Diary of a cat sitter

Tuesday's Report...
Fat Cat is fine. Have opened up cat flap this morning for her to venture out should she choose to – but you could see her shaking her head and laughing as she padded away to the comfort of the warm chair. I will of course return later to lock the unused cat flap and inspect the used litter tray. She is now meowing as I enter the house and gave in and let herself rub against my legs whilst I was opening up the gourmet food parcel. She even purred when I picked her up for a cuddle – she was also trying to get down whilst purring - a very mixed up pussy in denial of her feelings and needs me thinks.

So, feline report done with. So starts house report….

Buzzer has decided I am a prisoner in your home and refuses to work. I do of course have the power of the key and can outwit the evil door buzzer.

Tad windy last night and the playhouse had relocated next to the cat flap – a vain attempt to get inside the house out of the hostile weather (along with the cat it is in denial but not over it’s emotions, just its size – I too think I can fit into small spaces such as size 8 jeans only to beaten the size of my girth)

There was obviously one hell of a party on your deck too as one of the chairs had far too much of the falling down stuff and … fell down. I pulled it up off its back where it was laying comatose and left it thinking about its behaviour. The precious basket of shells on the outdoor table did one better than the chair and was obviously hallucinating as it thought it could fly – in fact, it did a pretty good job and was found nestling in the fynbos. I managed to talk it down, having clambered along a wet and treacherous path and put it in its place. I then picked up the pieces of all the shattered and emotional friends discarded on its way who were now nothing but shells of their former selves. They are all now huddled together, in therapy at the big table.

Friday's Report...

Is she related to Garfield by any chance? There certainly is an uncanny likeness in girth and attitude.

Everything is fine. Her Highness’s paws have still failed to touch “outside” despite huge amounts of encouragement from me. Kids and I spent about 20 minutes there yesterday to open up the house a bit and try and get FC to enjoy the fresh air. Kids jumped on trampoline a bit, FC parked on favourite dining room chair. I even sat and stroked her for a short while (me sitting on cold floor whilst she enjoyed her throne). She purred a lot, even licked my forehead twice…. Then gave me a left hook with claws and I hastily retreated questioning the presence of a father in her life and likening her to a female dog rather than a cat.

Opened door again for her this morning (physically opened kitchen door in case said girth was now exceeding the limitations of the cat flap) but she just looked at me and turned on her paws back to the dining room chair. But she is still purring on my arrival, rubbing against my legs etc until the gourmet offerings are in the bowl. Then I might as well have crawled out from under a rock by the attitude I get from her.

I don’t want to alarm you but… how can an empty house get so dirty? I decided that I had to take the dustpan and brush out to your stairways. Maybe I’m underestimating Fat Cat's activities in my absence as there was a liberal dusting of her fur throughout the stairway. Much sneezing later and one dead cricket less and your stairs are looking much better (although not quite ready for Top Billing). Talking of making salads, I thought I should check your fridge (I knew you would do the same for me – in fact, you check my fridge every time you come into the house, even when I haven’t gone away…?!) Anyway, there was a large, slightly explosive looking container of milk. I did the compulsory sniff test and realised it had to go. Having poured the offending liquid down the sink I had a horrible moment of wondering if it was “special food” like those weird "brain growths" our vegetarian friends breed and eat. Well, if it was – “too bad, so sad”, it’s now on its way to the lagoon I suspect.