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He continued, "It is totally unfair. You humans can decide not to go at the last minute, but we cats have no say in the matter at all. Even when I suspect that something unpleasant is going to happen, I am coaxed out of my most secret hiding places with promises of extra grub. Then, suddenly, whoosh, it's off in the cat carrier into the dreaded car, to the even more dreaded v*t. My only defence is to howl all the way there and hope that the visit is simply for a quick check-up." "And even if I am just having a check-up, it is no bed of roses I can tell you! Stuck on that sterile table with ..." "That's quite enough, commanded Cathie. "You know very well that having your teeth cleaned and generally looked at is entirely for your own good. That is why I smile whenever Mr. B. pops off to his dentist. He likes to keep his teeth in good order as well." Fredcat turned on Cathie with scorn, "Fine words, but when was the last time you took yourself off to the dentist? It's OK for Mr. B. and I to be trundled to the slaughter but I notice the shoe is on the other paw when it comes to you! You have got out of the habit of visiting your dentist. That is total hypocrisy!" Cathie smiled again, and said, "That's a big word for a small cat! And remember - I have the power to change your eating habits, my young friend." Fredcat thought that it might be prudent to put an end to this particular discussion, as he rather fancied a bit of fish this evening. Perhaps it would pay to be nice to Cathie for a while!
"As far as I am concerned," said Fredcat, somewhat sniffily, "anything to do with water (unless it's my favourite drink of iced water) is anathema." But he and Mr. B. watched the Boat Race all the same and gasped with amazement as the only two boats in the race (there are only ever two boats!) crunched - smack! - into one another. "It seems that they always try to row over the same part of the river Thames," remarked Cathie, "I don't know why that is, there's plenty of water for lots of boats to share ...." She continued, "I think it's the same with every sport! In golf, for example, they have these huge fairways to play on, but all the players have to putt their little golf ball into the same tiny hole hundred of yards in the distance. On the long distance running track, or in horse racing or dog racing, or speedway, there is tons of space available for everyone to play their games in, and what happens? They all want to play in the same little bit of space! What a waste!" Fredcat frowned, and said, "Look, I don't think you fully understand the point of these sports. It's not about the participants at all. The players or team members are there merely to hassle each other or to barge into other team members so that disputes and arguments arise. The spectators then have a chance to yell encouragement or abuse at the participants, possibly make bets on the sporting outcome, and (in the winter, at least) get thoroughly cold and tired in so doing." "That is sooo cynical," replied Cathie, in dismay, "but there's a lot of truth in what you say. Anyway - let's replay that bit again where the two boats crash into each other! That's the best part of the race!" So they did. Sports fans? I think not!
"It's Sunday," he exploded, "why am I up at this hour?! The clocks have only gone forward in the UK, not here! It's too early!" Mr. B. was particularly upset as he had been having a very pleasant dream, lying on a sandy beach in the sunshine in the Caribbean, sipping a refreshing drink and thinking that all was well in the world. It was always the same with dreams. One just gets to a really nice part and then "whoomph" reality kicks in. Fredcat, once he had finished eating, was content to sit and chat with Mr. B. since, for a change, he was feeling benign towards this male human. "O.K.," he said, "I understand a little about dreams, but why do I seem to miss out just when I am about to catch the biggest mouse in the world? And in other dreams, I get this peculiar feeling as if I am falling into a dark abyss. It is no use being famous if one has unpleasant dreams." Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, who was by now awake, joined in. "Nobody really knows about dreams, why we have them or why we appear to need them. Many people say that, in fact, they don't dream at all but it appears that they do dream but simply don't remember their dreams." Fredcat thought about this and asked, "If you don't remember having dreams, does that mean you don't have them or that you are too dull to recall them?" "That's a bit harsh," replied Cathie. "My immediate dream is to have a nice lie-in, with a full English fry-up breakfast tray brought to me in bed, with soothing music playing in the background - instead of having to get up and go to work." "My next dream," said Fredcat, is to have fresh food supplied to me, every hour, on the hour, with my bedding fluffed up at the same time." "My dream," growled Mr. B. ominously, "is ..." "Now stop that," interjected Cathie, "we all have things to do and work to be done, all of us, so hop to it, peeps." And the surprising thing is, they all did!
This was not an early get-up-and-go-to-work day. These always followed a strict pattern and laughing and jokes were a rarity on those days. Today, despite the early hour, the humans were clearly happy; they had had good news from abroad and everything in the garden was rosy, it seemed. Fredcat feared that he had lost the plot and he needed to re-assert control of the situation. But it was no use. Mr. B. gave him his breakfast and, absentmindedly, added an extra bowl of best biscuits. Now Fredcat had grown so used to rousting Mr. B. at an early hour, that he was irrationally irked to find that that gent had the capability to roust himself. Fredcat frowned and decided he needed to escape from the magical Cathie world of books and candles. (No bells, though). He soon found himself outside. It was spring, and everything in the garden was lovely. There was a superb array of smells and scents for Fredcat to delight in; perhaps this was the additional source of joy to those inside?. Then Mr. B. came to the door, stepped outside and immediately felt a strange feeling. Oh, no, he thought, it's the dreaded pollen, and that means hay fever time again. His eyes rapidly misted over, his nose felt grossly enlarged, and he began sneezing - he couldn't stop. "Get the doctor," he called to Cathie, "I need medication, lots of it." Fredcat followed him inside. "What's the matter?" he enquired. "Serves him right," Cathie replied, "he always thinks he can get away without taking his antihistamine medication, and now he is suffering." Then Cathie looked at Fredcat and exclaimed, "Why, you poor thing, you have watery eyes as well! Are they itching? Oh, no! You, too, have hay fever!" she gasped, "we'd better get you on the antihistamines as well..." "No, I am fine, my eyes are watering from laughing so much," gasped Fredcat, "I am so tickled with this situation that I don't think I can eat any more breakfast. I am off to bed to lie down and laugh myself to sleep. Perhaps Mr. B. will stay in bed a bit longer tomorrow." Cathie frowned. It was not good to poke fun at Mr. B. because he had hay fever; it can be very unpleasant. Many people suffered from it for months every year. She would need to have a word with Fredcat later. Hmmm...
