Moulting shortcut

It's that time of year when I find the temperature is starting to rise and that maybe I could shed approximately half of my coat.  To be honest, I find it a bind to have to groom out all the excess fur or have Ooman fussing round me with a comb.  Much quicker and easier to wait until Ooman steps out of the shower in the morning. 

Damp Ooman shins are surprisingly grippy and you can shed a good clump or two of fur in a single rub.  It's also another lasting way of making your Ooman feel useful/wanted/loved.

Love

My Ooman is such a softie.  We've had some chilly nights here of late, but every night she fills a hot water bottle and puts it right in the middle of the bed so that I can curl up and go to sleep on an extra warm bit of nice, squidgy duvet.  Bless her, she even sleeps on the edge of the bed, shivering under a thin strip of bedding so as not to disturb me.  I'll admit, she does tug at the duvet in an annoying way sometimes, but I don't think she realises she's doing it (in her sleep, after all), so I turn a blind eye.

I let her know how much I appreciate it by licking her face until she wakes in the morning.  I like to think it saves her a few extra minutes in her morning routine.

Forever

I'm a lucky cat.  Indeed, Felix is the Latin word for lucky.  Although I've moved about a bit, I've got my Forever Ooman and wherever I live, she's there.  Sure, there were the boomerang years, when Ooman disappeared for about 10 weeks at a time for school or university, but she always came back. 

I was found under a shed.  How I got there is another story, but I was very young and very scared and it involved two very large dogs.  Then I was put in a deep bucket (yes, a bucket - I couldn't get out) in a florist's in the hope someone would see me and rehome me.  Eventually, Ooman's own Forever Ooman peered over the edge and took me home.  The rest, dear reader, is history but it could have turned out very differently.  Like I said, I'm a lucky cat.

We're not all as lucky as I have been and recently, the idea of a 'forever' anything has been on my mind for a couple of reasons.  Firstly, Thursday was black cat awareness day.  Apparently, Oomans are less likely to rehome a completely black cat.  Black cats are the least likely to be adopted from shelters, which means they are the least likely to find a forever home or a Forever Ooman. 

Secondly, I was having a mooch through t'interweb and came across Sketches.  Sketches also has a long road ahead of her before she finds a forever home and a Forever Ooman.  But for a timely intervention under that shed, I could have been like Sketches. 

Everyone deserves a Forever Someone.  I've got Ooman.  Ooman's got me.  I'll always lick her face cream off at night, chew her toes and leave the occasional hair in her lunch box to remind her that I love her.  In return, she'll always come back.  She'll always be there in the evenings to snuggle up with and she'll always rub that spot under my chin. 

She's my Forever Ooman and I'm her Forever Cat.

Forever.

Under the duvet

Now that the nights are drawing in and (with the exception of today) the temperature has started to drop, it is perfectly acceptable - nay, expected - that you should spend 23.5 hours a day under the duvet.  If your Ooman is willing to move your water, food and litter tray for you, by all means spend that remaining half hour under there too.

If your Ooman tries to shoo you out from under the duvet, be sure to do the same to your Ooman.  I recommend chasing any toes that may peep out of the bottom of the duvet, and biting Ooman's nose (gently, but with meaning) 10 minutes before the alarm goes off in the morning.

If you've noticed your Ooman is a bit snotty, restrict yourself to the toes until it passes.

Staring

It's been a while, dear reader, I know.  Sorry.  Ooman has been especially busy finishing her degree which seems to involve long hours staring at a blank screen, sheets of photocopied paper or the wall.  She is doing a degree in staring.

Anyway, it has provided the perfect opportunity to train The Child in the art of Getting Ooman's Attention.  We started small, you know, sitting close to Ooman and purring, waving your bum in Ooman's face, sleeping on the laptop (Ooman wasn't at all keen on this one) and chasing the pen Ooman was writing with. 

Then The Child got all creative and brought Ooman a bird. 

Well, four actually. 

And Ooman just stared at them.  No amount of bum-waving or lappy-napping would sway her.

