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"I haven't got time for that," said Mr. B. "there are several sports programmes on TV that I particularly want to watch and making the changes you've requested is going to take far too much effort. Anyway I regard such work as overtime and I need my rest - and I want some chocolate." Fredcat took not the slightest notice. He just reiterated his proposed changes and added further changes, heaping more coals upon the fire. "It's nearly the end of January and I want to send PERSONAL e-mails to my many readers - and their most adored felines - telling them how much I appreciate their support for me over the last twenty months, and wishing them a happy 2005." He nodded his head sagely, as Mr. B. silently wept into his cold cup of tea. "And," the Famous One added, "there are a number of e-mails which have been sent to me that haven't been replied to, and they have to be answered immediately." He watched without mercy as Mr. B. rubbed his cold fingers to get warm. "I don't care if you think it's too cold for your frozen fingers to type this all properly, turn on the gas fire if you're cold, it's only money you're spending, I'm sure you've plenty to spare." Fredcat was quite merciless. He continued, "Did you realise that I've just completed a very interesting sleuthing job? I need to record this for my next Fredcat's Tails story and there's a lot of dictating that I have to do - and you're the nominated scapegoat. It probably won't be ready for a couple of weeks but you'd better get going on the first few jobs quickly or you'll have a huge backlog to contend with. That's always the trouble with humans and their seasonal breaks," he growled, "they always lead to backlogs ..." And here he stopped while Mr. B. crept quietly to his desk, all thoughts of sport on TV forgotten. But later, when his fingers were sore from typing, Fredcat was at him again, saying, "I see that several of those e-mails which you finally got around to sending out for me have bounced back with address unknown. Now that means that those readers of mine will never get my PERSONAL e-mail at all! It's all your fault., Mr. B." Mr. B. glowered, "Someone will have to pay for this," he thought, "this Official State Feline suggestion business has gone to someone's head."
"Hey! Look here!" he continued, "North Carolina has an official state d*g, so why not an official State cat?! The d*g is a Plott Hound. I have to confess," said the Mighty One, "that, in all seriousness, I have not once knowingly come across a Plott Hound. And with a cat's desire to stay as far away as possible from d*gs, I think it better that our respective existences remain at that distant level." And on that note he subsided. But not for long. "Isn't it true that there are at least as many cats as d*gs in the US? Surely that proves something? Perhaps I should start a petition to have an official State cat. I am, after all, probably North Carolina's most famous resident cat!" "And," he went on, warming up to his topic, "I think we should have a re-think about the official North Carolina colours. The official Blue and Red are the most awful combination of colours imaginable, in my feline opinion. I think we should have an artful mixture of orange and white, with tiny bits of brown, as the official State colours for North Carolina. They are a far more attractive combination - they certainly work for me!" "Look again," he said, "in Virginia they have now decided on their official State bat! You know - those flying things that navigate by radar and sleep upside down! How can anything sleep upside down? These Virginian folks must have nothing much to do except think of weird official creatures to glorify. On the other hand, we here in North Carolina don't do so badly ourselves, for we have over twenty official State symbols. I bet lots of Mr. B.'s hard earned income that hardly anyone living here knows more than about two of them without looking them up! And, and, and I think that white whiskers should be made North Carolina's official Facial Decoration ..." But here he was stopped by his best human friend, Cathie. "That's enough, Fredcat, it's time for bed. Mr. B. will warm some milk for you and you can lie down and rest. You're clearly delirious and suffering from the effects of this cold weather." So the Famous One retired to bed and dreamed of being the most famous cat in North Carolina - THE OFFICIAL STATE FELINE! - as well as being the most famous cat in the whole wide (Intaweb) world. Fredcat - official State feline of North Carolina. That certainly has a good ring to it ....
Fredcat was hurt. The Grumpy One clearly hadn't realised just how much sleeping time The Famous One had lost overseeing the cleaning. He had already spotted (on three different occasions, no less) places where Mr. B. had inadvertently skipped cleaning. Even if The Grumpy One had not appreciated it at the time, he was sure that his best human friend, Cathie, would approve when she did her inspection later. "Please ask that Teddy Bear friend of yours to move out of my favourite chair," ordered Mr. B. as he made his way to the living room to watch a re-run of the American Football championship games. "He's always in the way, he's so big!" Fredcat bristled. "He has as much right to sit in that chair as you," he retorted. "He isn't my friend anyway, he is a very close and personal friend of Cathie. She loves him nearly as much as she loves me." Fredcat glowered all the while casting a protective paw around his frizzy ursine friend. "I see that in the UK there are moves afoot to ban large teddy bears," said the Grumpy One. "At least at fun fairs. Good job, too! The government thinks that large teddy bears have no right to be offered as prizes at fairgrounds as such prizes could encourage gambling amongst children." He chuckled, "That sounds a bit strong. On the other hand, I wonder if we would get any takers if we placed you as a prize at a fairground booth. You could always sit on top of one of those coconut shies and see if anyone could knock you off. That would be fun!" "That's enough," ordered Cathie, entering the room, "there's no more TV for lazy folk. I need these dishes to be washed and the beds haven't been made yet. Quick, before Fredcat finds them and settles himself. But she was too late, Fredcat could move sharpish if he wanted to. Ah well ...
