Life sucks ...

Dougal has turned into a hooligan - aka The Dooligan. I left some boxes in the front bedroom, with a view to finding homes for the contents once the Festival homework had been done.

One evening last week, I was next door in the office, immersed in race entries for the Festival, when I heard a funny noise. When I went into the front bedroom, I found the furless one sitting on top of one of the boxes, surrounded by a ring of confetti that he had torn off it.

He has also started to steal things such as my watch, bracelets and pens. Anything bright and shiny is fair game.

He is currently hanging upside down in the rowan tree at the top of the garden, thoroughly enjoying the milder weather now that he can go out to play for longer periods.
 
Sounds like he's having a great time. One of mine likes to make confetti out of any type of paper/card that he finds including a £20 note once that I dropped without realising.
 
£20 quid! I bet that hurt, Imagine!

Mine would have been lectured that it was the kitty-food for a fortnight so they could go and get their own.

Dougal is enjoying the warmer weather so much, but has now started moulting, just as I had got him looking more like a cat again. It's really strange how the fur on his lower legs and tail has grown back in all long and fluffy, but from the knees upwards it is short and close-lying and never grows longer than 1cm.

A bald cat with a plumy, fluffy tail and leggings. There's a sight!
 
We have only had our cat (first one ever!) since Christmas, so for Dad and I it was a big change.

Can proudly say, he, Taj, is one of the best things that has come into our lives since Mum passed away.

Dad and I have never been cat people, preferring dogs. We decided to break the ice, so to speak, and get one. After researching many breeds, we came down to a Burmese and Birman. Despite the long coat, we opted with a Birman, due to their calm nature, and also because several friends of ours have them or had one and couldn't recommend them highly enough.

I honestly was very apprehensive, but he fit in straight away and has been nothing than a delight. He has more of a personality of a dog than a cat. He is highly obsessed with water, and actually has jumped on various occasions into the bath tub for a swim. We were told the breed are not cats that jump into your lap, they rather sit next to you on the ground and lay by you. Well he has broken that rule, and spends half his life kneading us, and sleeping on our laps.
 
I'd forgotten about Birmans; a friend of mine used to keep them and wouldn't have any other breed. We used to have Burmese; we couldn't let them out of the house and I was forever shouting to people to keep the doors and windows shut. They were both wool eaters [except for the one that ate plastic bags as well] and we had to change the locks on the doors so they couldn't open them.I always wanted a Siamese as well, but they are so demanding of your time and very vocal [also wool eaters]. Oriental cats are very dog like; the problem is that they do exactly as they like and you can't train them, so they dominate your life. Thats why I've gone the other way and kept whippets as cat substitute dogs. My daughter has toyed with the idea of having a Ragdoll; I understand it has proved to be untrue that they feel no pain, they are just very sweet natured and laid back. I've got the ferals again next week. I've always said that people get excited about having a puppy but they're just hard work and destructive; however a kitten is the most delightful thing in the world.
 
Well after the disaster of my car dying in Jan at the same time as money being stolen from my account, I finally managed to find a replacement car and went to pick it up today. Looked lovely, test drove well and I thought mmm Rover 75 not bad.

Bloody thing died on me less than 6miles later and it took another 3hrs to get it back to the garage and home!

To be fair to the dealer he immediately offered me my money back or a replacement and we have compromised on a replacement so I have now gone for a Volvo V70 2.5litres S Reg (i love my volvos!) and he is putting a years tax on it in lieu of a discount - fair deal?

Anyways hope to pick up the new tank on Thursday - fingers crossed!
 
Grand Armee said:
We have only had our cat (first one ever!) since Christmas, so for Dad and I it was a big change.

Can proudly say, he, Taj, is one of the best things that has come into our lives since Mum passed away.

Dad and I have never been cat people, preferring dogs. We decided to break the ice, so to speak, and get one. After researching many breeds, we came down to a Burmese and Birman. Despite the long coat, we opted with a Birman, due to their calm nature, and also because several friends of ours have them or had one and couldn't recommend them highly enough.

