Click here to tell your friends about www.Fredcat.net
Click here to request a FREE www.Fredcat.net car bumper sticker!
Click here to e-mail Fredcat the Famous.
Click here to read my Guestbook
"I think science has come a long way," she remarked, "Many humans a generation or so ago (you know - when Mr. B. was a small child!!) would have loved to have been able to send Thank You notes so easily. My mother made me write Thank You letters after Christmas and after my birthday, and it was a real labour, especially if one made a mistake. When that happened I had to get out a new piece of paper and start all over again. If one had a long home address or had a name with lots of letters in it, then that only made it more vexatious." She sighed. "But surely modern technology enables the young to write to their elders more quickly than before," said Fredcat. "Using these new cameraphones, one can instantly send photographs to family and friends. That's so much better than a letter, isn't it?" "Not necessarily," replied Cathie. "A lot of people like to look at letters and photographs more than once, and the instantaneous nature of the internet seems to do away with permanence. Not everyone has high speed computers, besides which it's much more fun to rummage through drawers to find and look through personal missives." Fredcat was surprised to hear Cathie extolling the virtues of a bygone age. "Look!" he said, "through the marvels of science and technology we are now able to admire and be astonished at the vastness of the universe. This particular demonstration of just how big the universe is (and just how tiny we are in comparison) is simply one example of how far we've come in our knowledge." He sudenly shuddered. "Actually, it is a bit frightening for creatures like me - we are so much smaller than humans to start with." "Stop being concerned with matters that you cannot control," comforted Cathie, "Now I have some best Bear Rock beef sandwiches here, how about sharing some of them with me?" And the Maestro readily agreed.
He looked askance at Mr. B. and asked him politely (albeit with a little hint of malice in his gingery voice) "I see that you haven't attempted to re-paint the Fredcat residence yet," he said, archly, "Don't you fancy climbing up one of those wobbly ladders with a paint brush and a can of paint?" But the latter shook his head, "No fear, I've done my share of that and now I prefer to watch other people do it. It's much safer that way, as far as I'm concerned. After all, if I were atop one of those ladders, I might fall and injure myself!" He grinned (an uncommon sight!), "I suppose you see house painting as a way of promoting the concept of survival of the fittest, do you? My generation is not extinct yet, you know!" Fredcat did a little grinning himself, "So we're not going to have the re-painting done. My residence will look more and more shabby as the days roll by." Mr. B. bounced back, with nary a qualm, saying, "You are fortunate, my little Ginger Monster, that you have your best human friend, Cathie, to look after you so well. Many species of our world are not so lucky as to have comfortable residences. As the human population inexorably increases, the number and quantity of other species decline, - and many even become extinct. Amazingly, however, one bird, the ivory-billed woodpecker, thought extinct for over seventy years, has been found alive and well. Isn't it beautiful!" But Fredcat wasn't to be outdone in the boasting stakes. "I've seen a luminous tortoise in the garden of my residence, Mr. B. He'll be here long after you have left this mortal coil. Just check it out and see!" And Fredat laughed as he sped off to get his tea, leaving the Grumpy One rather bemused."
Mr. B. hooked up the hose to the outside tap (or "faucet" as he was learning to call it). He turned the tap on, grabbed the hose and started spraying water onto the shrubbery. But very little happened. On examining the cause Mr. B. soon discovered that water was indeeed shooting out of the tap but mostly it was coming out sideways from a large crack in the tap itself. Fredcat grinned, displaying just a little schadenfreude. He knew what had happened. Mr. B. had been too lazy at the end of last year to safeguard the tap from winter's frost and a crack had appeared in the tap. It looked like poor Mr. B. was going to have to pay the price for his seeming neglect ..... "I'll have to use the other tap, around the back of the house," he grumbled, "It'll take longer but the hose should still reach." Luckily for the Grumpy One the hose did reach the front shrubbery, but when Mr. B. turned the tap on, more of the same happened. No water! What Jack Frost had done to one tap he had obligingly, and even-handedly, done to the other. Fredcat was happy enough with all this, because if the hoses were working there was always the chance that Mr. B. would, on one of his watering rampages, inadvertently aim the hose in the direction of the Famous One and disturb the Fredcat sleep. And it has to be said that Fredcat hated water like nothing else. But, Fredcat noted with glee, given the cracks in the taps, there was no chance of that happening today. But Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, was also displeased. "I need to wash my car when you've finished watering the garden," she said, "So please get someone in to fix those taps as soon as possible." And she wasn't mollified until the plumber had been and gone, leaving Mr. B. out of pocket (again) but with the watering problem resolved. By then Fredcat had left his cosy sleeping place and had made his way inside to one of his many other beds. Smart cat!