Who knew a dead bird or two would have such power?

Cat-sitters

Every so often, Ooman disappears.  A weekend away, is understandable.  Indeed, I've enjoyed a couple of weekends away adventuring in my time.  More than a weekend is wholly unacceptable.  I am a cat.  I do not like change.

If you find your Ooman has abandoned you for a sun-baked beach or similar, you may notice that you have been assigned a cat-sitter in their absence.  There are two types of cat-sitter, live-in and live-out.  The latter will simply turn up a couple of times a day to serve food, empty the litter tray and have a quick chat.  They never stay for long enough, so you must maximise your time with them.  Ignore them completely. As soon as they head for the door, be as affectionate as you can to convince them to stay for ten more minutes.  Once they move back to the sofa, ignore them again.  Repeat as necessary.

The live-in cat-sitter is more fun, especially if it happens to be a housemate, rather than a stranger moving in for a few days to keep you company.  Again, ignore them.  Show no affection at all.  Pretend they aren't there. 

Wait until they go to bed.

If they sleep with the door open, get into bed with them, knead them affectionately, chase their toes under the duvet, lick any exposed skin and shed as much hair as you can on to their nose/mouth region.  If they sleep with the door shut, serenade them in full voice and scratch the door to provide a suitable percussion accompaniment.

On their return, your Ooman will be met by a grumpy housemate/cat-sitter who will probably refuse to cat-sit in future and a door which will need replacing.  It will be incredibly difficult for Ooman to find a cat-sitter for subsequent trips once the word gets out.  Your Ooman will be too soft/worried about the doors to leave you without supervision and so will probably not go away again.  Problem solved.

What's going on?

What usually happens on a morning:

The sun wakes up.
The son wakes up.
I wake up.
Son and I wake Ooman up.
Ooman's alarm clock wakes up.

Whole process takes about an hour.

What's happened on recent mornings:

The sun thinks about waking up.
Ooman's alarm clock wakes up.
Ooman wakes up.
Ooman wakes us up.

I'm not complaining, as Ooman wakes us up by bringing us breakfast.  And the sunny garden seems to have returned.  I'd be interested to hear an explanation for this sudden change in behaviour.  Is Ooman ill? 

Sleepy

I do like Ooman when she's all sleepy and warm.  When she's all snuggly and cosy I just can't resist warming my paws on her face, cuddling up round her neck and purring in her ear.  I even like the spluttery noise that she makes if I keep my tail across her nose and mouth.  She's so sweet when she staggers out of bed to fix breakfast for me and The Child, stumbling around the kitchen all rumpled and sleep-fuddled and wholly malcoordinated.  I do try not to let The Child rub himself against her legs until she's properly awake though, just the thought of the slappy sound of Ooman landing face down on the kitchen floor is enough to put me off my breakfast.

Affection

Ooman's good to have a snooze on,
Chase some toys around the room, or
Share the duvet until noon and
Build a pillow lair.

Kibbles cometh from the Ooman
And in the evening there is room on
Ooman's lap to sit and groom and
Cover her in hair.

So if you have a needy Ooman
Or you feel you need your Ooman
Do be sure to knead your Ooman
To show her that you care.

Resolutions

I will find a way of opening the fridge door.

I will spend more time snoozing under the radiator in the hallway.

I will try remember to use the scratching post, rather than the sofa.

The three second rule - myth #2

If I am cold, I perfectly within my rights to find Ooman and sit on her until I warm up.  I do not have to wait for Ooman to move off the sofa and then wait a further three seconds until I can pinch the warm spot she has just vacated.  Ditto the bed.

Of course, we wouldn't be having this issue if Ooman would start opening the door to the sunny garden again...

The three second rule - myth #1

I don't like to allow Ooman or any of her kind in the kitchen unsupervised.  They all have nasty habits of cleaning up food when they drop it.  Food on the work surfaces is for Ooman to eat.  Food on the floor is for cats to eat.  If you've dropped it, you've reliquished it to your cat.  None of this 'three second rule' nonsense.  It's mine, go get your own food (from the work surface).  Absolutely, definitely DO NOT pick it up off the floor and make me have to dig in the bin for it later.  You'll only be grumpy when your sleep is disturbed by me wrestling with the bin lid at 2 am.

