The Cats' Diary Archive

Tuesday 31st October - by Pickford
Was it firework night again last night? Nah I didn't think so. I wish people would stop all this practising for firework night, and just have it on the night. I like to go on my Moochabout in the evening, but I don't fancy it when it's all noisy out. I'm not scared of the noises, it's not that, it's just that evening Moochabouts are only good when it's quiet. Half the fun is hearing noises like frogs and leaves and hedgehogs and stuff, bangs and whizzes aren't any fun at all, they just get in the way! Tell you what was fun though, this morning, that was great that was. I took another step in my career as 'Pickford the Brave' - I went up on the office windowsill. Now just saying it like that doesn't sound very exciting, but even though certain other cats go up there all the time, I've always thought it was a bit scary up on that one, dunno why. Anyway, it's all different now since the noisy workmen came last week. They bashed the old window out and filled the hole in with a different window (one that opens sideways) so I went up to have a nosey. It wasn't open very much, but I could just about stick my nose in the gap and smell the outside. I know I can smell the outside when I'm outside, but it's all new being able to smell it from there. It was sunny too, and it was all warm on that windowsill, so d'you know what I did - I only laid down and went to kip on it! Honest I did - first time ever! Oh, yeah and just for the record, it really wasn't me who knocked the rescued pot plant off again either. Gemini knocked it off last time (well her tail did I think), but even she's denying all knowledge this time. I didn't see it happen but Colonel Beau (Sir) was suspiciously unavailable for comment!

Monday 30th October - by Gemini
Well well well, who'd have thought it. Rabbit Man has got himself a cat! After all this time of just being Rabbit Man he has finally given in to the irresistible charms of the feline species and become Cat-and-Rabbit Man. Luckily he spoke to our folks first and has given a home to a rescued cat - well, a rescued kitten in fact. I haven't actually met him yet, but I've pretty much got the measure of him through the smells brought back on our folks' jeans after they went over to meet our new furry neighbour. Smells on jeans are very accurate generally, so I'd say he was around five or six months old, confident, keen, friendly and neutered. Can't tell the colour yet though, smells-on-jeans identify most things but not fur colour. I'll have to wait a couple of weeks until he's allowed outside to find that out. How exciting! A new kitten on the block! I'm glad it's another boy though, that means I can easily boss him around like I do Beau and Pickford (and any other boy cats who happen to get in my way). It also means that I keep my crown of Top Cat in our road, you can't have a boy cat being Top Cat. Although saying that, the late, great Marmaduke used to be Top Cat of our road until he went to Rainbow Bridge, so there are execeptions for exceptional cats. But no little six-month-old whipper-snapper is going to challenge me that's for sure! I hope he's not white, white cats are all so noisy! Oh well, no point speculating, watch this space!

The Weekend - by Pickford
Crumbs! Thank goodness that's all over. The noisy workmen didn't come at the weekend, which I was really glad about. D'you know I couldn't get on my fluffy bed-by-the-airing cupboard for two whole days while they were here. I didn't half miss it too, I mean I still went on there in the night, but I missed it in the day. Just as well it was sunny. Anyway, I don't think they'll be back, they've filled in all the holes they made, so that's got to be job done hasn't it? The biggest hole was where they took the back door off, that was scary that was. I like my house, and it's always had a door, so it's a bit freaky when it's only got a big hole in the wall instead. They filled the hole up with another door in the end, which was just making work for themselves, I mean there was a door there in the first place until they came and took it off! So this weekend we've all been trying out the new catflap. Well, when I say all, I mean me and Gemini and Colonel Beau (Sir), not the folks. Luckily the Colonel does fit through it... just about. Hell have to watch it though, he'd better not go putting on any weight, it'd only take a couple more ounces and he'd be in trouble (I'd better not tell him that though). Gemini's really funny when she goes out through it, she gets halfway and just stands there for a bit while she works out how to get the second half out. I know why, it's because it's lower to the ground than the old one - the old one had a big drop on the outside so you could sort of pop your front half through and gravity would just make you plop down the other side, but with this one you have to keep on walking. Me, I'm having no trouble at all. Back when I was a stray I snuck through so many different cat flaps to steal food I learnt to do Anyflap, Anytime, Anywhere! If that catflap was up the top of the door I'd still get through it!

Friday 27th October - by whoever happens to be around
10am - Pickford: Oh crumbs no! The workmen are back, banging around and drilling again - I'm off, see ya!
12 noon - Gemini: If yesterday was strange, today was even stranger. Not only have we now lost our catflap - we currently have no door either!
2pm - Beau: Never mind the gaping hole where our back door used to be, the priority right now is... where's my dinner?
2.30pm - Pickford: OK so the drilling's stopped, the banging's stopped... is it safe to go back?... (peers round the drainpipe) uh-oh, nope - scary workmen! I'm off, see ya!
3.15pm - Gemini: Oh I say, that's smart! We now have a new back door, but that's not the smart bit, that's just a door, no, the smart bit is our new cat flap! Now I know what all the measuring was about a few weeks ago. Oh yes, I like this, it's all sort of space age! Different shape to the old one, the old one was just square but this is all smooth and rounded and elegent - just like me in fact! And it has sweet little paw-prints on the plastic (Beau's not going to like those, that surely can't be regulation issue). Actually, now I come to look closely at this wonderful new flap of ours, a question comes to mind. I wonder if...? Hmmm... It seems to be as deep as the old one, but... what with the bottom curved like that... there's not quite so much width there, and I don't know, I just don't know... I'm genuinely wondering if Beau will be able to fit through it?
Beau: Hullo old girl, what's going on then eh? Thought I just heard my name mentioned - nothing serious I hope..?
Gemini: Well, err, no, nothing serious Beau, don't worry. Just umm, admiring the new door... that's all. (Thinks: oh well, paws crossed. This could be entertaining. I've never seen a cat stuck in a cat-flap before.)

Late Wednesday and part way through Thursday - by Gemini
Dustsheets, dustsheets, dustsheets! I rather like dustsheets, I mean it's somewhere new to sit, isn't it? I think I look rather good on a dustsheet. Trouble was, I didn't get to stay there for very long, not after the workmen arrived. Prticularly noisy workmen they were too, banging, drilling and bashing things about. I couldn't enjoy my dustsheet with all that going on, so I left them to it . Pickford left them to it too, and spent all morning on next door's compost bin. Beau's still put out because no-one sent him a memo. Last I saw there was a gaping hole in the office wall where the window used to be. I hope they're going to put it back, (it'll be jolly cold in the winter if they don't!). All in all it's been a very strange day, and judging by the dustsheets still draped around the place, my guess is that it's going to be an equally strange day tomorrow. I do hope we are back to normal by the weekend!

Wednesday 25th October - by Colonel Beau
Goodness gracious, why wasn't I warned about this? I don't recall getting a memo. It's quite preposterous! How am I supposed to run a regiment if I'm not told about things like this? I must investigate this fully before I can make a report, it's all highly suspicious. I can't even begin to guess what it's all leading up to, but it's leading up to something I have no doubt. I shall hope to post more tomorrow. That's if I'm allowed in the office, it's out of bounds this evening. And the sheets - everything has sheets on! No-one has tried to put a sheet on me yet, but judging by what's going on at the moment I shouldn't be at all surprised if they do sooner or later. Hrrmph!

Tuesday 24th October - by Gemini
No, listen.... honestly, it's not what it looks like! I don't want anyone to think me and Pickford are getting, you know... buddy-buddy or anything, it's just, well I just happened to fancy a little rest on that bit of floor, that's all. It's not my fault if that bit of floor was right beside Pickford's favourite fluffy-bed-by-the-airing-cupboard. He was mostly snoring anyway, he didn't know I was there, I'm sure of it. He's fascinating to watch though, all those little twitches he does. Twitchy whiskers, twitchy paws and a twitchy end-of-tail too. I'd guess he chases far more mice and birds in his sleep than he does in real life. George used to chase dream mice a lot, mind you he'd chase just as many in real life too (and catch them and eat them). Pickford doesn't do that much, he mostly makes do with the dream ones. Anyway, just because I like to watch him a lot doesn't mean I like him a lot, there's a big difference. I don't need to like him a lot, the folks take care of that bit. I suppose I must like him a little bit, and I am happy for him to be here, and that's good enough for both of us. We don't need to be mates. Pickford would agree with that. It's a cat thing!

