Things I’ve Learned This Week

Happy Christmas (well, nearly)!

We’ve all got two more sleeps before Christmas, and I would like to remind you that Father Christmas is STILL taking note of his naughty list, so don’t you think you can get away with swearing behind your mothers back, or blaming your brother/sister for breaking the window … OR blaming Grandma for that noise! (or the smell which followed it!).

On my own personal Naughty List is the name of one certain blogging site who, I think, must be doing some changes or updates or geeky gizmo stuff which has prevented me from working on this post yesterday and scheduling it to post in the early hours of this morning!  I tried again to bring this post to the blog here, at around 9.30 this morning, but each time I loaded the admin pages, the whole thing stalled and eventually the window closed down.  Everything else worked perfectly – I could get up any page on the web I asked it to – from Google to Amazon to an online newspaper site which is heavy on images and script (and adverts) and they all loaded perfectly.  But WordPress … wouldn’t.  So WordPress is currently on the Naughty List.  Hmmmpff!

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I’ve learned one or two things this week, and I’m here to share them with you.   Have you got your drink ready on the side?;  seatbelt on?;  suitcase packed and stored in the over-head locker?;  false teeth in the private cup to your left?  Ready?  Steady?  GO ….

This week I’ve learned that I shouldn’t give my dog – the beautiful Belly [on Legs], one of her Christmas Presents early.  I bought her an incredibly soft new blankey for her bed.  It’s vintage Christmas red on one side – looks and feels like the most expensive velvet known to man.  On the reverse is some sort of furry fleecy stuff which HAD to have been spun in Heaven I’m convinced that it’s the stuff which Angels must sleep on.

The whole blanket looks like I’ve stolen a throw from Father Christmas’s house!

I couldn’t wait to give it to Miss Belly [on legs] so I untied it from its red ribbon, and held it for her to sniff.   She got ridiculously excited . . .  so I unfolded it and draped it over her bed.  She sniffed ….  wagged her tail and jumped straight on.

Well, this obviously hissed Alf Capone (Used Furniture Dealer  –  and one of our 3 Cats)  off royally,  and to show his hissed offness he clambered all over The Belly until she got cross and got off her new blankey and came to tell me to make him stop it.  Sadly, Alf Capone (Used Furniture Dealer) by this time had snuggled himself into the blanket and when I mentioned his name (with a complaining whine to my voice) he gave me one of *those* looks which clearly said “You have NO chance of getting me off this blanket.  EVER

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Alf Capone snuggled down and pretending to be asleep on Belly’s new Christmas Blanket. tsk tsk.

The result of this was – the following day Mr. Cobs and I went back to the shop and bought two more of the blankeys.  Both of them in the same colour as this red one, so that none of our four legs  could tell the difference.  Now all the beds in the Living Room match, and they all look like I’ve mugged Santa.

Now comes a warning.

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Meet Sewchi.  (Say it like you’d say Sushi – the Japanese cooked vinegared rice dish, normally combined with other ingredients such as seafood,  vegetables,  etc.  Other rice dishes are available – as they say on TV here in the UK).

The above photograph tells you all you need to know about Sewchi.  She’s not my cat.  She belongs to Daughter No.2.  Well, no, to be really truthful, she actually belongs to Little Cobs (Grandson), son of Daughter No.2 and Son-in-law.  Sewchi was bought for Little Cobs, and he adores her.  He’ll freely tell you that Sewchi is his “bestest fwend”.  But, as the above photograph shows, Sewchi is a few sandwiches short of the full picnic.

 

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Little Cobs and his Cat.  Where ever he is, she is.  He loves her, and the feeling is entirely mutual.

Daughter No.2 has now proven what I’ve always suspected  . . .  she, like the cat, has a few screws missing.    Read on, dear reader. Read on.  For this is a story which must be told  . . .

No.2 is married to the handsome SiL, and they have miracle child, who most of you know by the name I call him:-  ‘Little Cobs‘.  She also has a dog and three cats.  I think she’s copying me, but if she’s going to copy anyone then I can’t think of a better person.  (yes, I really am joking).

She loves her animals and looks after them really well.  Tiny tidbits of treats now and again, lovely bedding, special beds, toys, etc.  They aren’t spoilt, but they’re very much loved.

