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"There is snow out there! Places of work are closed because of the snow! Fredcat didn't say where he was going, nor did he leave a message to say when he would be returning," she complained to Mr. B. - as if he could do anything about it. "But you knew that he was going off on a (supposedly) secret mission, he could be gone for ages!", replied Mr. B. "And that would please you, wouldn't it," she snorted. The upshot was that Cathie moped around the house all day, nothing made her happy, and everytime anything moved or she heard an unfamiliar sound, she was on to it in a flash, expecting to see The Famous One's mop of ginger fur come flying through the cat doors, safe and sound (albeit covered in snow). In the meantime, nothing could placate her. This was worse than when the son and heir to the family fortune finally left home to make his way in the adult world. At least he had friends and good people around him and he had a secure and safe environment to live in. With Fredcat, however, there was much danger abroad, he was so small, one could never be sure that he would return safe and sound. All these dangerous missions!! And the snow!! Mr. B. reminded her, exasperatedly, that Fredcat, like all offspring, was wont to do special things on his own, and he would surely be back. He had always managed it in the past ("More's the pity", he thought privately). At last Cathie went to bed but, almost certainly, not to sleep. Would Fredcat still be taking his medicine? Would he be safe? Would he have food? Would he return??? Such are the trials of "motherhood" of a Famous Being, she thought...
Fredecat sighed. Recuperation was not something that Fredcat enjoyed at all. He wanted everything back to the way it was, everything to be normal. The front door had to kept open - or at least the front step had to be a place where one could safely sit and watch the world go by. He had tried venturing outside this morning but half a dozen snowflakes (not the chocolate variety, more's the pity) landing near him had sent him scurrying inside very quickly. Cathie showed Fredcat a new toy that she had brought for a young friend of hers. It was called "Thing In A Bag" and consisted of a battery in a bag which operated randomly, making an puzzling shake and rattle effect in the bag. Fredcat was very amused with this toy and decided to play with it himself for a while. "Just testing it out for your young friend, you know", he quipped (after almost savaging the bag to bits with his attempts (doomed to fail) to get at whatever was inside). He tired of it at last, and looked outside the front door, fearing the worst. But wonders of wonders, despite the thick clumps of snow that had fallen to a depth of several inches during the afternoon, the pathways and driveway (as well as the road outside) were completely clear. A warm front most likely, he theorised, which was rapidly melting the snow before the expected drop in temperature at nightfall. But whatever the reason, he mused, the world now looks a far nicer place. Tomorrow he would be off to tackle his new mission; he needed to leave just before midnight, when all the humans were asleep - he hoped the task would not be too onerous. There was no way that he could, nor would, wish put it off with so many people depending on him. He only hoped that he would return unscathed by next Wednesday. Meanwhile, he first had to persuade Cathie to renew the biscuits in his bowl to provide the necessary energy for the task ahead, and then he would be off for his evening stroll and general rounds before the off. A cat has to be on his guard all the time, you know ...
He chivvied Mr. B. until that grumpy one came downstairs and prepared the Fredcat breakfast. Then there was the usual fuss and bother about taking the dreaded antibiotic pill. Fredcat was sure that he was well on the mend and, like many a human before him, decided that, medical advice or not, enough pill taking was enough. It was OK, he thought, to swallow a pill when one was ill but when one was on the mend, pill taking was out! Luckily for the long term Fredcat health, his best human friend, Cathie, was determined to have him complete the course of medication so Fredcat gave in, but not gracefully. "A lot of humans duck out of completing their full medication course," she warned, "which isn't a good idea, but you, my lad, will have your full course of treatment." "OK," said Fredcat, "but now can you tell me what has happened to my moment of pain and glory, that is - where are all the paparazzi?" "Actually," replied Cathie, "I have here an urgent message from some person-thing on high, who says that you have a special mission to perform before your cover is blown. Indeed, this person-thing has indeed contacted the newspaper and requested, nay ordered, that until you fully recover your health and carry out this onerous task, you are to remain incognito." So, peace for a little longer, thought Fredcat, somewhat relieved. I wonder how long it will take me to carry out this mission. He looked at the envelope, and saw the imposing crest on the reverse. "I'll put it with the others," he said, casually. "But first - a stroll and then a sleep. I must be absolutely sure that my strength is completely restored before I set off." Can you believe the nonchalance of this creature, Constant Reader? I don't know ....
