Sheeting

Arthur loves sheeting, it doesn't matter where or under what warm blanket. Kruimel hates sheeting, but loves attacking moving blankets. It's a symbiosis around here, so lovely it almost hurts ...

My first homemade video, filmed with my photo camera :o)))

A Sharp Reply

This weekend, it's time to feed the upstairs neighbours cat again. At first when I moved into my flat, I wondered why she called the little furry creature 'Spike'. So I agreed on giving the little puss in boots his daily dinner whenever the neighbour girl is away on holidays.
Nobody else wants to, all pretending to be allergic to hairballs or pretending to be busy. I don't mind, I hope by doing her this favour, she won't mind feeding my three hair-spreading miawers whenever I'm escaping abroad.
So last year, she went to Cuba for a whole month. Up I went, climbing the Mount Everest stairs every day, to the third floor. Everything went perfect, the black and white animal was shy and calm the first two weeks.
The neighbour girl made notes for every task I had to perform in her penthouse. Watering her banana plant, giving drinks to the cat, scooping up the litter box and ... be careful that Spike doesn't jump your legs when you try to leave the flat, he doesn't like to be alone ...
I laughed. Why on earth would little kitty jump my legs ? He was far too shy do do that.
On the third week the cat started to be very lonely and his defences weakened. To my great joy, I could pet it and it came swirling around my legs when I entered the flat.
His behaviour changed. He was extremely happy when I came to visit him and we played a little with his toy mouse. As I walked up to the door to go downstairs again, the cat followed me. I smiled at him and turned towards the door to turn the key ...
Shouldn't have done that, I really shouldn't !
Tsjakka !!!
The cat sneaked up behind me and whacked the giganormous claws of his right front paw into the calf of my leg ...
I went to Fuerteventura the next day, remembering little Spike for three weeks by the nice blue bruise and matching red scratching points on my leg.
Has anybody got a hockey outfit that I can borrow this weekend ?

A Pussy Cats Pleasure

I have been working in my garden today, the weather was really beautiful. It reminded me of a thing that happened to me a couple of years ago.

I just moved in to my flat, when suddenly my Ginger cat disappeared for a few days. It's the only one of the cats that can jump high enough to get over the garden wall and go for a walk in the neighbours gardens.

Panic started to spread around, as the cat hadn't been home for almost three whole days. I walked from door to door in the street, asking people to look in their gardens. As I rang the doorbell of the only neighbour left that I hadn't spoken to, a drunk guy opened his door. My beseeching eyes meant nothing to him, begging him if I could have a look in his garden and call for the cat.

'Stupid rambling cats', he said, 'Good thing they only live for a year or two and then they are wasted !'

I almost burst into tears in the middle of the street, begging him again if I could just have a short look into his garden. His heart melted.

'No, I don't like people coming into my house, but you know what, give me your phone number, and I'll call you as soon as I see your cat', he lisped.

So desperate me, I gave a description of the cat and the number of my mobile.

Shouldn't have done that ! ! ! I really shouldn't !

The cat reappeared a few days after I posted little notes in every one's mailbox. He was dirty as a chimney sweeper, the white bits of fur being gray from dust. Probably been locked into somebodies shed or something like that.

During that weekend, my friend Thomas and me were enjoying the sun in my garden, as suddenly my mobile rang :

'Hullo, it's your neighbour speaking here,' a blurry voice shouted, 'I can see your pussy now !'

The drunk was standing in his garden, shouting very loud, so even Thomas could hear him. He didn't notice us also standing outside.

' I can see your pussy now !', he shouted again, 'I'm almost able to touch and pet it!'.

My friend was already rolling on the floor with laughter, as I tried to reply to the man as polite as possible. I told my friendly neighbour to 'please do not touch' my pussy and that I gave it a collar already, so he could recognize it from the real vagabond cats.

He's ever so friendly since, always giving me a nod and saying my name when we pass each other in the street.

Comforting thought to have such caring neighbours !