Shastrix Blogs

Well Christmas has come and gone and it has been an interesting few months. About two weeks before the big day I had my suspicions something was awry, as all the bedrooms seemed rather bare and uncharacteristically tidy. However, if it weren't for me waking up for a midnight snack, I would have missed the whole event. At about three in the morning the house was alive and not just Ashley hogging the computer into the wee hours. The Elders and the Girl were up and about, stressing for no apparent reason. I tried to ignore the shastrix and headed back up to my chosen bed, which happened to be in the Girl's room that night, but returned to find she had changed the sheets. Hours of careful kneading of quilt into the right shape and warming the sheets were ruined. Out of spite, I decided to leave a present for her and made my way into Ashley's room instead.

Mother later attempted to enlighten me, explaining that it was their Holly Day; though after careful inspection of my calendar I found no such event listed; I must investigate this day further. Many hours passed alone in the house, it suddenly dawned on Mother and I that they might have forgotten about us, abandoned without food or warm beds. As the daylight hours grew thin, I began on my memoirs, but no sooner after contemplating a witty title, I was distracted by somebody clumsily opening the front door. Mother and I took our places; I at the top of the stairs behind the banister and Mother on top of the curtain rail next to the door. As it slid open we held our breaths... but thankfully it was only the Girl's boyfriend.

It turned out that he was sent to be our servant; he fed, he cleaned, and he let us out in the mornings and back in in the evenings. It was a peaceful existence, and I was looking forward to a quiet Christmas on the sofa eating my turkey chunks with festive vegetables in gravy. I was however disappointed. After going to bed early on Christmas Eve, I was woken by the return of the family; who, with no consideration for Mother and I, stormed in and demanded hugs.

Grandma cat buys the worst gifts...

More recently, other strange events have been occurring. Ashley disappeared again, stealing my computer before I had a chance to update you on the festive follies, but also the parents moved temporarily into his room. This I found most puzzling, especially when I returned to spend the night in their room to find it had transformed into a rather unrecognisable form. Mother disagreed with this new décor and decided to play games with the Elders. Recently, we discovered that a short dash through the fence into the garden next door, a jump onto the wall then the water storage tank, a scurry over the garage roof and on to the veranda, a tiptoe back across the clematis into our garden, and a climb onto the kitchen roof and up to the window ledge, provided an easy route for entry into the house via a small window. After the family discovered this, their underestimation of our abilities has led them to worry about our safety. In protest, Mother has decided to use this access as her sole route of entry into the house. It has been rather amusing to watch the female Elder open all the doors to the garden in an attempt to coax her in via other methods.

Last month the most cunning of plans passed through my mind. After searching the garage for an old walkman, and salvaging the microphone from a decrepit two-way radio, I managed to construct a primitive recording device. Over the past three weeks I have been collecting sound-bites from the family in every day discussion. Last week, after playing through my collection, I finally had enough for my scheme to bear fruit. With some old fashioned tape cutting and sticking I formed a message in the human tongue and located the telephone number of the RSPCA. A phone call later and the deed was done, all I had to do was sit in my favourite window-gazing spot and wait. At precisely 16:32 on Wednesday, a van carrying the charity's emblem pulled up. A man and woman sat inside and scanned through some notes. Right on cue the hussy cat, which has been causing me endless aggravation, crawled her way up the street. Before she could react to the sight, a net and cage whisked her up and the good people of the RSPCA deposited her in the back of their van. One can only hope she is re-homed to a caring, loving family... preferably with small children...

A priceless photo of the moment before the van doors shut her out of my life...