Monday 23rd October - by Colonel Beau
Ah yes, here we go, I should like to declare that this year's autumn 'Shoelace Combat Season' has officially begun. I was first to take up the challenge naturally, setting a good example for the troops and all that. Not much call for shoelace sessions through the summer of course, too much action going on out in the field as it were, no, this is strictly an autumn and winter exercise. Bally good fun too, I'd quite forgotten how much I enjoy it. I'm jolly good at it too, right on target nearly every time, giving it the old one-two (and even the old two-three when the back legs join in). I particularly like the bit when I've got the enemy shoelace between my teeth and a good section of enemy duvet held captive by the claws of all four of my highly trained and lethal paws, and then I'm suddenly plunged into a darkness that would chill any lesser cat to the marrow and strike fear into the heart of even the most rufty-tufty kitten. A darkness so complete that I need all the strength and character I posess to stay calm, all my powers of nocturnal navigation to carry on and all my wit and cunning to emerge victorious. The sort of total darkness in fact, that can only be created by having the other half of the duvet folded over your head. Yes, that's my favourite bit that is! I'm fearless in the face of fear I am. Casual but cunning, laid back but lethal, that's me. Enemy shoelaces should be afraid... be very afraid!

The Weekend - by Pickford
D'you know I'm getting to be a right wuss these days. A bit of rain never used to bother me when I was a stray, but now I'm sitting there looking out and going 'Naah! I'll wait til it stops raining thanks', now when did I start doing that eh? I s'pose it's just like if you're not deperate, then why get wet? I could use the litter tray at a push, but that'd be really wussy and I'd rather get wet to be honest. It rained a lot this weekend, so I did a lot of looking out and going 'Naah!' and sneaking back up to my fluffy bed by the airing cupboard. I'm still sleeping there, even though I could go back on my Coca Cola towel if I wanted. The folks must be really lonely at night these days, I haven't slept on their bed for ages now. I used to sleep there loads, and Colonel Beau would go on there sometimes too, but lately I've just been on my new fluffy bed, the Colonel's been on his Winter Blanky and Gemini as usual, is on the ex-dangerous sofa. Crumbs, I just thought - maybe I should get back up there, or they might get another cat! Now here's a scary thing - Rabbit Man came over on Sunday and he's going to get a cat! How can he get a cat? I mean he's... well, he's Rabbit Man, that wouldn't work surely? Anyway our folks were telling him where to go to rescue one, so that's good I suppose, but it still means we'll have a new cat neighbour soon. That'll be weird, I won't be the 'new cat on the block' anymore. I know one thing, I'll have to get in there quick and warn him (or her) about Gemini!

Friday 20th October - by Colonel Beau
I must say I had to chuckle at Pickford's assumption that my upside-down episodes are merely an exercise in being fussed! Of course that's just how I've made it look to the human members of the regiment, as the best way to get them to repeat the proceedure. What I've actually been doing is carrying out a series of highly advanced experiments on the effects of height perception and reverse-gravity on the feline body (and the only sure fire way to reverse gravity is of course to turn your back to it). The folks don't realise this of course, they unwittingly assist my research by thinking I just enjoy being picked up, turned over and fussed on the belly! What a preposterous thought - I mean any old cat could do that! I'm only in the preliminary stages of my investigations, so I shall have to endure many more of these sessions before I can put my report together, but I can take it, I'm made of stern stuff. Yes, the sternest of the stern. A whole solid stone of stern stuff in fact. There you see Pickford old boy, not everything is as it seems, eh? All that glisters is, er... all that's gold isn't, umm... well, hrrmph, it just isn't that's all. I have already discovered one curious side effect of my research though - the more experiments I carry out the more I find I rather enjoy it. Reverse gravity can be quite agreeable when it's accompanied by a professional belly-rub!

Thursday 19th October - by Gemini
Moi? Oh no, no, absolutely not, I have no idea how that happened, none at all. I was merely doing a little creative hole-making job on the net curtains, whilst enhancing the windowsill with my natural tabby gorgeousness. How could I possibly be responsible for that pot plant flinging itself off the other end of the windowsill like a lemming off a cliff? I suppose there's an outside chance that my tail might have accidentally brushed it lightly on my way past, but if that's all it took for plant, earth, pot and saucer to go plummeting to the ground, then they should've put blu-tac on the bottom like normal people do! In any case, what's the point of having a pot plant on one of my windowsills anyway? I mean, let's face it, it's never going to compete with me for aesthetic beauty, and even more to the point, it might be on a bit that I want to sit on, and that wouldn't do at all. The excuse is that apparently, this plant is a 'rescued' plant that wasn't wanted, and so we've taken it in and given it a good home, (well it was a good home until it fell off the windowsill). Rescued plants, honestly, I've heard it all now.

Wednesday 18th October - by Pickford
Now I know Colonel Beau (Sir) is my mate and he cares about me, but I do wish he'd stop going on about me having trouble getting down stairs. I'm fine, honest I am! I can get on next door's compost bin, so I must be fine. He worries too much, he does. I've had worse. If I end up at the vet, it'll be all his fault, well, that and whatever it is did my leg in in the first place. Anyway, I think he should be more bothered about himself, not me, he's been doing something really odd lately. I'm sure it's not normal, not for a Colonel anyway. Aren't Colonels supposed to be all dignified and set good examples and stuff? Well this isn't dignified, and I dunno what to think really, but he's been letting himself get fussed upside down. And not while he's on a chair or something either, no this is up in the air! I couldn't believe it first time I saw it, our human of the female variety right, she picks him up and fusses him the right way up at first - well that's about as much as I allow (and even then only for a minute... or less), but that's not the half of it. No, get this - he lets himself get turned over, like on his back and fussed the wrong way up, and stilll up in the air. She even tickled his belly, I mean that can't be right can it, tickling a Colonel's belly? He seems to love it though, his head flops over to one side, sometimes his tongue sticks out, and he's purring like a good 'un. If he doesn't watch out, they'll get a photo of him like that one day and then his street cred will be right out the window. I'd never let that happen to me, uh-huh, no way, no how, not my belly, not upside down and certainly not in the air! I asked Gemini if she'd ever do that, well her look said it all. Good, I thought not somehow. It's not normal though is it? I hope there's a cure!

Tuesday 17th Ocrtober - by Colonel Beau
Being a Colonel with a long and distinguished career, and with vast experience of... well, of knowing what's what, I can naturally tell what's good for me at any given moment, and therefore, what's not. So when the folks thought I might like some 'regular' food (albeit the Senior variety) as an occasional diversion from my Special CWDK (Cats With Dodgy Kidneys) Diet, I wasted no time in putting them straight. It might have been served at precisely thirteen hundred hours (as per my strict instructions) and I might have been bally hungry (not having eaten since O-nine hundred hours) but I'm sorry, I don't eat that anymore! I can smell kidney-friendly food at 100 paces, and this simply wasn't it. It's all very well for the Geminis and Pickfords of this world (yes, even young laddie Pickford is classed as 'senior', since he attained the grand old age of eight) but my needs are most particular these days. I, of course, stood my ground until these frankly second rate and wholly sub-standard rations were replaced with my proper food. Hrrmph! I should jolly well think so too. I have to say I am still a tad concerned about Private Pickford and his back-leg-issue. He's much improved since last weekend it's true, but he's still taking it dashed cautiously when coming in a downstairs direction (one stair at a time - not like him at all). I shouldn't be at all surprised if he doesn't find himself in a down-the-vets direction before too long. He can't claim that one as an old war wound either - not like my broken jaw... did I ever mention that?