Fredcat remembered well the first day that the need for a bookcase became apparent. Several piles of books had been carefully placed on the study floor to ensure that Mr. B. was bound to fall over them - which he duly did. That led to the acquisition of bookcase number one. It was paid for, taken home, painted and set in place Within one hour these shelves had been filled to bursting point - and several piles of books remained on the study floor! Mr. B. didn't understand it - why were there so many books left over? Why were there any books left over? He was unaware that additional books had been "discovered" by Cathie; "discovered" that is, from her stockpiles hidden behind her long dresses in the Cathie clothes' closet. "I suppose that we ought to get another bookcase," said a despairing Mr. B. By continuing in this vein, Cathie eventually ended up with not two, not three, but four large bookcases. There was little room left in the study for more bookcases. But, in his turn, Fredcat was not satisfied. "Look here," he remonstrated to Cathie, "you have all your books sorted, but there is still no place for my numerous software packages, manuals, setup instructions, and general computing stuff, all of which are needed to deal with my famous website." "No problem there, my sweet one" said a chortling Cathie, and before many hours had passed there appeared a vast collection of boxes containing essential website material, all strewn over the study floor once more. It took some persuading, but commonsense prevailed and soon Mr. B. was trundling in another, though smaller, bookcase into the study, just for the Fredcat stuff. A little later, Mr. B. strode to the bookcases to admire his handiwork. "Just a minute," he frowned, "where are all my books?" "Sorry, but we needed all the available space so Fredcat and I had to move yours," said Cathie blithely, "but it's OK, they are all neatly stacked in the spare bedroom." So it came to pass, after savagely culling his own books and purchasing a new, but very small, pair of shelves, Mr. B. managed to get his remaining tomes back into the study. "Serves you right," said Fredcat, "you are lucky to get even a couple of shelves. You never read anyway, you have far too much to do around the house, looking after me as well as Cathie, to worry about your few pathetic books. How about some tea," he added. He then skipped smartly out of the room, as a hefty dictionary hurtled past his ears. I think Fredcat was pushing it a bit, don't you? Yes indeedy ...
He remembered that prior to the decision to emigrate, Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, had visited the US and had spent significant amounts of time shopping with her American sister-in-law, Jane. They had visited all the local candle shops and Cathie had taken back candles en-masse to England. In fact there were so many candles that Mr. B. had grown grumpier than ever (!) and had declared that the Fredcat residence would henceforth be a candle-free zone. Amazingly, his view prevailed! The candles had remained hidden until a better opportunity arose for their use. On emigration, these very same candles had returned, secreted, back across the Atlantic (making a double journey across the water of some 8,000 miles!) and had been stored away in various closets, cupboards and drawers in the Fredcat US residence. They had subsequently made their surreptitious entrance, room by room, throughout the house, and before either Mr. B. or Fredcat had fully realised it, the candles had taken over the whole house! Then one day, when Mr. B. had disappeared for the evening, Cathie brought out all the candles she could lay her hands on and all were ceremoniously lit. The house was ablaze with light! As Fredcat went from room to room the different scents swept across him in waves. Rose, Vanilla, Walnut Coffee, Cinnamon, Clean Cotton, Apple Pie; the scents made a nonsense of the Fredcat olfactory senses. Then horrors of horrors! More (electrically-powered) scents appeared, as Cathie started to purchase and install Plug-In fragrances into numerous electrical sockets all over the house! Then, finally, in the Cathie bathroom, a new aroma arose as Cathie luxuriated in a foamy bath, smelling sweetly (we hope) of rose petals. Fredcat soon had sensory overload. No longer could he distinguish bedroom from dining room, study from kitchen. It was just a huge jumble of scents. "Help!" he yelled. "I depend heavily, upon my sense of smell - and this cacophony of scents is driving me crazy. You, as a human female may enjoy all these sensory delights, but it is making it impossible for me to negotiate the Fredcat household." Cathie felt terrible and immediately expressed her contrition (but this may have had something to do with the return of Mr. B. who thought that the Fredcat residence was about to burst into flames). Candles were quickly snuffed and the smell of extinguished wicks soon mingled with other smells. Fredcat was saved, and by Mr. B. to boot! Wonders will never cease.