Having said that, Fredcat had been known to nibble grass a-plenty, and the evidence was sometimes plain to see when he left some on the kitchen floor - messy cat! He had actually never the traditional Pancake Day sugar and lemon pancakes, but he did like the sugar-laden milk left at the bottom of the breakfast cereal dish. His usual ploy was to hop up onto the arm of the nearest chair and craftily poke his nose closer and closer to the dish until the human gave way. Pancakes were a different matter though, and Fredcat forsook the opportunity of sampling them, preferring to have a go at the prawns (or shrimps, as they are known locally). "Are you pleased that you will soon be able to see your liken image in the newspaper?" quizzed Cathie. "Your friends in the UK will be so surprised to see your photograph," she added. "I really am quite ambivalent about it all," said Frecat warily, "what if it all goes horribly wrong and the article doesn't appear? Or I don't like what it says? Or I don't like my photograph?" "Sorry," said Cathie, "you will have no recourse as you are the one who gave the interview." "And, of course," smirked Mr. B., "your cover will not be blown and you can go safely back to being a famous undercover cat, rather like an ageing James Bond. How old are you fourt..." Now that was way over the top! Cathie rounded on the unfortunate Mr. B. and reminded him that (a) Fredcat was actually five years of age, (b) nobody was getting younger and (c) that he, Mr. B., might well be celebrating his next birthday on his own if he continued to speak like that to her magnificent moggie. Mr. B. was further mortified to find that the plate of hot, sugared, lemon pancakes which he had been so anticipating had suddenly become the feared plate of salad with side dish of a dollop of coleslaw, garnished with a tiny apple. On the other hand, Fredcat was able to forget his celebrity fears for a while as he bathed once more in the comfort of his mistresess's arms whilst Mr. B. ate his tea and sulked. Life was still good!
The photographer, Mel, was very patient, and clearly loved to photograph cats, but Fredcat knew what was going on and immediately had a bout of stage fright. A little game of hide and seek went on as he skipped from room to room, and from hiding place to hiding place. He did eventually succumb to pleadings from Cathie, and was soon photographed, holding on to her for dear life. All went well for a while but cats don't particularly care to stare directly into a camera lens and Fredcat was no exception. Mel had an interesting time snapping away trying to get just the right picture. Fredcat now knows exactly what it is like to be a celebrity and to have all those camera flashes going off in his face - seemingly endlessly! He was snapped from distances ranging from ten feet away to only a few inches from his bewhiskered face! By and large, Fredcat took it all fairly phlegmatically, although to be scrupulously fair, there was more than some judicious and surreptitious holding of the Fredcat fur to help things along a bit... (do not worry, Fredcat fans - said holding was done in the kindest of ways) When all was done, Fredcat waved off Mel, bidding the latter give Fredcat's best wishes to The Turbine (aka The Nefarious Mr. Nibbles) and headed back to Cathie who gave The (Now) Officially Famous One a large bowl of prawns. Fredcat immediately tucked in, his photographic session now complete and almost a distant memory. On finishing he remarked, "How tiring, I'm glad I didn't take up a career as a supermodel!" He added, somewhat wistfully, "I suppose that it is a pity that my cover has now been blown, but I've had a good run for my money, both dollars and pounds sterling," and off he trotted to have a quiet sneeze or two to show that he really wasn't quite recovered from his cold. What a trouper.
Finally Cathie was forced to admit that she was off to see 14th Annual Championship and Household Pet Show at the State Fairground in Raleigh, but she left before Fredcat could voice his objections. Naturally, being more than a little paranoid, Fredcat immediately suspected A Conspiracy Theory... On Cathie's return, he waded in straight away. "Are you thinking of bringing in another cat to the Fredcat household?" he demanded. "Whatever gave you that idea?" said Cathie, quickly hiding the brochure for the event. "And why are you trying to hide the family camera from me?" he continued. "I wasn't!" said Cathie, beginning to redden. "There's no law that says one cannot look at or photograph other cats, you know." "Yeeees ... but you are photographing them, and then putting their images on your computer," exclaimed Fredcat, "There has to be a very good reason to do that, or my name's not Fredcat." "Look, it wasn't so long ago that you tried to bribe a stray cay to stay with us - you even provided biscuits and a comfy bed on a cold, chilly night, so don't try to pretend that this visit was undertaken in all innocence!" he went on. "The moment I get sick, it's just Goodbye and off to the cat show, I can see it all now," and he crept away miserably under the table, where nobody could easily get to him. Cathie became contrite and after some coaxing, managed to soothe the Famous One's ruffled fur. "It's OK, Fredcat," she sighed, "I like to check out other cats from time to time so that I can be reminded as to how sweet you are - I would never replace you, you know that," she added, tactfully. Which seemed to mollify the famous one and they went off together to talk about other things (actually, as it turned out, mainly about Fredcat - but you might have expected that.)