Monday 16th October - by Gemini
Since Pickford began his love affair with his new fluffy bed by the airing cupboard the whole dynamic of our upstairs landing has changed. Some people might not even know landings have a dynamic but they do, very important ones, well important for cats anyway, (I don't know how it works in bungalows, their dynamics must be in different places). Now up until Friday mine was the only bed on the landing (under the radiator naturally) and now it's not. Up until Friday if Pickford or Beau wanted to get from the stairs to one of the bedrooms or vice versa, they'd have to pass by me and take my 'who goes there - friend or foe?' challenge, but it's all different now. Pickford's new bed (and therefore also Pickford, for approximately 21 out of 24 hours a day) is nearer the top of the stairs than my bed so he doesn't have to take my challenge to get to his bed anymore. And if Beau wants to get to his upstairs quarters, now he has to pass both of us - potentially two 'who goes there?' challenges. I say potentially, because Pickford isn't playing the game yet, he sees Beau and he just lets him past with no bother - where's the fun in that? And now - get this - I have to get past Pickford to get to my bed, now what's that all about? I tell you what's strange though, I rather like having him there! I know, curious isn't it, don't understand it myself, but Pickford's little snores from round the corner are nicely soothing and reassuring somehow. I'm sure he'd say the same about me. If I snored. Which I don't. No, not me. Despite what Beau says, but he's wrong. I couldn't possibly snore. I'm Gemini!

The Weekend - by Pickford
I didn't like Friday. It was Friday the thirteenth, and I didn't like it one little bit. I don't like feeling not-quite-Pickford, I don't like being grumpy and I don't like it when my leg hurts, and Friday (and some of Saturday) all of those things happened at once! I dunno how I did it really, I mean I jumped up the big fences like I normally do, and down the same big fences, and up over the big walls I always go over, but which one did it I don't know. All I know is suddenly my leg hurt (the back one on the right) and I couldn't get up on the bed like normal, and when I wanted to do a back-leg-scratch on that side I couldn't 'cos it hurt. I even growled at the folks, which I never do (that's when I noticed I was being grumpy) so they knew something was up too. I didn't want any supper either, that's when I knew I was feeling not-quite-Pickford. Well, I couldn't get on the bed (far too high), and I couldn't even get on my towel (half as high as the bed but still too high when your leg hurts), so I had to stay on the floor. Anyway, the folks put this fleecy bed thing down for me so I could kip on that - yeah, that's it in the photo, nice isn't it? No! No - hold on! I don't want to write about that anymore, because my leg's not hurting (much) now, and I've stopped being grumpy, and I've had three meals today (Sunday) and went on next door's compost bin, so I want to say about that instead and not go on about when I was grumpy! I went on the bin this afternoon to watch the folks cutting the grass and stuff. It was great it was, you don't realise how good it is sitting on a compost bin until one day you suddenly can't do it. That's when I knew I was nearly back to being normal-Pickford. One thing about doing my leg in though, if I hadn't done that I wouldn't have got this fleecy-bed thing by the airing cupboard, and I love it - it's my new best place!

Friday 13th October - by Colonel Beau (on behalf of Pickford)
I have been asked to issue a statement on behalf of Private Pickford, who had volunteered to do the diary today, but has instead 'done his leg in' and is not feeling up to par. (I would have stepped in to the breach myself of course, except that I have been unavoidably detained by matters relating to my winter blanky (matters like which bit to snooze on next), matters of course, which can neither be interrupted or postponed). So Pickford's official statement is: "Go away, my leg hurts". So as at lights out tonight Private Pickford is feeling sorry for himself, being somewhat grumpy and refusing his supper rations. All the more for me then... err, what I mean is, um... hope you feel better soon old boy!

Thursday 12th October - by Gemini
I have to admit I was most impressed with Pickford catching that bird the other day. He doesn't normally bother catching stuff, didn't think he had it in him to be honest. I reckon that bird probably landed right in front of him by accident, or maybe it was asleep or something. I just can't imagine him running after it, or stalking and pouncing somehow, I mean the only thing I've ever seen him stalk and pounce is a shoelace! Still, lucky for that bird it was Pickford who got him, he wouldn't have flown away in the morning if he'd been caught by me or the Colonel that's for sure. Pickford might be the youngest of the three of us, but he has the least number of teeth - and certainly no sharp ones left. In fact, (and I don't wish to brag here), but the truth is that I, Gemini Cat, top tabby at Cat Chat Towers am the only memeber of this household (feline or human) who has all their own teeth! It's true, here I am, eleven and a bit, and I still have a full set - not bad eh? I can only put it down to my varied diet over the years, and I don't mean regular cat food either. I mean my taste for variety, like... well, like custard, or caramac chocolate. Then there's my liking for tiramisu, and banoffi pie, oh and not forgetting yoghurts (various), cheesy biscuits and chilli sauce, to name but a few. Here's a strange thought then... if Pickford had managed to get some custard and chilli sauce when he was a stray, that bird probaby wouldn't be alive today!
(And here's me helping out in the 'library'. All my teeth and brains too - I'm so lucky to be me!)

Wednesday 11th October - by Pickford (the Great Hunter)
Do people eat birds? I never thought about it before but now I think they must do. I caught this bird, see, yesterday - caught it and took it indoors for the folks. Well I thought about eating it myself, I mean it did look tasty and everything, only I haven't got any sharp teeth left, not after they took away my four best ones last Christmas. So anyway, I thought it would make a nice present, so I took it in the office and plopped it on the floor. Now I dunno if they normally do this when they get presents, but they picked me up, gave me a quick fussing and then shut me in the bedroom! Bit confusing that. So about five minutes later they came and let me out, and guess what - my bird had gone! I'm sure it couldn't have flown away, all the windows were shut, so I think they just must have eaten it. They must be really pleased with me, that was a nice big fat bird that was, not just a tiddly little sparrow. Gemini said a funny thing today though, she reckons this morning they still had my bird in a box and when they took it out it flew off into next door's tree! That can't be right. Why would they want to keep it in a box all night? Doesn't make sense. Nah, they ate it, I'm sure of it. She must be mistaken, or having one of her 'senior moments' (well she is 11). Shan't tell her that though, I've seen what she does to Colonel Beau's nose when he says something she doesn't like!

Tuesday 10th October - by Colonel Beau
Ah yes, that's more like it! It's been getting a tad chilly round the old whiskers in my upstairs quarters of late, what with the onset of autumn and all that. Now I do like to retire up there for my mid-morning and mid-afternoon naps (and sometimes for a mid-nap-nap too), and I find the quality of my naps just aren't as good when it's chilly. I'd put in a requisition for my 'winter blanky' a couple of weeks ago (thinking ahead you see, mark of a good Colonel), and it duly arrived at the weekend, and to my great pleasure has been installed in it's correct position, as per my specifications. My blanky has only been stationed in the airing cupboard all summer, so why it took the human troops two weeks to fulfil my order is no doubt a bafflement to the rest of humanity, but to Yours Truly I'm afraid it's simply par for the course. So Blanky (as it shall henceforth be known) has been fitted as asked, i.e. folded double, laid across the bottom third of the spare bed, at the end nearest the radiator (the radiator is not actually turned on yet, but I've filed a second requisition for that), with it's tassle-bits facing up the bed. The nearest end to the wall has been duly tucked down for stability as instructed, and the amount of overhang at the non-wall end is approximately six inches, give or take a milimetre. I remember when Blanky came out of storage last autumn, and they fitted it all wrong, I mean the tassles were facing the wrong way, and the back wasn't tucked down or anything - completely shoddy job it was. I soon put them straight though, and this year it's tickety boo from day one. I might appear something of a hard task master, but they'll thank me in the end. The Colonel knows best!

Monday 9th October - by Gemini
Oh come on, that wasn't my fault! I can't be blamed for such blatant incompetence on the part of a human, or indeed for the admirable sharpness of my claws, and in any case I was only trying to help out. Quite often, most days in fact, I jump up onto the office desk and offer my services. Walking across the keyboard, sitting on the mousemat, swatting the cursor on the screen, you now, just general admin stuff. I don't ask for payment either, no this is all voluntary (that's just the sort of marvellously generous cat I am). Anyway today, jumping up to do my bit for charity wasn't as straightforward as normal - there was an arm in the way. Heaven only knows why, but our human of the female variety wasn't exactly sitting at the desk like she normally does, but sort of kneeling to one side with her arm on the bit I jump on, and well... I jumped there anyway and because her arm was in the way I sort of jumped on that instead. Trouble was I couldn't get a proper grip, and slid back down again dragging my claws with me and dropping with a fairly undignified plop back on the floor (taking a few small but crucial shreds of human skin with me). It wasn't intentional of course, although I have to say that if I had intended to start the first experimental swirls of a cat-claw-tattoo on the nearest human arm I could have done a lot worse! I think I'm probably just naturally gifted. I don't know why humans make such a fuss really, it only took three bits of loo paper to stop the bleeding, so hardly serious! (and the carpet's red too, so who's going to notice?)