"Lucky the sound works OK," said Mr. B., "or we would be in even worse trouble." So, finally, Cathie rang the Time Warner cable people - and wow! the very next morning Gil the TV Man appeared promptly on the doorstep of the Fredcat residence and proceeded with all due speed about his work. He was very efficient and Mr. B. congratulated him at length. Soon, cable TV pictures were being beamed loud and clear into the Fredcat residence. Although Mr. B. and Cathie were really pleased to see proper TV programmes at last, it wasn't such a big deal for Fredcat. "You see, my senses are more sensual than yours," he said, "I go more on movement, touch and smell and rely less on my sense of sight than you humans do. For example, I can always tell when my food has been out for more than ten minutes, you know (I do so love my food to be fresh - no matter how excellent the fare is!)" For once Mr. B. agreed with Fredcat, "Eating cold porridge can be very nasty," he said, "I like my food nice and hot." Mr. B. very quickly decided to divert the Famous One away from the subject of food because supplies in the Fredcat larder were running rather low and Mr. B. hoped that Fredcat would forget his hunger pains for a few hours so that the latter didn't have to go out shopping in the rain. "Perhaps Fredcat would be satisfied with plain cat biscuits," he thought, "You never know ...." But he hadn't reckoned with the sharp eyes of Cathie who immediately noted the lack of decent best beef in the Fredcat bowl. "Would you like it if there were suddenly a dearth of chocolate and ice cream?" she demanded, crossly. Fredcat brightened up. He hadn't benefitted greatly by the improvement in quality of the TV pictures, but if Mr. B. were to be encouraged to go grocery shopping today then that was something he would definitely benefit from! Fortunate feline!
"And not all the messages came from humans," he continued, "There were several nice thoughts and good wishes that came from my feline friends. I even had a crusty bark or two from a d*g which shows you just how far and wide my fame has spread. Fancy there being a d*g out there that likes me!" He continued, "I wonder if there is a place where all the inhabitants are cats. Cats only. You know, no human friends at all. I wonder what that would be like?" Fredcat's golden eyes widened in his little ginger and white elfin face as he tried to imagine what such a world would be like. He turned to his best human friend, Cathie, and asked her if such a place were possible. Back came a surprising reply. "Yes indeed, I know of such a place," she said, "but I'm disappointed that you would even consider leaving your comfortable Fredcat residence to go live in a world entirely populated by cats. How would you get food? Who'd clean out your litter tray? Who would bounce you on her knee and sing lullabies at night and chat to you in the morning? And whom would you wake at five something in the morning to get the Fredcat early morning meal? Huh? Huh?" But Fredcat was lost in a dream world. If he lived in such a place he would undoubtedly be king and all the other cats would do everything that he desired, except the bouncing on the knee bit stuff. He could do without that. "Well, where is it, this place?" he said at last, "Even if I don't get to live there permanently, I need to know ... Just in case." Cathie smiled, and said, "Why, it's Cat Town of course, I thought everyone knew that!"
"What an exciting weekend," said Fredcat, "I have had a great 48 hours!" Mr. B. opened his eyes a bit more. "I received lots of very nice messages about my diary - and about my website site in general," continued the Famous One - and there were a couple of very interesting points raised." Mr. B. opened his eyes a bit more. "But first I need feeding, as all this notoriety has left me famished." "Did you know, for example, know that apart from being St. George's Day, and the date of my 500th diary (April 23rd) it was also the day the Bard was born? (Or was he?) What a set of coincidences! My English human friend Margaret told me that last one," he said, smugly. And he hummed a tune to himself whilst he waited for Mr. B. to open a juicy packet of best beef into a new feeding bowl. "It was also the eve of the religious festival, Passover," he continued, "You see - the signs are all portentous." Fredcat was feeling very upbeat about all these significant dates. Mr. B. was so amazed that it was all he could do not to hurry back to bed, "I hope that you don't imply that your significant date is in any way ominous," he queried, darkly. "I like to keep my feet on the ground if you please." Mr. B. stopped on his way upstairs, "Talking of the ground, I see that you just missed out on having your famous day on Earth Day. Normally it's celebrated on April 22nd (I think!) but there appears to be a modicum of variability about the actual day as different folk and organisations seem to recognise it roughly on or around this date. Perhaps you could keep your famous date a bit flexible as well?" But Fredcat declined this offer. He would remember this weekend for a long time to come. And rightly so!
"Of course I know what day it is," that worthy replied. "It's St George's Day! Everybody knows that. It's the day we English celebrate our patron saint. But, to be perfectly honest, it doesn't have the same charisma as other countries saints' days. And I have to confess that hardly anyone in England knows that April 23rd is St Georges Day and fewer still care about it. We English are a very reserved lot, you know." "I really don't care about St. George's Day," said Fredcat. "Anyway, St. George is the patron saint of other countries as well. What I want to remind you about is the number 500. Doesn't that ring any bells?" Fredcat hopped about from pair of paws to pair of paws as he waited expectantly for the right answer from Mr. B. Fredcat watched with keen anticipation as the light finally dawned in Mr. B.'s eyes. "Of course! 500!" he said, "Is it time for the Indy-500 race already? I do enjoy watching those racing cars hurtling around the racing track. Once Cathie and I went on to the racing circuit itself (not to race, you understand) and it was quite a eye-opener for us." He stopped his reminiscing as something in Fredcat's almost murderous-looking expression told him that things were a tad amiss. "It's not the Indi-500 race, today is my 500th famous diary entry!," he shouted. Indeed, he shouted so loudly that Cathie woke up and demanded to know where the fire was! Another dim light of understanding flared in Mr. B.'s eyes and soon all was well. "I hope you receive loads of congratulatory messages," said Cathie, "Most bloggers give up after a short time but you have kept your human friends recording your blog for nigh on two years! What would you like as a celebratory present?" "Well," mused the Famous One, "Some decent food for a change, best beef, not that cold packet stuff you fob me off with, and NO MORE FISHY GOO. And loads of stroking and a good brush down and plenty of cool water around the house and another couple of beds around the place wouldn't go amiss and a scratch from someone with long nails and another typewriter ribbon as this one is very worn and some pictures from my feline friends to add to my diary when I feel like it and some strawberry ice cream and some lime yogurt and some take-home meat from a top class restaurant and ...." "Stop right there!" said Cathie, "We get the picture." But it has to be said that everyone at the Fredcat residence was pleased; Congratulations for Fredcat's Guestbook were already coming in and Cathie even promised that yesterday's dose of fishy goo would be the very last one (at least for this time around). Fredcat was clearly back to his vociferous best. WAY TO GO, FREDCAT 500!!