One of the little ‘treats’ she gives her cats is Catnip. Catnip is another name for the herb Nepeta cataria  and  relative of oregano and spearmint.   Nepeta cataria is a pretty common plant, often found along highways.  HOWEVER ….  Don’t feed your cat any wild Nepeta cataria  which you might find along the side of the road, as it could contain an array of pesticides and very harmful chemicals.

There’s a substance in the make up of Catnip which it’s thought mimics a cat pheromone which binds to a cat’s olfactory receptors to produce catnip’s unique response.  The effects of catnip on pets range from arousal to euphoria,  and some cats drool and meow with pleasure.

 You can find more about Catnip  HERE.

No.2 was dishing out a tiny bit of catnip and turned around, forgetting that she’d left the lid off the catnip jar.  Using the photographs that Daughter No.2 took at the time, I’ll help tell the story of

What Happened the Day Sewchi Catnipped Herself!

Sewchi is a truly beautiful British Short-hair Cat with incredible fur of soft, smokey grey She really is a bit of a dopey sort of thing.  She behaves and re-acts to things in such comical ways, but her over-riding best character trait is that she’s an amazing friend to Little Cobs, and loves nothing more than to snuggle with him or sit by him while Little Cobs is playing.  However … like a lot of cats, she has a weakness for Catnip.

When she saw that the lid had been left off the Capnip jar she moseyed on over and ….

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. . .  stuck her head into the open jar, and took a looooong deeeeeep  sniff.  However, she couldn’t reach it with her nose,  or her tongue, so she tried another way . . .

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. . .  this gave her more success (as you can see by the bits on the floor) …  but it still wasn’t satisfactory to her.  So she ‘accidentally’  tipped the jar over.

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Ohh, she rolled in it, rubbing her cheeks, her head, her back … everywhere she could rub, she rubbed.  She was so much in pleasure land that eventually,  this happened  . . .

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See the pleasure in those paws?  She lay on her back, on a fluffy blanket,  and crashed into pleasureland.  Her feet were curled up all tight and she was so incredibly happy at that moment that nothing on earth could have upset her.  Nothing.  Mummy could have offered her fresh Salmon and she couldn’t have cared less.  She was the most ultimate H.A.P.P.Y.  she could ever have been.  A little later …. she slept it off, peacefully – if ever so slightly drunk.

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And now ... she’s looking forward to Father Christmas bringing her own supply of the stuff of her dreams ….  but Mummy doesn’t hold out any hope.  Mummy says that she’s going to be fully in charge of catnip in future.  Sewchi wishes you a very . . .

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So … let that be a warning to all you cat people out there.  Don’t expect your cat to be sensible about these things, because sensible doesn’t work when Catnip is involved.  😀  And I’ve learned that any Catnip toys I make for my own four leg family members will have to have very tough seams!

Oh … and it’s not just house cats or domesticated cats who like Catnip . . .

 

I’ve also learned this week:

US scientists calculated that Santa would have to visit 822 homes a second to deliver all the world’s presents on Christmas Eve, travelling at 650 miles a second.

If you have children or Grandchildren visiting or in your home coming up to Christmas day, there is a lovely Google Santa Tracker you can visit, both to track Santa’s progress and also some games to play and various bits and clicks, which you can find  HERE <— CLICK

NEARLY 60 million Christmas trees are grown each year in Europe.

THE word Christmas comes from the Old English “Cristes maesse” meaning “Christ’s Mass”.

KISSING under the mistletoe is thought to spring from Frigga, the Norse goddess of love, who was associated with the plant.

THE highest-grossing Christmas movie is 2000’s How The Grinch Stole Christmas, which has raked in £175m so far.  And … as a little bit of extra information …  I’m actually watching this very film as I type this!

GOLD-wrapped chocolate coins commemorate St Nicholas who gave bags of gold coins to the poor.

THE first Christmas celebrated in Britain is thought to have been in York in 521AD.

Do we have a ‘Christmas spirit’ network in our brains?

