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July 2006

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A concerned reader As it has now bee...

We are at War | 27th July 2006, 20:56  
It has been some time since my last entry in my journal, but now that Ashley has brought my computer back from Yuniver and is out working I have found an opportunity to sum up recent events. Sadly there is no discernable pattern to his work hours so my use of the computer must always be quick and guarded for fear that he might discover my secret and put me on show in one of those circus things as I have seen with other creatures on the picture box.

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It really doesn't bare thinking about does it?

Nothing much of interest could have been said to h ave happened in the past 5 months other than that we are currently in a state of war. Mother and I declared thus upon all interlopers into our territory some time ago, and since have been waging a tough campaign against many felines; especially the ginger and white invader of the black ground before the house. Mother has recently been promoted to General, and as a flag officer who is no longer required to serve on the front lines, remains in the headquarters building keeping watch over the battleground whilst I lead the offensive against our foe.

It is a long and tedious fight. Twice now we have thought that we had attained victory, having enlisted the assistance of the family in our efforts to liberate the black country. The first time, they captured the enemy and detained it in a portable cell which was placed into an automobile and driven off. Our celebratory feast was however cut short when the automobile returned and the enemy was returned to our lands by the traitorous family. They shall not be relied upon again.

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A recently declassified spy photo of the "ginger and white cat" trying to enter the house

Generally, the enemy has been satisfied remaining in their respective occupied territories; but I had the suspicion that the ginger and white cat was partaking in reconnaissance far too close to home. My nose does not deceive me, but the new hissing device in the hallway makes matters difficult. I haven't fathomed its purpose yet; a cat height jet of apricot scented, eye stinging vapour... most bissare. Nonetheless, he had been there, and the lounge, and even the kitchen. One is never safe; the other day I was ambushed whilst in my own garden. The bastard thing caught me by surprise and I suffered a nasty wound to my head. This did not go unavenged and an equal nasty wounding was dealt to the black minion that the ginger and white cat has conned into assisting him. As I returned to base following the enemy's retreat I was spotted by the Girl who noticed my wound and reported it to her father. I escaped as fast as I could, but not before they got a good look at my swollen head.

Mother soon reported to me that they had mentioned Vet. Letting these humans tend to our every whim, whilst usually pleasant, does come with the added displeasure which results from their needless worry. 'Vet' is what they use when euphemistically referring to the clinical white man of horrors, famed for such illegalities as sodomy with a thermometer and forced swallowing of foul medicines. As such, one must listen for a time mentioned in the surrounding conversation as this usually acts as a clue for when such meeting with Vet may occur. On the Vet day a programme is followed of gorging on food; begging to be set free in the morning with innocent eyes promising an obedient return; and spending the day hidden in the long grass until the appointment is missed.

Throughout the day Ashley called me from the house, he even walked around the garden shaking crunchies and wafting the rather delicious smell of salmon and tuna. I began feeling sorry for him, but stood my ground; mother only once had to hold me in place by my tail to stop me dashing across the lawn - it was a level 7 hiding place after all, not something one would want to divulge the location of. After an all out search with appearances from both Elders, the Girl, Ashley, and his mate, they had finally failed. I gave them time to make the call - and a little longer, enough for the veterinarian to give some other creature my wretched appointment. Feeling proud of my day's work I slunk back in to eat. Straight into their arms. They scooped me up and into the metal prison cell I was dumped; they had tricked me. I sat smouldering as they put me into their automobile, plotting how to punish them for this treachery.

Whilst sliding about the back of the car I recalled my readings on the techniques those of the medical inclination may resort to when performing one of these so-called 'check-ups'. One's mind boggles as to what a 'cat-scan' might entail; but I will certainly not be submitting myself to such indecencies without injuring most, if not all of the parties involved. We pulled into the car park, and as the doors opened the memories of my childhood wafted through my nose. Found abandoned, alone with my mother; vague sensations of what may have been siblings in my first weeks or perhaps just a mere fabrication of a clouded mind. I've tried to approach mother on this issue a few times but found her to be defensive and almost aggressive in her reluctance to discuss the subject.

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Surely not?

Nothing can quite explain the sensation of being carried around in a caged room; the swinging and bobbing of the human gait is most unsettling. We approached the surgery and my ears braced themselves for the offensive door chime. In the brief amount of time I spent in the waiting area I managed to notice that the place was packed full of dogs; Ashley then decided it best to wait outside in the shade. It is a common misconception that cats and dogs do not get along. Cats can often be amused by their canine friends, in the same way one derives satisfaction from watching a spider trying to crawl from a bath. Dogs on the other hand are much too stupid to realise we are of a different, superior species, and bark and snarl in much the same way as they do for anything they see that moves.

The encounter with Vet was much as expected; my attempts to remain in my cage failed when it was rotated vertically and shaken; then ensued the prodding, stabbing, shaving, squeezing, swallowing, and final shoving into the cage again (the only part I gladly complied with). I don't know what all the fuss was about, because I certainly looked far worse by the end of it.

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I found these images on my computer, Ashley must have copied them from his camera and left them on my desktop.

The locks on the cage are merely for aesthetic purposes; any self respecting cat will know the Purrman Manoeuvre for disabling them. It does not usually suit ones needs to do so in normal transit, but for their previous treacheries the Elders could do with a scare. I spotted Graeme rubbing himself up against the rough wall of the bay window on the lounge and decided a catch-up-chin-wag was in order. Much has changed in the past year and I no longer consider him the 'scurrilous brute' that once plagued my black country. After many long stares through the window, and more heated exchanges of glances during the day we finally got chatting and found we shared many of life's interests. The aged cat of at least 18 years is perhaps a mirror of my future self, only hopefully without the torn ear and blind eye. So yes, a nuzzle, a claw, a chew and I was free; together we bolted up the school drive.

So all in all it has been a mixed few months; the ginger and white finally vanished (I sadly missed the event). It is nice to have my bed warmer back, even if he does talk in his sleep, kick me during the night and freak out when I brush against his leg in the morning.

A concerned reader | 26th January 2009, 19:12  
As it has now been 2 and a half years since your last entry, I can only assume that the Elders have discovered your online journal and have taken steps to deny you access to it, or - dare I think it - worse!

I would like to take this opportunity to wish you the best of luck in your adventures, and should you ever read this then know that you will always be in our thoughts.

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