"Why don't you go out into the garden and stroll around, Fredcat," he suggested, "It's a gorgeous day, you like the sun and it will do you good to get some vitamin D into your ginger body; It'll build you up after your recent bout of coughing and sneezing. I can't concentrate when you're at my shoulder all the time. I need space to concentrate on what I'm doing." Fredcat's immediate thought was "Oooooh! Hark at the hard-working grumpy person," but he wandered outside all the same. There was another reason for his considered departure. It appeared that because his best human friend, Cathie, had had a long lie-in this morning she'd forgotten to give Fredcat his morning dose of fishy goo. And Mr. B. had been doing all that counting on his fingers and he, too, appeared to have forgotten all about it. In any case Fredcat was feeling a whole lot better. He hadn't coughed once in the last five days, according to the Grumpy One, although Cathie thought vaguely that he had sneezed a couple of times during the night. "Perhaps it's simply the spring pollen?" Mr. B. had suggested, hopefully. "I wish I'd thought of that a fortnight ago," had been Cathie's reply, "I've been lashing out megabucks for that fishy goo stuff." "FINISHED!" came the cry from Mr. B. and Fredcat hurried indoors to hear the news. "I've double-checked the numbers and today's diary is number 498!" said Mr. B. at last. "You've done well with all that dictating!" said Cathie proudly and she gave the Famous One a big hug. "But wait a minute," said Fredcat, remembering. "Don't you recall that Mr. B. blatted one of my diaries a while back, he overwrote one diary page with another and the lost one's gone forever!" Cathie and Fredcat looked daggers at Mr. B. who pretended he hadn't heard (but they both knew he had). "Sooo ....," said Cathie, slowly, "today's diary is really number 499 and tomorrow's diary will be number 500 - that's quite a landmark for a little ginger five year old kitten!" They both looked at Fredcat, admiringly. "We'll celebrate, of course," said Cathie, and Fredcat looked so proud. Tomorrow could hardly come quickly enough.
On arrival at his feeding area he meowed a strong complaint to Mr. B. and was promptly lifted up, and a huge dollop of fishy goo was inside the Fredcat mouth before you could say Jack Robinson. This was extremely unfair and Fredcat immediately leapt through the cat door to try to cough it up outside. By the time he returned twenty minutes later, all was peaceful again in the Fredcat residence with Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, ready to stroke his ruffled fur. "For my diary entry today," said Fredcat, "I'm going to tell my readers all about a cat who's been stuck in a tree for over a week. It seems that the tree is very large and rather than a human climbing up to rescue him, his best human friends are sending up care packages." "This sounds like another one of your fishy tails to me, you'll have to cut down on the seafood goo," chortled Mr. B. "Tell me, is the cat pretending to be a bird? It won't work you know. What about drinks for him? Are you sure he doesn't come down during the night? Come on, let's get on with this diary, I've important work to do after listening to your inane prattling." Later, when she heard what had gone on between the two of them Cathie was annoyed. "Fredcat has been writing his diary for months and months! You have to trust his judgement, you know!" she said. "And don't I know it," replied Mr. B. "Do you know how many times I've had to listen to these ramblings? Do you?" "Well, I think it's about time you found the answer to that question yourself," said Cathie, sweetly, "Come on Fredcat, we know you can't do the arithmetic (being limited to counting to nine), but Mr. B. can, so we'll set him the task of counting up your diary entries. Come on now, I have a very tasty chunk of Wellspring cold turkey just bought today and we'll leave Mr. B. to his sums. Fresh turkey in 3, 2, 1 ..."
He stretched out in the bright sunlight. The day was forecast to be very hot and his thoughts turned to what he would do, and how he would act, if he were Pope. "I think the first thing I would do is ensure that all cats in Rome are given doses of fishy goo," he said. "Why should I have to suffer this stuff on a twice daily basis when those Roman cats get off scot free?" "Perhaps it's because they don't get the snuffles," suggested Mr. B., smugly. Fredcat ignored this barb. "I would then replace all the Cardinals with my own cadre of feline friends." "But that's the kind of thing that dictators do," spluttered Mr. B. "You don't want to fall into the trap of becoming a devilish dictator, do you?" "I would have to spy on my fellow felines, of course," said Fredcat, "to make sure that they didn't try to unseat me from my position of power. Indeed my most famous activities were when I was working undercover. It takes a great deal of skill and experience to act as a spy when there are villains to trap. It isn't always easy to gain access to someone's private residence and there are some pretty unpleasant d*gs to contend with." Mr. B. snorted with disbelief, "You would run a mile if a large d*g came at you," he cried. And then suddenly the penny dropped. Fredcat was having him on. He was paying Mr. B. back for the way he had been tricked over yesterday's dose of fishy goo. Mr. B. actually grinned in a semi-sporting way. "Fair enough Fredcat, you win this round but there will be other days," he muttered.