Fredcat hated big noisy machines of all kinds. Vacuum cleaners, lawnmowers, leaf blowers, edge trimmers, motor vehicles ... In addition, the lawnmower chopped down some of the juiciest blades of grass; grass which Fredcat need to gnaw on from time to time - for health reasons. This was the grass which, frequently, he later presented in a mashed up form to Mr. B. somewhere in the Fredcat residence (as a prize, you understand). Tired after mowing, grumpy Mr. B. sat down in his swivel chair, turned on the TV and prepared to sip his cup of hot, British Blend, English tea. Fredcat sat perched neatly on the table to the left of him. This was boring, thought Fredcat, so when he was quite sure that Mr. B. was comfortably settled, with his gaze fixed on the TV screen, he leapt into action. Fredcat hurled himself pell-mell into Mr. B.'s lap. The inevitable conservation of momentum law made Mr. B.'s swivel chair spin round in a mini-arc to the right, whilst the table rocked precariously on its legs. Meanwhile, Fredcat kept going and leapt off Mr. B.'s lap and onto the floor. This provided a reaction jolt to the swivel chair which, naturally, lurched back to the left, banging into the table. Fredcat disappeared around the corner, stopped and waited. The contents of the cup of tea also disappeared, most of it down the shirt and trousers of Mr. B. who, of course, couldn't get out of the way in time. In trying to stop the flow of scalding tea with his hands, Mr. B. managed to let go of the remainder of the tea and once again felt that peculiar stinging pain so well known to all males. Finally, Mr. B. leapt up, quite soaked, and chased after Fredcat, who wisely, had decided to disappear completely for a while. Later, when Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, came home, she was met by an irate Mr. B. "Tea stains are hard to wash out," he complained. This complaint was soon dealt with. "You shouldn't drink tea in those chairs, they are for best," she said, primly, adding, "serves you right, you deserve all you got - and mind you do a good job of cleaning the chair, and don't forget to get Fredcat his tea." That was adding insult to injury, thought Mr. B., there are some things that just are not fair. On the other hand, Fredcat was pleased with his day's work. It was nice to be able to demonstrate one of the basic laws of physics, he thought. And in such such an entertaining manner, to boot! Clever scientist cat!
"Excellent!" interjected Fredcat, whose excitement was visibly mounting. "But remember, my sweet," continued Cathie, "you will have some expenses." "Expenses? What are they?" asked Fredcat, suspiciously. "Well ... there are federal taxes to pay, to start with, and North Carolina State taxes, as well. It wouldn't surprise me if these two took a major share of your $1 million." Cathie was warming to the subject. "Doubtless you will have to employ a CPA to keep detailed financial records. I'm sure that Mr. B. would be pleased to look after these for you but - be warned - he don't come cheap! These revenue folks might also want to carry out an audit as to the source of your new found wealth. That could be a very time-consuming and expensive activity, and if you are not careful, and find that you have not kept proper "books", you could even be deported back to the UK! Where, to add insult to injury, you would have to stay six months in quarantine before being allowed out! "Also, as a rich and famous cat, you would have to install an expensive security system to keep out the robbers and thieves who would be attracted to your wealth. On top of that, you will soon have a cluster of relatives (most of whom you will have never seen or heard of before) all coming out of the woodwork, begging for a share of the spoils. You might even attract a blackmailer or two who will threaten to publicise your skeletons in the cupboard." "I don't have any of those," objected Fredcat, strenuously. Cathie could see that our hero was starting to sweat ... "That doesn't matter, the villains will probably invent them," stated Cathie maliciously. "And then there is the board and lodging which you have enjoyed at my expense for many, many years. I would be more than willing to seek reimbursement for all such living expenses over the years (at a reasonable rate, of course). V*t expenses, maintaining your current website, ensuring a good supply of prawns - all these costs have been particularly high recently. However, as you are such a sweetie, I am prepared to continue to provide suitable lodging at a not unreasonable rate for someone who is admittedly a good tenant ... You don't make a mess and have been very good about keeping the noise down to a dull roar when you have been carousing. And, it must be said, you don't make much of a mess. But," she continued, taking off her sentimental head and putting on her businesswoman's head, "I would require a sizable, non-refundable deposit up front. Now, I think you will find that there probably would be little or nothing left of your new found wealth." Fredcat was shocked and stunned at this analysis, but thought he saw a glimmer of a twinkle in Cathie's eyes. He sidled up to his best human friend, started purring loudly, and Cathie knew he had come to his senses. All too soon the seeming excellent business opportunity was forgotten, and the e-mail from Liberia was dutifully left unanswered. It might even have been a scam! By the way, Fredcat sends his effusive thanks to Susan C and the esteemed Mr. DeFish for their invaluable advice on this financial matter - they too, had been contacted by the nephew of the person who, until recently, was President of Liberia! Hmmm...
