Saturday, December 4, 2010

Cat-astrophe pt 2

The North is totally doing the snow properly. When I return to the South later this eve, I shall endeavour to tell anyone who's not managing the pitiful snow down there just what a pathetic being they are. It will be about 2am, and there won't really be anyone around at that time on a Sunday morning who is not going to work because of the snow or not running a train because of icy tracks. But still, I will do it. Its properly lovely thick snow here and driving around yesterday and today it felt as though at any moment a giant may pick the whole place up and shake it like a giant pretty snowglobe. Of course, hundreds of thousands of people would die and buildings would be destroyed but it's the thought that counts. I should also interrupt this odd thought here by mentioning that I put a similar thought late last night on Twitter and I misspelt snowglobe as 'snowgolbe', whereby my iPhone4 decided the autocorrect option for this is 'abortion'. Lovely festive Apple. It has strange moments does the iPhone4 autocorrect. The other day it decided my spelling error was obviously me wanting to type about Descartes. I wasn't and I didn't. In fact I then had to look him up to remember what he was famous for. Essentially my iPhone4 gave me a spur of the moment education. I worry that its sudden interruptions like 'abortion' are its way of trying to tell me something. First learn about Dualism, then get rid of an unborn child. Hmm. No, doesn't seem to relate to anything yet.

The main bulk of what I wanted to write about today was a follow-up to all and any who read this blog about a month ago:


Since I no longer have cats of my own, other felines have decided that they will abuse my supposed knowledge of how to look after them by treating me like a complete prat. Last night I stayed in my friend Micky's house in Halifax. She wasn't there which I always find a slightly weird situation. I tend to get stupidly worried that I will break or set fire to something, and don't tend to touch anything as I haven't asked if I can, terrified that as I close the front door on the way out the whole place will collapse. Micky has a lovely place and inside this lovely place are two of the most brilliant cats I've ever met. Mark (who is a girl) and Ross (who is a boy) as much as frog marched me to their food bowl as soon as I entered through the front door. I had managed to drive up a particularly slippy road and park in what can only be described as a snow pit, gather my things, wade through further snow chaos and stumble in through the front door trying to remember the alarm code I'd been texted. As soon as it was off they both mieowed in unison and proceeded to show me just how empty their grub stop was. As I look at the empty bowls, Ross casually waltzed over to the cupboard where the food is kept and stretched himself across the door doing what I can only refer to as an 'anti-mieow'. Somehow, rather than emit the usual high pitched tones that cats do, he manages to have some sort of low guttural groan I could only imagine a zombie feline might have something similar too. Its both hilarious, and yet aggressive and demanding as if to say 'if you don't feed me, I will piss on all of your things'. He had already urinated in the corridor and shat on the bathroom floor, so wanting my stay to be as easy as possible I obeyed and topped them up with cat nibbles.

Our relationship over the next 16 or so hours was a tumultuous one. The knew I wasn't Micky, and whilst Mark seemed to be very warm and cuddly, Ross would spend his time just staring at me in a way that made me feel oddly uncomfortable like he was trying to make my head explode. It came to a head when at 4.30am this morning I was having some rather strange dreams about zombie cats scratching people's brains out and awoke to see Ross right in my face doing his anti-mieow. I stared back at him for some time trying to figure out what was up. Stroking didn't work. Telling him to go away also didn't work. Turning over just made him run around the bed and non-mieow at my face from the other side of the room. Eventually I got up and he once again lead me to an empty food bowl, which like a complete sucker I filled up, causing the noise to stop and I managed to get back to sleep without harassment. I thought that now they knew they could treat me like their bitch, maybe they'd leave me alone until feeding the next day. No. I was wrong. This morning I presented with a huge cat turd in the middle of the kitchen as some sort of cat 'dirty protest'. Everyone else in the UK is complaining about the cuts. Mark and Ross are complaining cats. Its nearly the same. Except not at all the same.

Today they have given me various looks of dissent, especially when I even remotely suggested the notion of them going outside for a bit. Ross and Mark ran to the door, looked at the snow and immediately ran up to the bathroom and sat by the radiator, staring at me as though I was trying to freeze them to death. I fear that Micky has been away from the house for too long and they have realised that its now their house. I fully expect her to return tomorrow and discover a fridge full of gourmet dead mice and full fat milk, the television replaced with a giant scratching pole and the loo filled with cat litter. I'm now in Leeds, relatively unscathed by the whole process. Or so I thought. Just as I went to drink my coffee as I sit here in Starbucks, a small cat hair floated off my jumper and into my mug as a final warning. Damn you Mark and Ross. Damn you both.

Final note for today: Just to say once again amazing work to all those who shut down Topshop, Vodafone, Boots and other shops around the country in protest of tax dodging big wigs who stash all their cash offshore. Wish I'd been there though I feel that just opening a door in this weather here would have been seen as a violent protest. Truly impressed with all of those taking direct action right now. Offshore taxes is such a critical element that the government are 'seemingly' overlooking. I say 'seemingly' as its obvious its because its their rich friends' dosh and they wouldn't think twice about taking money off people that have no need for it, whilst everyone else loses their jobs and homes. I can't imagine closing Topshop temporarily will remotely harm Phillip Green's expenses, yet him giving back the £124 million he avoids giving back to the UK thanks to his wife's residency in Monaco, would alleviate a chunk of money that's being cut from elsewhere.

I was trying to think of some humorous bits here and have been trying to think of tweets about it all day but frankly it just makes me angry that people can be so greedy. If nothing is done to reclaim that money I'll set Mark and Ross on them. FACT.

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