A Danish study has identified what could be described as a “Christmas spirit” network in the brain.  The researchers recruited a group of people who celebrate Christmas, and a group who do not.  Using fMRI scans – which detect blood flow in the brain to identify which areas are activated – they investigated which parts of the subjects’ brains responded to be being shown Christmassy and non-Christmassy images. They found that certain areas of the brain were much more highly activated in the festive group than the control group when they were shown the former group of pictures.  The Christmas spirit network exists in the sensory motor cortex, pre-motor and primary motor cortex and the parietal lobule; these areas have been associated with spirituality and recognition of facial emotion, among other functions.

Exchanging Christmas cards could be a form of social-climbing

Far from being an act of generosity, exchange of Christmas cards is sometimes used as an opportunity for social-climbing, as people are more likely to reciprocate card-giving with people they are interested in scoring points with. Previous research has shown that people reciprocate card-giving even with complete strangers. A study conducted in 2000 at West Texas A&M University took this a step further, arranging the exchange of nearly 600 Christmas cards between strangers of different social classes. They found that perception of high status increased the likelihood of a sender getting a response, and the effect was even more pronounced among low-income receivers of the cards. High-status strangers – such as doctors, lawyers and CEOs – received responses for 1 in every 5 cards they sent, with few recipients so much as asking about their identity.

Candy canes used to be “pure white”

Few things say Christmas more than those sugary sticks of red and white deliciousness. There was a time, however, when they weren’t red and white.(Although we imagine they were still pretty tasty.) The familiar Christmas treats started popping up around the 17th century as Europeans started using trees to celebrate the Christian holiday season and made special foods to decorate them with. Candy canes first appeared around 1670 when a cathedral choirmaster would hand out the all-white confections to children to keep them occupied during Christmas mass. While no one knows exactly who gave candy canes their stripes, one (unproven) theory has it that the “J” shape was once meant to stand for Jesus and the three stripes represent the Holy Trinity. (Red is meant to represent the blood of Christ).  Chew over that the next time you bite into a candy cane!
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Mr. Cobs taught me something this week which I didn’t know before and I wondered if you knew this … so I’m including it so that you can quote this over Christmas, and everyone will knocked out by how clever you are.  Not Christmas themed, but ….
Do you know where the ‘sleep tight’ bit came from when you say  “Night night. Sleep tight”?
It derives from the fact that they used to use ropes on beds to support mattresses.  And the tighter the rope, the more comfortable the sleep.  Hence … Night Night,  Sleep Tight.
I’d never heard that before!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
A few jokes to tell once you’ve had your Christmas Day Sherry …
Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Wayne
Wayne who?
Wayne in a manger…!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Oakham
Oakham who?
Oakham all ye faithful…!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Knock Knock
Who’s there!
Anna!
Anna who?
Anna partridge in a pear tree.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Knock Knock
Who’s there?
Igloo
Igloo who?
Igloo Suzie like I knew Suzie!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Q: Whats the difference between the Christmas alphabet and the ordinary alphabet?
A: The Christmas alphabet has Noel.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Q: What do you call people who are afraid of Santa Claus?
A: Claustrophobic.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
What do you call an obnoxious reindeer?
RUDEolph.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Q: What do you call an elf who sings?   . . . . .
A: a wrapper!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Why are Christmas trees so fond of the past?
Because the present’s beneath them.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Why does Santa Claus go down the chimney on Christmas Eve?
Because it soot’s him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
and finally . . .
What do reindeer hang on their Christmas trees?

Horn-aments!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

All that is left for me to do now is . . . .   wish you a very happy Christmas.  May Peace fill your home and love fill your heart.  Presents are just such a lovely way of someone showing they love you enough to go to the trouble of shopping with you on their mind.  However, the very greatest gift someone can give you is their time, for in giving their time, they are giving you themselves.  So just because someone might not spend money to say I love and care about you,  if they’re giving you their time, even if it’s just to stop and have a few friendly words at the front gate, then that’s a show of their respect and admiration for you, because, right now it’s a busy time of year, so if they spare a few of their minutes to share with you, then I think that’s the most wonderful, caring gift.

If I could send you a gift, I would send you a box of 365 rolled up little notes and quotes.  One for each day of the coming year.  Each note/quote would be designed to make you smile as you read it.  For I would love to know that I could make you smile even on those days when a smile is the last thing you think you can muster.