"Let's have a look at the air conditioning filters," said Mr. B. guiltily, "I can't recall replacing them recently - they must be filthy." "Now that's a bit of an understatement," thought Fredcat, "methinks the Grumpy One only does the minimum around here when it comes to doing the weekly clean. These filters are supposed to be changed monthly but he always forgets!" Fredcat watched as Mr. B. prised open the first filter. Inside was a unlit tunnel sloping downwards into blackness. Fredcat hadn't noticed this feature before. "That looks interesting," he said, excitedly, "I wouldn't mind exploring that!" and he started to climb inside. Wow! He didn't know that the Grumpy One could move so quickly. A large pair of human hands grabbed the struggling ginger feline and deposited him unceremoniously on the floor a few feet away. "That is not a tunnel to explore, Fredcat!" warned Mr. B., "you might never get out if you go down there." He sounded cross. Fredcat looked at him, his little lips curling in disbelief. Who did he think he was talking to?! This was Fredcat the Famous, the intrepid Famous The Famous, the brave Famous The Famous, the fearless Famous The Famous ..... Fredcat The Famous could get out of anything: he was the Houdini of the cat world. A mere tunnel could not deter him, oh no! "Look, all these tunnels connect up under the Fredcat residence and I could easily pop out of one exit place or the other in any of the rooms in my residence," he said, scornfully. "In fact, you never know where I might turn up at any moment of the day if I had all these tunnels to explore. Forget the attic, forget the crawl space. It's life in the tunnels for me! They're a secret transportation system!" "Calm down, Fredcat! Don't be so naive," commented Mr. B. "you know very well, that as soon as you get down into those dusty tunnels, you'll start on one of your sneezing fits. It would be so easy to track your movements under the house as you sneeze and sneeze and sneeze - it would be like a radar system for us! You'd never be able to keep your presence secret, my friend." Oh dear, poor Fredcat, he's been foiled again ...
"It's basically clean," protested Mr. B. "I keep this place smart and tidy all week and it only gets really mussed up by the end of the week." He smiled complacently. But apparently Mr. B.'s notion of clean was not the same as Cathie's. While this repartee was going on, Fredcat was frantically trying to lick up small bits of meat that had somehow found their way onto the floor next to his feeding bowl. It was very difficult to keep the platter clean when four of one's front teeth are missing. Bits of meat kept sliding off the edge of one's plate! When he'd finished (well, sort of) Fredcat planted himself disarmingly, in front of the feeding area and smiled hopefully. But it was no good, Cathie reached over and beyond him and brought out the offending bowls and thrust them in the general direction of Mr. B. "I think we ought to start cleaning up the Fredcat feeding area," she suggested and Mr. B. agreed. "Somehow all the mess seemed to emanate from Fredcat," he thought. Mr. B. knew very well that he and Fredcat created over 90% of the clutter around the place, and urgent action was required - what better place to start than with The Famous One's bowls? "It's spring-cleaning time," he stated. "The wooden floor will be our first task. I'll sweep it, give it a good clean and then give the hardwood a good wax polish. He thought that when he'd finished he might even do likewise with his car, but common sense prevailed. He'd never waxed his car - why start now?! "Look, this will take days to do," said Mr. B., to Fredcat, "this hardwood floor covers four rooms! You, Fredcat can make yourself useful by passing out the cleaning stuff: you don't need to sleep all day. You could even give the waxed areas a final buff and a shine with your tail, no?" Now this was a shock for Fredcat, he'd thought that all the angst was going to be directed towards Mr. B! "Oh dear," he thought, "I'd better try not to be so messy in future, but it's so difficult." He decided to be extra nice to Mr. B. - and to Cathie, when she came home from work. You never know - extra goodies might be a by-product of keeping a tidy residence, perhaps ...
"He must have brought a mouse inside, she said to Mr. B., "he usually does that at this time of the year. It's all part of a pattern." But close examination of the floors, watched by an excited Fredcat, revealed no trace of a mouse. "No mice here," reported Mr. B., and if there were a mouse in the house it wouldn't stand much of a chance with Fredcat in such an animated state." At last everyone went back to bed and even Fredcat himself found a comfortable place to sleep. "I think that there are days when Fredcat gets a bit wound up, over-excited, and needs to let off steam," Cathie complained, reluctantly, "I only wish he didn't do it just when I have fallen asleep! It's all very irritating." "You do realise that there are calendars that describe these special days?" said Mr. B., suppressing a tiny smile, "I was reading about it the other day. See, if one looks at this website you can see all sorts of special days for humans and animals. Look! There was a special "Answer Your Cat's Questions Day" last Saturday. Thank goodness we missed that one!" "All very good," muttered Cathie tiredly, "but why does Fredcat become so animated of an evening? Not every evening, mind you, but just occasionally? He was positively racing around the room. He doesn't even run that quickly to his food bowls when best beef is on the menu." "No idea," said Mr. B., "but if he wakes me up tomorrow morning with anything like that nonsensical behaviour, I will definitely buy him a pair of skates and drop him off at an ice skating rink - very appropriate at this time of the year." What hopes!
