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Tuesday, May 31st 2005 (number 532)
When he had finally opened his eyes, Mr. B. yelled back at the Mighty One, "Don't you realise that today is Memorial Day? If one is not rushing off on a mini-vacation somewhere then it's perfectly legitimate to stay in bed well past the normal rising time. And that's where I intend to stay for quite a while yet, thank you." Mr. B. tried to pull the bedclothes around him but Fredcat jumped up into the bed and started advancing towards him. "Wrong! Simply wrong!" declared Fredcat, "Memorial Day was yesterday and today it's back to work for most humans." Mr. B. groaned. True, it was already Tuesday and the chance of a lie-in had evaporated. Even the realisation that it was the end of the month - payday - didn't help. He rolled out of bed, muttering under his breath and staggered downstairs to feed the Mighty One. "Why is it that you are always such a happy cat?" he demanded, during a break in the filling of the food bowls. "We still don't know what's the root cause of all your snorting and sneezing and yet here you are skipping around like a five year old." "That's because he is five," announced Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, as she came downstairs. "Anyway, I'm going to call the v*t soon to see if we can pin down the possible cause, or causes, of this allergy. The medicine from the VSH is really only to combat the worst excesses of the sneezing. Nobody has found the root cause of it all and I'm not sure how we go about finding the particular cause." She sounded worried. "If it's an allergy to aerosols, I could stop using my deodorant and my anti-perspirant, that would save me money at the supermarket," suggested Mr. B., hopefully, but this idea was quickly shot down. Mr. B. persevered, anyway, "If it's the mulch, there's not much hope because that can't be simply lifted and thrown away. I remember that someone suggested that perfume might be the cause, you could always buy some cheap eau de water stuff which wouldn't hurt Fredcat." This bright idea didn't go down well, particularly as Cathie had just spent a (tiny) fortune on new perfume because Mr. B. had omitted to buy her any for Christmas. "I'll just have to continue to suffer until you humans come up with a sensible solution," said Fredcat, "At least I have plenty of friends out there on the intawebs who write nice, comforting things to me which I can post on my Guestbook. It's lovely to have good, faithful friends." And he went out to sleep the rest of the day away. Monday, May 30th 2005 (number 531)
Fredcat immediately wanted to know who was visiting, how many were visiting, why they were visiting, whether food was involved in the visit, and (if the answer to the last questions was "Yes") when he could expect to receive his share. "Just hold on," said Cathie, "less of the nosiness, if you don't mind. As it happens, your next door peeps have sent round a note explaining it all, and I'll tell you about it if you're patient. Apparently a student friend of theirs is getting married and the wedding reception is to be hosted next door!" "Me, I know all about wedding receptions," said Fredcat, smugly, "when David and Laura were married they had one." Smiling, Cathie continued, "But these folks are from Bolivia and many of their relatives and friends are coming so there will be quite a little shindig. There will be many Spanish-speaking guests, and Latin music, and they will have a good time celebrating the wedding. You should be able to watch them all a-coming and a-going, if you've a mind to." "I'm not sure that I'm up to that," replied Our Hero, "I'm not so keen on cars - as you well know. I think I'll keep in the background while all the folderol is going on." But later, when the music was in full swing, and with the DJ playing just the right kind of music to suit the Famous One, the latter invited Cathie to dance the cueca or bailecito with him. If you look at the dancing section of Fredcat's website, you will see that Fredcat and Cathie have a unique method of dancing, which they proceeded to demonstrate in front of a bemused Mr. B. When they had finished, Fredcat said, "I bet they have all sorts of good things to eat over there!" Cathie smiled wryly, and said, "Too true, my friend. But you know what, Fredcat? To help you get over your recent malady (which, judging by the amount of sneezing you have been having, is nowhere near over) I will ask Mr. B. to demonstrate his excellent barbecuing skills once more, and set up the BBQ. I could do with a nice juicy steak myself and as it's Memorial Day weekend I don't have to go to work tomorrow! We all three can relax and enjoy ourselves." Fredcat smiled in agreement. Wedding receptions were fun, but best beef BBQs were also very good! Saturday, May 28th 2005 (number 530)
