What IS it with cats?

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Linegeist
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What IS it with cats?

Post by Linegeist » 31 Jul 2003, 00:39

Our Siamese thinks she's in paradise. Having recently transplanted her from suburban Aberdeen to rural France, we've watched her metamorphose from a happy little house-cat into a rabid, slitty-eyed drooling little killer with an attitude problem. We're getting expert at identifying random rodent remnants and the shredded shapes of small corpses littering the floor in the mornings. Saves a fortune on cat food but the bloodstains take some cleaning up I can tell you…….
The most disconcerting habit she's developed is that, as it's so hot during the day, she's switched to being nocturnal. The result is that the pillage, carnage and slaughter now starts to get into the swing of things about 3am. Tiny squeakings, scrabblings and moggy grunts of vulpine lust are interspersed with crashes as she blunders into things (Siamese cats aren’t the most delicate movers in the feline kingdom). Then, just so her happily slumbering humans don't feel left out of things, Gook triumphantly drags the haemorrhaging and twitching remains of whichever unfortunate creature most recently crossed her feral path, upstairs for us to admire. Cue another quick dose of the screaming jeebies from the missus then......
Locking a Siamese cat out of the bedroom isn't a viable option as they're equipped at birth with a powerful built-in 50w portable sound system. We tried it once and the neighbours thought we were eating babies - raw! So we resorted to having the bedroom carpet sprayed with one of those stain-resistant finishes - well, the French equivalent, anyway. It works a treat, but the smell it gave off effectively put the master bedroom off limits for several days. Herself took to making barbed comments about day trips round the Paris sewer system ........ however, I digress.
Her piece de resistance (getting good at waffling Frog, now, see?) was last week when she arrived back at Chez Git toting a small mousy creature that had, unfortunately, failed to expire on cue. As she dropped it in order to yell, "Oi, you two. Take a butcher's at THIS then!" (Even Siamese have to drop stuff to talk - they're bright but not THAT bright), this French-mouse-creature-thing-from-hell took off like it had a Venom mainspring up its jacksie - understandably I suppose.
Unfortunately, its escape route took it across the recumbent form of Mrs C ....... her head to be precise. Mrs BC, being a rather light sleeper that wakes if a mosquito so much as flies past the window, hit total, instantaneous, all-missiles-at-the-ready, gimlet-eyed wakefulness in a tad under half a nanosecond. At the same time she treated us to a demo of feminine lungpower at maxi-chat!!! The cat and I reckoned on at least 120watts – RMS!!! Impressive! The gist of her meanderings (as far as I could make out with aural overload) was that she wished me to remove the object of her distress, preferably fairly soon, and to do so in a manner which would at no time, decrease its proximity to her position.
My attempts to catch the blasted mouse were rather hindered by the hysterically screaming woman that my normally sane wife had become and the demonically possessed Siamese cat that was now hurtling around the bedroom walls like a small, white, furry wall of death rider as she tried frantically to outpace the French-mouse-creature-thing-from-hell which was performing similar manoeuvres just below her and about 3 feet from the floor. This in its turn was performing acrobatics, aerobatics and gymnastics in its strenuous efforts to stay as far away as possible from the drooling and vulpine jaws of our darling little pet!
My one selfless attempt at grabbing the beastie sadly coincided with the cat's increasingly erratic trajectory and I absorbed a full paws-worth of razor sharp sideswipe intended for the hurtling hell-mouse. So now, bleeding like a stuck pig I'm trying to fight off a psychotic cat who's convinced I'm trying to steal her supper, deal with an hysterical woman who has abandoned all attempts at decorum and is now dancing on the bed like a demented Red Indian with a cactus in its jockstrap, while at the same time attempting to develop a half-decent stratagem for evicting an undead meal that can seemingly move in 3 dimensions with the speed of a greased weasel – while hurtling!
Then, I got lucky! The French-mouse-creature-thing-from-hell shot up the 4” exhaust pipe of the portable air-con unit!!!!! Yessssss!!!! 5 pairs of socks, 2 sets of used underpants and what looked like a remnant from Scrapyard Challenge (but which later turned out to be one of ma'am's new bras) appeared as if by legerdemain and were stuffed toute suite up the air-con pipe - the thing was trapped (please God, let it be trapped…..pleeeasse. Better still, let it be stone ruddy dead……..)
It was the work of a mere 15 minutes to strip the exhaust manifold from the air-conditioner together with its pipe and (hopefully) trapped French-mouse-creature-thing-from-hell and lug the whole caboodle outside. I was briefly tempted to get the rimmie out and wait for the little basket to emerge, but by this time I was in dire need of sleep, any sleep. As I dumped my load on the patio, a small dark furry shape exited the air-con with a muzzle velocity that would have shamed a self respecting pack howitzer and, pausing only to stick two claws up in my direction it scuttled, cackling manically, into the neighbouring cornfield. Oh how it must have laughed!
The epilogue, predictably, was when I returned triumphantly to the bedroom wearing little more than a bloodstained hankie and a combat weary grin, where a semblance of sanity had returned. There I found the cat glaring bleakly at me and the wife sitting up in bed wearing a basilisk stare that would have frozen a lesser mortal like stone.
"Wossup now?" quoth I foolishly. Now I kid you not dear readers, my reward, my thanks for rescuing my damsel in distress, my moment of blood-soaked glory was not to be enshrined in some scintillating prose, lauding my efforts on nature’s battlefield. Oh No! The white-lipped words I suffered were, "That was a brand new bra that was! I don’t suppose you think I'm going to wear that again after what you've just done to it, do you....................?"
Women!!!!!!!
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allmond
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Post by allmond » 31 Jul 2003, 02:18

And I thought I was going to read a posting about a catalytic converter!!
Jamie
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mark_sp
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Post by mark_sp » 31 Jul 2003, 05:08

there is actually a warning about 'hot cats' in my Xantia handbook.
Mark_sp
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