"I really don't like it whenever she peruses cat magazines," said Fredcat to Mr. B., "this usually means that Cathie is on the lookout for another moggie to join me in my residence and I don't want that. It's hard enough getting you humans to feed me on demand as it is, but two cats ... No way!" Fredcat approached Cathie with caution. This could not become a Fredcat 'bullying' discussion, as he was aware that Cathie was sensitive to the issue of additional cats. "Ahem," he began, looking over her shoulder. But there he stopped. The pictures they were both now examining were not of additional cats for the Fredcat residence but of rather attractive items of cat-related furniture. There were all kinds of climbing, exercising and sleeping goodies on display. Fredcat was impressed and began to feel a bit guilty. Cathie seemed oblivious to the somewhat belligerent attitude with which Fredcat had approached her chair. "Are there any items of furniture that would suit the Fredcat taste?" she cooed. "Look at these things, they would provide a wonderful hideaway for you." Mr. B. came into the room and also peered over the shoulders of the animated duo. "Those kitty towers in the activity section look very big," he remarked, tactlessly, "they are big enough for two cats at least." He walked away seemingly unaware of the consternation in Fredcat's eyes. "Oh, no!" he thought, "it's true, Cathie is surely planning to bring in another feline and my position in the Fredcat residence will be sorely undermined." He turned away in anguish, but not before Cathie saw his tear-filled eyes. "Now hold on, Fredcat, don't listen to that trouble-maker, I am not planning to bring in a second cat. Not while we are together, you are far too wonderful to upset! Let's eat!"
Fredcat then leaned forward on his comfortable easy chair, and said, "I have been listening very carefully yet President Bush hasn't once mentioned allowing me to become a citizen even though I've lived here, without causing a fuss to anyone, for over four (human) years. That's quite a long time for a cat, you realise. Do you think I'll ever become a naturalized US citizen?" "Don't you worry about that, my dear boy," said Cathie, "you are doing very well at the moment. And that's a good thing, I have to say, as we don't want to run the risk your being returned to England, because you might have to spend six months in quarantine - and that would never do. Just stay put, keep your nose clean, and you'll be alright!" "Does it make any difference whether I'm a kitten or a cat?" asked Fredcat (surreptitiously wiping his nostrils to make sure that his nose was clean). "I mention this as I see in the UK that humans are considered adult when they reach the age of eighteen and I'm nowhere near that age myself. I must confess that I'm not sure what the age of adulthood is in the US, although it appears that one is still a child at 17 even if one sues through the courts at that age. I understand that one can enroll in the armed services when one is 18 - as in the UK - but one cannot, ahem!, purchase alcoholic beverages in ABC stores until one is over 21 years of age. It's all very confusing." "I don't think your age is the criterion at all when applying for citizenship," said Cathie. "but, never fear, we will apply on your behalf later this year. You realise that you'll have to fill up a number of forms, have your paw prints taken and have to undergo an interview with a member of the immigration services, don't you, Fredcat? Still," she added with a grin, "with someone of your famous abilities that will be child's play! Sorry about the pun, lovey. Now, I think you need to keep your strength up so let's have an afternoon snack." And, guess what? She received exactly zero objections to that suggestion!
He listened carefully when the telephone rang. Cathie told Mr. B. that the roads were treacherous and that there were huge delays on the major highways which were giving many drivers a lot of grief. "Cars are sliding everywhere even though barely an inch of snow has fallen," she reported on her mobile. Fredcat was worried, and started to fidget. Mr. B. calmly went on with his household chores, putting back the time of the evening meal. "Why aren't you concerned about Cathie in this weather?" demanded Fredcat. "I would be hopping up and down by now - calling the police, the ambulance, the fire brigade and all sorts, but you just don't seem to care. You are a bit of a cold fish" he said with feeling, and paced up and down worriedly. "Don't be so silly," replied the Grumpy One, "Cathie will be alright, you'll see. If she is in some accident or other she will call me and if she's not in an accident then she'll arrive quite safely. Don't panic! my dear fellow. With the roads as they are there will be tailbacks all over the place as drivers are caught out but Cathie is an excellent driver who has driven on far worse roads than these. She'll be home when she gets here. And in any case there is nothing that I can do about anything, is there?" And he smiled infuriatingly. At last the Cathie car drove carefully into the driveway and into the garage, and Fredcat's immediate impulse was to hurl himself into her arms, even before she had released her seatbelt. "Your fifteen minute journey home took two hours! Are you OK? Did you have an accident? Was any one seriously hurt? Did it snow inches and inches? Did the car fail to start? Were you cold? Could you see where you were going? Did all the other drivers drive like lunatics? Were you frightened?" All these questions - and too many more to relate - came bubbling out of the Mighty One's mouth as Cathie staggered wearily into the warmth of the Fredcat household. "I'm fine!" was all she said. "What's for tea? I really fancy some egg and chips (fried potatoes to US readers) for a change. We could use the new deep fat fryer, it makes really great chips!" Fredcat was stunned. In truth he felt a bit embarrassed about it all. "Did all humans act like this?" he thought, watching as Mr. B. and Cathie between them scoffed a huge plate of fried food, completely ignoring their respective diets. "See", said Mr. B. scooping up the last of his runny egg, "I told you not to panic, everything has turned out fine and nobody's blood pressure was raised even a jot. Play it cool, sunshine, eat some of your grub and relax, that's the British way." Fredcat stopped and ate some dry biscuits. The thing was, he couldn't even beg for some meat because his humans were eating eggs and he didn't fancy them at all. How odd some humans were. Yes indeed, very odd.