As it happens, Fredcat is not really au fait with international politics, but he was intrigued to discover that if he followed some simple instructions he would receive loads of money. He read on ... "How much money is loads of money?" asked Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, in surprise. "It seems a bit complicated," reported Fredcat, hopping from paw to paw in excitement. "The original sum involved is $20,500,000 but there has to be some deductions made first. The ex-president gets 75% of the total, which seems only fair - well I suppose that it is his money after all." "Twenty and a half million dollars seems an odd amount," said Cathie. "What are the other deductions?" "It seems that there are some very heavy expenses that have to be allowed for," continued Fredcat, "these amount to five percent of the total, which is over a million dollars. That seems an awful lot of money just to wire money around computer systems!" "Indeed it is," replied Cathie," why, nowadays I can send money to my son in England quite easily using my simple home computer and the cost is absolutely nothing (well almost nothing!) so long as one has the funds available." "I will need to explore this further," decided Fredcat, "I am not going to let this opportunity go begging! My intention is to be able to retire a very rich and very famous cat and I need to follow this all through. I do like the idea of becoming instantly rich so I think I will sleep on this and I then discuss this further with you tomorrow." Fredcat was so engrossed with this idea that he almost forgot to demand his evening meal ... but he soon came to his senses, you'll be pleased to hear!
First of all, this is an important day for Fredcat who, for obvious reasons, misses his dear old birth mum. Visitors to the Fredcat website will recall from reading about his early beginnings that he was discovered in a home for displaced cats (where Cathie found him) and he was subsequently brought home to live with her and his early mentor Forby. So when all the world celebrates and honours Mother's Day, Fredcat somehow feels left out. He sincerely believes that his mother could well be still alive in Lancashire, England (he has no reson not to think so!) but her whereabouts and state of health are unknown to him. There is another sticky problem too. Fredcat now lives in the United Stastes where Mothering Sunday is not celebrated until later in the year. Which day or date should he consider as appropriate? Logic suggests that March 21 is the best choice but Fredcat is aware that other American cats will all be thinking of their mothers later on, in May. Does one do as the Romans do or stick to the old ways? Cathie appeared to have an answer. "You left the warm embrace of your birth mother so long ago, and you have lived with me for fifteen years now (though Fredcat is, still, amazingly only 5 years old!) that I think that, by now, your mother has had the benefit of seeing your international fame and would be comforted to think that you remember her - even from such a long way away. She would be extremely happy with that. And don't forget, Fredcat, she possibly has the comfort of your other siblings around her to give her pleasure!" "The best solution," she continued, "is to think of her from a distance in the US and to celebrate Mother's Day as if you were still living in the UK." "Good idea," said Fredcat with a sigh, and sat down on the front doorstep to dream of his early upbringing. Things were not so bad, he mused, his new best human friend, Cathie, was an excellent surrogate mum and he loved her very much!
As if!, thought Mr. B. In his experience, going to the hairdresser's took as long as it took - and why it was necessary to take a book to read, he just couldn't quite understand. Surely, nobody actually read a book at the hairdresser's, the customers were usually all ears listening to the gossip from the next cubicle, he thought darkly. Fredcat and Cathie were sure of one thing, though, in addition to being grumpy, Mr. B. was well known for taking things easy whenever Cathie was out. So Fredcat decided to liven things up. He sped into the study and was easily able, by sitting on the keyboard of Cathie's computer, to turn the volume up on a heavy metal song that had been playing quite softly, before scuttling back downstairs. (Cathie was not actually sure about heavy metal music, so she played it softly; anyway, she tended to prefer Beatles music - being a true Scouser.) Of course softly-played heavy metal music is truly tautological. The only way it should be played is, apparently, very loudly. Unfortunately, Fredcat was also affected by the booming noise, being much more sensitive to noises than mere humans. So ... he immediately expressed his opinions on the matter by commencing to wail at full pitch. Mr. B. was in a fix as to who or what should be dealt with first. He prioritised (wrongly) on the music and managed to turn the volume down and then sped downstairs to look after the Famous One, who, meanwhile, had slithered upstairs using the back set of stairs and had increased the volume of the PC music once more! And so on .... When Cathie returned home, rather earlier than usual (the gossip being decidedly low key, for a change), she found an irate Mr. B. and a Fredcat who needed comforting. Guess who got the larger ration of love and attention!
"That's amazing," commented Fredcat, "why do these North Carolina folk celebrate these occasions? Why, today I heard that if you went out to buy bagels, you might well find some of them coloured green!" Cathie interjected, "My dear little feline friend, people celebrate partly for a feeling of connectivity with some of their ancestors, but a lot of it is engendered by retailers responding to a market opportunity to make the most of tenuous links with Ireland to make their goods more attractive and to provide them with another nebulous reason to persuade the punter to part with their hard earned cash." "That sounds terribly cynical," replied Fredcat, "I would have thought that that is something that Mr. B. would have said!" "Actually he did!" said Cathie, "I am merely repeating what he said to me." "Then why is it that the English in the United States don't celebrate Saint George's Day in a similar fashion?" he enquired. "Nobody really knows," said Cathie, "but then hardly anyone knows when Saint George's Day occurs." "It is next month, April 23rd (to save the reader looking it up on a search engine)," muttered Fredcat to himself. "We do know when Poppy Day is, of course, and everyone who is anyone in Britain wears a poppy on that day, but I suppose that English people are unsure of, and generally unhappy about, flaunting their national origins," said Cathie. "Apart from some of the younger ones supporting their team at overseas sporting events," grimaced Fredcat. "When I become internationally famous, no sorry, I mean, when I become even more internationally famous, I think I will design a flag just to celebrate my Fredcat the Famous Day." "Wake up," said Cathie, "I think you need some more vittals, as I can see your mind is wandering off because of lack of sustenance." Ignoring the barb, Fredcat was nontheless quick to scuttle off to his feeding area. Cats can be very quick on the uptake when food is concerned, no?