I honestly was very apprehensive, but he fit in straight away and has been nothing than a delight. He has more of a personality of a dog than a cat. He is highly obsessed with water, and actually has jumped on various occasions into the bath tub for a swim. We were told the breed are not cats that jump into your lap, they rather sit next to you on the ground and lay by you. Well he has broken that rule, and spends half his life kneading us, and sleeping on our laps.
Click to expand...

My aunt used to breed and show Birmans and they are lovely. She still has a few but they're just pets these days. I love their blue eyes. I think she has three in the house at the moment and one likes to sit by you and one of the others on you lap. The third one sits half way up the stairs peeking out at you through the bannisters.
 
Beautiful cats, Birmans.

Dougal has been nursing me through a nasty little bug that affected my kidneys quite badly. I was under the weather throughout the Festival but by the weekend was feeling quite ill with various symptoms and side-effects. A colleague too was ill with a similar bug doing the rounds of the Hospital.

While I was at my worst I spent a lot of time sleeping and the only way that I could get comfortable was to lie on my tummy. Dougal stayed with me much of the time, curled against my pillow and puffing (he still can't purr properly most of the time) down my ear.

Occasionally he would lie on the upper part of my back as I felt the cold there, and would sometimes knead - very comforting! Even better when he managed a proper purr, as it reverberated all down my back muscles.

What a darling!
 
Dougal the Reiki master! I hope he fixed you, Redhead, although I'm sure when his invoice comes in, you might feel slightly faint... hope you're all better now, and ready to enjoy watching the fast stuff with the wee feller.
 
The bill was Cajun Fried Chicken and a couple of plates of (raw) liver. Not too heavy - and he let me share some, too. (Cooked liver, with onions, of course.)
 
Chablis would be fine, Kri, but he's scoffed all the chicken!

I had a few pieces that I put aside and re-heated in the oven the following day. He went absolutely bananas while it was cooking, running around yelling at me to hurry up and serve it.

When I went into the kitchen he was sitting in front of the oven looking in and when he turned and saw me, he yelled and pawed at the oven door. I had to forcibly remove him to get the door open and only just caught him as he tried to dive into the oven to get the chicken. Nearly ended up with a roasted cat!

He has learned to communicate what he wants so well. I have never had a cat make it so clear. While the snow was lying deep and crisp and even, he was really scared of it and wouldn't go out, so I had cleared a path from the back door to the hedge before I went to bed.

The following morning he was absolutely bursting and came to tell me that he needed to go out by yelling at me, very loudly and urgently. When I didn't respond immediately, he looked into my eyes, then started to paw the carpet. Quick on the uptake, I picked him up and took him to back door. He saw the little path and immediately jumped out of my arms, ran to the hedge and ... heaved a big sigh of relief!

Last week we had liver and bacon casserole (Isi, where were you?). He refused to eat his breakfast the following day and sat in front of the oven, pawing at the door. When that didn't work, he jumped onto the worktop beside the cooker and started to tap at the casserole dish on top of the stove.

To echo the recent Cravendale advert - Thank Heaven he doesn't have thumbs!!
 
I love this post - and Dougal of course! :D

Just shows that even if it is true we cannot tame cats they def tame their owners!

My wild and crazy guy is learning how to address us too. If we do not get up in time for him in the morning he sits in the window in front of our bed and takes one claw and twangs the double glazing band like a guitar. If that does not work he then thumps the blind pull against the wall a few times, and looks over his shoulder at us. If still no response (like after a good drinking session for instance) he looks right at us and shouts 'meow!'

Sounds like he was a very good nurse during your kidney ordeal. I find cats are, they like to sit on the beds of the sickly. Hope you are all better now. And that he is enjoying this sun on his back.
 
Yes, hope Wee Dougie's pulling round much better now that the weather's so much finer. He is certainly a smart little feller. Oh, I love that Cravendale ad - the cats look so sweet and yet, at the same time, curiously unnerving. You're none too sure they won't do unspeakable things to the chap with the bottle.