Fredcat observed that the girl was in a smart Brownie uniform and her outfit was covered in badges; there must have been at least a score of them. She must be very clever to have earned all those, thought Fredcat. But in fact the badges interested him less than the brochure - it was full of pictures of cookies! Mr. B. was impressed. "I see that my favourite cookies are there; the ones smothered in chocolate," he remarked, "I'd like to buy some of those!" Fredcat danced up and down trying to get a word in. "Are there any beef-flavoured cookies? Or tuna-flavoured ones? Order me some of those, please," he asked. "Mmmm. There doesn't seem to be any beef- or tuna-flavoured cookies," frowned Mr. B., "I've looked all over, but they are mostly sweet flavoured varieties. You'll just have to await the delivery of the beef-flavoured pizza later this afternoon" he snickered. "When will they be delivered?" asked Mr. B. and the young girl said, "They are prepared in time for Valentine's Day - the 14th February." Fredcat suddenly realised that all over the US (and in the UK?) - and all over the world in fact! - the very same scene was probably being enacted. "Who would be doing the preparation and all the baking?" thought Fredcat, "Someone has to do all the hard work." "Perhaps that's why there's a shortage of Akelas - or are they called Brown Owls?" said Mr. B. "I see that in the UK there's a waiting list 50,000 strong to join the Brownies, because so many families have two parents who work and have no time for these extra-curricular activities. Such a shame." "That is a crying shame," agreed Fredcat, "but, come to think of it, my mother didn't do this sort of thing. But then I was separated from my mother at an early age - so what do I know?" He fell silent for a moment as he tried to conjure up the image of his mother. He then came to and said, "Why do they call these girls Brownies? I thought they were really called Girl Scouts - or is it Girl Guides? And is the uniform blue, brown or green? It's very confusing when they change their names and the colour of their uniforms like that. But if they bring the cookies to Mr. B. on time and keep him quiet for a few hours then that will be good. Anything to keep him quiet! Oh, yes ..."
He furthermore suggested that Fredcat adopt a suitable disguise as a way of fighting back against such cute creatures. Fredcat frowned and turned for advice to his best human friend, Cathie. "What do you think I should do about all this palava? Am I being naive in allowing such giggly, but attractive, creatures onto my mature website? Should I boot them off back to wherever they came from and tell them to "Get some time in"? (that's "Service" talk, you understand)." Mr. B. intervened. He could see the tiny little worry lines beginning to appear around Fredcat's eyes and, his own eyes gleaming, teasingly suggested, "Well, I suppose you could go on a diet and change your appearance, Fredcat. There have been numerous cases of fat cats slimming down to become quite svelte." Fredcat bristled at that (not a good sign) but before he could frame a suitable riposte, Cathie leapt in to provide assistance. "I think it's marvellous of Fredcat to be so open-hearted with his website. If he likes the photographs of certain kittens and cats enough, he may include them in his diary entries or - even better - include them in one of his "Fredcat Tails" stories. And if he does the latter, then I suggest that he adds them to the Photographs section of his main website. There won't be room for everyone, of course, but those who do make it to the Fredcat Hall of Fame, as it were, should be well pleased!" "Not a bad idea," said Fredcat, addressing Cathie, "if I ask Mr. B. nicely will he start by placing some of the earlier photographs of my friends on the photographs page? I'm afraid that if I ask him directly all I will get is a bit of a snigger. You see, I'm not sure that he and I always see eye to eye on things, Cathie." "Don't worry, I'll see to it," said Cathie, "I suppose if you avoided waking him up in your usual forthright manner for a few days, he might be persuaded." And Fredcat had to be content with that. He did promise Cathie that he would comply with this suggestion, but inwardly he knew that after just one day he'd forget all about it. So, Dear Reader, if you have seen photographs of your cat(s) or kitten(s) somewhere on Fredcat's webpage in the past, keep an eye on the photograph page. This might take a few days to get organised. Fredcat would be pleased to hear from any readers who have new pictures of their feline friends they wish to have added to his photographs page. Or you could tell Fredcat what you think of the idea by placing an entry in his Guestbook!
Fredcat carefully crept out for his morning constitutional and then sat under the shelter of the big front window where the snow had not fallen. He looked at the emerging crocuses and saw two (yes, now two!) now in full bloom, shivering in the tiny blanket of snow. Tough luck, mateys, he thought, you should have waited a day or two before poking your head above the soil. Cathie decided to take a photograph of the crocuses and started to prepare the digital camera. Now, Dear Reader, it so happens that every time Cathie picks up the camera Fredcat turns into a real attention-seeker and marches straight towards the camera. This means that if there are to be any useful shots to be taken of the Mighty One they have to be done in relative secrecy - and quickly! Perhaps one day Cathie will learn how to turn off the little 'ting' sound the camera makes when it is switched on ... "I think it's amazing that one can clean a room around Fredcat, rattle tea cups, polish anything with strong smelling polish and the Mighty One is disturbed not one jot," said Cathie to Mr B. "But turn on the digital camera, 'ting', it sounds, and our famous feline is instantly awake and prowling, and then (of course) immediately after charging towards the camera and ruining the shot, he wants feeding!" "I have seen dozens of beautiful pictures of cats and kittens - some of them look really professional," she added, "and if Fredcat doesn't buck up his ideas, he is going to be upstaged!" Oh dear ...!