I think that that notion really only applies to young children," replied Cathie, "and I also think that the faeries don't care to be called that as such, they much prefer to be called the Good People." "Nothing good about them if they go about stealing children," responded Fredcat with a shudder, "unless of course they take Mr. B. along for a ride as well!" "Also, I see that we have a lot of green clover in our garden," pointed out Fredcat, "does that mean we are of Irish descent?" "Some of my family certainly are, as it happens," commented Cathie, "a number of them came from Ireland and they were surnamed Murphy, so I suppose I can claim some Irish lineage. Of course, I don't think that that would apply to you, my Famous Feline, you are as Lancashire (a county in England) as they come!" "So ... if there are festivities, will I be expected to participate in them?" asked Fredcat, "I am not very keen on dressing up - although I'm told my natural colouring of ginger and white goes very well with green." "If you do come to the party then I'm convinced that you'll be the hit of the show - as always," laughed Cathie, and she swept him into her arms to present him with an early evening's treat.
"What would this entail?" asked The Famous One, suspiciously, "and how would this affect me?" he added, always one to equate impending change with a potentially negative effect on himself. "You are right to be worried, the shrub men might end up having to spray all sorts of noxious substances on the shrubbery," said Mr. B. grimly, "so you had better make yourself scarce if you don't want to end up sniffing odious fumes or licking poisonous oils which these gents may spray on the garden." Well!! This was hardly the sort of placatory reply our Famous One wanted to hear, and he retreated to the kitchen, posthaste, to confront his best human friend, Cathie. "Are you aware that Mr. B. is about to do me in!" he shouted, taking the earlier conversation to an extreme conclusion. "I know we can't be said to get on like blood brothers, but this is really going too far!" "I am sure that you are reading this all wrong," said Cathie, but she was a bit alarmed, nevertheless. A few words from her to Mr. B. soon put Fredcat's mind to rest. "He is just teasing you," she explained later, "you have no fear from him or my name's not Cathie - Cathie the Vengeful One," she added. "That's good," said a relieved Fredcat, but he noticed a tiny gleam in the eye of Mr. B. and couldn't help wondering. Hmmm ...
Feedcat was examining the sketches prepared by Mr. B. for both repairing the hole in the netting over the louvre's opening, as well as for hauling up and nailing into place addditional wood to replace the slats gnawed away by the squirrels. Actually, Fredcat had completed this review activity by sitting plonk in the middle of the sketch. "I can easily tell you what to do next," he chirruped, "with me as your guide you will soon have it finished and then we will all be safe," he added. And he continued to sit on the sketches, resisting all efforts to dislodge him. "You will just have to complete the task from memory," declared Cathie, "call me when you are finished," and she sped away, glad to be out of harm's way while the men of the household toiled on. "Why do you always sit on any papers lying around?" enquired Cathie, later, "I have noticed that whenever I have important documents or papers on my desk, you quickly find and sprawl all over them with never a care in the world. You even sat on the card I sent to the best and only child in England for his birthday today, and left your mucky paw prints all over it!" "Well, it's like this," responded our Famous One, "I know how you all go bonkers whenever important papers go missing and it occurred to me that if I acted as a paperwieght then the number of missing papers would be sharply reduced, and you would be pleased." "Why thank you, my thoughtful friend," said Cathie, "but it would help a little if you didn't scrunch them about when you sit on them." "The only scrunching I like," said Frecat, airily, "is when you scrunch up an old packet of cat biscuits and open up a fresh new one." And with a hint like that, who could blame Cathie for being a forgiving soul and going towards the Famous One's feeding area. Clever cat!
"Not more squirrels," Our Hero exclaimed, "they made my life a misery with their climbing up and down and racing around in the attic above my bedroom at night! I need peace and quiet while I sleep." If that Squire is around again I will not sleep well a-night." "First I must repair the damage done by our previous squirrel visitors." remarked Mr. B. "But I can't reach the damaged louvre with my step ladder, so I need to buy a longer one." Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, interjected here and reminded Mr. B. that the local home improvement stores were currently advertising the sale of ladders. "Well, if you know so much about them, why don't you go shopping for one," retorted Mr. B. sarcastically, "don't let your female gender put you off from this obvious masculine task!" "OK, I will," she stormed, "I'll go and get a twelve foot ladder," and, with feathers ruffled, she sped off in her car. When she returned, Mr. B. scoffed and asked her where the ladder was ... "In the boot of my car," she said disdainfully. Fredcat looked inside said vehicle boot, and it was true - there was a ladder there! But .... it was a three foot ladder, not a twelve foot ladder. The grumpy Mr. B laughed until he nearly choked. The laugh, however, was on him because when the ladder was taken out it expanded into four interlocking sections and, quite clearly, was easily expandable to the required twelve feet. Furthermore, it folded into no less than eighteen different positions! Wow! Fredcat was mightily impressed. Cathie then passed Mr. B. the bill and invited him to pay it, saying in addition that he needed to fit the base onto the ladder with a monkey wrench. "I have done the hard work of tracking down and buying the ladder," she stated, "so you can get it on with this monkey wrench - quite apposite really," she added triumphantly. And she and Frecat sauntered off to have non-ladder-related refreshments. Life was good!