It did not work. Despite his protestations - characterised by over 60 plaintive mews during the two mile journey to Gentle Care - Fredcat was finally marched, exhausted, into the v*t's office. Now usually, when such visits take place Fredcat accepts the hospitality of the charming assistant (who gives him a routine physical) but this time was different. "Look here," declared Fredcat, "don't you realise that I am far from being the normal celebrity cat you sometimes see here. I am now a super-celebrity superstar supercat, and I require the very best of treatment, at no additional charge, if you don't mind." Upon saying which, he leapt down, crawled under the only chair in the room and there he remained, alternately sulking and mewing very loudly. Cathie has to explain to the v*t and his staff that Fredcat's attitude stemmed entirely from the false impression that he was about to earn megabucks from his newly acquired stardom - while the reality was, in fact, very, very different. The kindly v*t was sympathetic to Fredcat's situation but after a lengthy consultation decided that Fredcat was really suffering from an upper respitory tract infection. (You and I would call it a cold, but not "miladdo" Fredcat the Famous). Cathie had even brought along a little tape recording of Fredcat's snorts and wheezes for all to listen to and to assist in the making of a diagnosis. Alas, poor Fredcat, the diagnosis resulted in more pills for him to take. "I am glad to be home," said Fredcat later. "Those nice people at Gentle Care even took the time to visit my website - and they seemed to like it a lot! I could hear them all laughing! I just hope that they were laughing with me and not at me." "They loved your website, my paranoid pushkin!" said Cathie, "now open wide, and digest the first of your twenty eight (!) pills." "Thanks a bunch," said Fredcat, and was soon seen heading for the outdoors for a bit of peace and quiet.
"Would it be possible to just send her some pre-prepared fact sheets on my general history to save all this interviewing stuff," he asked. "I doubt it, Sunshine," said Cathie, "You just listen in on the other phone, and you can judge for yourself." He heard the nice newspaper lady asking about all the e-mails he had received over the last half year or so. "Were these e-mails from people or other cats?" she wanted to know. Fredcat was puzzled about this question as he had always assumed that only cats would be inclined to send him e-mails. The only possible exception to this assumption was that other nice North Carolinian person, John Edwards, who might want to be photographed with Fredcat for political purposes - although, to be fair, Fredcat couldn't actually remember seeing such a request from Mr. Edwards, presumably it must have been lost with both (!) his other communications. "Do you mind having your photograph taken?" asked the nice lady. "Well, if you come to visit me during the day I will be asleep, unless you ring the doorbell, which is loud enough to waken the dead," responded The Famous One. "We won't go into that," Cathie interjected, "Just call me in advance and we'll be sure to have His Magnificence buffed and shining ready to go." When the interview was finished, Cathie asked Fredcat what he had thought of it all. To her surprise, Fredcat was quite taken with it. "Somehow, it didn't seem too daunting - in fact, it was excellent and I should have done this ages ago," he said, ebulliently. "Should we discuss publicity photographs? The nice lady at the News and Observer tells me that I have to have my photograph taken! I have noticed that publicity photographs are quite commonplace for celebrities these days ... if you arrange for one to be taken then they could printed off in batches - I would gladly sign them by walking over them with my precious (muddy) paws, just like I do with your important papers! If that would help." "These grandiose notions of yours!" sighed Cathie. "The interview has finished so you may replace the telephone handset now." Fredcat sighed in turn. "Fame in the human world appears to be so fleeting," he muttered, "I shall review my diary for potential clashes of public appearances. Now - where's my tea?"
In a way, she thought, children were easier to deal with, as they could often tell you how they felt, which gave some clues as to the cause of the illness. But Fredcat was so independent (like all of his kind) that once the coughing fit was over, even though it was the middle of the night, he immediately headed for his feeding and water bowls as if nothing had happened. "We will fix up a time to take you to the v*t," she said, firmly. This was not good news to Fredcat, who hated the car ride to the v*t's office more than the appointment itself. He decided to try a diversion. "I see my friend Mr. Edwards is still a contender for the Democratic nomination," he said. "Do you realise that there are now (almost certainly) only three people in the whole world who could be the next US President?" "I suppose that is one way of looking at things," said Cathie, "but frankly I am more concerned with getting you fit again." "Actually I spent a lot of time in the sun today getting a tan," admitted Fredcat, "watching the lawn people putting pre-emergent weed killer on the lawns." "Pre-emergent weed killer!!" said Cathie, "You know, until we came to the US, I didn't even know there was such a product. And I never expected to be discussing such a product with a member of the feline species! But it seems that Mr. B. thinks we need it, and so - on it goes! We could always just throw shredded dollar bills straight onto the lawn and cut out the middle man and save some time - for all the good such care and attention seems to do to that patch of earth we call a lawn!" she added scornfully." "Never mind," said Fredcat, "when Mr. B. is really rich, he will buy you an overgrown garden of your own to just leave to become a forest," he said, and with that unhelpful remark, wandered off to feed his face once more. But don't worry, he will be going to see the v*t soon!