Fredcat looked at her in surprise, "And when, pray, was the last time you picked any strawberries?" he asked, quizzically, "you always get Mr. B. to do the bending and toiling work while you stay at home. He even removes the strawberry tops and adds a sprinkle of sugar and a dollop of best Breyers strawberry ice cream. All you have to do is eat it. There's not much effort in that is there?" "Sometimes," remarked Cathie, "you're too smart for your own good, and you'll trip over your own tail one day. When we were looking for a suitable residence for you, nearly five years ago, Susan the Realtor told us that there were reportedly no snakes in these fields. Ever since then we have referred to these fields as the snakeless strawberry fields. No matter, I can hardly wait for the field to bear fruit again." "The song that I was singing (Strawberry Fields Forever) was one I recall from my own warbling days when I lived in Liverpool. I was a great fan of the Beatles and I was singing that particular song today because it's just been reported that the children's home, after which the Beatles song was named, had outlived its usefulness and was to be closed. John Lennon used to play there as a child, you know!" "You are such a romantic soul," said Fredcat, "I remember you going to the Paul McCartney concert in Raleigh last year so I assume you like that sort of music. For myself I much prefer the rattle of a well stocked bowl of best biscuits or even the silent aroma of a plate of tasty beef. Now is that a hint or not?" And he turned hopefully in the direction of his feeding area, but Cathie was singing away and ignored him. Clearly the Fredcat inner self was going to have to wait for a while ...
Fredcat looked at Mr. B. as if he were a bit soft in the head. What was so magical about one tiny little crocus flower? He could easily crush it with his smallest paw. "Look here," he said, "you planted hundreds of these bulbs a few weeks ago, so where are the rest of them? Have they vanished? Whatever's blooming is very small. And (the most important question of all) are they famous?" Mr. B. ignored the last comment. "You know." he said, "I've been looking at weather reports from all round the globe, and I think that we in North Carolina are very fortunate to be escaping the bad weather being experienced elsewhere in this country. We're having some sort of Indian summer with record high temperatures! Why, today the temperature was a record high of 74F! It's almost party time in the middle of January! But I fear that we're due for our dose of winter weather soon," he added, shivering despite the warmth of the day. "Now then, Fredcat," he continued, "as you clearly have no soul, I think you'd better come inside, you heartless creature, you, and we'll talk of cabbages and kings." The Grumpy One laughed at his own literary allusion - even though he didn't know anything about either cabbages or kings. He was clearly in a very good mood! They were met at the door by Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, who was very excited. "Fredcat, I see that the Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! noises have started again! You're receiving more messages for your Guestbook. Where do they all come from?" "They love me! Everybody loves me!" cried Fredcat happily, "but you'll have to read all my Guestbook entries aloud to me again before I go to bed - and please translate some of them because I don't understand all the comments. Why would anyone be allergic to cats? How awful for them! And chickens are such noisy animals, I almost prefer d*gs!" Fredcat smiled (albeit, crookedly), and crept closer to Cathie. "Come on now, read them to me again," he said. And she did.
Mr. B. immediately called for help from Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie. "Cathie! I am being stared at by your cat," he said, loudly, "I'm trying to write this important letter and Fredcat's here, bugging me!" All the time he was talking the Fredcat paw remained in place. Fredcat was clearly unmoved by this "crie de coeur" from Mr. B. When Cathie finally made it into the study she saw the tableau and laughed. Mr. B. was clearly unable to move and Fredcat was determined to make his point. "OK, Fredcat, what do you want? she asked when she had stopped laughing. "There are times, you know, when Mr. B. just has to get on with his own stuff - so try not to disturb him when he's doing his accounts or writing those so-called important letters." "I have decided I want a tree house," said Fredcat at last. "I've seen a magnificent tree house in the newspapers on the interweb thing - it costs a mere three million pounds or so! It's at Alnwick Castle and, after looking at the pictures of the treehouse, it occurs to me that such a palatial treehouse would be well suited for a Famous One. Forget the attic, forget the crawl space and let's get cracking on a proper tree house. We have hundreds of trees around here and we could easily suspend the house from any number of them. And there are plenty of additional trees to provide all the wood needed for the floors and walls of a treehouse. It would be great in the summer!" He sat there, dreaming. "Is that it?" said Cathie, "Hmmm, you always seem to get ideas well above your station, my friend. Don't you realise that building a tree house is well beyond the capabilities of Mr. B.? Remember also we have a healthy population of squirrels, headed up by Squire, and it wouldn't be long before they took over this magnificent residence of yours." She said the word "magnificent" with undue sarcastic emphasis. "The last I heard you couldn't even climb the nearest tree and I'm certainly not building an elevator for you to use to gain access to an arborial abode! No way!" She continued. "All in all, I think you're far better off sleeping and living here with us. With the variable weather we are having at the moment it's much to your advantage to stay here. Anyway, sunshine, I've just finished putting out your evening meal, so be off with you, and let's hear no more about tree houses. Tree houses, indeed ..."