The Weekend - by Pickford
It's been a pretty alright weekend this. Nice and warm, not like it has been, so I didn't need to snuggle up on my towel all day. I've been mostly out on the patio, laying down between the weeds. There's loads of weeds on our patio, all coming up between the cracks. I like it that way, I can lay my belly across the warm concrete bit and still have my paws and tail on the green, weedy bits. Best of both worlds, see? The folks find it funny how I lay with my forelegs and paws stuck out in front of me, they say I look like a sphynx. I laid for ages like that this weekend, looking out at my garden, just you know, surveying. Now I was thinking, I don't reckon humans get the most out of their gardens. I mean, they can't really can they - well, not unless they get down on their bellies and look at it from grass level, and I don't see many of 'em doing that. Ours do it sometimes by the pond when it's really hot, but not normally, and they miss out on all the action! All the best bits go on down there - like dandelions. Dandelions are great up close, and ants, they're good too. Grass isn't bad either if there's a bit of a breeze, but not as good as dandelions and ants. If you lay there long enough you get other things come along, like... oh I dunno, loads of things, like... a fly, or a spider. So it's worth waiting to see what happens. Now in our garden, sometimes, like today one of the folks comes along thinking they'll get a picture of me studying our ants and dandelions and grass and stuff, but they have to be pretty quick. They might just get one picture before I spot the camera and go and give it a good headbutt. Cameras like a good headbutt. Makes the picture go wonky but that's not my problem. Oh there - look, that's how a camera sees a headbutt!

Friday 6th October..
... was left to it's own devices, but then it was a Friday! (and sometimes Friday's are like that)

Thursday 5th October - by Gemini
I don't know much about art, but I know what I like! Never has that been so true than when talking about my furball sculpture, it was a pure masterpiece in my opinion. The folks only discovered it today, smack-bang in the middle of the 'best rug' under the coffee table. Should have seen their faces when it was first discovered, they thought it was... well, you know, something rather more unsavoury, shall we say. My sculpture consisted of not one, but two perfectly formed and expertly ejected furballs, or more accurately, fur-torpedoes (think large slugs and you'll get the picture), one carefuly balanced on top of the other. I don't normally do two at a time, but I was feeling particularly creative that day. I've been admiring it sitting there proudly on that rug for the last couple of days, slowly drying out and solidifying into a permanent monument to my artistry. I can see it when I'm lying on the sofa (which I do quite a lot), but the folks only found it today by accident. Pickford was batting one of the catnip mice round the floor and had managed to bat it under the record cabinet, so the folks thought they'd find him another one (there's always one or two of the things lying around). Anyway, our human of the female variety spotted what she thought was a catnip mouse on the rug under the coffee table, so went to pick it up, and ... well, you can imagine. She did almost as good a squeal as the lady visitor we had the other week, who spotted one of our mice down by the telly and thought it was real. Now that was a squeal and a half! Heh heh heh!

Wednesday 4th October - by Colonel Beau
After all the technical shenanigans of the weekend, I was glad to get back to some of my more 'regular' duties, so I volunteered my services for a particularly tricky mission in the depths of the garage. An Internal Box Investigation no less, one of my specialities. The box in question was a tricky little blighter too, not your regulation issue square jobbie. All long and low it was, with the only entry point at the side (it tried to catch me out by laying the wrong way up, but Yours Truly isn't that easily fooled). I've carried out many an Internal Box Investigation in my long and distinguished career of course, but I have to admit there was a moment there where I thought even I might have to admit defeat getting inside. I soldiered on though, and after several attempts from different angles, I finally found it's weak point and made the final push into it's murky depths. And bally murky they were too, no doubt hiding many a dark secret. Polystyrene's a funny old do isn't it? Can't make the stuff out. No good if you get your claws stuck in it either, terrible business. The getting in was easy once I'd got my trajectory right and got past it's frankly inferior 'security seal', not so easy turning round in the jolly thing though, right old nuisance that was. And what was I confronted with when I finally turned to retreat? Cowbells. No, your eyes do not decieve you, that is indeed cowbells. Now what am I supposed to do about those, eh? I'm sure you need specialist training to deal with things like cowbells. Probably contravene health and safety rules too I shouldn't wonder. Cowbells in a garage, honestly, it's things like this that'll bring the whole regiment into disrepute!

Tuesday 3rd October - by Pickford
I've been sussed! It's all the rabbits fault too. For ages I've had my 'secret place' where I go in the Rabbit Man's garden, and only me, Colonel Beau (Sir) and the Rabbit Man know I go there. But because our folks are feeding the rabbits they came right past my secret place this morning and saw me! Now the whole world will know and it won't be secret any more. It was great too, that place. There's this tree, see, over by Rabbit Man's back wall and it's got all like dried grass stuff growing under it, sort of like straw or something. It's not straw but like that, anyway it's all round the bottom of this tree and I made a secret nest in it, but you can only see it from the Rabbit Man's house looking out, you can't see it from outside his garden looking in, if you see what I mean. So thanks to those rabbits, our folks were coming down the path from inside out, and sussed me. And even worse - they only came over, going "Oh Pickford, so that's where you go off to!", so anyone could hear, talk about blowing my cover! I might have to find a new secret place now. My Coca-cola towel isn't secret, but it is all mine, no one else goes on there. I go on there loads now the weather's getting colder. Now tonight I did something I haven't done for ages - I went on a lap! I thought I might have a little kip there, like you do, but I'd only been there a few minutes when Gemini came along and looked at me with her 'special look'. I got straight off and went on the Radio TImes instead. I'm not daft me, I know her 'I want that Lap' look anywhere and you don't argue with it. Anyway, I can do laps anytime I want. Maybe I'll try it again at Christmas.

Monday 2nd October - by Gemini
Oh goodness me, the folks are on rabbit feeding duty again. Rabbit Man over the road has entrusted his beloved bunnies to the care of our folks again. And oddly, they don't seem to mind, it's almost as if they might in some strange way, like the things! I don't get it, I mean what are rabbits for exactly? What do they do that's worthy of any note? It's not just the feeding of them either, they have to... well, they um... (I suggest you stop reading now if you are of a queasy disposition), they have to do poo-scooping too. Scooping rabbit poo - honestly, is that the sort of job any sane person would volunteer for? I think not. And I imagine the poo must be pretty awful (not that I've inspected it), because I found out today that rabbits eat the very worst food ever invented. Oh, no, sorry... I don't mean a Mackie D, fries and a gloopy milk shake (even rabbits aren't that silly), no I mean cabbage! Yes, and I do mean cabbage, as in the green, smelly leafy things that grow in the dirt. That's not real food, surely? That's, well, that's a weed, isn't it? I remember once the folks tried to get us to eat cat food with carrots and peas in. Yeah, right - not likely, thanks! (they didn't try that little stunt again). The folks might trick the Colonel into eating 'ham style' Quorn but they'll never get cat-food-with-vegetables past the tast-testers in this house!

The Weekend - by Gemini
The Colonel was right, it wasn't a straightforward exercise, and it certainly wasn't done in a day. In short, nothing went to plan withe the grand 'Moving Servers' plans. So much not to plan in fact, that it still wasn't all done even as at Sunday night. Problems with re-starting the homing pages, email all up in the air... and no forum yet. It's like I said to Pickford about the Cat Chat site being like a great big cat moving into it's new 'forever home'. Well - as at Sunday night it had sort of mostly moved in... but the tail and ears can't move in until Monday!
All this bother, honestly - is it any wonder I hid in a bag?