"This is not on," complained Fredcat, and turned round to work out how this had happened, but found himself talking to an empty room. The humans had apparently scarpered and Fredcat pawsed, shaking his head as he began to wonder if this had been an unpleasant dream or just tricky reality. A fishy taste in his mouth soon confirmed his worst suspicions. His body had been effectively shanghaied and dollops of antibiotic medication were doing their stuff inside him. "They can't treat me like this," he bellowed, but his words only echoed around a room now devoid of humans. Fredcat mused, he sulked, he considered the problem from all angles, he crawled under the bed, and emerged a few minutes later still annoyed. "I'll teach them, I won't go down for breakfast - they'll soon begin to worry," he said. But of the humans there was neither sight nor sound. It appeared that Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, had already gone to work, and of the Grumpy One there was no sign. Breakfast was laid out but Fredcat ate disinterestedly. When Mr. B. finally made his appearance from the garden and listened to Fredcat's gripes, his only reply was, "Even famous cats approach and pass their prime sooner or later, Fredcat. You can't expect to be the most famous cat for ever. Look at our sporting heroes. The Texan, Lance Armstrong, has won the Tour de France six times in a row but he's just announced that he's going to try for a seventh and final time this coming July. And then he will hang up his bicycle pump for ever!" "I'm. Only. Five!" shouted Fredcat, "and I'll have you know that my name will reverberate around the world for eons to come!" The Grumpy One smiled and replied, "Well, if that's the case there's no harm in spending a few more days taking your medicine, we don't want you to fall by the wayside just for the sake of a few dollops of fishy goo, do we?" Fredcat sat there, mouth agape. There was no real answer to that. He'd been well and truly tricked! Poor Fredcat!
It had come to the stage when he felt he could hardly even groom himself to keep himself spotlessly clean without fear of being whisked off unceremoniously and given his fishy goo. This was turning out to be a stressful experience and Fredcat wasn't very happy. When these dangerous situations were imminent, Fredcat didn't meow loudly, as he had quickly determined that that was a waste of time and effort. "Look," he said, "Even the scruffiest of creatures, like pigs, keep themselves clean, at least to their standards. And I need to be left alone to clean myself and my food bowl. When I am drinking the occasional small quantity of milk that I am sometimes allowed, at least let me finish in peace and lick the dish clean." "Fair enough," said Cathie, "but we have to strike the proper balance between stressing you out and making you well. When I was ill recently I had to undergo all sorts of unpleasantness, but I came through it and so will you. Do you remember when you had to make that lengthy trip across the Atlantic in an airplane? Well, you came through that alright and you will come through this illness in the same exemplary fashion, you'll see." "Remember there are rules about getting well just as there are rules about taking pets on flights. If you can survive a long flight then you ought to be able to accept the inconvenience of a bit of fishy goo." Fredcat looked at her and said sweetly, "I hear what you're saying but that flight was five years ago and the medicine is here now, so if you don't mind I'll come down for my meals when you're fast asleep; that way I'll be able to eat in peace." Now, that's a plan!
That can't be right," said Fredcat, "I learned yesterday that all residences of famous people have servants and minions. I know I lack servants, but my minions must be here somewhere." An idea struck him, "How big do you think they are?" he said. "I'm assuming that they are of a similar size to me, because my food bowls are cat-sized, my water bowl is cat-sized, my cat bed is cat-sized, my so-called cat "toys" are cat-sized, my cat doors are cat-sized, and I assume that my minions, too, are cat-sized. I've searched everywhere for them! In cupboards, drawers, under beds .... Hey! If they are very, very small, perhaps I wouldn't be able to spot them. Why have they never said hello to me?" "Are you allright?" said Cathie, with a worried expression on her face, "I know that there's a bit of a bug going around, but I assumed that you, being of the feline persuasion, wouldn't succumb to that particular virus." But Fredcat was not to be dissuaded. "Look here - the Fredcat residence is big and needs a lot of attention, someone has to do all the cooking and cleaning and shopping and the garden stuff and you two can't possible do it all. There must be minions here - so where are they??" "But we're the humans," replied Cathie, "It's our lot in life to do all these things, and I'm afraid we couldn't afford minions anyway, even if there were such a breed." And behind Fredcat, the Grumpy One added, "That's because your grub costs us so much! Sorry Fredcat, no minions here." "So it's you guys who send out my free bumper stickers to old mates like JdeF!" said the Mighty One and received a nod of the Grumpy head in reply. "I really think you ought to go and have a long lie down," soothed Cathie, "you look tired out with all this thinking and rushing about." "That seems like the sensible thing to do," agreed Fredcat, as he ambled off, still wondering about all those missing minions....