"Hey, Cathie! These are the very first of my Guestbook entries!" shouted Fredcat gleefully. "I've only just persuaded Mr. B. to prepare the Guestbook form for visitors to fill in and here we are with responses already!" He hopped around the room, trying to sing and scratch his itching nose at the same time (very difficult, Dear Reader - you try!) and said, "Come on, come on, read them to me again." He was so excited! Mr. B. came into the room, wanting to know what all the racket was about and was confronted by a dancing Fredcat, shouting "Four entries! Four entries! and one of them is a Poem from J de F!" He turned a huge cartwheel, and said triumphantly to the Grumpy One, "You thought I would not get even one Guestbook entry - and here I am with FOUR!" He stopped in mid-dance and fixed his unblinking eyes on Mr. B. and announced, "Well now, someone had better get their skates on and prepare my actual Guestbook page, where messages may be read by the whole wide world! Right? It shouldn't take you too long. And then you can take my dictation for today's diary entry and sort that out too." So Mr. B., aided and supported by Cathie and the Famous One, set to work on the producing the actual Guestbook and at last it was completed. "The colours aren't bad," admitted Cathie, "even though I could have done a lot better on my own." Fredcat said, "It's wonderful to transfer the Guestbook messages onto an actual real live Guestbook page for all to read. Now all the world will know that I have some excellent friends out there," he said, dreamily, fixing his eyes on a spot distant. "Of dear, come on," said Cathie, "This self-adoration is all very well but it doesn't get the housework done or the dinner made. We'll have to see tomorrow if there any more entries, but for today it's over and it's time you came down to earth, my boy." And Fredcat agreed. His stomach was telling him that, after all the excitement of the day, it was still necessary to feed the inner cat. And it was right!
"I've only just finished paying the final installment of my tax return for last year," he complained, "and here we are on the taxation merry-go-round once again. More documents to find, more boxes on stupid tax forms to fill in, more calculating what is legitimate and legally deductible and what is not." "Can't you just skip it for a year," suggested Fredcat, "I'm sure the Federal income tax people wouldn't notice if one person missed occasionally, and I'm sure the State income tax people wouldn't mind at all. Just sent them both a dollop of money and let them get on with it. Life is too short to be bothered with details. As for myself, I've never had to fill in one of their pesky forms or pay taxes so why should you people have to?" Mr. B. restrained himself from heaving Cathie's Christmas present model of Superlambanana at Fredcat. "I don't think our government officials would like it if we humans all adopted your cavalier attitude! Much as I would love to take your advice I have to go through this rigmarole. These government officials all get their salary from our taxes, you know, which is one reason why they are keen to get my contribution." "There is one ray of hope though," he remarked, "perhaps I can include you as a legitimate deduction, a sort of business expense." Mr. B. chuckled, but it was a pretty grim laugh. "I'll have to give that some thought," he added, as he made his way up to his study to tackle the forms. And so it came about that when Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, came home from work she found the Grumpy One very grumpy indeed, and with no dinner ready. And then she, in turn, became a bit grumpy too. Oh dear! Look out, Fredcat - don't catch the grumpiness that's going around!
Mr. B. soon had some small lengths of wood ready to mark out the area where pavers were to be laid and Fredcat helped by walking around and over them, counting (up to nine of course) as he did so. After that he lost interest and fell asleep as Mr. B. toiled away. Said pavers were laid in a higgledy-piggledy fashion, coloured stones placed in the remaining gaps, and work on the joint human/feline project continued until quite late in the day. "Time to come in now!" called Cathie, and the duo re-entered Fredcat's residence. "You know, I've been thinking about my website whilst you were doing that labouring stuff out there, Mr. B." said Fredcat, "I mentioned this idea some time ago but nothing was done about it. I think that now is the perfect time to try an experiment - a simple Guestbook where all my friends will have the opportunity to write wonderful and marvellous things about me. Just me!" he reiterated, grandly. "I'm too tired to bother with all that now," said Mr. B. sinking into a comfy chair. "Perhaps tomorrow - or get Cathie to do it for you," he added. But Cathie looked at Mr. B. and said, "I've just cooked a beautiful dinner for us all, and after we've eaten I want to watch more of my TV programmes. I think it would be nice if you gave this Guestbook idea a bit of thought." "But I have given it a bit of thought and I'd much rather watch TV," said the Grumpy One, "I'm too tired from all that gardening." But as most males will know from experience, that line doesn't always work and later The Grumpy One and The Famous One both, settled down to compose the gist of a Fredcat Guestbook. Their results were later examined by Cathie (who commented that she could do a lot better) but Fredcat was tired after a long day's sleeping, horticultural designing and Guestbook designing, and it was agreed that the Guestbook would stay as it was. So, Dear Readers, try out the link above this diary entry and leave a message in Fredcat's Guestbook. Your name and comment will appear in Fredcat's Guestbook as soon as The Famous One is happy with how the Guestbook looks. You can be sure that Fredcat will let you know when his Guestbook is available for you to read - but he will, of course, need some messages!! Help him out by clicking on the Guestbook link above today's diary entry! He plans to have his humans read his messages them to him over and over and over again. They will act almost as a lullaby for Our Hero. The entertainment value of his Guestbook entries might even keep Fredcat off the Grumpy One's back for a while ....