Friday 29th September - by Colonel Beau
Righto then, important announcement! Today, that is Friday, at approximately... erm... let me see, about, umm... well, during the daytime anyway, the folks began moving the whole jolly Cat Chat website over to a new web server. Can't be done in one day though, so disruptions are likely over the weekend too. It could turn out to be a straightforward exercise of course, with no hitches, and everything will be tickety-boo in time for the X-Factor on saturday night (hrrmph, apologies for that, not my choice of programme, don't blame me for that one), but more than likely not. I've witnessed the 'changing srvers' saga before, and believe me it is not for the faint of heart or the easily offended. I'm a pretty good judge of our humans general efficiency, so I would like to issue an advance apology now, for the inevitable disruption over the next couple of days. So, if bits of the site are either not working or missing altogether - then it's all their fault! I shall report back after the dust has settled - in the meantime I have important business to attend to elsewhere... yes, very urgent and important... can't wait in fact... toodle pip!

Thursday 28th September - by Pickford
Crumbs, why is everyone so interested in our catflap all of a sudden? There was the man from yesterday, and we had another one today - he brought a tape measure too. Colonel Beau (Sir) reckoned they might be checking to see if it conforms to EU regulations, apparently everything has to conform to those now. Dunno what'll happen to it if it doesn't conform, he didn't know either, but he said it's only a matter of time before we all have to conform to them and we'll get measured up too! I'm keeping out of it. I'm keeping out of all this 'new server' stuff too. If the Colonel wants to get involved that's his lookout, but I've got a Coca-cola towel to look after and that's a job I can do really well, so I'm doing that. It's great it is, I found it the other day on the box by the ironing pile. It was meant to go in the airing cupboard only I got there first and covered it in fur and made it my place! They won't take it off me now and stick it in the airing cupboard, I know they won't. They nearly always let us cats get first choice of places, Gemini reckons it 'cos she trained them up, well she did a good job! So I can keep my towel, Beau can keep his 'middle stair' (the one right in everyone's way) and Gemini can hog the middle cushion on the sofa and anyone else has to go either side. My towel's best though, I was on it nearly all day today - can I show the photo...? Oh yeah, there it is! That big pile of clothes by my bum is ironing that hasn't been done yet. You might think that makes our folks look a bit lazy because they haven't done it, but that's not really fair - the pile is normally much bigger than that!

Wednesday 27th September - by Gemini
There's definitely something going on with our back door. I'm not sure what exactly yet, but a man came round today with a tape measure and a clip-board taking notes, and more importantly, measuring up the catflap! In my experience humans only get tape measures and clip-boards out when things are going to get knocked down, removed, rebuilt or replaced, so I predict an upheaval pretty soon, involving our flap. Maybe they finally got that government grant for the proposed 'catflap widening scheme' to better accommodate Beau's high-ranking waistline... they could call it the Beau-belly-by-pass! No, I'm joking honest - just a joke! It is suspicious though, I'll keep my eye on the situation. I've also been keeping my eye on the changing food situation here recently. It's been changing slowly ever since Beau's 'dodgy kidneys' diagnosis, and I have to say I heartily approve. You'd think a 'special' diet might be a bit... well, a bit yucky like medicine or something, but in fact it's better than our old food. So now we're all on it, all three of us on Colonel Beau's special diet for CWDK's. I really like the food, so does Pickford (mind you he just likes food, full stop), but I just hope it doesn't make us go all unreasonably bouncy like Beau. The thought of all three of us being like that is too awful to contemplate. No it couldn't happen, we're tabbies after all, our sensible stripes wouldn't let us!
(A tribute: This won't mean much to many people reading this, but a very special cat went to Rainbow Bridge today. I only knew him by reputation, but I'd like to say a fond farewell to 'Miracle Monty', confounder of vets, a credit to cat-kind and a trooper to the last. Have fun at the Bridge matey, say hi to George for me. xx)

Tuesday 26th September - by Colonle Beau
Yes indeed, congratulations to young Private Pickford on his first year in the regiment. He's made a pretty good account of himself on balance, not bad for a raw recruit plucked from 'the Wild'. Mind you with Yours Truly as his senior officer he was hardly likely to fail, eh what? Still he wasn't quite up to today's special assignment. This required a highly skilled, eminently qualified, experienced cat of rank and distinction. Plus I'm afraid, Pickford was just a bit too... well, a bit too tabby for the job. White Van Guard Duty can only be really successfully carried out if you have the necessary white camouflage, and I have a whole Colonel's worth of that! Pickford, unfortunately only has the white bib and boots, not nearly enough cover for such a blatantly white assignment. Naturally I've heard all the scare stories about White Van Man, but they don't frighten me, oh no, not a bit of it. I've been on the Front Line you see, out in the field (and under the bushes), and have seen more active service than most cats have had hot dinners. I've even had a broken jaw you know, sustained in the line of duty, (don't like to go on about it though). So, I was ready to face the enemy if it approached, and, cunningly, if it approached from the front I'd be practically invisible - there, how's that for ingenuity? I'm not a Colonel for nothing you know, I earned every one of my stripes! Er... well, when I say stripes, I don't mean actual stripy stripes, I... oh, you know what I mean. Hrrmph! Anyway, I did a jolly fine job of keeping the enemy at bay, and was rewarded with some jolly fine bits of ham this evening, jolly fine! Strange that neither the Lady Gemini or Private Pickford wanted any though. Turned their noses up they did, very curious. Fine pieces of ham too, most agreeable, no less than I deserve of course, my compliments to the canteen!
(Footnote by Gemini: Just for the record it wasn't ham. It was Quorn - 'ham style' Quorn. Does he really think I'd turn down ham? Dopey old fool!)

Monday 25th September - by Pickford (One Year On)
That's it - it's official! I've been here a whole year! I tell you I'm a different cat to back then too. I dunno how it happened really, I s'pose I just got used to all the different things and every new different thing made me sort of different too. There's obvious stuff like going to the vet, that made me different 'cos I got rid of all my smelly old sores, and having proper food all the time made my belly a different shape (a nicer shape if you ask me). But there's other stuff that you wouldn't think would make you different but they do. Like being talked to. I don't know what the folks here are rambling on about half the time (and calling me Picky-Poo is stretching it a bit), but getting talked to makes me feel all special, and I didn't feel special before. Well, I'm not special, never have been, but they talk to me like they think I am, and that's good enough for me. Then there's things like sleeping on the folks' bed and getting the front door opened for me when I don't want to go out the cat flap, stuff like that makes me feel different too, and special. But you know what the best thing is? The best thing is sometimes I totally forget about ever being the old me - Mr. stray 'SpareCat', sneaking food and not letting any one near me, I think 'Crumbs, was that really me?' And I'm eight now, that's different too. I was only seven last year, the vet said so. So I'm celebrating - celebrating being eight, celebrating 'being Pickford' and not 'scaredy SpareCat', and celebrating having new catnip in my catnip sack and getting 'best food' today. Beau reckons he's different too from when he first came here, he's says he's got 'more retired' whatever that means. Gemini's lucky, she's been here since she was a kitten. I said to her I said I reckon you're lucky, and she just said 'yep'. Mind you if someone told me today they reckoned I was lucky, I'd probably just say 'Yep' too! I'd say Yep and then go back to licking my catnip sack. Well you would, wouldn't you?

The Conclusion - by Colonel Beau, Pickford and Gemini
Beau: Just as I suspected! I knew there would be a rational explanation for the lack of diaries these last couple of days, and my investigations have uncovered the whole, awful thruth.
Pickford: What? What awful truth?
Beau: Yes, quite awful. I've seen it before of course, it happened shortly after I was first posted here at Cat Chat Towers. Terrible business. Not for the faint hearted. We shall all have to pull together, muck in, muck out, and generally steel ourselves for the very worst.
Pickford: What? What very worst?
Beau: A new Server old boy, that's what, a new server! Yes, I know, horrid thought isn't it? All happening later this week I gather. Hrrmph. No wonder things haven't been running to my normal strict rotas lately.
Pickford: Crumbs that sounds serious. But... what's a server, and why do we need a new one?
Beau: Ah, right, I see. Yes, of course, this'll be your first time, won't it laddie? Well, it's sort of like a... um, you know. A err... well, it's like...
Gemini: I think what Beau's trying to say is that it's like a cat getting a new home.
Beau: I am? Oh... well, yes of course I am! Well put old girl, very well put indeed! (I think)
Gemini: Listen Pickford, imagine the Cat Chat website as a cat - a Great Big Cat.
Pickford: What, like Colonel Beau (Sir)?
Gemini: Err... yes, a bit like Beau, only much bigger. It's like a huge great cat who's had lots of little homes, and now it's finally going to it's 'forever home', one that's really big enough for it.
Pickford: Right! OK, got it! I understand now. Thanks Gemini! (pauses in deep thought) So... does this server have a huge great cat flap too?
(Gemini blinks in astonishment. Beau suddenly remembers he needs to wash between the second and third toes on his left, hind paw).
Pickford: What? What did I say??