But Fredcat was too busy coughing, shaking and grooming himself to pay heed to Cathie's pleadings. Eventually she went downstairs, hoping that commonsense and hunger would persuade Fredcat to emerge from his best ever hiding place. But Fredcat's fear was much greater than even Cathie could have imagined and it was hours and hours later when the Famous One finally emerged, creeping downstairs to start to chew on the small pieces of best beef thoughtfully provided by the Grumpy One. When he had finished he turned to Cathie and said, "OK, let's hear the worst, what did the good people of VSH have to say? Is it bad?" But surprisingly, Cathie simply smiled, picked him up and gave him a huge cuddle. "Why, no," she said, "It's going to be alright. When you were visiting the VSH and trying out all that equipment of theirs, it emerged that your coughing and sneezing fits were almost certainly down to an allergy of some sort." "The cause might be dust in your famous Fredcat residence, maybe one of the many smelly things around your residence such as mulch, my perfume, furniture polish .... Apparently it's extremely difficult to tell which of these things sets you a-suffering. That's why we humans and our vet friends have had such a hard time figuring it out." She continued, "As it happens, you've been tested for so many illnesses that we could've written a whole chapter in a medical journal about you, Fredcat! Anyway, the net result is that you've been prescribed some tasty grape-flavored medicine to add to your favourite wet meat. It's a steroid to make you get better, so I don't want you getting too fat." At this suggestion Fredcat tossed his famed ginger and white head and backed away. "No! No one is going to feed me liquid medicine! Or those horrible pills I've suffered taking in the past! I'll go without, thank you. I know my rights ...." But Mr. B. smiled, deviously, and said, "Don't worry about taking that new liquid medicine, Fredcat, my friend. You slurped down your first dose with that plate of best beef you've just put away with such gusto!" Our Hero exploded, "That's gross trickery! That's just horrible trickery! I'm not standing for such deceit." But Cathie had also got her dander up. "Dearest Fredcat, I wish I had some useful medication, steroid or not, to get me over any new allergy that came along. I have a particular allergy at the moment, it's called an allergy to lack of money caused by having to pay for your very expensive stay at the VSH." And so, Dear Reader, although everything in the Fredcat household was not exactly sweetness and light, it does appear that the Maestro himself has committed to a course of sneeze-reducing steroids. But the big question is: will the medicine work? We shall just have to wait and see ... Friday, May 27th 2005 (number 529)
In the morning, Mr. B. challenged Fredcat and asked him what he was playing at. but the famous feline was not put out at all. "Listen," he said, "One of the things about my having a breathing problem is that my nasal passages get blocked up, Right?" He received a nod in reply. "Well now, when humans (and indeed even d*gs) get a blockage they open their mouths and breathe that way, Right?" Again, a nod in reply. "But with we cats, it doesn't work that way. For some reason, due to the way we were created, we have to breathe through our nasal passages, even when asleep. So when you see us dozing away you will see that we don't gawp like a floundered fish, human style, but continue to look peaceful in our beds - with our mouths firmly closed, of course. Humans often think that we are doing fine when asleep but our poor noses are just getting more and more blocked until we awake with a start and have to sort the problem out. Now do you understand?" Mr. B. nodded a third time. Fredcat's lecture was a bit pedantic but he got the message alright. Later that morning Fredcat came in through his personal cat door, meowed very loudly, once, then stopped. Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, upstairs in the study, leapt to her feet and peered down the stairs. There Fredcat lay slumped on the floor. With a startled yell to Mr. B. to come quickly, she started down the stairs only to be met by a cheery grin from Our Hero who politely asked, "Who has eaten all the cat biscuits?" "We thought you were, umm ..." began Cathie, but Fredcat merely yawned and said, "I hatd wasting energy standing up when a little lie down is possible." I'm beginning to suspect that all this coughing and flopping around is just a device to get more attention from we humans," said the Grumpy One, darkly, but Fredcat shook his head, sadly. "Sorry, but I really am unwell, no matter what I look like," he said. "I sometimes wish I could go and see a human doctor like Cathie, and get some of her medicine, it always makes her better," he added gloomily. "I wonder if those kind people you visited at the VSH could suggest a solution," said Cathie, with a wee hopeful smile. "I will call them and see what they have to say. Perhaps they can come up with some proper goo for you that will solve the problem once and for all! We can only hope." So the telephone call was made and Fredcat waited for the outcome. But when the call back came, Fredcat hid among the pillows of his bed; perversely, he didn't want to know the outcome - just yet. Thursday, May 26th 2005 (number 528)