On TV there played a constant stream of notices and messages, advising which schools and businesses would be closed or would have late openings during the morning hours. Later on, a similar set of notices announced which schools would have early closings. This information was important, as it appears that the vast majority of parents go out to work and somebody has to be home when the schoolchildren return. This is unlike the situation in the UK of yesteryear, whereby if a child came home early with no access to the family home, then they went next door to wait (seemingly without complaint on all sides). When Cathie came home from her work, Fredcat met her at the door, and without further ado, demanded to know when they were going to move to a warmer clime. "This is a warmer clime," said Cathie, firmly, "You are supposed to be a stoical English cat, able to deal with the occasional flurry of snow now and then, so stop complaining, and get on with it." Fredcat immediately went to see Mr. B. "I think my very best friend must have had a hard day at work today to treat me so badly," he grumbled, "What have I done wrong?" But Mr. B. was the wrong person to ask (you might have guessed that, Gentle Reader!) "Look, Fredcat," he went on, "When you think about it, snow can be a lot less bothersome than say, rain, ice, or wind. These are all pretty destructive forces, leaving all kinds of devastation behind them, hurtful to cats. But snow just melts away in the end and if you stay indoors (like a sensible cat should) then you will come to no harm." "But I need to patrol my territory," said Fredcat, plaintively. "And just who do you think is going to invade it in this weather?" queried Mr. B. "I suggest you stay inside, try out this new tin of tuna, and wait patiently for the warm weather to arrive - it is just around the corner." So Fredcat did! Sensible creature.
The Famous One's suffering at Mr. B.'s hands didn't last long. Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, quickly opened the door and Fredcat sped back inside as Cathie made some frosty remarks towards the (almost) contrite Mr. B. Soon such matters were a thing of the past as Cathie announced that yesterday had been Presidents Day. Apparently Presidents' Day was created to celebrate the achievements and deeds of two previous presidents, George Washington (the first US president), and Abraham Lincoln (the sixteenth). It was also a day off work for many people! "You can always work out who they were," said Cathie to Fredcat. "If you look on the low denomination US banknotes you can see that the $1 bill has a picture of Washington on it and the Lincoln picture is on the $5 bill." "Everybody knows that," exclaimed Fredcat, "but which banknote will have a picture of me on it?" "I don't think you have got the point about likenesses on banknotes," remarked Cathie. "You have to be pretty famous, like being a president, to get your look-a-like on a banknote - or on a coin." "But that's the whole point," said Fredcat impatiently, I am aready famous, you know." "In addition," he continued, "I am fast becoming a close friend of Mr. John Edwards, who is hoping to be chosen to be the Democrat nominee in the forthcoming election, and (if he is actually elected as US President, come November), then he is bound to want his moniker on a banknote. And since I will arrange to be photographed with him, he will become famous by association with me! He will thank me for that when the time comes." "Sometimes I wonder about you," said Cathie," but she went to make his evening meal all the same. Even when folks (and cats) do and say daft things you can't help loving them.
Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, was agog. However, nothing she could do would persuade Fredcat to cough up the name of his admirer. Her frustration became very evident. She tried coaxing, cajoling, persuading, bribing and even threatening, but all to no avail. The Famous One would not budge. The more Cathie went on about it, the more serene his smile became, and the more vexed Cathie became. As usual, she took it out on Mr. B. who decided that it would be better if he went out to do some work outside, even if it were cold and getting colder by the hour. "You ask him," she demanded of Mr. B. "No way," retorted that icon of conservative respectability. "Your cat, best to leave him well alone, " he added, hoping that Cathie would take the hint and leave Mr. B. alone as well. Mr. B. suspected that Cathie would not rest until she had winkled out the name of the admirer from Fredcat. But Mr. B. also knew from past experience, that if the name ever came to light, Cathie would immediately snort and say something like, "Who? Her!! ..." This would not be a good scenario for Fredcat and Mr. B. resolved to support Fredcat in his desire to maintain the secrecy. It would be tough though, but if anyone could keep a secret from a female human, then surely it was Fredcat the Famous. Cathie's next ploy, familiar to all humans, was then to pretend that she was totally disinterested in the name of his seeming admirer. She went about the business of the day, humming to herself one of Fredcat's best tunes, smiling cheerfully, whilst inwardly seething. Fredcat was not fooled though, and he, in turn, smiled outwardly and went his way. He was still smiling as he made his way to the tinsel bed which had been carefully and lovingly re-made by Cathie. (Nope, that didn't work either.) From Fredcat's viewpoint, life with a Valentine Day's admirer was indeed thrilling. The only clouds on his personal horizon were the ones forecast to bring more snow to the North Carolinian hills. But he would worry about that tomorrow. Today was good.
