Helen's Cat Tales Part V ~ Pawprints and Purrs, Inc.

Waffles in the Garden - May Day Bank Holiday 2001

Yesterday was a lovely Spring Day here in deepest rural Norfolk. The sun was shining, a blue sky and although the breeze had a chill to it, it was the best day we've had in ages.

The cats made the most of it - especially Waffles.

I went out into the garden and she followed me out. I love watching her face as she sniffs the air. Her whiskers come forward, her eye widens then and then half-close in feline happiness and her ears go up listening to the birds chirrup and the grass move in the breeze. She then did her crazy lap round the garden. She could be seen zooming about at ninety miles an hour, a black blur of fur rushing by, leaping into the air, full of the joys of the day. Then finally bounding up the trunk of one of the weeping willows on the bank of the stream, to sit up high, watching out over her realm and generally having fun in life being a cat.

Once she'd had several minutes looking out over her realm from her vantage point halfway up the tree, she climbed down and strolled across the lawn to see me. She greeted me by standing up on her hind legs and brushing her head along my hand, purring as she does it. Then once more the joys of Spring set in and she was off zooming around the garden again. We had a few games of "Pounce on thuh stoopid hoomin" when she leapt out at me from the long grass and shrubs along the stream. Of course, I have to pretend to be frightened by this vision flying through the air, all four paws spread wide, as she leaps out at me, three feet into the air and goes sailing by me.

Waffles then discovered a particular shrub was great for this purpose and used it as an ambush point for several leaps out at me. Next to the shrub is a small patch of dandelions and a lovely thing happened. I spotted my first butterfly of the year and it was a beautiful purple peacock butterfly. Now this butterfly landed on a dandelion only a couple of feet from Waffles. Her eye came out on a stalk! She immediately went into hunter mode and decided that she was going to have this purple thing sitting on her dandelion. She immediately became flat to the ground, her ears came forward, her eye wide open, whiskers pointed forward in the direction of the butterfly and she stalked it. The butterfly lazed on the dandelion drinking nectar and this feline version of G.I. Jane crept up on her, unnoticed - jet black fur with fluorescent pink collar against a green lawn - perfect camouflage. I could hear butterfly laughter. Waffles managed to get to within six inches before she went into full bottom wiggle mode prior to the final pounce. The she leapt and the butterfly flew off. Waffles looked at me with that feline "I meant to do that!" look and started the "If in doubt, groom fur" routine that avoids all embarrassment to cats that have just made a mess of catching something.

Lovely day.

May 8, 2001 - All rights reserved.

Aliens Invade Deepest Rural Norfolk
(Ballooning Isn't for Francis)
My next door neighbour's son, Robert, runs a hot-air ballooning business. Over the winter the balloons have been in storage and a few weekends ago, Robert decided it was a good idea to get the balloons out and inflate them to check them over for damage. The very large field at the back of my house is owned by my neighbour, and is big enough for such a purpose.

Anyhow, being good neighbours ourselves (well, we hope we are) the Simmons family went out to help with the unfurling of balloons, inflation, deflation and then packing away of the balloons. Hard work, but wonderful fun. I recommend that everyone should go up in a hot air balloon at least once in his or her lives. It is wonderful. Vernon and I did it several years ago, from Worcester. We went up in a huge rainbow striped balloon from the middle of Worcester racecourse and went through the clouds. Sitting on top of the clouds at 6500 feet, drinking chilled champagne out of silver goblets is not to be missed and is a truly magical experience. I recommend it!

Back to ballooning in Norfolk. The first balloon to be checked over was quite a small one in ballooning terms, but it was still plenty big enough. As the guys were getting the thing started, I was still in the house at this point. I stood in the dining room, looking out of the patio doors at all of the goings-on in the field. Francis joined me. He wandered into the dining room and gave me his greeting chirrup. I know it's Francis without looking, just hearing his particular greeting to me. Francis rubbed up against my ankles and watched what was going on with me.

At this point, from Francis's point of view, aliens landed. Over the 8' conifer hedge, rose a giant red alien. It appeared out of nowhere and got bigger and bigger. Francis decided I needed protection from the savage invader! He immediately flicked out his claws. He didn't just go up on his toes; he went up on to the ends of his claws, like a ballet dancer on pointe. His tail went vertical and the fur on it went out at ninety degrees, so it resembled a bottlebrush. The fur along the entire length of his spine went up, his ears went back, flattened to his skull, his eyes went wide, and his whiskers went forward. He then produced growls and HISSSPITS at 120 decibels, and did the "assume the u-shape of the crab and bounce about in a frightening manner" dance all along the floor in front of the patio doors.

I slept soundly in my bed that night knowing the planet is safe from alien invasion thanks to the fearsome feline warrior that is Francis.

May 8, 2001 - All rights reserved.

Attack of the Killer Trout
Oh dear; poor Francis. What with aliens landing (in the form of a hot air balloon), Francis thinks life in deepest rural Norfolk is taking a turn for the worse. The indignities he has to suffer...

A couple of days ago Jaws returned. For those that don't know Jaws, it is a trout that resides in the stream at the bottom of my garden. Considering the stream is only a couple of metres wide at most and is not at all deep, only knee-deep, to have a 2' trout living there for most of the year is quite nice. Jaws has become quite tame, as I feed it every day from the same spot, by the little bridge that gives access into the farmyard. When I feed Jaws, I am often accompanied by three felines who sit crouched by the edge of the bridge, peering over into the stream to see Jaws and try to figure out a way of getting a large trout out of the water and into feline stomachs.