Sometime late on Friday night...
Pickford: Crikey - what's happened to the diaries?
Beau: Calm down old boy, all in hand I'm sure. Leave it to Yours Truly, I'll get to the bottom of this...

Wednesday 20th September - by Gemini and Colonel Beau
Beau: I say old girl, have you seen this? I found it on a routine reconnaissance mission up the road, smells terribly good!
Gemini: Well it looks sort of like... (peers over at the thing from a distance) It is! It's ham! Where did you get that from?
Beau: Oh just up the road, you know, not far. Near the place I got that nice bone-thingy the other week...
Gemini: ...Oh yeah, right, the bone-thingy that made you dribble all over the place and landed you up at the vets - that bone-thingy?
Beau: Yes, well, hrrmph. Only... only this isn't like that. It's not like that at all. Come on old bean, have a sniff!
Gemini: (thinks: I'm probably going to regret this) OK, look back off a bit, you're rather... you know, close. Back off a bit and I'll give it the once-over.
Beau: Fair enough old fruit (Beau backs off a few inches). There you go... well? What do you reckon?
Gemini: It's proper ham that is - ready-sliced too! I'd say there were, oh at least ten slices there. (sigh) I haven't had ham since the folks stopped eating it all those years ago. I used to like ham too (sigh). I've got to admit it smells really tempting... only I'm not that sure, I mean did it come from exactly the same place as the bone-thingy - you know, out of a bin-bag? And why was it left there? You know what Pickford said about the seagulls...
Beau: Er... well, I couldn't say exactly, I just found it, you know, loitering about on the pavement. Didn't want to leave it for any old bod to find... oh, look out, here come the human troops!
(by sheer chance the folks walk down the path, just in time to retrieve a thick, curled up, slightly-green-at-the-edges wedge of ham slices from the path, moments before they were scheduled for certain cunsumption by either Beau or Gemini, or a combination of both).
Gemini: Should have been quicker there Beau, that's gone for good now! They don't trust you and your take-away food after the last time, and I can't say that I blame them.
Beau: Bally unfair that is. There was nothing wrong with that ham - jolly fine tucker that was! It'll be a whole week before I get the chance at something like that again.
Gemini: Listen Beau, never mind the ham - if you don't stop scavenging from bin-bags the folks are going to lock you indoors every wednesday morning - without a memo, or a warning, or anything!
Beau: Lock me in...? Without warning...? Preposterous!

Tuesday 19th September - by Pickford
I dunno if I've got my days mixed up or what, but we had a coley-day yesterday. Now we had a coley-day last Monday too but that was a mistake. They can't make the same mistake two weeks running can they? So I've either got my days mixed up or they've changed our coley-day to Monday. I don't mind really, I'm just glad to have coley-days at all, whatever day it's on. I still gobble it all down as fast as I can, then go outside for a right good wash and a roll over on the patio to enjoy my belly, and I can do that whatever day it is. I love my belly these days, just about as much as I love my catnip mice (only for different reasons). It's coming up to my Big Day soon. My I've-been-here-a-whole-year day. I'm the only one who knows what actual day it was though, 'cos I moved in when everyone was away. It's true! If you weren't reading these diaries back then what happened was, the folks went away for a weekend, Colonel Beau (Sir) and Gemini went off to the cattery, and I moved in while they weren't looking! But here's something I didn't realise 'til ages after - it wasn't just luck that the next door lady kept coming in and putting food down, I found out later our folks had arranged it all - and that food really was meant just for me (SpareCat as I was known back then)! So there's me thinking how clever and smart and lucky I was to move in and get away with it, and then it turns out that's exactly what they wanted me to do all along! The Colonel says it was all bluffs, double-bluffs and subterfuge. He may be right, but those bluffs and double-bluffs tasted awfully good at the time!

Monday 18th September - by Gemini, starring in: "The House, the Shoelace, the Human and their Bathmat".
In this house you can tell when autumn's on it's way long before leaves start falling off trees - it's when the Colonel goes further up the stairs for his naps. He likes to nap on the stairs, and as the temperature drops he goes up a bit higher. I'm sure if you worked it out exactly, with a slide-rule or something, you could probably tell how many degrees equals one stair. In fact, I'd say the Met Office could give out a fairly accurate temperature forecast based on Beau's choice of stair! (I'll ask the folks if they'll contact them, and mabye they'll come and take him away to work for them or something, at least then he wouldn't keep chasing me down the garden). Luckily this evening, Beau had gone off outside on Perimeter Patrol and Pickford was over in Rabbit Man's garden (goodness knows what he does over there, he won't say). So, I had the house, the shoelace, the human and their bathmat all to myself! Who says I don't do playing? Well whoever says it, is quite wrong. I'm just not keen on playing in front of the boys, I mean what if I missed the shoelace or mis-timed my pounce on the bathmat? I wouldn't want them to think I wasn't perfect, now would I? No, I would rather wait until it's just me, one of my humans and the requisite bathmat and shoelace, just like tonight. Oh it was fabulous, we had such fun. And yes, it was the Colonel's favourite bathmat - he's right too, that mat is a 'bally good sport'. It's good for wrestling with, but it's also good for tunnelling under and pouncing on shoelaces from. I don't mind having the boys around most of the time you know, and inexplicably, I even quite like them sometimes, but at those precious little bathmat & shoelace times you can't help thinking how nice it would be to be an only cat!
(Who said it makes me look like Mother Teresa? Come on... own up... who was it...?)

The Weekend - by Colonel Beau
You wouldn't know I was twelve, would you? Well, not if you didn't already know. Apart from the fact that I just mentioned it then of course, but I mean if it hadn't been for that, I'm sure you wouldn't know. Anyone watching my energetic weekend full of athletic displays and frankly daring manoeuvres wouldn't have guessed either. I do declare I have the speed and derring-do of a cat half my age (and half my weight). Just like me when I was half my age in fact! Up the perimeter fencing in one swift leap I was, down the stairs, top to bottom, in approximately 0.85 of a second, and as for that chase with the Lady Gemini, well I'm afraid she didn't stand a hope of out-running me. I gave her a one-patio-step head-start too, but my go-faster diet for CWDK's (Cats With Dodgy Kidneys) gives me the upper paw every time. The old girl made a jolly decent effort though, pretty nifty she is for a feline of the short wheel base variety, but I'd caught up with her just as she reached the Big Bush at the bottom of the weed borders on our Eastern Front. I'm afraid the poor thing was so startled by my incredible speed that she must have mistaken me for the Enemy! Yes indeed - well, I can't think why else she would have spun round and inflicted that rather nasty and substantial new scratch to Yours Truly's nasal extremity. Hrrmph! Just as the last one had nearly faded too. Ah well, us Colonels on the front line know how to take it on the chin - or in this case, on the nose. And frankly I can't think of a cat I'd rather be scratched by. Such elegant claws you know, bally sharp, but elegant.

Friday 15th September - by Pickford
Aerial Man came back again this morning. He can't have done enough clomping around yesterday, so he came back to do some more today. Only this time he brought a bigger pole with him, so the folks are happy. Tell you what though, the pigeons are even happier, there's room for a whole family of them up there now. The old aerial only really took two at a time, well, three at a push (one on the wobbly end), but I saw four at a time on the new one, and they still had room to boogie up to the wobbly end if they fancied it. I like watching 'em, even if I can't get at 'em. I have thought about it but even if I could get on the roof (which I can't) I still couldn't get up the pole. Even one of the Colonel's great military strategies couldn't get a cat up that pole. I've got a good strategy of my own though - nothing to do with pigeons or poles - this is about getting the absolutely best sleeping place in th whole house (possibly even the whole world), bar none, numero uno, top spot, premier position. I'm calling it the Pickford Sandwich Strategy. I start off sleepipng on the bottom end of the folks bed, but when they're asleep I go creeping upwards, ever so slowly so they don't wake up. I can stretch out really l-o-n-g too, so even if there's not much gap between them I can still sandwich myself in the middle. I did that last night and the night before, it's sooo snuggly, I can't understand why Clonel Beau (Sir) didn't discover it first. Even though he's my mate and everything, I'm not going to tell him about it. There's only room for one filling in this sandwich - and I'm it!