In fact he was more than a bit concerned and he mentally checked his recent behaviour - as one does when this type of challenge has been made. "Well, it's like this," said Our Maestro, "I've lived with you for a number of years now, and it's pretty obvious who of those living in the Fredcat residence is the famous one." He looked sharply at Mr. B. who seemed bemused, and continued firmly. "Tis I, oh Grumpy One! Haven't you cottoned on to that yet?" Fredcat shook his little ginger head resignedly. "See here, the King or Queen of the United Kingdom gets to wear a dazzling crown, and to sit on red velvet cushions and has all sorts of helpers and minions a-plenty to smooth the daily grind of ruling the realm. And what have I got here? Just you! The comparison is obvious. Something must be done." He continued, without even pawsing for breath, "After all, I am the USF in North Carolina (which has an area about the same as that of the UK). The Americans go a bunch on dazzling trappings and they would be delighted to pay homage to the Famous One, especially were I to appear dignified and regal." Fredcat grinned from feline ear to feline ear. "Such conceit!" blurted out Mr. B., "Whatever gives you the right to anything? You don't help around the Fredcat residence much, and you haven't caught a mouse for months." Fredcat tossed his head imperiously and said, somewhat reprovingly, "Exactly, when was the last time a mouse dared enter the Fredcat residence? I've either frightened them away, or played a little game of chase with them - which they inevitably lose." "And while you're at it, how about changing the fishy goo for something more palatable, like a piece of freshly cooked turkey, doused in gravy. That would go down a treat!" Mr. B. looked at Fredcat, "It's all about the food, isn't it?" he said, "As long as you get fed on time you'll have little to worry about my friend. You may not have many liveried servants at your beck and call, nor are you clothed in satin finery but you have a comfortable set of beds and your best human friend, Cathie, gives you a lot of attention. So you are, in fact, quite well off. Now hop it, the game's just about to restart..."
Fredcat's hide and seek game has a parallel human game in which Cathie and the Grumpy One pretend not to notice Fredcat while they go about their normal daily business. Nonetheless every time one of the humans nears the Famous One, he hops smartly under the nearest table and chairs, from whence it becomes exceedingly difficult to grab hold of him. The games continue, the humans stealthily removing chairs until they can reach under the table but Fredcat then swiftly scoots off to the next hiding place, and the next, and the next. All parties pretend the game isn't being played at all! but the humans are aware that they must win or the Fredcat bod won't get the essential medication needed to make him better. When finally caught (and caught he usually is) a despairing pair of back legs ends up flailing helplessly in the air as the well-seasoned veteran of many a cat-catching process (Cathie) smothers the rest of Fredcat with affection (and very close cuddles) until the Grumpy One can administer the gooey dosage. The little Fredcat heart by then is usually going the same each time, "Just as long as it takes, laddie." Which in a curious way, Fredcat understands. Poor Fredcat ...
Fredcat sulked a while but agreed to accompany Mr. B. to the mailbox. He liked these little perambulations because Mr. B. walked slowly looking at the red azaleas which were coming into bloom at this time. This gave Fredcat time to sniff his way to and fro in the mulched areas and to nibble pieces of fresh green grass which he would naturally regurgitate at inconvenient times (inconvenient to the humans, that is) later during the day. Most of the mail the two picked up consisted of unsolicited offers from magazines that Mr. B. had never heard of before. "Where do they get my name and address from?" he muttered, aloud. Then, "Hullo, here's a large packet addressed to you, Fredcat! I'll open it for you as it's well packaged." Two pairs of eyes were soon glued to the packet. Inside was a brand new, fresh, bottle-shaped packet of cat biscuits (the bottle had an up-market look - a carafe, no less!). Also inside was advertising material, money-off offers and pictures of a startled-looking white-haired feline. "Wow!" said Fredcat, "this company has sent me some biscuits to endorse, but I haven't even tried them yet, How can I endorse them before I've tried them?" "And there's no letter from the marketing people requesting my endorsement. That's surprising, since endorsement by a famous feline (such as I!) is always a good selling point to the hoi polloi, isn't it? And I am a famous cat, no?" (Fredcat sounded just like Hercule Poirot, the famous Belgian detective, but without the accent.) But when Fredcat examined the package further it transpired that the marketing people had, it would seem, forgotten to request an endorsement from The Famous One, and had simply sent him the biscuits. "I don't know about this," he said, "it's a poor show, I'm not sure I like the idea of this. It would have been much nicer to have participated in this exercise from the get-go." He wouldn't even listen to the Grumpy One's suggestion that perhaps the letter inviting Fredcat to endorse the product might be in the next delivery of mail! Fredcat merely twitched his tail in the air a couple of times and stalked off in a bit of a paddy (even forgetting to sneeze!). A strange affair indeed.
The v*t was telephoned and Cathie requested a repeat dose of the medicine that worked so well last time. Fredcat groaned but he was too poorly to object and, with the help of special postal carriers to aid the transportation of the medicine to the v*t's surgery, the first dollop of medical goo was soon down the Fredcat throat. "Still," thought Fredcat, "it's not that bad - it tastes of fish!" "You're going to have to take this for a long time," warned Cathie, "although I'm worried that some of your natural defences might be severely blunted by this Cipro medication." But it seemed that Fredcat wasn't too fussed about that aspect. All he wanted was for Mr. B. to bring him fresh catmeat at regular intervals during the day, and no arguments please! "Mind you keep him well supplied with plenty of cool water," requested Cathie, as she drove off to work. "I want to see a distinct improvement by the time I return home." Fredcat slept, while Mr. B. agitated. How was he to make Fredcat better during the day? He wasn't a v*t! How unfair. When Cathie returned home later she took one look at Fredcat and declared grudgingly that he was no worse. She sighed. "To make matters worse, the pollen is definitely back," she said, "There was a thick coating on my car when it was time to come home. It's all over the garden as well. Let's hope that the rain forecast for the next few days washes a lot of it away. I can't abide the pollen, it makes my eyes runny, and I'm sure it's not good for Fredcat either." Oh dear ...