This morning I went out with a slice of wholemeal bread, as usual, and started tearing off chunks to throw into the stream for Jaws to have as breakfast. What I didn't spot was Francis sitting at the water's edge. Jaws didn't spot Francis either. I threw some chunks of bread and they happened to land in the water only a few inches from the end of Francis's nose. Immediately, Jaws came for breakfast and broke the surface of the water, mouth open wide to take the bread. At this point, Jaws spotted Francis and was spooked. Jaws literally leapt out of the stream, flipped over in mid-air and splashed back down, swimming away at top speed, but not before soaking Francis with the wash from his splash down back into the stream.

Well, the look of feline indignity said it all. Francis sat there and shook himself all over, creating his own little shower, as he ridded himself of the water poured on him by Jaws. At this point, I fell about laughing at the sight of a feline soaked by a trout. Francis gave me the "feline look of death" for daring to laugh at him. He is no doubt plotting revenge at this very minute... I think a planned assault on Jaws by three felines is well on the cards as there is no way Francis will allow this to continue.

May 14, 2001 - All rights reserved.

Ouch, Ouch, Ouch!
Boy do I ache.

Been in the garden all day. First of all I did the hanging baskets and the tubs for the front of the house. The hanging baskets have surfina petunias in them and the tubs are stuffed full of geraniums. Then I did the weeding of various bits. Finally I attacked the long grass on the banks of the stream. This led to conflict. Of the feline variety.

In the long grass the cats love to play hide and seek. It also gives them little hidey-holes to bask in the sun, unseen from prying eyes. I am not popular - Waffles has shown her displeasure. As I was cutting the grass, Waffles refused to budge. She looked at me with that look and became glued to the ground. I ended up cutting the grass around her - carefully. No amount of cajoling, shaking of the treats' tin, swearing, stamping of feet would get her to budge. Every time I got to one of her hidey-holes with the shears - like greased lightning she would appear and become rooted to the spot. I pointed out that by cutting the grass, the mousies would be easier to spot. She looked at me with that "You are stupid" look.

To rub salt into her wound, Francis got to the last bit of long grass before Waffles could. As I arrived there ready to cut it, Waffles appeared to claim her place. Much to her surprise, the space was already occupied ... and the occupant sprang out at her, when she wasn't expecting it. She ran off and assumed the "If in doubt lick the fur" stance and gave me the look of death. Francis was rolling about peeing himself laughing at Waffles. Waffles got her own back - she strolled off to Francis' food bowl and promptly threw up a hair ball in it.

Don't you just love cats?

Me, I just ache from head to foot with all the exercise.

May 28, 2001 - All rights reserved.

Ise a Mitee Huntur...
Hah! TED sed dat wen mine eye hadda bee reemoofid, dat wiv onlee wone eye, mine huntin skillz wud deeminish, coz Ise wud haf noe depf purrsephun. TED izza fool! Ise jus kawt mine thurd mole inna weak! Ise a mitee huntur! Quale, rodentz, quake wiv feer in mine shadow!

Purrs offur a roaring naychur...

Waffles

(Queen of all she surveys, Princess Wafflet holder of the sacred chalice of Bast, Superior Lifeform, Dark Avenger and Destroyer of rodents, plus Meowmie's furry ladycat)

Hoomin note - yes, it's true - the hunting prowess of a certain black lady cat have not been diminished one iota since the op to remove an eye. If anything - she's even more proud of when she gets something, and brings it to me, purring and meowing as she does so.

May 29, 2001 - All rights reserved.

The Mighty Hunter Has Delusions of Grandeur
Yesterday, in the late afternoon, I was standing in the kitchen looking out over the back garden. Waffles was out enjoying the sun, sitting on a molehill, eye closed and whiskers forward, just enjoying life as a cat.

All of a sudden, there was some movement at the base of the conifer hedge. A nose peeked into the garden, followed by a head and then the rest of the animal. It was a muntjac hind; a little sweetie. For those that don't know the deer to be found on this side of the Pond, muntjac are a small deer, only about 18" high at the shoulder. They are an introduced species to the UK - originally from China and brought here to form part of private collections. Over time, individuals escaped and now thrive in the English countryside. Round these parts there are loads of them, especially in the Thetford Forest area, but I don't often see them quite this close!

The little hind looked about nervously and slowly crept into the garden. At this point, a certain sunbathing feline woke up. This muntjac was only a couple of yards from her. How dare it! How dare a deer be in her garden! Waffles took instant umbridge at the sight of the intruder and went into hunter mode. Oh dear (should that be "oh deer"?), the delusions of grandeur that little feline has! Well, Waffles crouched down on the ground, with her rear end taking up the wiggle that happens just before she pounces. The deer looked at Waffles - Waffles looked at the deer. Waffles uttered some sort of feline curse about fangs being wrapped around muntjac jugular. That was it - the little muntjac decided discretion was the better part of valour and she took flight out of the garden and up the length of the field at the back. She was, however, hotly pursued by a little black cat determined that no deer was too big for her to bring home through the cat flap. Luckily for the deer, it was faster than Waffles and it managed to escape into the distance. Waffles ran all the way to the edge of the field before giving up, some several hundred yards. Got to give her credit - she is a mighty hunter, even if she didn't manage to bring home the bacon, or on this occasion, the venison.

Once Waffles got to the far end of the field, I called her and she came bounding back down the field to home. She came running in the kitchen, meowing and purring a greeting. I swear she was saying, "I would've got it, I would have!" She had made quite an effort for a small, feisty one-eyed black cat with a steel pin in one leg, so I gave her a sliver of her favourite ham.

May 30, 2001 - All rights reserved.