Sending you the happiest of Christmas Wishes.  Be good to each other.

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Friday Post: Things I’ve Learned this Week

Friday has come around all too quickly in Cobweb Towers. Y’ know . . .  I used to laugh at my Grandma when she said (in her Lancashire accent)  “Eee, the days fly past so quick!  I wake up on a Monday and by the time I’ve had a cup of tea, it’s Friday!”. 

Then as my Mother grew older, she too would say similar things, and I told her that she’d turned into Grandma! 

And now … I’m saying those same things too.  Where has the time gone?  When did I grow ‘old’?   I didn’t notice time slipping by Was I too busy?  What on earth was I doing which made me not notice that I was growing older?   I used to laugh about the Grey Hair – I actually even liked it.  It added hi-lights to my dark hair.  But … I swear I’m not actually as old as my birth certificate says  … because I still feel like a child.  My inner child is there in everything I do or say.  Very much in evidence.  When someone is not nice to me, I still cry like a child would.  I have a belief that everyone surely is nice . . .  (and yet … the news tells me a totally different story!).

I used to laugh about me saying things my mother used to say, and I’d tell our two girls:  “Oh my goodness I think I’ve swallowed Nanny!  She’s just popped out of my mouth!”  …  and they’d laugh their funny, chuckling, little girl laughs.

However …  I noticed a few years ago that both of my beautiful daughters had begun to have my  sayings ‘pop’ out of their own mouths, and I’d laugh as I told them to  “be careful girls …. you’re turning into your mother, and you really don’t want that to happen!”.    And yet, it’s the funniest thing –  because,  for some strange reason that I really can’t fathom, they seem to always be just a tiny bit pleased that they’re hearing me ‘pop’ out of their mouths. They hear themselves saying the very things I used to say to them when they were growing up and they appear to like it.  It kind of tickles them in some odd way.   [shakes head and chuckles to self].

Anyhoo …

As I said, it’s Friday and we all know what that means …  it means that I’m sharing with you the things I learned this week So … are you ready?  Here goes:-

  1.  I learned that the average person falls asleep in 7 minutes. I learned from this that I’m not an average person.  [sigh]  It takes me about an hour, sometimes two and occasionally more than that, to fall asleep.  Don’t feel sorry for me, it’s just me.  Do these people who fall asleep in 7 minutes have nothing they need to think about?
  2. I’ve learned that the average chocolate bar has ….  [get ready for this one. . .] . . .  8 insect legs in it.  Oh.  My.  Stars!  Never has anything been such a wonderful dietary aid.
  3. The Electric Chair was invented by a Dentist called Alfred P. Southwick..  (Still want to go and get your teeth looked at in that nice comfy dentists chair this week?)  🙂  Mr. Southwick was present on August the 6th, 1890 when a gentleman by the name of William Kemmler was executed by electrocution.  It was reported that Mr. Southwick said:  “There is the culmination of ten years work and study.  We live in a higher civilization from this day.”
  4. A cat has 32  YES – THIRTY TWO – muscles in each ear!!!  AND … I also learned that that fold of skin forming a little pouch on the lower part of a cats ear has a name!  It’s call Henry’s Pocket Isn’t that just the sweetest thing?! lol.
  5. I’ve learned that some Doctors are complete and utter nincompoops.  I shall say no more on this subject, you’ll just have to believe me.
  6. And finally we end where we begun;  on the subject of sleeping:  …  I read this on the internet somewhere this week, and it’s been one of those things which has been on a loop inside my head.  So in the spirit of sharing and with a nod to the Olympics  …  I hand the baton to you!

I wonder ..

And there you have it.  Things I’ve learned this week.  Not entirely sure what I’m going to do with these ‘facts’ but at least I’m full of … what? …  knowledge? …  things?  …. stuff?  …. well… I’m full of something and it’s not what Mr. Cobs just suggested!!  tsk tsk.  He’ll be spending five minutes on the naughty seat for that little bit of bad behaviour.  If he carries on, I’ll phone his mother, THEN he’ll know what trouble looks like!  🙂  Mrs. Cobs Snr. loves me.  She tells me so every time I speak to her.  (I think she’s just grateful that someone took ‘himself’ off her hands!) fnar fnar.

