Watchlords

Some time ago, I posted about a cat that started visiting the Bloke Cottage...
viewtopic.php?f=177&t=47066
...and I guess that what svaglic wrote, about resistance being futile and that now I'm owned by the cat, was downright prophetic.

I'm now, like, buying damn cat food on my way from work, like. She's a voracious beast. In terms of the volume of food to body size ratio, she sure beats my best scores in stuffing my stomach, once laboriously achieved at a Chinese restaurant and a Tex-Mex joint. The fucking fuzzball would just eat and eat.

The cat stays at home as she wishes. She doesn't even try to murder the parakeets anymore.

She did have a "raccoon" episode with knocking over the bin. Once. Didn't try it again.





She's very gentle, for a cat. Didn't scratch me once. Well, OK, she did, incidentally - I fell asleep on the couch, the cat climbed onto my lap, and when I woke up, I didn't notice her, and as I was getting up, she tried to catch balance and grabbed the only thing she could, that being my leg. The whole homestead rang out with a howling "KUUUURRRRRRRRRRRWAAAAAAAA!" Because it did hurt more than a bit. Anyway, she never scratched me on purpose. She surely can give a displeased meow when I remove her from my pillow, but that's that. She knows full well that she's welcome on the armchair and the couch, and most of the bed, but she's to stay away from the pillow.



All I can say is that it feels very...different from having a dog. A bit like me, she chooses to come when called only if so she wishes. Verbal commands are useless. Reckon it's a long way to understanding a cat. In many ways, these creatures seem to have a mind of their own more so than humans. And it's slightly beyond me why exactly is she so fond of a cardboard box.




So, yeah. I am owned by a cat.

Good for you!
She's a sweetheart

You’ve been owned, you just came to terms with it. You have been put in your place and have begun your training period.

Welcome to the servants club.

She is a very nice looking cat, congratulations.

Good for you both.

Ours likes cardboard boxes too. Likes to get in them and chew on the edges. Go figure.

Such a contented looking cat.

I mean, you're making another living creature quite happy; those pics prove it.

Nothing cooler than that.

That is one seriously handsome feline. She will have a grand life with you.

Ha, she has a milk mustache. She’s a beauty.

Yup. Never in doubt. Always bet on the cat.

There she is, the Queen of everything.

"If the world was flat, cats would've pushed everything off it by now. "

Sweet Kitty!

Short update...

We talked to the neighbours, who according to another neighbour owned the cat.

The lady looked at the photo, and...

"Not my cat. Mine's similar, but her legs are all white. We know this one, she stopped by once or twice."

We also learned that the cat is something of a stray. She doesn't have a home, she just stopped by a few houses for the food, but never stayed longer than a day. And she mostly relied on the generosity of a local elderly lady, an utter cat nut. It seems like the Bloke Cottage is the first home where she managed to become a resident.
All in all, it's odd - she definitely doesn't show any usual nastiness of a feral cat, and instead she's a walking example of an almost canine trust and amicable disposition. Looks like she's just very gentle and friendly by nature,

So... We'll take her to the vet, have her scanned for a microchip, and if she doesn't have one, we'll get her checked for any parasites and other no-good stuff, and vaccinated. And then, well, she can call our home her home. Not that she doesn't do so already, anyway.

Nice pussy!!! Well done.

Now you understand human slave

This is how me and Mrs. C became cat "owners" again. First came the late O'Brian, who was indeed living rough, under the house next door. Unlike many feral cats, O'B was the sweetest cat on the planet. We started feeding him, he started staying in overnight, and before we knew it, we had two of his Irish brothers.

When you take her in to the vet, make sure you get her fixed, or you'll end up with five or six more cats, and you'll have to take a second job to feed all the furry bastards.

Better to be owned then to be possessed, I guess.

Cats are way cooler than dogs so you'll probably be alright.

I saw this today and thought of you, your cat and bird.

svaglic wrote: ↑

February 11th 2020, 9:04am

I saw this today and thought of you, your cat and bird.

That's so very true. The cat made two or three attempts on the lives of my parakeets. However, it's been a long time since that happened last. Though when the budgies start making too much noise, I always run to their cage to check if the furry beast isn't by any chance trying to kill them.




Speaking of the cat in general... We took the cat to the vet. Fortunately, it doesn't have a chip. But what it does have, is a cock. The cock was hiding in a substantial layer of fat.
"Can't blame ya, the fat and thick fur masked it well," said the vet. Well, wasn't me who declared it a female in the first place, so I feel excused.

The moral of the story? Don't get fat, else it'll take a doctor to find your cock.

Anyway...it's a nutless male cat, about 3-4 years old. Apparently he's been neutered by the municipality, which has been rounding up stray cats and neutering them to prevent the local cat population from spinning out of control.
It doesn't have any name yet. Have just been calling him a furball, which isn't exactly much of a name. He doesn't seem to mind.