But the humans continued to gawp at the marriage blessing of the latest Royal Wedding. All the talk was of the hats that were being worn, who was there (and, almost more importantly, who wasn't there). Fredcat didn't realise that hats and shoes were so critically discussed by commentators. He, Fredcat, had attended a fine wedding himself last year and he had to admit that all the attention seemed to be on the bride and the finery she wore, so it wasn't surprising that Prince Charles seemed to be taking a bit of a back seat at his own wedding. "Ahem!" he coughed again, trying to snuffle away some of the wetness. He really was in a bad way but would anyone notice? He sighed as the last of the TV programmes covering the day's activities came to an end. "Did you notice HRH the Queen, make a joke as she congratulated the bride and groom, by first announcing the winner of the Grand National," said Mr. B., "She really has a fine sense of humour, hasn't she?" There was nothing for it but for Fredcat to try and take a serious interest in the matter under discussion. "Look!" he butted in, "I know that the Grand National is run in my home "back yard" - because my human friend Margaret has pointed that out to me in my Guestbook," he said, "and I see that the favourite, Hedgehunter, won the race, doubtless costing the bookies thousands of pounds. I know that the race is a superb spectacle and is considered the finest steeplechase race in the calendar, but some sympathy would be greatly appreciated here!" "Shush!" cried Mr. B., ignoring Fredcat, "just one more run through the race, please," and he started to once again replay highlights of the exciting race. But Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie finally woke from her TV reverie and belatedly noticed the plight of her feline friend. "Oh dear," she cried in alarm, you really are in a bad way; I didn't realise how bad things were for you!" and she sped to the telephone. "Is that the v*t's office?" she said. Oh, no! Come back tomorrow, Dear Reader, and see what's happening ....
After a while Fredcat woke, coughed and spoke, "Although very slow and deliberate, this is a very moving ceremony, I wonder what my funeral will be like?" Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, was shocked at this. "Don't let me hear you talk like that," she almost thundered, "you are ageless! Why, I have even seen your famous website included on a feline longevity website! You should be so proud of yourself - continuing to be only five - thereby allowing we humans the privilege of enjoying your company for a long time yet." Cathie was clearly a very indignant human. "Yes, but funerals can be wonderful spectacles - and everyone would be there to see me! To be the centre of attention would be marvellous, wouldn't it? All these colourful robes, bells tolling in one's honour, everyone being so kind to one another in respect of me, no mad rushing around, everything so sedate and organised. That's just the sort of spectacle that would suit a famous feline like me. Why, I might even get to dress up in fine clothes, which is something you don't permit me to do here. I think I would like to have green vestments rather that red, though, red rather clashes with my natural orange colouring." And here Fredcat did a little twirl to show off his magnificent furrry self. But the humans simply stared at him, which made Fredcat begin to feel a tad uneasy. When humans stare fixedly like that he knows that there's something amiss, something that he hasn't appreciated. Cathie leaned towards him and carefully whispered a little more information about funerals into one of the Fredcat ears. "What!" blinked Fredcat, "you mean that I wouldn't really get to participate in this grand spectacle at all?" But Cathie replied studiously, "That's just it, my friend" she said, "you'd be the star of the show, so to speak, but we're not sure how much you personally would get to appreciate it." Gulp! Gulp! went the little throat once more. "This is rather..." And here the little voice tailed off into silence. "I don't think I'll watch any more TV today, thank you," he finally muttered. "This is all rather sad." But than he brightened. "But as I'm only five years old, that means that I have years and years and years of life ahead of me." And purring happily, he walked off to find the latest snack of best beef ..
"What was all the noise last night?" said Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, rubbing sleep from her eyes as Fredcat nudged her awake VERY early in the morning. Fredcat was swift to tell all. "They have been celebrating my success!!" he declared, "Yup, that must be the reason. There were lots of orange colours to be seen and you know that orange is my colour so it must have been all about me becoming the Official State Feline! I am sure that a letter be arriving very soon, telling me of the award." Fredcat was understandably thrilled, and Cathie was equally pleased. "This is a great feather in your cap," she exclaimed, "Now you will be famous and be known to be so." She turned to Mr. B. was had been awoken by all the commotion, and told him the good news. But the Grumpy One just laughed, and sat Fredcat down, so that both his front paws were outstretched. "Listen here, my little feline," he started, "Those orange favours you saw were not from North Carolina at all! The blue and orange colours you saw were being worn by supporters of the two finalists of the US national basketball championships. The 2005 winners were a team from North Carolina, the Tar Heels team, who were successful for the fourth time in their history." "I'm afraid that they were celebrating the success of their team and not your instatement as Official State Feline at all." Fredcat looked almost pleadingly at Mr. B. "Gulp!" went the little Famous Throat. But then he brightened up. "But I suppose that their success is only fleeting. Next year there will be new winners while I will always be a Famous Feline and I still will have a good chance of becoming the OSF. In the meantime I will take a small bite to eat and go back to sleep. Tomorrow is another day." And off he went, only slightly chastened.
