford: Oh, OK. I see. Does that mean I was fourth then?
Gemini: Err, well, um, In a way, I suppose it does sort of mean fourth.
Pickford: Well why don't they just call it Fourth Place then?
Gemini: (thinks: he's got a good point there), You've got a good point there. Although, maybe... maybe if they called it fourth place then they'd have to give a Highly Commended to the fifth place, and then someone like you would say 'why don't they just call that fifth place' and then they'd have to make a Highly Commended for sixth place, and...
Pickford: Yeah, yeah, I get the picture! (crikey this competition lark is complicated).
Anyway, I reckon 'the boy done good' as they say, 'cos Gemini and the Colonel (Sir) didn't win anything this time, only me! That sort of made up for losing my tick today. I've had my tick for a little while now, he's been stuck sort of low down on my chest almost between my front legs, so only I knew he was there. My secret little friend, funny thing he was, but I'd got quite attached to him (and vice versa). Well one of the folks found him today when they were rubbing my belly (I like that), and now they've taken him away. Don't know where he's gone, or if I'll ever see him again. ('Bye bye matey, nice knowing you'). There - I bet you never thought you'd feel sorry for a tick, did you?
The Weekened - by Colonel Beau
I know I moaned rather about being deprived of my supper last Wednesday and about not having been allowed breakfast on Thursday either, and about the indignity of being trooped off to the vets without any notice, but I didn't think it merited a call to the RSPCA for suspected neglect! I was fairly horrified on Saturday to witness the arrival of an RSPCA van pulling into our drive, and one of these uniformed inspector-types getting out. Had I really been that forthright in my complaints of food deprivation? I was more than a little concerned I don't mind admitting, I thought they might have come to 'rescue' me from my plight! Even being a Colonel, I didn't fancy my chances of trying to explain that I don't need rescuing, and I haven't actually got a plight. My concerns were nothing to that of Private Pickford though, poor laddie. He'd convinced himself that the folks didn't really want him for ever after all, and that they'd come to collect him and take him off to goodness knows where. We'd both prepared ourselves to make our Great Escape across into next door's parade ground if they made any moves towards us, but the inspector-type entered into brief talks with the folks, and then... they all trooped off into the garage! My concerns gave way to curiosity then, I mean what could they possibly want in our garage? The only animals in there are spiders, and personally I think the chances of them coming out in response to allegations of spider neglect are somewhat slim. And in any case, our spiders are pretty healthy from what I've seen (and eaten). And then I remembered the box... yes, that's it... I'd seen the folks carrying a large computer box in there earlier! At the time I'd quite naturally assumed there might be a large computer inside, but it turns out it did in fact contain a large seagull. A seagull with a broken wing to be precise. How our folks got him into the box will I suspect, remain a mystery, but probably just as well for him that they did. So, the seagull went off with the inspector-type and I made a mental note not to complain so loudly in future about any disruption in my meal schedule - just in case!
Friday 7th July - by Gemini
Strangely, Beau seems to have done pretty well out of his vets visit yesterday. He might have lost half a day and two teeth, but he's gained a posh new (very tasty) diet, and a bit of a renewed spring in his step. When I say diet, I don't mean a losing weight diet, it's a keep-your-kidneys-healthy diet. Apparently the vet found out that his kidneys aren't exactly up to scratch, and this new stuff's supposed to help them along a bit. I gather they were told this diet would mean we'd 'get a few good years out of him yet' - honestly, it makes him sound like an old car! Anyway, as for the new spring in his step, it might be due to the pills he's taking following his dental, or it might be the scrape and polish he had on his remaining teeth, or maybe it's this new food, but he's been very um... bouncy since he got back. Worryingly bouncy in fact. I've had to box his ears a couple of times already when he's got too bouncy near me (I'm sorry, dodgy kidneys do not entitle him to go taking liberties!). Me and Pickford were allowed a little sample of the Colonel's special food and it's pretty yummy stuff. Specially made for the Senior cat who's still active it says, yeah well, I just hope it doesn't make Beau too active for his own good that's all. I decided to leave our new Bouncy-Beau to it this afternoon and nipped off over the fence to see if the grass might really be greener on the other side. It wasn't as it goes, but that's only because the people over the fence mow their lawn more often than our folks. Here's me coming back from being a still active Senior cat (but definitely not as Senior as Beau)!