So …  Is there anything you’ve learned this week?  Maybe some fun stuff?  Or … have you:- Done stuff?  Bought stuff?  Won stuff?  Anything?  I’ll pour the coffee … you tell me about it, and we’ll share a laugh or two between us.

Have a wonderful weekend my friends.  Remember to make a memory as you go about your days.

Heaps of love and squidges from my corner to yours….

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On-line Dating ~ for cats – The Reply

For humans reading this:-

This blog post  ‘On-line Dating ~ for cats – ‘The Reply’  is a response to a feline ‘approach’ from an admirer called Neurotic Cat, (who is the owner of Mrs.P & Beloved).  Who wrote a letter of love to one of my cats : Alfie  ‘Two Toes’  Capone.  If you haven’t read the loving advances of Neurotic Cat,  you can find them on Mrs. P’s blog: Craft OdysseyYou might want to read Neurotic Cats blog post before you read my own cats reply so that it all makes sense to you.

I hope that this is as much fun for you to read, as it was for me to type.

Of courseall that you are about to read was dictated to me directly by Mr. Capone himself.  I am merely his personal assistant,  or, as he calls me ‘his servament’ ~ . . .  ~ Cbs.

I now hand you over to Mr. Capone – all HIS own words.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Alf Capone’s reply to Neurotic Cat.

Neurotic Cat,  Princess,  …

Your profile has piqued my interest, as has the photograph of you flashing your tummy!

I feel I should let you know somethings about the real ‘me’.  The REAL Alf Capone.  So find yourself a comfy spot and I shall begin;

I was born at an early stage in my life and have now attained the grand age of 4 in human years.  However in cat years I’m now in my prime and aged 35.**

I’m built along the lines of a small Puma,  and stand approximately 38cm (15″) from floor to top of shoulder.

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Can you see my snowy  white shirt peeping out of my Tux?

I have a luxurious black fur coat and wear a tuxedo which reveals a hint of white shirt on my muscley chest.

My nickname, ‘Two Toes’,  relates to me having two white toes on my (left) back foot, and was given to me by my human family of ‘servaments’ (servants) when I moved in at 8 weeks old.

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See my two white toes?

As I matured I developed kleptomaniac tendencies, often returning home with purloined goods from the neighbourhood, including cat toys, socks, bread rolls, meat from barbeques, long strips of silicon sealant – which I resolutely refuse to divulge where I obtain it from,  and leaving them all as surprise gifts at Mrs. Cobs feet.

I am also a trained Assassin.  Bringing home various dead bodies . . .  of shrews, mice, rats, and even a large, stupid bird, which I later found out was called a pigeon, whose corpse I stashed under Mrs. Cobs chair for her to find.  I’m not sure if the noises she made when she found it were happy ones.  But I was content and that’s all that matters.

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Peeping Tom?  No, I’m the Neighbour Watch Chief Officer!

I’m part of the Neighbourhood Watch and like nothing more than keeping an eye on the neighbours through their windows.  “Peeping Tom” is another phrase which has also been used to describe my activities, but I have no understanding of this term.

I like to ambush Mr. Cobs and ‘Bellie’ the K9, as they return from their morning strolls, by laying in wait and leaping out of various driveways as they pass.  I then escort them to the front door to make sure they’re safely home.

It’s a quiet road where I live and the residents know that when I’m lying in the road, then they’d better drive around me – or suffer the consequences.

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Look into my eyes.  Not around the eyes, not above the eyes, no, look into my eyes.  You WILL do what I request!.  You are my servament!

I enjoy food, particularly if I go out and come back in again – even if it’s only for two minutes.  I believe I am telepathic, and try to convince Mr. Cobs to feed me by staring into his eyes from a distance of two inches.  If this doesn’t work, I walk onto his tummy with all four feet and stand in front of his face so he can’t watch the TV.  This works every time!

I am partial to cream, ice cream and yoghurt – which I only seem to get in very small amounts from Mrs. Cobs, and only if I lick it off her finger.

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The K9 unit.

