Of Feline Bondage

A few weeks ago I paid a visit to my favourite vet, who for the day, had been renamed Dennis. This particular Dennis was going to have a look at my toofy-pegs which, staff had decided, needed cleaning. Seems he’d noticed a little bit of inflammation on my gummythings. I could only sit there and gulp as he signed the consent form for the knockout drops and another form which said if Dennis found any bad teeth, they could be pulled. Hang on a minute, did that mean that staff was saying that any naughty teeth could be given to a dating agency?

Still, it wasn’t long before a nice nursey person was shaving a little circle of fur off one of my legs. Then a little prick and I don’t remember anything until late in the day when staff came to pick me up. Dennis told him that he’d extracted three toofy-pegs, not because of any decay but because they were working loose. This is, it seems, something to do with age!

Aaaaaaaagggggggggeeeeeee? (You gotta read that with a voice whose pitch raises steadily but quickly until it passes beyond the upper capabilities of human hearing.)

I’m not that old but, it seems (there’s lots of “seems” involved when I visit my favourite vet), I’m now classed as an “approaching old age cat”. Oh, the indignity! I suppose I’ll have to become incontinent now just to keep staff happy!

But there’s more!

Staff and Dennis had a chat and decided that it was now time to help the dental mix food that I get in addition to my normal wet food. And that help involved BRUSHING MY TOOFS every few days! Now I submit to grooming every day (my regular readers will know that I actually love a session with my Furminator). And I tolerate the quarterly worming tablet being shot down my throat by staff using a little device that stops me biting him. And I succumb to the monthly sticky squirty yucky flea treatment on the back of my neck.

But toofy-peg cleaning is a step too far! I was planning my resistance tactics faster than I can rip open a pack of Dreamies.

But staff was also planning ahead.

I discovered he’s getting into bondage! Well, he got a harness to stop me squirming about.
I discovered he’s getting into bondage! Well, he got a harness to stop me squirming about.
Then some arm-guards appeared to stop me clawing the skin of his arms.
Then some arm-guards appeared to stop me clawing the skin of his arms.
These were soon followed by finger protectors so I couldn’t bite his fingers off.
These were soon followed by finger protectors so I couldn’t bite his fingers off.
And if that wasn’t enough, he got a remote-controlled brush too!
And if that wasn’t enough, he got a remote-controlled brush too!

And that, dear readers, is how I got my toofs cleaned.

I’ve Gotta Do Better!

It’s been six months since I last updated my bloggywog thingy and that update was about six months after the one before it. This just isn’t good enough! I keep pleading with staff to give me some secretarial time but he says that he spends so much time helping me out with my other social activities that he doesn’t have time to update his own blog, let alone give me even more time from his hectic schedule. But I have the advantage of CLAWS. I must use them more, especially when I’m on his lap.

Me in my Spitfire
Me in my Spitfire

Apart from tweeting with my regular pals, I’ve been spending lots of time up in the air with #TheAviators. They’re a Twitter club of flying floofballs – cats, dogs, ferrets, stuffies (teddy bears), hamsters, birds to name but a few. We have regular adventures, flying all over the place. You can find out more about #TheAviators (and join them if you want) at their web site and their blog.

Roger in his #TheAviators gear
Roger in his #TheAviators gear

I often fly with my pal Roger. Now flying with Roger is an experience, mainly because he’s a baked bean addict and we all know what baked beans do! Roger’s often in demand to provide jet propulsion to some of the larger flying machines that some of #TheAviators fly in, though flyers are always advised to try to stay upwind of him. We’ve got a range of flying machines. We each have our own Spitfires (sometimes Roger flies with me in mine as it’s a 2-seater model) or we have our helicopter and a hot air balloon. We’ve even flown in a space shuttle though that was a rescue mission after a particular heavy bout of bean-eating when Roger blew himself up to the International Space Station, establishing a space speed record in the process.

Landing at the "beanfield"
Landing at the “beanfield”

And, unbeknownst to me, Roger had arranged for a delivery of beans to be waiting when we landed back on Earth after his rescue. Seems he’d made some new friends up in the ISS and was planning a return visit!

Flying with #TheAviators is a lot of fun. You really should try it.

 

Flying Furminator Floofiness

FurminatorThose who know me will know that I love my Furminator. I know where it’s kept – a drawer in the bedroom which I also know how to open – and regularly demand a “scratchering” with it. I invented the word “scratchering” by the way. It means that lovely feeling as the comb of the Furminator moves across or along my skin (whether across or along depends on which way I’m looking at it). It’s not scratching or irritating but a lovely sort of “scratchering”. If you’re a cat, you’ll know what I mean.