Thursday 14th September - by Gemini
I thought there was something up last week when the folks carted our telly out into the garage, (they don't normally watch telly in the garage). And yesterday it all became clear when a new one arrived in a big box, the box of course being the best bit as usual. Anyway, seems our old one had gone to the TV equivalent of Rainbow Bridge. It's had a good life though, it's been here nearly as long as I have, which is not bad for a telly won through a contest on a cereal packet (no I'm not joking!). So we got the new telly, but as is typical of most gadgetry these days it didn't work first time. Why? Because we haven't got the right sort of aerial apparently. So this afternoon we were invaded by 'Aerial Man' and his multitude of paraphernalia. Ladders, drills, screwdrivers, meters, aerials, tape measures, boxes of tricks... well you get the picture. Clomping around on our roof for hours he was (between cups of tea), up and down, in and out, testing the telly, drinking more tea, clomping around some more. No wonder Pickford scarpered off onto next door's compost bin. But, being a reliable, helpful, and admittedly nosey sort, I stayed to supervise. So have we now got a wonderful new telly to watch with superb picture and crystal clear sound? No we have not. Why? Well, although the aerial is now OK, it turns out we have the wrong sort of pole! It's not long enough basically, because there are trees in the way. Trees! Well, there you have it - no matter what super-duper, techno-whizz digitally-perfect innovations humans think they have come up with, Mother Nature always has the upper hand!

Wednesday 13th September (yes this really did happen!) Pickford: There! told you so! There they were, on the ex-dangerous sofa - together (ish) - both at the same time - right next to each other too! Way to go Colonel me old mate! Gemini: Look, I was only having a wash, OK. That camera angle is deceptive too, there was a good half-a-cushion's length between us. And anyway, he was behind me! Beau: Sorry old girl, I'm not falling for that 'I'm only having a wash' excuse, oh no, I know you're impressed with my pristine uniform, my admirably huge but huggable physique, my gentlemanly ways, my intelligence, my dashing good looks, my sophistication, my... Gemini: (sigh) your unfailing modesty, your unpretentious self-effacing humility... Beau: Quite so old bean, quite so. All those things and so much more too!

Tuesday 12th September - by Pickford
Oh no, my mouse has lost his nose! One of my new catnip mice has gone and lost his nose already and I've only had him a few weeks. They don't make catnip mice like they used to. We've had the old-old ones since last Christmas and they've still go their noses. I wonder if they come with a guarantee? Or... I dunno, an insurance policy or something. Maybe they come insured against fire and theft or against having their noses bitten off by a cat. OK I'll admit it, it was me who bit it off, all in the heat of the moment like, you know how it is. But you'd think they'd make 'em so you can't bite the noses off wouldn't you? These were posh ones too, not like the old-old ones, so it just goes to show. The old ones (not as old as the old-old ones) - the ones the folks got in the Cats Protection shop for 20p - they still have their noses. And their tails, and their ears (despite my best efforts) so that just goes to show too. Our folks started reading this book about cats the other day and it says only half of cats like catnip. That makes it sound like half of all cats don't like catnip, but that can't be right, how can you not like catnip?I reckon they read it wrong, and it meant only half of cats like catnip - as in, the front half. Gemini isn't as mad about it as me, but I did see her playing with one of the catnip sacks the other day (she does it when she thinks no-one's looking). She's only really nice to the Colonel (Sir) when she thinks no-one's looking too, but I've seen her being nice to him out of the corner of my sneaky little eye, (that's my left eye, the sneaky one, the right one couldn't be sneaky if it tried). I reckon she likes him really, in secret, on the QT, off the record, only I wouldn't dare say so. Good job no-one reads these diaries!

Monday 11th September - by Colonel Beau
Young laddie Pickford was spot on with his prediction of a coley fish luncheon today. Most agreeable indeed. Nice and fresh too (well, freshly defrosted anyway), and served raw, just as it should be. Raw? (I hear some say) Yes raw, absolutely so - just like in the wild don't you know! Luckily I'm completely over my little 'episode' last week and have regained my full appetite (I do believe I have also regained my lost quarter-of-an-ounce of lost body-mass too. So, seeing as I've been through a traumatic time of late and come out fighting, what with my dental, my dodgy kidneys and the even-more-dodgy 'thing from the binbag', I thought it might be the right time to get down to the serious business of writing my memoirs. I jolly well would've too if it hadn't been for, well, you know... other pressing matters. Pressing matters like it being sunny outside, so I was obliged to do my fair share of garden-bench-security. And then later on, the stairs needed my full Colonel-sized attention - and no-one fills a stair quite as completely as Yours Truly. So what with such heavy demands on my time, plus coley (and post-coley) activities, I was really rather fully committed. I shall continue my memoirs another day, just as soon as I can remember where I got up to the last time I thought about writing them. I'm sure I got up to chapter two, in my head at least. Yes, that's right, chapter one is going to be all about my kittenhood, and I don't recall much about that at all. Luckily that makes it a jolly short chapter! Toodle Pip!

The Weekend - by Pickford
Hey, that was a good weekend - I enjoyed that one! Me and Gemini napped on the bed together on Saturday, the sun shone all Sunday and my flea-scabs are nearly all gone - how much better can it get? Well, we could've got coley fish I s'pose, that would have made it even better, but you can't have it all. Well you can, but not always on the same day. It's a fair bet we'll get coley on Monday, or Tuesday latest. That's normally what happens if we don't get any on a weekend (it's a bit predictable in a hit-and-miss sort of way). So Saturday, I went to go up on the bed for a bit of a snooze, only Gemini's already up there. So I had two choices basically, either go off and find somewhere else to snooze or put my Brave Head on, and go up on the bed with her and risk getting growled at (or worse). I put my Brave Head on (who dares wins and all that). Mind you I put my Smart Head on too and made sure I went on the opposite side. As you can see I got away with it! Sunday was a bit strange, the folks were taking photos of odd things out in the garden. Not photos of us for a change, odd things for our raffle. I think I'm allowed to say about that now seeing as it's nearly time and everyone'll know about it soon anyway. I dunno what a raffle is exactly, but I'm sure Colonel Beau (Sir) will have it all sorted. (I think that's why they forgot our coley fish). Most important of all is my flea-scabs are nearly gone! I haven't had to have the Vet's Goo on for over a week now, and my fur's even growing back over the baldy bits on my head. I'm glad about that, I wouldn't want baldy bits for the winter. Don't know how our human of the male variety gets on, he's got a little baldy bit on top of his head too, only the fur doesn't seem to want to grow back there. He should try some of the Vet's Goo on it - that's bound to do the trick!

Friday 8th September - by Gemini
Well it didn't take long for the Colonel to get over his 'ordeal'. He was certainly back to full fighting fitness today anyway - he caught a bird. He stalked it, caught it, carried it back up to the patio and ate it, just like that. So pleased with himself he was, wouldn't stop going on about his 'advanced and detailed' plan of attack, how he'd managed to conceal himself until the last second and how he'd sprung like a panther to finally get his prey. To be honest, his plan of attack and the springing like a panther bit are all pretty standard stuff (every cat has those in their 'how to be a cat' manual), but I'll admit I was very impressed with his concealement tactics. I mean, this was in broad daylight, and he is just about as big, white and glaringly obvious as you can get, so you've got to admire a cat who can conceal all that! He's completely gross though, when it comes to eating what he's caught. Just like my old housemate George used to, Beau eats the lot. And I do mean the lot, and this bird, well it wasn't small - getting on for pigeon sized I's say - but that didn't stop him munching and crunching his way through every last bit. Feathers, feet, innards, the whole thing. Totally disgusting! Is that a white-cat thing I wonder? Or a boy-cat thing? Or just a daft-cat-can't-wait-for-proper-mealtimes thing? I know his dodgy kidneys mean he's only supposed to eat natural proteins but surely wild-caught bird is a little drastic. If I ever have dodgy kidneys I shall expect my natural proteins to be served up in a bowl in the proper manner!