"I am getting rid of a few emerging weeds from the shrubbery and the juniper bank," came the reply. "If the weeds are removed early, before they take hold and get a chance to flower and create more weeds, it makes the job of gardening that much easier later on." Mr. B. paused. "And in North Carolina, it is a good idea to tackle these jobs before the sun gets up high and makes working conditions very hot and too tiring." "Hold on," commented Fredcat, "it is very early in the day, it is still mid-March and the day is rather chilly, so why are you really outside so early." This cross-examination was a little unexpected, but Fredcat knew he had a point. "Ah-ha!" he suddenly exclaimed, "it wouldn't be an alternative activity would it? Whenever you (or indeed, Cathie, come to think of it) don't want to do something unpleasant, you invent something unimportant that you say just has to be done, RIGHT NOW, and in so doing avoid doing the thing you should be doing. That's it, isn't it?!" There was a pause while Mr. B. absorbed the force of that argument. At last he growled, "Very clever! As it happens, I am going to have to write a letter that I have been putting off for some days. I have to get the wording exactly right, or else I will end up with the opposite of what I want. It is a chore I really dislike doing." "I could help you," grinned Fredcat, "I am good at arguing my case!" "That you are," said Mr. B., "but this calls for real expertise, which is why I am now off to get your best human friend, Cathie, to help me." It is always best to get the expert to do stuff like that, thought Fredcat, as he made his way to his favourite sleeping spot in the freshly-weeded shrubbery, free of the presence of Mr. B. Something good had come out of that discussion!
"Where do they come from? Only a few privileged folk have my e-mail address," asked a puzzled Fredcat. "Well, we do have some visitors to your website from the Far East," responded Cathie, "perhaps they have inadvertently passed on your e-mail address to someone who is setting up spamming accounts." "But that seems odd, considering that my knowledge of Chinese characters is miniscule - well, non-existent, actually" said Fredcat." "Spamming is all done by computers nowadays," said Cathie, "they don't care about your inabilty to understand what they send you, they are only interested in passing on their spams to the largest number of people possible. We have tried all sorts of ways to stop them, but they continue to find tricks to get around our firewalls."
"Talking of spam, I like Monty Python's Spam sketch - the Spam song, said Cathie," I think it goes something like Spam, spam , spam, spam, etc, etc." Do you think the spammers have pinched the idea of spammimg from Monty Python?" said Fredcat. "I doubt it," replied Cathie, "but the Spam song is just great on its own. And the words are really easy to remember! Try reading and listening to the Spam song and one can see the similarity between the spammers of yesteryear and those of today ... they are both somewhat surreal!" said Cathie, amused. Fredcat said nothing, but thought that this was all much more than he wished to know at the moment, so he laid his head down in his tinsel bed and went to sleep. Best place for him really. Lucky cat!
"Where are your manners, young Fredcat!!" cried Cathie, in alarm. "It is not right to receive e-mails without providing a proper acknowledgment. You have been taught better than that! So get thee to thy study and get some replies going. Now! You are only allowed to skip this task when the numbers of correspondents becomes overwhelming - and that is on the distant horizon, at best, at the moment." Cathie continued before Fredcat could muster a response. "Who are these good people who have taken the time and trouble to e-mail you, then?" she demanded. Fredcat cleared his throat and began, "Well ... there is MargaretN, JimmyDF, Susanne, Shelley, Agent Emi, Bentley, Jasmine, Betsy, Megan, Anne G, Tracy, Baby, Lorraine, KK, Brooke, Susan ... and a few others with whom I have already corresponded." "Stop right there," commanded Cathie. "What will these good people think of you? Just recall your Christmas presents and all the people who gave them to you - you wrote careful Thank You notes then, didn't you - or is it all too much bother," she said scathingly. So Fredcat, aided by his "peeps", started to compose little Thank You e-mails, heartily wishing that many more friendly cats would contact him and thereby make it impossible for Fredcat to respond to them all individually - then he could resort to replying with a global Thank You. Getting presents and e-mails was fun, but neglecting them came all too easy. Oh dear, this Famous Feline is in trouble again, but hopefully not for long, Gentle Reader. So, if you e-mailed Fredcat, check your Inbox!
Without warning - even from the local weather forecasters (who appeared to have been caught napping) - the weather turned really nasty. The temperature dropped over 20 degrees in as many minutes, the wind whipped up, and before anyone knew what was happening, storms, wind, rain and lightning had knocked out power supplies all over the state. Well over 200,000 homes were plunged into darkness - some for many, many hours - with no light, no power, no running water, you get the point. Fredcat soon found himself seeking the safety and warmth of Cathie's arms. He wondered what was going on. "Where is your famous entourage now?" sniffed Cathie, "I see no manager, no cook, no bunch of general hangers-on, no masseuse - no peeps at all!!" "We were going to discuss all that when I had recruited everyone," wailed Fredcat. It was probably the use of the royal "we" that did it. Cathie turned icily to her famous feline. "Where are all these people going to stay - there is no room in my house! When are they coming and how are you going to find enough mugs willing to do the dirty work of cleaning out your litter tray without spilling it and, and, and ...." Cathie stopped there as it was becoming obvious that Fredcat had not thought through this planned ataff increase at all. "Well, perhaps I will put this on hold for a while," said Fredcat after a pause. "In any case, I am beginning to feel the normal evening pangs of hunger coming on and I am smart enough to recognise that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, so it would be rather nice if my feeding bowl were filled so that I may partake of nourishment - albeit it in the dark." "You'll have to wait until the storm passes over," said Cathie. "Then I'll be able to address your feeding needs. I suppose I can't feel aggrieved at you for long, but you had better get your head screwed back on the right way in future, my lad." And with that, peace was restored.