"How sweet of you," said Cathie, perking up a little. "But delays aren't always a good thing. Think of all the work that's piling up for me when I return. I'll have to work twice as hard just to stand still!" Fredcat thought about this notion for a few minutes but couldn't get his head around it at all. "I see that Mr. B. has delayed sending in his tax returns for last year," he said. "He's leaving it a little late, isn't he? They're due in soon, I thought." But he was reassured by Cathie, who said, "Lots of folk leave it much later than that, and are frequently to be seen driving down to the Post Office at the very last minute to be sure of avoiding a late fee." "Well I'm glad access to the intawebs is always available," said Fredcat, "but there is so much of it, I'll never be able to download it all." Cathie chuckled and said, "Well there's a simple website that you can use to download all of the intawebs. It's very simple, but you'll need a very large floppy disc to make it work. Ask Mr. B. to load the programme for you and mind you only click on the links you are supposed to click on - don't click on any strange links in case viruses and worms and other nasty intawebs thingie things harm your PC." She laughed again, as Fredcat went in search of the Grumpy One. Later, Cathie was confronted by an indignant Fredcat who said that he knew a thing or two about delays. "Hey, Cathie - I see that the internationally famous horse race, the Grand National, always held just outside Liverpool, England, has been postponed by the Pope's funeral," he said. "How come?" asked Cathie. "Well, Prince Charles' Royal Wedding has been put back by a day to avoid clashing with the Pontiff's funeral and the Grand National has been put back until after the Royal Wedding. So there! The power of TV! And you coming from Liverpool - and not knowing that!" But deep down, Fredcat suspected that Cathie was aware of this change. Of course she knew - you have to get up very early to catch Cathie out!!!
But Mr. B. was quick to reassure him. "Look here, Fredcat, Cathie has just had a rough couple of days and although we hope and expect that the worst is over, one can never be sure about matters of personal health. And I'm not sure what you're implying by paying good money for Cathie's services. And as one of the joint Chancellors of the Fredcat residence's Exchequer, I've yet to see a monetary contribution from any four-pawed residents! Present company included." "A mere figure of speech," airily intoned the Mighty One, desperately seeking a way out of his quandary. "Errrr, I read today that it's the UK's turn to have a general election - it's going to happen next month. So what happens if and when governments change? Is there no one in charge? If you like, I'll step in and look after the economy for a while, and then you and Cathie can rest assured that your little nest will be well feathered for the next few years. "Expenses", you see." Fredcat chuckled at The Grumpy One's horrified expression, "You should see your face, I'm teasing, of course. The only role I want to play is to have a job similar to the one I have here, namely, Official Country Feline. As an British cat (still) I would easily qualify for this accolade, my full name and title would then be Fredcat the Famous, OCF, USF." He pawsed for thought, and continued, "I seem to recall, however, that in the distant past I was also awarded the degrees of BA and PhD (though I've yet to see any paperwork about them). I wonder in what order after my name they should appear? Hmmm. It is very important to get these things right, you know." "And, and, AND, Mr. B." continued the Sage, "I suggest that you and I go halves on that nice bunch of grapes you bought Cathie. Sadly, I'm a little short," (at this The Grumpy One had to stifle a snigger) "as I'm temporarily out of petty cash. I'll repay you later." The Grumpy One looked at the Famous One. "Later appears to mean different things to different folk," he said in almost a sinister whisper. "But I am different," said Fredcat ... I am Fredcat!!" And there could be no denying that.
Fredcat hopped around from pair of paws to pair of paws, as was his wont. "Have you decided to give up work?" he enquired, "And does that mean that you'll be home all day to play with me? I'd be really pleased if you would. How about sending Mr. B. out to work instead of you, he doesn't do much around the house except watch sport on TV." Cathie looked at Fredcat and quickly comforted him, "No more work? Well bliss indeed, but nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid" she answered. "I had a rotten night tossing and turning with no sleep, with my poor insides churning. Mr. B. tells me that he was similarly afflicted (though apparently not as badly as I) so it's possibly something that we ate last night. I feel so dizzy, I must lie down." And so saying, she staggered off to bed. And there she stayed for hours, sleeping and sleeping, and then sleeping some more - even out-sleeping Fredcat who had quickly joined her! After a while Mr. B. came in, felt the Cathie forehead and subsequently took Cathie's temperature. "Oh! Oh! it's up a couple of degrees," he muttered. "Time for some medicine. Any more of this elevated temperature nonsense, and it's off to the doctor's for you." Fredcat looked at him with scorn, "What's all this about testing a human's temperature with your hand?" he said. "How can you possibly tell by hand when the thermometer, instead of reading 98.4 has risen to, say, 101.4 - that's only two degrees higher than normal! Cathie's temperature has only gone up a relatively miniscule amount in the grand order of things, but you reckon you could tell the difference! Unbelievable!" "Well that just shows how much you know about we humans," said Mr. B., "Frankly, I don't understand how it's done myself, but at 98.4 the forehead appears cool to the touch but at just two degrees higher, Bingo! It's like a raging furnace there." Fredcat thought that Mr. B. was exaggerating but all he wanted was a fit and well Cathie. If the thermometer and some medicine could somehow combine to return his Cathie to her good health then that was all he was concerned about. That - and good food (of course)!
