Today my lovely Feegle is one year old. Who better then to be sharing a blog post with us?
Over to you Feegle; you gorgeous bundle of one-year-oldness.
I am One!
Welcome back to the Feegle Cat Chronicles on this most important of days. Today we celebrate my whole one year upon this planet!
Apparently a one year old cat is equivalent to a human 10-15 year old. This explains why Cat Slave #1 keeps referring to me as a ‘stroppy teenager’. She cannot cope with the fact I’m no longer a docile, compliant kitten, unless treats, toys or a chin rub are involved.
It’s time for me to share the wisdom I have mustered up in the past year. Kitty cat sharing is always caring.
Cats Don’t Wear Clothes
Cat Slave #2 has tried to tell Cat Slave #1 this many times. Still she tries to make me wear hats, scarves, ties and the like. Still she has not learnt that she will come out of it with some additions to her own appearance, usually scratches on her arms.
I thought Cat Slave #2 and I had an understanding until he insisted upon gothing me up on Halloween with a set of bat wings. Apparently fancy dress as Dracula is exempt. Yeah right. I did get into role. He got some cracking bite marks for his efforts.
Humans need to understand that we already have a lovely fur coat. We don’t need any accessories. Now back off with that party hat.
How to Make Humans Happy
Humans are simple creatures. To make them happy just purr a lot, flop at their feet for belly rubs, give them the Puss-in-Boots eyes, and the occasional rub of your head against their leg.
I feared that the humans might stop finding me cute once I got older. I had nothing to be anxious about. All I need to do is look at the Cat Slaves and they are putty in my paws. Add the baring of pinky paws and a pinky nose to be boofed, and I’m sorted.
Humans are simple creatures. You like to think you’re complicated and get all angsty about weird stuff. All you need is a cat to be happy.
Looking Cute Means You’re Always Forgiven
I do try to be on my best behaviour but I’m only a lit’lun and I sometimes forget.
My new favourite game is to jump on the kitchen counters when the humans aren’t looking. They thought they’d got away with me not doing that. I didn’t want to miss out on a milestone.
For some reason the humans don’t like it. They have the nerve to say it’s unhygienic. How very dare they? I lick my paws clean every day.
They try to be annoyed with me whilst I’m sitting my arse on the place where they prepare their dinner but they’re far too proud of how high I can jump and how adorable I am to be mad.
Looking cute has got me out of many scrapes. When I first came home and did a reverse Exorcist scene out of my backside, they thought I was sweet when they washed me. I’d like to see a human get away with that.
I find that if I do something really naughty, I disappear for a while whilst the Cat Slaves chill the hell out. I then return with a little batting against the legs and all is right with the world.
I Am Easily Distracted
I don’t know if cat ADD exists but I certainly would merit the diagnosis if it does. Shiny, jingly, loose, stringy things are my nemesis.
I’m too young to understand what’s allowed for play and what’s not. I’m still not sure why Cat Slave #1 gets annoyed with me swiping her laces when she’s trying to put her running shoes on. She’s playing with them, so why can’t I?
Humans don’t half talk gibberish to their cats. I often tune out, flop on to their chest and go to sleep. That usually shuts them up.
Paper is my friend. This is a prerequisite for a writer’s cat. Now I’m not saying Cat Slave #1 makes a lot of mistakes but from an early age I learnt that screwed up balls of paper are my absolute favourite toy. The second I hear paper being screwed up, I’m there.
I am trying my best to thwart the writing human’s efforts because more mistakes = more balls of paper for me. Show me the paper and anything else that’s happening stops.
I Am a Beauty
I’m not vain. Cat Slave #1 tells me I am a beauty all the freaking time. Apparently I’m also gorgeous, loveliness, beautiful, and her lovely one. You cannot blame me if it goes to my head a little.
The funny thing is that when the Cat Slaves bought me home they thought I was a boy. The breeder and the vet said I was. It took over a month for anyone to listen and finally figure out that I am a girl.
I was getting the right hump as I had to put up with being called handsome, lovely boy, my best boy etc. I tried my hardest to pout and flutter my whiskers but no-one was taking any notice.
When they discovered I was female – and believe me it was in a most undignified manner with a vet’s over-friendly hands – I milked it for all it was worth.
I let them tell me how beautiful I am on a regular basis. For suffering the indignity of blue toys, being called a boy, and having my nether regions poked around, the least they can do is adore me.
It’s Always on Our Terms
Humans call themselves the owners of their pets. Oh, you fools. We own you.
You like to think that you are responsible for us in giving us food, shelter, and looking after us. We could do all that without you. We choose not to. Unlike our wild cousins, we know that living with humans is the good life.
My humans feed me the yummiest treats. They cannot resist my doe eyes when they’re eating dinner. My bowl is never empty.
When I want a human cushion, they comply. I often make a kip upon my humans last for as long as possible because it’s amusing to watch them jiggling around needing a pee. No decent Cat Slave will move their cat when the epic napping is happening.
If I want to get into a room where the humans have had the audacity to shut me out, all I need to do is meow. I often add a higher pitch just to make it sound extra pitiful. It works a charm every time and I often get extra guilt strokes.
My personal favourite is when the humans think they can move me from places I shouldn’t be, such as their laptop, their seat, or their book. I laugh as I immediately re-establish my position. I add an extra purr and the kitty cat eyes and no-one is shifting me from my domain.
Cats Are Smart
Dogs think they’re so clever. Cats get a bad press in comparison for being dumb. Because dogs are trained, you humans think they’re cleverer than us. We have fooled you all.
We are smart because we don’t allow you to train us. We will not fetch a ball, sit, lie down or walk to heel. It’s not because we can’t. It’s because we won’t.
We laugh at Fido getting annoyed with having to keep returning the stick, when we are lying on the on the sofa catching some zzzs. Who is the dumb one now then?
Humans Are Weird
I will never be able to figure humans out.
You talk a lot. We just emit a few sounds when required. You never seem to be able to work out what different meows mean though.
You use water to clean yourself. Why not give yourselves a good old spit wash and paw rub all over? No water required.
You do a lot of stuff and never seem to nap much. Cat Slave #1 is known for the odd cheeky kip but even then it’s not for the required six hours. I am often bunkering down against her only to be woken up as she gets up to do the things. Rude.
You don’t have fur. Your skin feels weird. You’re not very fluffy and comfortable to nuzzle up to. Thank goodness you wear clothes.
We Rule the Roost
I may be only one year old but I already know that I have a lot of power. The Cat Slaves can barely remember life before me. I became part of the family the second I entered their home.
I let them think that they’re in charge as it makes them feel better but secretly we all know who is Queen of this house.
I’m off to get them to feed me morsels of birthday cake, and bat a ball or two around. Here’s to many more years of cat dominion.