It's hard work being me...

...or any cat for that matter.  Fluid mechanics is complicated.  Don't believe me?  You try drinking water out of a bowl on the floor with grace, decorum while maintaining a dry face and whiskers.  Or just read this.

The wrong garden

I've given up waiting for lunch to visit the garden again, it's just too cold.  It's about this time every year when Ooman develops a very annoying habit.  Usually when I want to bask in the sunshine, I sit on the doormat, ask nicely and rather than scrambling in an ungainly fashion through the cat flap, Ooman opens the door for me.  Perfect.  Most of the time, Ooman opens the door to the 'sunny garden', but around this time of year Ooman seems to think it's fun to show me the 'cold garden' instead.  And no amount of complaining will get her to change it. 

It's annoying, she's so well trained in all other respects but I can't work out how to break this habit.  Suggestions welcome in the comments box below...

Bear with me

As you can see, I am decorating.  It's difficult without opposable thumbs.  Please bear with me.

Intruder alert!

I am writing to you from the flower bed. We have been invaded. Not once, but twice.

The first time was a cheeky young thing which made it all the way up to Ooman's bedroom in the middle of the night and woke us all up. The Child and I soon saw him off. Such, I suppose, are the perils of a cat flap.

The second intruder was more promising. It only invaded the garden, not the flat. It ate most of Ooman's favourite plant. Judging by it's ears, there was no hope of sneaking up on it. It's nose kept twitching, like it was very nervous. It was very quick and came from Over The Fence, although its actual method of access was under the fence. It was twice my size and it smelled like...LUNCH!

I hope intruder #2 returns - I have the garden under surveillance and am only eating light meals. Well, I don't want to spoil what promises to be a perfect meal by over-indulging on kibbles, do I?

Worried

There's something wrong with Ooman.

Every time I knead her lap looking for a comfy spot, she makes a loud oof-y noise. The other day, I thought I'd warm her feet by sleeping on them, but she complained that they'd gone dead. I really think she might be ill. I also think she's passed it on to t'other Ooman, as he also makes an oof-y noise whenever I sit in his lap.

Seeing as Ooman is ill, I've decided not to mention that the cat flap has shrunk. I don't know why it should suddenly shrink, but it's a real struggle to get through it.

The litter box.

The best time to use the litter box is immediately after Ooman has cleaned it. Especially if she's scrubbed it, polished it and mopped the floor underneath it. Don't waste this opportunity. Be sure to steal and eat a slice of bread (instructions below) about 2 hrs before you go.

Pills

From time to time, you may find medication has made its way onto your daily menu. Whether you like the taste of pills or not, there is only one respectable course of action. Spit them out. Ooman's immediate reaction is to find something tasty to wrap it in. If you're lucky, Ooman will try embed said pill in a chunk of tuna. It's relatively easy to swallow the fish and spit out the pill. Ooman will then work systematically through the fridge. If you're really lucky, Ooman will keep using the same pill, despite the coating of spit and food that you've slobbered all over it. Watch as Ooman tries to press a slimey pill into a chunk of hard cheese. Opposable thumbs clearly aren't all they're cracked up to be....

Beware: if you spit the pill out too often, Ooman may resort to enlisting the services of another Ooman, holding your jaw open and firing the pill down your neck. Be careful not to spit the pill out too often. There is little dignity in being fed like a foie gras goose...

Try a little...

...tenderness. Especially when your Ooman has been hard at work in the office all day and is looking a bit glum. Remember, that salary pays for your litter, milk and kibbles. Sit on her lap, look up at her with your best 'I love you' face and purr loudly. Try shed as much hair as you can during the process, then every time Ooman finds a hair on her clothing/in her teacup/under the keys on the laptop it'll be a little reminder that you love her.

Don't overdo the displays of affection. Bald is not a good look for the average kitty.