Mr. B. continued, "I think this notion of cutting off energy is simply part of a cunning marketing ploy to remind ordinary folk of the name of the local energy company - in case they forget." Fredcat looked at him in surprise, "What a cynic you are," he said, but the Grumpy One just laughed. So Fredcat decided to show Mr. B. that the world could contain nice surprises and on Sunday morning, instead of his usual very early wake-up call, he allowed The Grumpy One to stay in bed, even thought the Fredcat stomach was rumbling madly. "Nine o'clock!" cried Mr. B. in astonishment when he finally woke, "what's happened? Has Fredcat left us to seek a better family to bother?" But no, on arriving downstairs there was the Famous One, sitting quietly, not even meowing, not even pacing briskly up and down, as Mr. B. made a cup of tea and prepared the Famous One's breakfast. "I'll have to change my opinion of people (and cats)," he said, "Today I'll resolve to be kinder to everyone. It's Sunday and that's a good day to begin. First I'll mow the lawn and sweep the paths." At this Fredcat mentally decided to stay inside until lunch. Next to vacuum machines, noisy lawnmowers came high on his personal "Avoid Like The Plague" list. "You realise that spring is a very short season in North Carolina," said Mr. B. "Look at all the early flowers. The crocuses have long finished flowering, and all that's left are green leaves. And now, the daffodils have virtually gone the same way. One day here, a bit of wind, and poof! - only dead flowers remain. I expect the azaleas will be next to bloom. I think I'll buy a nice red geranium plant for the planter, as your best human friend, Cathie, likes to see that flourishing all summer long." Fredcat was amazed. Just allowing The Grumpy One to have a lie-in, that one tiny act of kindness, and Mr. B. was acting like a normal human being. Incredible! "Well, OK for now, but tomorrow it's back to normalcy," he surmised. "Now for that fresh bowl of beefy meat!"
"What are you doing?" enquired Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie. "All these Fredcat's! You're making me dizzy with them all. There's only one Fredcat - and that's you, my lovely." Fredcat stared at her and asked, "How come I was named Fredcat, and not Jimcat or Petercat? I think Fredcat is an OK name, but why was I called it in the first place? Did I choose it, or did my feline mother, or," and here he looked positively aghast, "did the Grumpy One choose it?" He recoiled at this last suggestion. "Dear me!" said Cathie, "It is the providence of every mother and father to name their children, and indeed you may have had a name given to you by your parent or parents. But as we haven't learned how to "speak cat" (present company excepted, of course) and as we never met your mother or father it was down to us to name you. Your name was a way of letting you know which cat we were calling when it was time for food. You've never worried about this before, so why now?" she added. "Well I've just seen this website about The International Brotherhood of Internet Freds (it all looks very official - they've even got initials - IBoIF!!!) and it seems that Fred is a fairly common name - and I'm not common!" "Indeed you're not, Fredcat," said Cathie, "and that's why we called you Fredcat - and that is uncommon. To my knowledge, no human has a name like that." She gave Our Hero a cuddle, and continued, "So you see, you (and all other kitties around the world) are special." She followed that statement with another hug and some fresh beef in his feeding bowl to show him she cared.
Mr. B. was definitely in a grumpy mood. "It's all very well your ignoring these Daylight Savings Time changes, you cats get enough sleep as it is and obviously can't appreciate the subtleties when these cunning changes occur." And for the rest of the day, there was a distinct frisson between them. Fredcat tried to soften the blow. "Well, some people have had a good day, anyway - they've have told me so on my Guestbook." "I really think that that is irrelevant," cried Mr. B., getting a bit shirty. "If you think that sleeping is just great for you felines (and, I might add, all these mates of yours pretending to do thinking and stuff doesn't wash with me!) you might try a bit of lateral thinking and think of me for a change. Me!" he shouted loudly. Fredcat ignored this rant. He usually did, especially as all the time this argument was going on Mr. B. was replenishing the Fredcat cat food bowl. "What I really need is another bed or two," he said placidly. "If I had a second bed in the study, I wouldn't need to jump on the desk of my best human friend, Cathie, and lie on her keyboard and get in her way. And if I had another bed in the living room downstairs (bigger than the current one which is too small for the expanding Fredcat frame) I could stay down there when I've finished eating and not bother you upstairs." "Also, I'm finding it somewhat tedious to climb fifteen stairs every time I want to lie down on something soft upstairs. I would be much more affectionate towards Cathie if I had these additional beds and would thereby make many fewer demands on you." The Grumpy One thought long and hard about this suggestion and, after carefully counting his available pennies and cents over and over again, drove out to the Cats 'R' Lovely store and, as if in a dream, duly bought two extra beds for Fredcat. Fredcat sniffed them on his return and promptly said, "They don't smell right." But he hopped out of the way pretty quickly for the rest of the day when he saw the Grumpy One advancing. For once Fredcat was smart enough to know when he had gone too far! |
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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.