Then the telephone rang and Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, came dashing downstairs, saying excitedly, "Hooray! The broken bits in the big TV have been repaired and the TV repairman will be arriving soon!" Everyone perked up. "Life without TV was horrible," thought Fredcat, "you knew where you were when the humans followed their set patterns of activities. When the TV was missing or broken the humans were all over the place and chaos reigned." Soon the jovial TV repairman called and installed the repaired parts. Fredcat tried to peek inside the cabinet but all he could see was a mass of coloured wires. He started to ask questions like, "What does that bit do?" and, "Where does that part go?" but his questions were left unanswered as the TV repairman didn't speak feline. Soon, however, all was ready and the big switch-on took place. It was marvellous! No more wavy lines, no more fuzziness and the sound was as clear as a bell. "And look," said Fredcat, "the Tivo has been working all the time that the insides of the TV were being repaired, so now we can watch all the programmes it recorded while the TV was broken! Me first with the remote control, as I am the most important one here." This didn't go down well at all with Mr. B. who said, "Look, I've just paid tons of dollars for this repair and I need to catch up on all the important ball games that I missed while the TV was broken. I won't be long ... let's see, I have five one hour programmes to watch, so you can have the TV, um, tomorrow (with a bit of luck)." But that didn't accord very well with Cathie who grabbed the remote control and said, "I need very much to finish watching my programme about the six wives of Henry VIII; I had just got to a really interesting part when the TV broke. It's my turn - then you two may have at it."
Then, Dear Readers, there occurred a most unseemly squabble with each member of the Fredcat residence grabbing the remote in turn, protesting more and more loudly that it was their turn first. Suddenly, Cathie switched off the TV completely, and said sweetly, "OK, chaps, once I've had my tea brought to me (served properly, mind!), along with my house slippers, then and only then will I allow you to watch the big TV yourselves. If you like, you can watch my King Henry VIII programme with me, it is all very interesting. And she chuckled to herself. Having charge of the TV control could be fun. Mr. B. decided to wait until later as he wasn't in a historical mood. Fredcat wasn't either - but he had little choice in the matter. Being small was sometimes a great disadvantage. Poor Fredcat.
Frecat's best human friend, Cathie, tried to placate him, saying, "It's just the way things are done around here. Many humans have an order to their lives which means that we follow traditiions. Right now we are rigidly obeying the rule that Christmas decorations are taken down on Twelfth Night, January 6th." Fredcat was not to be comforted. He sat in the corner of the room where the once-decorated tree had stood, and he sniffed. Then along came Mr. B., brandished a broom and proceeded to sweep up all the tiny bits of tinsel that had fallen over the past few weeks. Cathie soon followed him and tidied the area up, and between the two of them the chairs and tables were rearranged back to the old order in no time. Fredcat demanded that at least one part of the room be left as it was, but to no avail. "Sorry Fredcat," said Mr. B., "once Cathie gets in the mood to do a spot of post-Christmas spring-cleaning, you've had it. Try to look on the bright side. You'll be able to explore all those areas that were off-limits over the Christmas period." "Does that mean we can have another trip to the loft?" asked Fredcat, showing a spot of feline cunning but Cathie wasn't too keen on the idea as she remembered how she was on tenterhooks the first time she had let Fredcat into the attic.
"We'll see," was all she could come up with, which made the Fredcat heart sink, for he well understood that dreadful expression and knew that it usually meant "No chance, matey". But Cathie went on, "You realise that Twelfth Night was considered important enough for the famous playwright, William Shakespeare, to write a play about it, Fredcat?" "I think that all in all that I'd rather consider a twelve part lunch instead," said Fredcat, and smartly dodged a cleaning mop aimed in his direction. But he did get some very nice food later ...
He smiled to himself, thinking that there were a lot of secrets that he kept from Mr. B. which the latter would be very cross about if he knew of them (like how Fredcat managed to appear famished despite being well fed and yet was still able to appear at will when something tasty to eat was being prepared by the humans). He continued, "Under the latest crop of information to be released by the UK government, for example, are some interesting figures about how the UK's Civil Service managed to keep and pay for a significant number of moggies that found their way into some of the mightiest corridors of power. Those governmental cats definitely had it made," thought Fredcat with feline pride. "Though sometimes they mysteriously disappear when their term of service comes to an end ..." He looked worried. "There's certainly been an explosion of available data, Fredcat," said Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, "it appears that your daily diary has been characterised as a blog!" She chuckled, "and you thought that you were keeping a diary!"
Fredcat was hurt at this, but considered that the sort of information about which he wrote was less detailed and, hopefully, more amusing than some of the dry statistics provided by governments. He meandered off to try his luck with the food bowl; Mr. B. would probably have forgotten by now that it was only two hours ago since he last was last fed. Always the optimist!