Thursday 7th September - by Colonel Beau
Gracious me, what a bally fuss! I'm sure there was no need for all this vets nonsense. Half the day I spent down there... half a whole day! Really, it's a disgrace, don't they think I have more pressing matters to attend to - troops to mobilise, rotas to organise, a certain rug to wage war on, perimeters to patrol, that sort of thing. And that's not the half of it, I was denied my supper rations last night (not that I could actually eat yesterday, but that's not the point), and then I was shipped off to the vets this morning with no breakfast. I could've faded away to nothing by lunchtime for all they know! An army marches on it's stomach, and that goes for Colonels too. Hrrmph. All over some insignificant bit of extra food I procured yesterday from the wild regions of the Wenesday morning binbags. Well I think it was food anyway, it looked like food... well sort of. That's beside the point though, I'd have got better on my own I'm certain of it. No need for all this bother with jabs and investigating my 'soft palate' whatever the dickens that is. So the outcome of all this out-of-proportion worrying was that not only did I lose half a day, I also lost a good two inch strip of grade-A Colonel fur from my front right paw, and a day's worth of food. Just as well there was some posh nosh waiting for me on my return, I should jolly well think so too after such an ordeal. Two bowls I got through, (would have been three, only Private Pickford insisted on helping out). Of course, I shall have to insist on extra rations for several days yet, I must have lost a considerable amount of body-mass during my ordeal, at least a quarter-of-an-ounce I should imagine. I mean, how can I possibly run a regiment when I'm a quarter-of-an-ounce short of a full Colonel?
(Note to self: Note Private Pickford's theory about seagulls, there could be something in that after all. Bally clever chaps seagulls.)

Wednesday 6th September - by Pickford
I told him not to touch it. I did, I warned him, I said "Yuuuucckkk! Don't eat that, that's disgusting!", I said, but he wouldn't listen. 'Jolly top class nosh' he called it. Colonel Beau (Sir) might reckon he knows best, well he didn't this morning. Nope, should've listened to me. I knew it. When you've been a stray like I used to be, you get to know your good scraps from your bad scraps, and if even the seagulls won't touch it then you know it's iffy. But Beau went off sniffing round all the bits the seagulls had dragged out of the rubbish sacks up the road and came back with this skanky old bit of... well I dunno what it was exactly. A skanky, stinky thing anyway, with bony bits sticking out of it. Looked like it had belonged to something that had been alive... once... a long time ago. Dunno what goes thought his head sometimes, anyway he chewed it, and I think he must have ate some of it too before the folks saw it and took it off him. Wasn't long before he was moaning that his throat was sore, and is tongue wasn't feeling right, and he's dribbling all over the place, so next thing you know he's in the box and off down the vets. There! What did I say? Don't touch it I said, (crumbs, what a wally). The vet said he's got a cut in his tongue and he's got to go back tomorrow so they can look down his throat in case he's cut that too. You'd think with all his training he'd know one of the basics of survival - if the seagulls won't eat it, then it's not for eating! Sorry, I know he's my mate and everything, but he really is a dozy plank at times. I do hope he's OK.

Tuesday 5th September - by Gemini
Well I'm sorry, but if I'm the only one out of three possible feline trustees to bother turning up at meetings, then the other two can hardly complain if I get all the cheesy biscuits, can they? No, they can not. Tonight's biscuits were particularly cheesy too, and taste even better when one of the human trustees holds it steady for you while you lick your way right through, making a neat little hole in the middle. Precision biscuit-licking at it's finest it was - should be an olympic event in my book. I chose the ones without any calories of course, (well, I have to watch my figure). They were on offer you see - fourteen packs for the price of seven, which means that half of them were effectively free. That means both cost-free and calorie-free, but then everyone knows that! Or at least I thought they did... I noticed our human of the female variety and our Secretary both made the mistake of eating the paid-for ones (yes, well, they'll certainly pay for them later - on the waistline!). Pickford was nowhere to be seen, he strolled in half an hour after everyone had gone home and spread himself out on the coffee table. And I do mean spread too - I don't care what he says about not feeling as though he's big, I agree with everyone who's met him - he is big. Not fat, just B-I-G. He stretches virtually from one end of the coffee table to the other, and when he lays on the Radio Times (which he does often) his belly goes all the way from BBC2 to Channel 5! As for C.B. (Colonel Beau's new for-short name) he was outside on guard duty all evening, guarding one of the trustees bikes as it happens. He did a good job I suppose, the bike was still there after, but I feel it probably wouldn't have disappeared even if Beau hadn't been guarding it. You can't say the same for cheesy biscuits though. Now they do disappear if you're not extra vigilant!

Monday 4th September - by Colonel Beau
My new go-faster diet for cats-with-dodgy-kidneys has given me so much added energy and thrust, that I've done something I never thought I'd do again, not since my retirement anyway. I have declared war! Yes, Yours Truly has officially declared war on the rug under our human of the male variety's chair. The other rugs are all quite peaceable, no trouble at all, but this blighter, well it seems to think it's superior somehow, won't follow orders, you know the sort. Needs taking down a peg or two, and I'm just the chap to do it. You know the other day it was even harbouring a fugitive! Yes, I know, preposterous isn't it, right under my nose too, it was trying to conceal one of our new catnip mice under a little fold in it's middle, a highly sneaky activity if you ask me. I sussed out it's little game straight away, took the fugitive into custody between my teeth and gave that rug the 'old one-two-three-four' (that's similar to the 'old one-two' only with the back legs as re-inforcements). The main problem with this rogue rug is the bally rubber backing, horrid stuff it is, and it's that which I'm focussing most of my war-waging energies on. I've had several good combat sessions with it over the last few days but it's still clinging on gamely, so now it's time for me to get serious, bring in the Big Guns and all that. If I really work at it, I estimate I could have the whole of that rubber backing off by Christmas. The folks might be moaning now about having to clear up yet another load of little grey rubber shavings, but they'll thank me in the end. Mark my words, the Colonel knows best!

Friday 1st - Sunday 3rd September - by Pickford
Oh, that was strange! The folks went off all weekend and left us in charge. Well Colonel Beau thought he was in charge, only Gemini's always more in charge than him, so they sort of shared it. Well, when I say shared, what I mean is Gemini lets him think he's in charge, but somehow everything gets done her way anyway, it's very clever. I just let them, I don't want to be in charge. As long as I can carry on getting fed and living here and playing with my catnip mice I'm happy. The rabbit man came and fed us thins time, he's never done that before. He's very nice though, and Gemini was wrong, he didn't try to feed us carrots. He did put too many biscuits out though. The folks know not to put too many biscuits out becuase I just eat them all. I can't help it, I hate to see them sitting there getting ignored so I eat them, (our female human says the same about Hobnobs, but at least when she eats all the Hobnobs she doesn't sick them up on the floor after). So there were too many biscuits (not Hobnobs) so I ate them and sicked them up on the floor after. That wasn't until Sunday though and the folks came back in the afternoon and cleared it up. I'm sure they didn't come back specially for that though, I think they'd have come back anyway. I'm glad they're back. The daytimes are OK but I don't like night-time on my own anymore. I still slept on their bed but it's not the same without legs. Oh... I don't mean it's not the same without my legs, I still had all four of those, I mean it wasn't the same without thier legs, you know, to snuggle up against. The Colonel (Sir) is my mate but we still don't do snuggling. Crumbs no, I can't imagine that! Tell you what though, Sunday night, me and Beau and Gemini were all on the ex-dangerous sofa... together... at the same time... one on each cushion (it's a 3-seater), how about that then? Gemini was asleep with her back to us, so I don't think she knew we were there, but even so. Anyway, I've just twigged - it's September now, which means I've been living here nearly a year! If you'd told me back then I'd be snuggling up to legs, sitting on sofas and sicking up biscuits I wouldn't have believed you. Great isn't it?