Nope, it was just the headlights of the builder's lorry carring timber to the new construction site at the end of the road. That was a bit of a let-down, admittedly, but Fredcat had high hopes that all would turn out well later. After a short nap (short, that is, by Fredcat's standards) he ventured outside once more. This time the landscape had completely altered. Now the sun was shining and the buds on the star magnolia and Bradford pear trees were just itching to burst forth. Even the flowering buds on the rhododendrons (which indeed had looked all but dead and buried during the winter iciness) appeared ready to greet the spring-like weather. Spring! Now that was what Fredcat really wanted. His genes (or whatever) had begun to kick in and he was getting himself in a bit of a tiswas at the thought of having his very own tryst with a Valentine. That day's mail was examined in great detail (but, alas, to no avail) and his little heart drooped as his hopes and expectations were dimmed. Perhaps a special messenger would be by later? Nope! - again. He then realised that not all Valentines were delivered exactly on the day of 14th February; there was always the possibility that the Fredcat mail had been delayed on its journey to the outback he called home. Unfortunately, he would have to wait until Monday's post to see if someone had taken a shine to him. "I suppose you realise that it is usually the male of the species who initiates Valentine messages," Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, informed him. "They are also supposed to send them secretly, unsigned, so that the recipient is unaware of the identity of the sender, thereby sending the recipient into a flurry of excitement, wondering who the sender is! That all adds to the mystery, you know. After all, if you know from the outset who the sender is, then what's the point?" she added. "We womenfolk like mystery with our romance, not plain, bald, boring stuff which can be received any old day of the week!" Fredcat was nonplussed. So he had to send a Valentine first! But if he didn't know someone to whom to send a Valentine, then that was impossible! But .... Fredcat was resourceful as well as famous and he remembered the task that he had set Cathie yesterday. "Is it all fixed so that I can send my Valentine message?" he asked her. "Yup," said Cathie, "all ready to go, so smile nicely for the camera, and get recording. And, if you are very fortunate, perhaps someone will e-mail you Valentine wishes!" So Fredcat did! And you folks can hear the Fredcat Valentine message if you want to listen in. But, true to the spirit of the event, nobody is really sure to whom he is sending the message. Can you guess, dear reader? Hmmm...
But there were other factors to consider. Being, as now, an only cat, did have its disadvantages. There were many occasions when Fredcat would have appreciated a little rough and tumble to keep one's reflexes sharp, and humans, no matter how willing to please, were simply not up to the mark. This is where the thought of a Valentine was so appealing. The chance of a little feminine company in his middle-kittening years might not be unattractive. Fredcat was very careful not to state positively that he would like some female company in case his best human friend, Cathie, immediately popped out and brought home a suitable female moggie who might turn out to be entirely unsuitable. Actually, Mr. B. had also been thinking along those lines, but would have gone further by reducing the number of present cats in the Fredcat household, by one, if given the chance. This appeared to be an unlikely scenario, he thought, as he glanced towards a typically baleful Cathie. Fredcat mused on how to progress this idea without being thought too forward. The best idea appears to be to use the approach made available by the "Hanes" people (remember the Famous One's Christmas and New Year messages?) So, Fredcat immediately set forth and persuaded Cathie to try her skill at developing another Fredcat message. So, any flirtacious felines, who are furtively fluttering your eyelashes - be prepared for a flighty message from Fredcat the Famous in tomorrow's diary!! Fredcat wondered whether he should broaden his scope by advertising his Valentine intentions by calling on, say, the nice Valentine Person, who writes for the local News and Observer newspaper. But that could be a risky strategy and he was uncertain about that. "Are you quite sure you don't want a female companion?" asked Cathie, hopefully. "There is plenty of room here, you know." "I don't know," muttered a tentative Fredcat. "It's probably better to stay single," he said. "At least where I am, I get plenty of attention, I am very safe and sound in my nice Fredcat household, and I get all the nourishment a cat needs. And no nagging!" "That's m'boy," said Mr. B. "Best thing you've said all week."
Surprisingly, given the slow start to his campaign, the local lad, John Edwards, is doing so much better than anyone (possibly including J.E.?) could ever have imagined. This Carolina candidate is still staying in the race, whilst all around him seasoned veterans are dropping out, one by one. As readers know, Fredcat is way above participating in politics and the accompanying in-fighting, but he is fascinated nonetheless. But Fredcat wants Mr J. E. to know that, if the latter is elected to high office, Fredcat wants to be on the bread-buttered side of affairs. As you do! His earlier suggestion to Mr E. to accompany him on a tour of the US having borne no fruit Fredcat has turned his attention to more mundane matters. He has tried wearing the discarded eye patch recently worn by his best human friend, Cathie. But the thought of having a parrot permanently on his shoulder was very off-putting. Cathie had just visited the ophthalmologist (now there's a long word for you to mispell!) who had informed her that her cornea was now 98% healed. Hurray! (throws hat in the air). 98%? What an incredibly precise number. Frecat (who only counts in nines) had difficulty with the stated percentage but he nonetheless thought that Cathie had looked very cute in an eye patch. One side benefit of Cathie's near-complete recovery was that Cathie was now giving full reign to the needs of Fredcat himself. Why, she had even risen, unnannounced and unbidden, before 6am to provide Fredcat with his morning breakfast bowl. She even made a cup of tea for Mr. B. at 6am (although, ever the grumpy one, he was expecting a little longer lie-in). The Cathie tea-making was well meant (but it didn't stop Mr. B. from falling back to sleep immediately afterwards!) Dictating his thoughts on Mr. B.'s sleeping had the effect of making Fredcat feel quite tired so he went for a nap or two, knowing that all you workers out there are beavering away to keep the Fredcat vittles a-coming. Fine, just fine, he thought as he settled down.