I lurve the K9 unit, Bellie, but she doesn’t seem to reciprocate it.  I show her my lurve by scent marking her, or as she calls it ‘head butting’,  sucking and padding her blankets and climbing onto her bed with her.  There’s not enough room for us both, so I lay on top of her, keeping her warm, padding,  and digging  my sharp little nails into her, showing how much I appreciate her little, roly poly, warm, soft body.  For some reason she takes umbrage at all of this and grasses me up to Mrs. Cobs as if I’m doing something wrong!  What a nark.

Mrs. Cobs read a poem to me a little while back, and I  liked it so much that I remembered it because I agreed with it whole heartedly,  so I’m going to share it with you:-

Cats Sleep Anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.
Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.
Open drawer, empty shoe, anybody’s lap will do.
Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.
Anywhere!  They don’t care!  Cats sleep anywhere

Author: Eleanor Farjeon (1881 – 1965)

I’m quite a laid back and can sleep anywhere, and apparently, from photographic evidence which has been submitted to me, in absolutely any position.

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Fast asleep

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Too big to fit that circular bed on the top of the cat scratching/climbing/sleeping/hiding combination ..  my tail, back legs and bottom are hanging over the edge of the circle bed and from just over half way along my body .. those parts are hanging over the other edge of the circle bed and I’m fitting myself onto what’s available .  Both of the Cobs were heard to say … “THAT cannot be comfortable” … and yet, as you see,  I obviously am!

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I  like to put myself to bed.  A trick I learned from the K9 unit.

See?  Like the poem said …  cat’s sleep anywhere!

We have an ‘elder’ in our family.  She’s a black and white feline, who is now 22 in human years, which means she’s attained the great age of  105 years old  in Cat years.  I look out for her.  I am . . .   THE BODYGUARD!

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The elder is a good sport and lets me have three-quarters of this bed, while she squidges up in any space left.

I spend a lot of time with her, especially when she’s in the front garden asleep under the Hydrangea bush.

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I protect her from any other cats.

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If The Elder is out there, I’m there too, guarding and protecting her.  No one DARES to come near her when I’m there.  Not even that  Ginger [expletive deleted]  from over the road!

She’s half my size but … if she wants my food then I let her have it.  She is The Elder.  I know my place.  P.S….  she’s the one who taught me to ask for food every time I go out and come back in the house again.  It works for her and so far, it’s (almost) working for me.

I exercise by chasing my considerably smaller sister round the house, usually around 10.30pm, but also if my food is two minutes late!  I call this: Playing Cowboys and IndiansMrs. Cobs calls it:  PANDEMONIUM!  I have been known during this game to clear the width of the sofa – from end to end – in just one leap.  Impressive eh?

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My sister  –  a.k.a.  Princess Tippy Toes.

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This is how Princess Tippy Toes asks for her dinner.  She lays around the kitchen looking pretty.  pffft!

I am aware when Mr. C is about to play on his  X-Box, and five minutes before he goes to play …  I re-locate to his gaming chair. 

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Mr. Cobs Gaming Chair. fnar, fnar, fnar.  More like MY Comfy Chair!

I pretend to be asleep and Mr. C doesn’t remove me, so spends his time playing his game, sitting on the floor to play.  He appears to have great difficulty getting up from this position after he’s finished playing.  Watching him and listening to the noises he makes and the muttered imprecations concerning feline behaviour, is absolutely bally hilarious!  But the fun doesn’t end there … for  . . .  as he turns off his game  . . .  I vacate the game chair and go instead to sit with Mrs. Cobs in the living room.  Mr. Cobs appears not to find this aspect of my behaviour endearing.  (He has no sense of humour!)

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I’ve got a healthy pink tongue, and, Mrs. C. says, big chubby cheeks which help me to give the bestest cheek rubs ever!