So, the cat's been vaccinated and treated for ticks and internal parasites. He's a permanent resident now

"Furball" is a right proper name for him.

If he sighs a lot, he might be Irish. Now, the Irish have their faults, God knows; they like to mix it up, they have a weakness for both booze and catnip, are generally lazy, and, living on an island surrounded by fish, they're too dumb to go fishing when their potatoes died and so had to move to America to survive.

However, they're the most loyal pals a guy can have. If you make friends with an Irishman, you'll have a friend for life. Half the fucking Irishmen who came off the boat in the 1860s joined the Union army right off the bat and went off to beat Johnny Reb, which was no small feat. Even afterwards, when Americans treated the Irish like shit, they still didn't swerve in their love of their adopted country. Half became cops, the other half became firefighters, and very few of them became criminals, like the guineas, and don't get me fucking started on the Italians, goddamn it.

Anyways, the name O'Brian isn't used at the moment, so I would suggest that. Because there's never been a more loyal pal than him.

Just a thought.

Tell you what - I can be as abrasive as Comet cleanser, but as I age .... the animals in my life mean more to me by the day, even the ones who have passed on.

My current feline, Izzy The Nebelung (I can't believe I'm writing this) is the cream in my coffee, the sun in my sky, the most blessed gift I have ever received. She sits with me so often it's crazy no matter what I'm doing, purring louder than the TV or stereo, seemingly as happy to be with me as I am to be with her. At least 20 minutes each day, she sits in my lap and just luxuriates, and it just sends me over the moon. Many morning I have woken up to find her snuggled close to me. She does something I've never seen a cat do - sometimes when you approach her, she reaches for you with an extended paw. She's just about the sweetest creature I could ever imagine, and she's a freakin' cat, and I've known cats that rarely acknowledge their owners' existences.

I wish you, once she's yours-yours, every bit as many of the moments of peace and fun that my Izzy brings to me. Life has been stressful of late, but those spare moments, those unexpected times, can really make a day.

conjurer wrote: ↑

February 11th 2020, 9:32pm

If he sighs a lot, he might be Irish. Now, the Irish have their faults, God knows; they like to mix it up, they have a weakness for both booze and catnip, are generally lazy, and, living on an island surrounded by fish, they're too dumb to go fishing when their potatoes died and so had to move to America to survive.

However, they're the most loyal pals a guy can have. If you make friends with an Irishman, you'll have a friend for life. Half the fucking Irishmen who came off the boat in the 1860s joined the Union army right off the bat and went off to beat Johnny Reb, which was no small feat. Even afterwards, when Americans treated the Irish like shit, they still didn't swerve in their love of their adopted country. Half became cops, the other half became firefighters, and very few of them became criminals, like the guineas, and don't get me fucking started on the Italians, goddamn it.

Anyways, the name O'Brian isn't used at the moment, so I would suggest that. Because there's never been a more loyal pal than him.

Just a thought.

Doesn't really sigh a lot, this one. Some Irish name, hmmm... Not a bad idea.

As for the Irish in America in the 1860s... Indeed, a lot of Irish fought on the Union side - notably the Irish Brigade commanded by Thomas Francis Meagher, and its "Fighting 69th" regiment. Though if I recall correctly, there was more than a little bit of Irishmen fighting on the Confederate side as well. And that supposedly led to cases of Irishmen fighting against other Irishmen; heard that one such situation took place at Fredericksburg, although I haven't been digging deeper into that. Well, that's enough of me digressing to history, I guess.

TemerityB wrote: ↑

February 12th 2020, 3:23pm

Tell you what - I can be as abrasive as Comet cleanser, but as I age .... the animals in my life mean more to me by the day, even the ones who have passed on.

My current feline, Izzy The Nebelung (I can't believe I'm writing this) is the cream in my coffee, the sun in my sky, the most blessed gift I have ever received. She sits with me so often it's crazy no matter what I'm doing, purring louder than the TV or stereo, seemingly as happy to be with me as I am to be with her. At least 20 minutes each day, she sits in my lap and just luxuriates, and it just sends me over the moon. Many morning I have woken up to find her snuggled close to me. She does something I've never seen a cat do - sometimes when you approach her, she reaches for you with an extended paw. She's just about the sweetest creature I could ever imagine, and she's a freakin' cat, and I've known cats that rarely acknowledge their owners' existences.

I wish you, once she's yours-yours, every bit as many of the moments of peace and fun that my Izzy brings to me. Life has been stressful of late, but those spare moments, those unexpected times, can really make a day.

I know what you mean. After all the shit I've been through last year, this cat really does feel like some blessing. As if he knew where he's needed, and thus which homestead and hoomins to annex. There was a void in the house, and now there isn't, thanks to the furball that might well be meowing for raw beef while having its plate full of fish pate for cats, but gives the absolutely invaluable positive presence in return.

Furball O’Brien That’s a great name