The VP of Marketing, also known as Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, had also just reported that a few days ago the "bean counters" had told her that the number of "hits" on Fredcat's website had now reached over 20,000. This was a figure undreamt of by Cathie when she had first thought of persuading Fredcat to place his daily diary on the internet. "Thank you, all visitors," said Fredcat in his politest tones. The numbers were by now almost surreal. Fredcat, of course, being both a famous cat and more than a little egocentric, was unimpressed, and thought that his famousness should easily have attracted this level of response. (Mr. B. thought that a lot of folk had clearly forgotten to switch their computers off and were revisiting the website automatically without even realising it.) To celebrate, Cathie decided to prepare a special meal. She was still wearing her Long John Silver eyepatch and had to take painkillers to overcome her discomfort but the enforced period of not being able to use her computer was annoying and she was getting a bit fed up with jokes about her eyepatch, like "Where's your parrot, matey?" Now earlier in the day Fredcat had been upset by the weekly vacuuming done by the Fredcat cleaning person (aka Mr. B.). The vacuum cleaner was very noisy and, bearing in mind that the sound emitted by the hoover was four times as noisy to the Fredcat ears than it was to human ears, one can hardly be surprised at his flight from the house. When he returned, however, there was a surprise waiting for him! Cathie had left a small piece of her fillet steak (medium rare) for Fredcat! This was duly cut up into Fredcat bite-sized pieces and was rapidly demolished by the voracious Fredcat. Delicious! Afterwards Fredcat sauntered out to carry out his regular inspection of the property and its surrounds. All was well again, no villains lurking, tummy full and a warm bed waiting. Life can be so good!
Fredcat was well annoyed, and he felt like getting his own back. On someone. Anyone! First he walked over to his very confortable tinsel bed and pulled about half of the tinsel out, scattering it on the floor in the process. Then he walked over to his food area and tipped the water bowl, spilling water all over the floor, leaving it for Mr. B. to clean up later. Then he climbed the stairs, intending to go and have a lie-down. But after a while he thought that sleeping would be pointless - nobody would know how cross he was! He marched along to the study and idly started swiping at the cord hanging from one of the venetian blinds. Soon the cord was rocking too and fro - this was great fun! But then - disaster! The cord broke and the blind tipped down on one side while the other side resolutely stayed put. This was definitely an “Oh! Oh!” moment. Whilst Fredcat was wondering what to do, Mr. B. came into the room (distracted, as usual) and went to his desk. Ah!, thought Fredcat, a chance for some fun. Quietly he carried the family camera over to the window and parked it under the broken blind and, just as quietly, left. Soon after, Cathie came into the room and, of course, being a woman, immediately noticed the broken blind. “Have you been using the camera?“ she asked Mr. B. “Yes,“ replied Mr. B. absentmindedly, thereby sealing his fate! Mr. B. never did find out how he came to be blamed for the broken cord - though he suspected Fredcat. That moggie, entering the study later, doubled Mr. B.'s pain by enquiring of him, ”When are you going to fix my plaything? You know - that cord on the blind?" "I'll fix you," muttered Mr. B. "and if you don't go away I might find myself tempted to heave a book in your direction!” Life can be such fun sometimes, thought Fredcat. Hmmm ...
Cathie's injury to her eye necessitated her attendance at the local ER (Emergency Room), and Mr. B. was therefore pressed into service as chauffeur, which meant that Fredcat was left to guard the house all on his own. It wasn't until the hospital visit was over that Fredcat sustained his own hurt - a huge thorn stuck into his side that needed the combined efforts of Cathie and Mr. B. to remove. "Do you realise that this thorn was the direct result of your being away from home and leaving me in sole charge?" he demanded. "I had to patrol the house and its perimeters twice as frequently as usual during your absence and, in addition, it was so dark and wet by the time you returned that, despite my excellent vision, I missed my usually sure footing on the wet steps and blundered into a pretty nasty thorn bush." "That was careless! Right now I cannot feel much sympathy for you," replied Cathie, "after all, my eyesight might have been severely damaged." "My only concern," remarked Fredcat, "is simply this - do you have vision adequte to the task of opening a can of my favourite cat food? If you do not, then I will be forced, rather against my wishes, to switch my allegiance to Mr. B., who despite our mutual distrust of each other, seems to be able to plonk cat food in any number of receptacles, on demand, rather than suffer the annoyances of my very early wake up calls." This did not go down well with Cathie and she did a little bit of responding in kind herself. "You ungrateful little monster," she shouted, "after all I have done for you and after all the assistance I have given you over the years, and this is the thanks I get. Huh! And huh! again," she glowered. It was time for Fredcat to retreat and he did so apparently gracefully. "OK, I am sorry that you believe that the hurt you have suffered is very bad compared to mine and I am sorry you feel like that," he mewed craftily. Somehow, when you read that last apology for an apology, despite the use of the word sorry twice, it does not seem much like an apology. Try it and see! But it appeared to mollify Cathie and the last Mr. B. saw of the two of them, they were tucked up snugly, side by side in bed, both dreaming of the day when each would lavish loads of praise and attention on the other - as was their right! Mmmm ...