Hundreds of years ago, our little mutt dog Fatso was hit-and-run by a car, and left with a damaged spleen and badly-hurt paw. The vet reckoned that with some treatment the spleen would repair itself (it did), but the paw needed regular dressing, cleaning, and re-dressing. My mother (I'm sure a repressed nurse at heart) did this religiously for him and, knowing it hurt him - he would simply turn his head to one side with a look of pure martyrdom on his face, whimpering only occasionally and very gently - would say, "Oh, poor poor Fatso, he's got a poor poor paw." He began to know when it was re-dressing time as she'd start with "Give me your poor poor paw" and he'd obligingly lift up the crushed toes for her attention.

It was endearing that, months and months after the little foot had healed, Mother would only have to say "Ooh, poor Fatso, show me your poor poor paw" and he'd lift it up again, assuming the same pained face of bravely-borne suffering.
 
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Awwwww!

Freddie had a "poor paw" too. He used to sit with it off the ground when he wanted treats or a fuss. When one of us would notice and say "Poor Freddie! Have you got a poor paw?" and he would lift it a little further off the ground and get the attention that he wanted.

Sometimes though, he would forget which paw had been hurt originally - but it still worked!

Isi, it sounds as though your wild fella is slowly becoming (shhh) domesticated.
 
That's right, Red, Fatso couldn't always remember which paw had been hurt, and he still got his little treats. He was incredibly resilient - he was double-barrelled by two ponies for annoying them - sailed through the air in a perfect arc, still barking - and ended up with a cut lip from one wallop, which gave him a rather cute smile (he had a slightly underslung jaw from being a bit Peke - and a lot of other stuff), and was finally killed by accidentally having a full 33-gallon barrel of oil dropped on him at the farm he was staying at when we were all on holiday. The farmer, who had farm dogs which never came into the house, had always allowed Fatso free rein, even allowing him to jump up onto his bed and snooze with him. His son said he took himself into his study with a bottle of brandy, and drunk himself into a stupour after Fatso died. He said he'd never seen his Dad in tears before, and he refused to eat anything or see anyone for three days. He truly was in grief, but that was the kind of little chap Fatso was - absolutely your best friend and confidant, always by your side with a merry flag of a tail and the most twinkling, cheeky, amber eyes.
 
What an amazing dog! Some animals have such character that they make an impression on everyone who meets them. The poor farmer, Fatso must have really made a deep impression on him. I'll bet the whole Krizon household went into mourning as well.
 
Nothing is sacred!!!

Not feeling too bright today after working both Bank Holidays, so treated myself to a toffee cookie and a glass of ice-cold milk.

Just got up to answer 'phone. Came back in to find the furless wonder on table drinking out of my glass. If that wasn't bad enough, he had a saucerful of milk of his own!
 
That's it, it doesn't matter what dainties you've put before them - yours is the only one they want to eat or drink! The cats I had used to pester for all sorts of things - except citrus. What fun I'd have as they'd be busy smarming round my ankles for yet another treat-on-demand, only for me to open up a tangerine... the looks of fury before they shot across the room, glaring at me with feline resentment.
 
Awww, so funny! :D

I had a little black cat called Merlin who really loved butter and anything with butter on it. He would nick corn cobs out of the bin as they smelled of butter. He liked any vegetables that had been buttered too and would munch his way through them. Many years after he died I was amused to see Emma Bridgewater bring out a butter dish which had 'don't let the cat get the butter' around the rim of it. I had to buy it of course ....
 
Mmmmm, butter.

Dougal loves it. Tilly will "mop up" after crumpets with honey.

Good for the skin (my excuse, anyway).
 
Dougal had a very bad time at the vet's last night. They couldn't get a vein in either front leg and tried several times in each leg. I could hear him screaming and yowling at the end. Very distressed. I cried.

He was not talking last night and would sit on my lap for comfort, but would shake my hand off whenever I tried to stroke him. He just sat on my lap and shook.

He does stress eat after a chemo session, so he had an enormous meal of fish, chicken, cat food, biscuits and rice pudding. Even then, he was still distressed.

I wrapped him up in our purple blanket and left him in my armchair overnight. He was still there this morning and only got up when I put some chicken down for him. He ate his breakfast and went back onto my chair and dozed for a bit.

Happily, he came up to my bedroom as I was dressing for work and seemed much more his old self. Asking for a fuss and bouncing round the room (he looks like a spider monkey now, his legs are so long and his fur is so short and close lying).
 
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