"The weather is set fair for the whole week, Fredcat" replied Mr. B., "it's expected to remain at around 70F all week, flat as a pancake in forecasting terms." He smiled. Fredcat saw this and was puzzled - what on Earth was the reason for this considerable personality change in the Grumpy One? He was startled still further when Mr. B. began to whistle. "Oh, no! I'd better get that stopped as soon as possible," Fredcat thought and reluctantly left his warm spot and sped off to find his best human friend, Cathie. "I think Mr. B. is sick," he intoned gravely, "he's whistling, and is acting quite out of character. He is being ultra nice to me - and it's driving me crazy! Can you do anything?" Fredcat rolled his eyes (which is quite a feat for a feline). "For example, I know folk out there at work get very agitated when their bosses start acting all nice and smarmy. That just worries them, as they fear they are going to be sacked, you know! What has Mr. B. got planned for me?" "Don't be ridiculous," retorted Cathie, "Mr. B. is just acting out a fantasy! He's been busy watching TV to all the football games all weekend and his favourite team appear to have done well at the same time - which makes him happy. It's so silly, the next time they play his team will probably lose, and his world will be back to being all gloom and doom." Cathie then rolled her eyes. Mr. B. came into the room, stopped whistling (to Fredcat's relief) and started to explain the intricacies of the playoffs to a decidedly uninterested Cathie. Before he could get very far with his tortuous explanation, she asked him if he had remembered to buy enough potatoes for the evening meal (all the while knowing in advance he hadn't). This brought a frown to the Grumpy One and all sporting thoughts flew out of his head. "Better get some then, hadn't we," she said sweetly.
Fredcat thought that Cathie was being very cute and wondered how long it would take Mr. B. to get back on his hobby horse. Meanwhile, Cathie strode to the larder and prepared Fredcat's evening meal. She was smiling now - and even broke into a melodious whistle herself! Good grief, thought Fredcat ....
"Oh, I think not," said Fredcat, "we felines don't need to make resolutions - we don't succumb to all the temptations that are placed in the path of humans. Indeed, as far as I'm concerned, remember that as a famous cat I don't need to even pretend that I have faults which need correction." And Fredcat proceeded to groom himself assiduously as if to prove a point. "There are a number of simple things one tends to resolve to do each New Year," said Mr. B. "giving up smoking or, ahem, drinking alcohol in moderation only, come quickly to mind." "Of course, in this country attempting to diet is bound to be a favourite resolution - and will be top of Mr. B.'s list," said Cathie with a grin, giving the Grumpy One a sly dig in his expanding waistline. Mr. B. in his turn thought long and hard before reciprocating this suggestion - any suggestion of a diet to decrease the Cathie waistline was bound to be received with less than good grace! "I wonder what happened to all those cats who were living in the Far East when the tsunami disaster happened," continued a solicitous Fredcat. "There are undocumented reports which say that many of them had some essential precognition of the event and somehow made their way to safer havens. I know we cats are supposed to be smart but it appears that many other species had the same forewarning instincts." "I do hope so," responded Cathie, "perhaps our scientists can work out if it's true, and how this could help in the future. Lets hope so!"
So Fredcat did, but he raised the subject later after breakfast. "I think we all need to make some New Year's resolutions," he said solemnly, "I think I'm being short-changed here and we need to have some alterations in the Fredcat residence's working arrangements if we are to go on living together as a happy family unit." "What a lot of twaddle!" said Mr. B. "I know what my New Year's resolution should be," and he glared at Fredcat. But the latter didn't blink and stood his ground. "I get the impression that you care less for me than you do for the books you were given for Christmas! I don't understand why you cannot read them when I'm sleeping and pay me more attention when I'm awake!" The two males glared at each other anew. Cathie jumped in quickly, "Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Let's not start the New Year with an unseemly spat, remember the good times, and I want both of you to promise to behave in future or it'll be the worse for both of you." Both Fredcat and Mr. B. thought this an empty threat but both were too tired to argue further and so accepted the ultimatum. "Well, Cathie, what is your New Year's resolution?" asked Mr. B., regaining his equilibrium At this, Cathie's eyes lit up and she murmured something under her breath, but she was smiling nevertheless. "We didn't catch your answer," said Fredcat, "even though I have acute hearing so would you care to repeat it for us?" This time Cathie's face began to take on a familiar pinking colour but still she remained silent. But Mr. B. was only too aware what the Cathie resolution was. "No! No! No more cats here," he ordered. Fredcat jumped up but was quickly soothed by Cathie, "Look Fredcat, I know that you are my Only Best Feline but I cannot help wishing for another moggie to love, after all one's heart has plenty of space for all our loved ones." This was said in such an appealing manner that Fredcat's fury subsided. "So," Fredcat said at last when everybody had settled down, "we all want something but it transpires that we all want someone else to conform to our wishes. I want Mr. B. to be more pleasant to me. Cathie wants me and Mr. B. to accept another cat - or three - to stay here, and Mr. B. would look the other way if I left; he doesn't want any cats here at all! It seems that we all want each other to do things instead of doing things for ourselves." "How perceptive of you," remarked Cathie, "I suppose we should all go away and think of genuine things we could do to change ourselves instead of demanding that others gratify our needs. There are too many people out there who have no place to go and here we are bickering about selfish concerns." "Right," said Fredcat, "and the first thing I'm going to do is to sleep off any miserable behaviour of mine. I'll get my own tea later." But of course he didn't ... |
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This is little me 
- I am so smart!
Move on to say thanks to those who helped Mr. B do this stuff
Copyright © 2003-date Fredcat the Famous and Mr.B.