He had to admit that when she returned, invigorated from her time in the beauty salon (and pleased that, not only had she been cosseted, but that someone had had actually talked to her - unlike the grumpy Mr. B. who was hiding behind a newspaper), she did look decidedly more radiant and even, dare he say it, quite beautiful (for a human). "Why do humans go through this rigmarole?" he demanded. "Surely a good self-grooming ought to suffice. If you look at all the cats in the world, they all take great care of their outer selves even if they spend quite a lot of time in doing so. Why do you humans seek the care and attention of other humans to do stuff to yourselves when one could easily employ self-help in this matter." "You miss the point," replied Cathie, "humans, like cats, need to be regularly told that they are attractive, no matter how their outer selves appear. Many humans are very unsure of themselves in this regard and they seek assurances at all times. You, my little pushkin, despite your hours of self-grooming, dearly love to be cuddled, talked to and even sung to, so don't go criticising the habits of we humans." "I wouldn't want to have my whiskers cut and shaped, they are very important to me in deciding which small spaces I can squeeze myself through," argued Fredcat. "And please, please don't let me go down the road of having my fur permed or my tail bobbed, only d*gs do that!." "Don't worry about that," responded Cathie, comfortingly. "it is usually only pedigree animals that get that treatment, and your are far from that." Fredcat thought that this was a bit of a double-edged comment, but he let it pass. "Well, I am fully groomed for the day," he said, "and now I am ready for some of your very best food offerings," saying which, he shot off to search for nourishment in the kitchen. Optimistic cat ...
They eventually ended up in a back garden where there was a plentiful supply of goldfish. The sun was warm and the fish were floating lazily near the top of the pool. I have not seen a net over a pool before," said Jimmy, "What's that for? It appears to be put there to stop us fishing - which is a bit off, if you ask me." Now Fredcat had read about this type of net and he pointed out that the net was, in fact, a pretty harum-scarum contraption. It was simply held in place with housebricks, which, unfortunately, were too heavy for even the combibed strengths of Fredcat and Jimmy to move aside. "If you look closely at the poolside you will see a round jar which clearly contains fish food," Fredcat continued, "that's there so that the humans can feed the fish with fish food through the netting." "But why the netting?" demanded Jimmy (who was all puffed out after trying to move one of the bricks). "Surely the humans did not expect two cats to come fishing in a garden pool? They couln't have gone to all this trouble simply to keep us out. Even with our abiliy to tickle fish we would be unlikely to catch and eat all of them!" "Actually," said Fredcat, "the netting is to keep out herons, not cats! A heron can clean out a fishpond in a single day, if left to his own devices." "I also heard today about what must be the luckiest fish in the world!" continued Fredcat. "A fish called Bercy was tossed fifteen feet into the air following a car accident, fell on the ground, was found lying in amongst shards of broken glass, and was then saved by paramedics! He was subsequently reunited, safe and sound, with his young owner." "No kidding!" exclaimed Jimmy. "I would not kid over a thing like that," said Fredcat, "go see for yourself on the BBC Newspage - you'll see that I am right - as always - because I am a famously accurate cat!"
"I have already told you," he announced to his best human friend, Cathie, "that I would never take part in a cat election. On the other hand, it might be interesting to place my services at the disposal of this John Edwards candidate (as he is from around here, after all), in his quest to be elected the President of all the United States humans - he looks a nice enough fellow." "And just what do you think you could do for this candidate that other humans would not be able to do," demanded Cathie, sarcastically. "You have no cash to give him, you are not be big enough to be a bodyguard and you can only count up to nine so you would be useless at dealing with his accounts." Fredcat that these comments a little hurtful (though accurate) and was ready to take the discussion further, when he thought of an excellent way to help. "You do know that having a cat around reduces stress in humans," he said, "well I could meet with Mr Edwards and let him relieve the daily stresses of his campaigning by allowing him to hold me and stroke me. That would not reduce his stress levels and decrease the chances of his having a heart attack!" "I'm convinced it would help," replied Cathie, "but you know, I expect an important man like him already has several cats. In all probability, all the other candidates have cats to provide the health services you describe so there would be no overall advantage, would there, in your assisting Mr Edwards?" "My dear Cathie, said Fredcat smugly, "of course there would. For starters, I would be given special attention, I would be stealing the limelight and I am sure I would eat at the very best of restaurants, wherever the mighty Senator goes. I would have a whale of a time!" "I don't think that you have grasped the point of offering assistance at all!" said Cathie. But, as a treat, and to keep Fredcat at home, she served up some juicy, tender pieces of chicken, which was what our crafty cat was angling for all the time. Hmmm...