Thursday 6th July - by Colonel Beau
It's alright, I'm here! Everything's fine now, no need to panic, Colonel's back at base! I have to say that was a most curious day and no mistake. No idea what happened really, I seem to have lost half a day somewhere along the line, not like me at all. I clearly remember being deprived of my breakfast, and being whisked off to the vets again. I distinctly recall every detail of having a larger-than-necessary parch of grade-A Colonel fur shaved off from my neck, and then... well, it's all a most curious blur after that. Try as I might I simply can't recall what happened next. I know the old memory's not what it was, but it doesn't normally forget whole chunks of days at once, bally worrying really. In particular I can't understand how I could have voluntarily slept right through lunch, having not had my supper rations last night or breakfast this morning, but that appears to be precisely what happened. I remember waking up in one of those jolly cage affairs, and shortly after being whisked back here to base, only to find it was already nearly teatime! Now I know I was supposed to be there having my molar region inspected, and I also know that I now have two fewer teeth than I had this morning, but quite how or when this happened eludes me totally. One thing I won't be forgetting is the good solid advice the vet gave to our folks - I must henceforth be on a 'special diet'. Yes, there, you see! Special diet, just for Colonels no doubt. Of course I've deserved a special diet for ages, still better late than never (I hope special means chicken every day). Hang on... I've just realised... I hadn't signed any release papers for those teeth - they could be charged with desertion!
Wednesday 5th July - by Gemini
If Beau thought the folks were sneaky the other day whisking him off to the vets all unexpected, well, he should have seen how sneaky they were today. Only he couldn't see, because he was outside the catflap which had been very carefully and quietly blocked up with the swing bin so he couldn't see in, and more importantly, he couldn't get in either. Why, you may wonder, would they want to lock the Colonel out? Well it was only temporary while they gave me and Pickford some early-ish supper, which Beau wasn't allowed to have, on account of his trip to the vets tomorrow. I don't know what it is about having dentals, but I do know it means no food after 6 o'clock the night before. I thought Beau would have remembered that from when Pickford had all is best teeth out, but his memory's not what it was, as he is so fond of telling us (usually when he doesn't want to do something, and pretends his memory forgot). So... back to the sneaky-feeding, they even turned the radio up loud so he didn't hear Pickford eating (when Pickford eats you know all about it). Then, when we'd finished, they quiety un-blocked the catflap and washed our bowls so as not to leave any evidence of the secret extra meal, how super-sneaky is that? It was all done so surreptitiously that Beau wasn't even aware he'd been locked out, but he was certainly aware later when he was locked in for the night. Oh dear. Poor old soldier. No night patrol for him today. No supper and no night patrol. Goodness me, I'd better pull myself together, or I'll start feeling sorry for him next!
Tuesday 4th July - by Pickford
Ha! Haha! Now I know what frogs are for! I didn't get it before, but Gemini kept saying "wait for the summer" and "you'll see". Well I did wait for the summer (not much choice really), and now I do see - loads of tiny frogs - absolutely everywhere! (well not indoors) But they're all in the grass and the weed borders, and under the bushes and everywhere! I dunno how they know to be frogs all at once, but somehow they did. One day they were all squirmy little blobs in the pond, next thing you now... bish-bosh, how's-your-father, "Hello, we're frogs!", just like that. I've never had frogs to play with before, but they're great fun. Specially these new weeny ones, they don't half jump high too. I spent ages this afternoon going round the garden dabbing the grass with my paw and watching them jump. Sometimes you don't know they're there and they take you by surprise. I like that. It's like lucky-dip-tiddley-winks (I think I might call it froggley-winks, what do you think?). Anyway, Gemini reckons if you aim right you can herd them over to the pond and make them go 'plop', back in the water, but I haven't got that good yet. Well I'm new to this, I need to pratise a bit, well a lot actually. Mind you, I made one of them hop straight into the garden bucket, and the folks had to go and fish him out, does that count?