Staff and I have this daily ritual. First I get “rollered”. This involves a sticky roller which staff rolls along my back and flanks to take off the long thick hairs. Then out comes the Furminator. I know the drill. I stand up while my back and tail are done, then roll on one side and then the other and finally onto my back for the tummy-tickle as I call it. Finally I get a good brushing with, you guessed it, a brush.

The brushing is important to get my fur lying just like that, the way I like it.

Normally I’ve finished my heavy start-of-summer moult by the end of June but, for some reason, this year I’m still shedding lots of floof (which I don’t mind as I get two Furmination sessions each day).

I’ve just had my evening Furmination and boy, was it fun!

If you know the Furminator, you’ll know that after it’s collected a pile of that loose, itchy floof, your attendant can hold it over a bin and press the big blue button to eject that pile of floof from the comb. The fur then falls into the bin.

Normally!

This evening was different, though.  The floof had a mind of its own!

As soon as staff pressed the button, instead of falling into the bin, the floof flew across and attached itself to staff’s clothes. Staff now tried to grap the wads of floof and transfer them to the bin into which they should have dutifully fallen in the first place. But all he succeeded in doing was splitting the floof so now instead of large wads, he had lots of little wads all over his clothes and stuck to his hands. And some of the more adventurous flying floof flew up and stuck to his face and his hair.

I was trying to work out if staff now had more floof on him than I did!

Being the intelligent type, I knew that the cause was “static”. The opposite of static is “moving” and I figured that if staff moved the floof would fall off.  But getting him to move involves way too much effort!

So I let staff carry on trying to defloof himself (he didn’t think of using the Furminator!) for a while before gently resting a paw on the sticky roller thingy. Bowing thankfully to my superior intellect, staff sticky-rollered himself until all the floof had been trapped.

And what thanks did I get for showing staff the solution to his problem?

None at all!

He didn’t even finish Furminating me.

Next time he can sort out his own floof problems!

An International Conspiracy?

It’s discrimination I tell you! Discrimination of the worst kind – international! And I shall have some very strong words to say to the people who make Dreamies here in the UK just as soon as I can get my paws on them.

Notice my classy pawsonal Dreamies feeding tray?
Notice my classy pawsonal Dreamies feeding tray?

If your staff buys you a packet or twenty of Dreamies here in the UKofGB, the feeding instructions on each packet say “Feed up to 20 pieces per day” and there’s also a little footnote that indicates an average feeding occasion is eight Dreamies. Yes eight! I suppose an “average feeding occasion” is supposed to mean the number of Dreamies that staff puts onto my pawsonal Dreamies feeding tray in one go. Well I can tell you that staff puts five onto my tray at a time in four equal instalments, added as soon as I’ve finished scoffing the previous “feeding occasion”. So I get 20 in one go.

And sometimes I take advantage of staff’s forgetfulness to obtain a second lot of 20 in one day. I just have to ask for the first lot early in the morning and the second lot late in the evening.

But I digress!

In my last post I mentioned that a friend in the USofA had sent me a present and, in case that present got hungry on the way from the USofA to the UKofGB, he’d put two packs of Temptations in the box. Temptations are what peeps in the USofA call Dreamies. Why they have to have a different name is one of those mysteries of life that we cats don’t concern ourselves with. All that matters to us is that the packs contain the same scrumptious little squares of crunchy goodness with the soft centres.

But I digress again!

I checked the American packets out and, do you know, there are two, yes TWO, impawtant differences between a pack of Temptations and a pack of Dreamies:

  • A UKofGB pack of Dreamies weighs 60g but a USofA pack of Temptations weighs 85g. That’s almost half as many more scrumptious little squares of crunchy goodness with the soft centres in each pack!
  • The feeding instructions on the USofA packs say that we can be fed Temptations in place of ordinary kibble food. A quarter cup of Temptations replaces a quarter cup of kibble.

I mostly eat “wet” food but there are bowls of dry food – kibble – around the house in case I want a snack at some time. At my main feeding station the bowls of wet and dry are side by side and I like to mix them up a bit – it’s good for my teeth you know. But if I arrange for Temptations to be shipped over from the USofA, then all those little bowls of kibble can be replaced with bowls of Temptations.

On the other hand, given that Dreamies and Temptations are the same, why should I have to resort to importation?

So come on Mars Petcare UK! Get the instructions on the UKofGB packets right please.

Otherwise I’ll just have to get staff to buy packs of all the different flavours at the same time. As each pack says “feed up to 20….” I’ll get 20 chicken, 20 turkey, 20 duck, 20 cheese, 20 beef. Come to think of it, don’t waste time changing the packs. My solution will be much better all round.

Taking over the world one leap at a time.