"But how can we continue this?" he thought. "How are we to draw even more people's attention to this webpage? We have to keep on doing better!" He arranged a meeting with his VP of Marketing (and best human friend, Cathie) to consider the situation. "My dear little pushkin," she began, "my understanding is that although you must never stand still in the publishing business, it is unwise to change a winning format just for the sake of it. You cannot compete with the big boys out there, despite your being pretty famous. In any case, your website is presently ad-free, and a lot of folk like that!" "Indeed," she carried on, "I have just read some alarming news for folk who spend a lot of time surfing the web. Some websites are lining themselves up to force visitors to watch and listen to commercials when they visit a site, whether they want to or not. These are not just little annoying pop-up ads (which one can bypass with the right software), these commercials could be considered a great nuisance because they can last for up to thirty seconds - which it a lot of time, expecially if you keep having to watch the same commercial time after time." Fredcat, however, was quite taken with this idea. "Why don't I have my own commercial!! I could then extol the virtes of both me and my site - and I'm sure visitors would love to see me "live" every time they visit my website," he exclaimed. "Not a chance," replied Cathie, "even I wouldn't watch thirty seconds of your preening every time I visited your site. And I love you the most!", she added. "So, Buster, you had better forget that idea right away." This was a bit of a shock to Fredcat. If his best human friend was willing to put the block on such an exciting adventure, then there would be little hope of the grumpy Mr. B. looking favourably upon it. (Actually Mr. B. spent so much time laughing at the idea that he nearly chocked on his sandwich.) "I think I'll just go back to being nice old, plain and simple, Fredcat the Famous, he thought. It has been pretty good to me so far, and I do have lots and of photos taken." Thinking of which he fell asleep, dreaming of being a film star.
When Cathie returned, Fredcat was quick to talk about the game he had watched. "Why were there so many advertisements, Cathie? The game seemed to start and stop very quickly, and every time it happened - bang! Another advertisement! I had to sit through an hour or more of them while you were out - and I didn't find them very good. Well, some of the ads were good," he corrected himself, "I liked the one with the two bears who have to supply ID to cash a check." Cathie patiently explained to Fredcat that Super Bowl Sunday was the one day in the year when viewers actually tuned into the TV to watch the advertisements, as well as the game itself. These ads were often very funny. She added that it was a very expensive business - so many viewers were watching at one time and some marketing people spent all their budget on that one broadcast, knowing that the viewing audience would be vast. "But if they get it wrong, then it becomes a huge mistake - and heads will roll," added Cathie, with a shudder. Fredcat thought about this for a while and then asked her, "Should I start to advertise my famous diary and my intriging Fredcat tails? I know we already have quite a number of visitors but would we get even more by spending large sums on advertising? It would certainly bring me to the attention of very large numbers of cat-loving folk, would it not?" "You have absolutely no chance of getting Mr. B. to spend any cash on advertising, no matter how big the target audience is," said Cathie with feeling. "Why, he rarely takes us out as it is, and as for spending money on a cat, even one as famous as you, you just have to be kidding." This rather upset Fredcat and he determined there and then to continue with his war of attrition with the miserly Mr. B. to see if he could change that grumpy mind. I suspect not. What do you think, Constant Reader?
With a worldwide audience around the one billion mark, you would have thought that the excitement would have percolated even the Famous One's thoughts, but he was having none of it. For starters, Fredcat was pretty annoyed that his main chef left the Fredcat house to watch the TV programme elsewhere. "It's all very well," he complained to his best human friend, Cathie, "Mr. B. going off like that all evening, but I have needs and desires of my own, you know!" Cathie, having no particular interest in the Super Bowl game, had turned to her DVD player to watch a particularly intense weepie film. Fredcat thought that Mr. B. was getting off lightly, as Fredcat had had to sit, trapped all evening, listening to the weeping and wailing of Cathie, with no escape. He was even more cross to find that his evening meal was simply a rehash of a cold meal that Cathie had set aside as being generally unpalatable. Usually, from Fredcat's point of view, leftover human meals were really excellent, but this time it was an inedible mess. When he complained to Cathie, she was too engrossed watching her film to give him proper attention. Fredcat waited until the exuberant Mr. B. returned. Despite his State team losing, Mr. B. was trying to explain some of the finer points of the game to the uninterested Cathie when he was accosted by Fredcat demanding a decent plate of grub. "I thought that Cathie had done that for you," Mr. B. sniffed. "It's about time you learned to fend for yourself." As you might expect, Constant Reader, that remark didn't go down very well. "Out all evening and now you are positively yelling at my cutie cat," stormed Cathie. With both pairs of angry eyes glaring at him, Mr. B. did what he could to satisfy the needs of Fredcat then disappeared hastily, hoping that the next day would bring sunnier weather. What an optimist! |
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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.