Monday 3rd July - by Colonel Beau
I say, these bally humans have no respect sometimes. No respect whatsoever, and bad timing too - preposterous state of affairs! Today was all going along quite nicely thank you to begin with. I'd granted myself a leave of absence this morning (you can do that when you're a Colonel), and had a jolly good stretch out on the bench, taking in a little sun, as one does. Then we all had a super luncheon of coley fish - and a couple of prawns each too (unofficial, off-the-record prawns too, the best sort!). But, I'm afraid the day went rapidly downhill thereafter. I'd just completed phase one of my after-lunch nap when I was whisked up into one of the old transporters, bundled (yes bundled, there's no other word for it), into a vehicle, and off-to-the-vets-we-go. No warning, no polite request, no memo, nothing, just whisked away I was like, well, like some common rank-and-file chappie. It isn't right you know, not right at all, me an officer and a gentleman and everything. Hrrmph! And the trauma doesn't end there, oh no, not by a long chalk. The usual prodding and poking ensued, but then they got to the point of the exercise, which was to carry out a detailed inspection of Your's Truly's molar region. Now I'll admit I haven't got the most fragrant breath in the world, but being a lady vet, you'd have thought she'd have been a tad more diplomatic than "Oh gosh, yes, it does stink, doesn't it?". Mind you, it was the dribble that really gave me away. Seems the folks have been monitoring the quality and quantity of my dribble for a few days now, and had decided that something was up. And, as it turns out, it was. So, two injections and a substantial bill later, it was declared that I must go back on Thursday for a 'dental'. I just hope they don't take out all my best teeth like they did with Private Pickford, I shall be most purturbed. They've got long service medals those teeth!
The Weekend - by Pickford
Crumbs it's been hot. Hotter than the normal sort of hot too. Still I don't care, living here I can slob out in the shade all day if I want and not move a whisker 'til grub time. Colonel Beau (Sir) says if t's too hot to do anything productive it's best to do nothing at all. Smart bloke that, s'pose that's why he's a Colonel. I did make an effort on Saturday morning though, well this really nice lady came round first thing, now I'd never met her before (I hadn't found my brave head the last time she came), but I let her stoke me straight off, no messing, and she seemed as chuffed as me too! (I have my brave head on a lot these days).
No, hold on... Stop, stop, stop! I can't wait any longer. No-one wants to read about this stuff, I know they don't, they want to find out if any of us came anywhere in the Catless Cat Show, that's what. I should say first that the Colonel got 3rd place in the 'Veterans' class (that means there were two better looking old codgers, sorry veterans, than him, still not bad. Gemini only got a 'special' award in the 'Unusual Habitat' class, which means she didn't really win, (it's like a runner-up, but don't tell her), but what about me, Pickford? Well guess what, little old me got 2nd place (yup, second) in the 'Favourite Toy' class (with my Wiggly Waggler). Who'd have thought it - last year scraggy, scrawny stray cat, this year second-prize winning, puss-mog with a fabulous belly and a rosette to my name! I've never won anything before. Can I show my rosette? Can I? Fantastic! I heard from the folks that the winner was a cat playing with a Scalextric set. Well you can't compete with that, can you? Second eh? What a thing! I reckon that's why we got fish on Sunday.
Gemini: That's really good Pickford, well done! How many entrants were there?
Pickford: Entrants? Oh, well, you know, it wasn't a big event or anything. There were... about ummm, goodness let me think, err... OK I can't lie, there were only two entrants. But that's not important, I still won. And I'd have come first if it hadn't been for the Scalextric cat!