 I’m single, in good health, glossy coat, rippling muscles, eat well and healthily (most of the time) and I’m adventurous.  I’m caring, protective, loving but maintain a real macho facade.  I have great eyes, teeth and claws, and like to help around the house by checking that the carpets are firmly attached to the floor, and that the rugs are in the correct positions.  (Having good claws comes in handy for this job!).  I like to  ‘chill’  in Mrs. C’s craft room, on a big comfy cushion which she’s put on the floor under one of her desks.  It’s a great room.  It’s cool, airy and quiet – apart from Mrs. Cobs continually talking to herself and asking me my opinion on ribbons, bits and bobs and ‘stuff’ – of which I have no interest, unless they fall on the floor.  THEN I’ll have an interest in them.

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… an all action shot of me with my Crack Coke  Cat Nip Banana

I have only one vice …. I very much like Cat-Nip.  It gives me a warm, fuzzy, psychedelic feeling and I have been known to seek out my Cat Nip Banana and steal it, even though Mrs. Cobs has hidden it from me!  (How very dare she!)  Mr. Cobs calls it  “Crack Coke for Cats”,  but I don’t know why because I don’t  drink it.

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Mrs C asked me to ‘pose’ for a moment so she could photograph my paws.  Apparently they’re big.  Can you see my ‘thumb’ … sticking out from the side?

So Neruo Cat …  if you’re looking for an all action, caring, sharing Hero …  I’m your Cat.

Cheek rubs  ~  Alf.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And there ends The Reply to Neurotic CatI do hope I have typed his every word exactly as he spoke it to me.  🙂

This wonderful, fabulous, loving, quirky, characterful, amazing, magical, gorgeous, friendly (to everyone) , truly beautiful hearted Cat, walked into my life and continually renews the foot prints which he leaves all over my heart.  He’s such fun and so adorable.  Yes, I admit, he does have his moments, but it’s all part of the great stuff which makes him ‘him’!

What he fails to mention in his reply to Neurotic Cat is that he has the ability to see Fairies.  Yes, he really does.  He plays with them when they come out to play in the evening.  He will scoot up and down the hallway, stopping every now and again to sit upright, taking all his considerable weight onto his bottom and back legs, and will reach up for something which cannot be seen with a human eye, but is quite obviously definitely there, and he’ll tap and play in what appears to be empty air, using soft paws (no claws), and everyone looking on can see that there is no fly or midge ..  so what the divil is he playing with?  What is it which is keeping this stunning creature amused in the way he is?  After perusing all the options,there is only one answer to this question.  He’s playing with Fairies.  Fairies which only he can see.   They must come into the cottage through the Fairy door we have to the side of our own front door. Yes, we really do have a fairy door there.   You don’t believe me?  … take a look …

Door

Can you see it?

FairyDoor

Now can you see it?

Have a wonderful Thursday my fabulous blogging friends. –

Sig coffee copy

**To convert cat age to an equivalent human age, an accepted method is to add 15 years for the first year of life. Then add 10 years for the second year of life. After that, add 4 years for every cat year. This means that by year two, a cat has matured to about the same as a 25-year-old human.  There is a website which will work it out for you: www.CalculatorCat.com .

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On Line Dating …For Cats

Dearest fabulous followers and magnificent readers of the Cob Blog,  …  Mrs.P, who’s a wonderful mummy to a cat (and a rather handsome dog),  happened to come across the post I made some time back, about one of my furry craft room companions;  Alf Capone.  (aka Alfie-popsDON’T tell him I told you that though). (Link to the original post by me HERE. it will open in a new window/tab for you to read when you wish )

Mrs.P. must have not noticed at the time that her cat, who’s name is: Neurotic Cat, had been perusing the screen as Mrs. P. was reading.  Well.. while her mum was off doing other things, Neurotic Cat did the following…..

Craft Odyssey

Have you ever had the experience of perusing posts when BOOM an image of what could be the love of your life appears on screen ??? There was I peeping at Cobs blog when I saw him ..Mr Alf,

mr-a-in-the-grass Go on admit it …isn’t he just the Bees – knees

I was going to be all lady like and wait for his slave Mum to make an introduction on my behalf ..then I though ” I’m a modern Woman … I can handle this myself” so I’m taking things into my own hands, so here is my online dating profile :-

My name is Neurotic Cat, I’m a dainty 6 yr old  black ‘ghost tabby’ complete with a white bib & tummy, I have a meow on par with a car alarm …which is a good thing when you require the attention of the highest calibre, I also have  healthy…

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