"What are you wittering on about," said his best human friend, Cathie. "Well, it is like this," said Fredcat, "I have noticed that many of the most famous celebrities all have a grand entourage of helpers, assistants and general hangers-on, all there to help their celebrity survive the ardours of the day and to ensure that nobody unimportant gets within touching distance of said celebrity." "It occurred to me that it would suit me down to the ground to have the same level of commitment from a bevy of humans, employed solely to look after my daily wants and needs - doesn't that make sense? To start with, I would like to have, for example, a manager, a personal assistant, a cook, a gofer, a house person, a gardener, a cleaner and a personal trainer, and oh!, especially a masseuse." "What cheek," expostulated Cathie, "after all I have done for you over the years, you now want to surround yourself with a load of yes-peeps who won't look after you with a view to anything other than a weekly paycheck in mind. Doesn't all that I have done for you mean anything?" "Sorry, old chum," replied Fredcat smoothly, "but one has to move with the times. My thanks to you for past services, but one has to consider a new direction when one's fame seems to be increasing exponentially, you know ...." Oh dear, Gentle Reader, this could run and run, no? Tune in tomorrow!
"You clown," she yelled, "the handle bars are on back to front! My arms aren't six feet long! The way you have assembled it means that I have to lie horizontally with my face against the readout panel of the bicycle to use the handlebars! I can't reach!" "Oh dear," thought Fredcat, "Mr. B. has messed up again ... Time to leave, methinks." Fredcat was quick to change his mind, however, and his suggestion to call in Dr Ken soon solved the problem. Harmony and peace were restored in equal parts and Fredcat watched with interest the first tentative pedallings of the bike with Cathie on board. "Why do all this stuff," he enquired, rather puzzled. "You have always eschewed the exercise part of dieting and exercising, relying on not eating so much whenever the pounds have to be shed." "The reason, my Extremely Famous Feline, is that my best and only (human) son is getting married this summer, and it behoves me to look my best for the wedding photographs. As The Mother Of The Groom, that is one set of pictures that one cannot avoid," she added, "so this exercise bike had better do the trick!" "I don't think cats have weddings as such," mused Fredcat. "We have courtships which can be very entertaining - which go on all night long sometimes!" "I think many humans are aware of these affairs," replied Cathie, brightly, "which is why they keep a plentiful supply of boots and shoes handy. One likes to show appreciation by throwing these in the direction of any noise," she added hastily, in case her dear Fredcat was confused. "I'm afraid that watching this exercising is all too much," said Fredcat. "I am going somewhere quiet to lie down, away from the racket of your no doubt wondrous bike. The drone of it quite makes me sleepy."
Actually Fredcat was feeling absolutely at the peak of his form. Any cat lover who has a cat deigning to reside with them will know the annoyance that a hairball brings in its wake. In Fredcat's case, despite his notoriety, he had accidentally managed to nibble a few hairs around the house and had proceeded to cough up said hairball last night with a great deal of showmanship. It was such a little fur ball, hardly worth mentioning really, so he was able to carry out his full eating regime without further ado. Fredcat had also completed his course of antibiotic pills, so the world was his oyster once more. No more would he play Chase around the house as his people endeavoured to catch him to administer the dreaded pills. The telephone rang again, and this time it was the nice lady, Kris, whom he had spoken to a year or so ago, from Wake Technical Community College. She was calling to thank The Extremely Famous One for mentioning their part in the great Fredcat diary enterprise. That was good of her, he thought, how polite! Fredcat was feeling so munificent towards the world in general that he allowed the humans to take a couple more photographs of him. His usual trick of immediately walking towards the camera whenever a shot was being lined up, became too much of a chore in the warmth of the beautiful day. Instead, he lay down and dozed until it was time for some more of the edible food, instead of the grass he was nibbling. Much better!
He was a bit surprised at the comment in the article that the humans didn't know why the website was so (relatively) popular. "Huh!" he snorted, "it's no more than I deserved - or expected!" Actually, his best human friend, Cathie was very pleased indeed, but she was not going to let her little kitten get away with such arrogance. "Just you be careful," she commented. "Pride definitely comes before a fall." Mr. B. was more forthright. "Hey you, Famous One, we have had a message from our website hosts to say that because of your famous antics - which you insist on reporting in your famous diary - we have just had another bill from them. They say that today's huge increase in activity has exceeded our bandwidth allowance - and would we please cough up some more of our hard earned cash or they will re-direct our traffic!" "What does that mean," asked a worried Fredcat. "It means," said Mr. B. "that, if that happened, your diary days would be numbered." Cathie leapt to her precious cat's defence. "If you don't find some spare cash in your oversized pocket, you scurvy skinflint, there will be trouble ahead!" she growled. As Cathie's growls can be quite fearsome, Mr. B. unsurprisingly kept his silence. Fredcat took up the advantage. "You do realise," he said, spitefully, "that that grumpy man tried to muscle in on my photographic session - indeed, he was even trying to edge me out of the picture altogether! I only wish you could have been in the photo with me, instead," he said to Cathie, winsomely. (That certainly earned him an extra portion of juicy prawns for tea, even if Cathie was secretly pleased to not be in the picture.) Fredcat the (Extremely) Famous wasn't going to let Mr. B. get away with anything, especially to do with our feline's diary. The cheek!
He therefore found it vaguely intriguing that the humans in the Fredcat household had decided to buy an exercise bike. Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, had brought it home, in a HUGE box which only just fitted into her car. She dragged it out of the vehicle and she and the grumpy Mr. B. lugged it into the house and began to assemble the contents. This led to a lot of friction, oh my, oh yes! There were over a dozen parts to be somehow joined together, with many more nuts, screws, bolts and various other pieces of equipment to help (and seemingly hinder) the process along the way. Mr. B. was finally given the task of fitting the parts together and it soon became apparent that he lacked the technical skills to do this (at least without making some harsh comments about the manufacturers of the infernal machine). Fredcat observed that of course (as usual) he was attempting to do this without first reading the (very detailed) instructions. Typical! Cathie, by and large, kept out of the way. Fredcat, being a smart sentient being, had already diligently read the instructions and helped matters along no end by directing Mr. B. here and there: putting his paw on the next part to be fitted, and flicking his tail at Mr. B. to draw the latter's attention to the right part at the right time. It didn't seem to work, though! When Cathie came in at the halfway point, she remarked over the constant muttering that a bad workman always blames his tools, which (as you can imagine) didn't help matters much. At one stage Mr. B. even got into his car and drove off to seek help from his sister, Jane, (oh! the embarrassment of that!) before being able to complete the task, but, finally, the bike was ready for use and the grumpy Mr. B. sat back, the job done. He had had plenty of exercise already in assembling the machine - and Fredcat thought that that served him right! But then - horrors! As he escorted the exhausted Mr. B. from the room, Fredcat saw not one, but two pieces of the bike "left over" from the construction. Oh, no!! With a deft paw, Fredcat quickly brushed these under the bed. Serve the so-and-so right! That particular problem can be tackled another day ....
Fredcat found a nice spot in the sun and dozed, but hadn't been asleep for long when a loud ringing disturbed him. He rushed inside the Fredcat household to find that it was another telephone call from the nice lady at the News and Observer newspaper. She told him that now he had returned from his mission he could safely expect to be featured in Wednesday's edition of the paper! Fredcat thanked her and later wondered if photographs would be included in the article. He still remembered the how-de-do when the photographer came round, wanting lots and lots of snaps of the Fredcat features. "How do you think I will look in the photograph?" he asked his best human friend, Cathie. "Will I come over as aloof and debonair?" he added. "A famous cat needs to be seen as different, you know," "Hey - will you be in the photograph with me?" he suddenly asked. "I hope not," replied Cathie, shuddering. "I am not too keen on photographs - as you well know. I much prefer to stay in the background at times like these." "So long as that Mr. B. stays out of it, I will be satisfied," said Fredcat, feverently," I just don't trust him, he might become all smarmy and pretend to be my best friend, and that would never do!" "We will have to wait and see," said Cathie, "what will be, will be. Meanwhile, all this chatter has made me hungry, would you like a top up of food, Famous Fredcat?" she said. "You bet," said Fredcat, with alacrity, and sped off at a fast pace. A good life this ...
"I don't think I'm too late for breakfast, am I?" said the Famous One, calmly. "Breakfast!, what about all the other meals youv'e missed," started Cathie, but she was wasting her time as Fredcat was already making his way downstairs, to see what was cooking, literally. Mr. B. was far more succinct, "Oh, you're back. I suppose I'd better get you some grub then," he muttered." Fredcat was ravenously hungry and Cathie watched him quickly consume his food. "Well then, what happened?!" she demanded. "It's like this," Fredcat began, "Remember - I usually have to keep the details of my missions secret, as I am subject to the UK Official Secrets Act. But, on this occasion, the mission was relatively undemanding so I have been given special dispensation to tell you something about it." Cathie was agog with surprise! "It seems that a Royal function was due to take place at one of the castles, on St. David's Day (March 1st) in the country of Wales (look it up on your atlas)," started Fredcat. But before he could continue Mr. B. jumped in, "I suppose you are going to tell us that the secret recipe for leek soup (the leek is the Welsh national emblem) had been stolen. And you were tasked with finding the original recipe so that the celebrations could continue seamlessly," he jeered. As you can now imagine this interruption did not go down at all well and Cathie rounded furiously on Mr. B. Then she quickly gave the returning hero a quick cuddle whilst Fredcat simply smiled enigmatically. Mr. B. glared at Fredcat but said nothing more, realising that he might just have gone a little too far; he had a lot of questions to put to Fredcat, but doubted if he would now get the chance. He supposed that it was, by and large, a good thing Fredcat had returned as he was a bit fed up with washing all of Cathie's tear-stained hankies. That cat! ... |
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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.