Fredcat was not by nature a cat who thrived on sneaking up on humans and listening in on their private talks (they rarely had anything interesting to say, it was usually blah, blah, blah, boring stuff about work, shopping and traffic jams) but this time there was a difference in their demeanour. And Fredcat was determined to know the reason why! Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, was apparently telling Mr. B. that the results would not be available for a few days. "I'll need to call the H place to get a feedback on that," she added, quietly. "What are these masses the medics keep talking about?" asked Mr. B., with a puzzled frown, "Our Dr. Ken tells me that it's a way of describing some blob seen in a scan that hasn't been sort've deciphered or whatever yet." Cathie interrupted him, with an impatient, "Yes! Yes! But what if it's the big C, I'm not going to have Fre..," she started to say, when a warning glance from Mr. B. stopped her in her tracks. "Hello, Fredcat," she said cheerily, "I hope you've had a good long sleep and are ready for the day ahead." Fredcat looked at Cathie, and then at Mr. B. who was standing on one foot with a stupid fixed grin on his face. "Sometimes, humans were a pretty daft lot," he thought, "Their inter-human conversations are often worse than this. It's OK to let them waffle away sometimes. I can get their attention with a demand for breakfast." He brushed up against the Grumpy One (much to the latter's dismay) and said, "I've noticed that you have a strange shiny silver machine in the study, it's standing just where the old printer used to sit. What's happened?" This brought forth forced laughter from the humans and Mr. B. said, "That's the new printer, the old printer (four years old!) had to be ditched as it wasn't working and suddenly spat out a veritable slick of black ink! Honestly, Fredcat - it had a tiny cartridge but the amount of ink it held seemed to be out of all proportion to the cartridge's size! The ink got everywhere (including on my hands) and it took days to get rid of the stain. It's lucky you weren't around getting that on your paws." Fredcat looked at Mr. B. intently. "Something's not quite right here," he thought, but he couldn't figure it out. He took a closer look at the printer and was impressed nonetheless. Now that he'd had it explained to him, he no longer feared that it was an escapee from the War Of The Worlds film. Anything to keep the humans happy, and new toys like this seemed to do the trick! Wednesday, May 25th 2005 (number 527)
Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, listened to all this with baited breath. "It seems they insisted on giving you a personal demonstration of the cat CAT scanner. I think that's the same type of medical equipment as a human CAT scanner - but somewhat smaller, I imagine," she remarked. Fredcat looked at her imperiously, "It isn't everyone that gets to try out this important heavy stuff," he drawled. "Go on, what next?" asked Cathie, eagerly. "Well now, the next part was a bit of an eye opener - literally," said Fredcat, with a grimace "It's called a biopsy. They wanted to know just what made a famous brain and breathing system like mine tick and they asked me if they could scrape away a few tiny molecules of the inside of my nostrils (they're very close to my famous knowledge centre, as I'm sure you know). When I readily agreed, they did the job in a flash although I have to admit that my nose was a little sore (though you would hardly notice it). No blood-letting at all," and here he smiled his famous crooked grin at an awestruck Cathie. "The only thing was that every time I turned around I felt sleepy! I'm sure that that had something to do with the bandage they placed around my front right paw. It was pink, you know. PINK!!!! It clashed horribly with my own markings, I can tell you! They told me that it was a security measure to ward off villains. It also enabled me to have drinks all night long which certainly saved me the effort of getting up in the middle of the night. I think, however, that one of the VSH staff went a bit overboard with the bandaging because when I looked at it when I got home it appears that chunks of my lovely orange and white fur had been shaved off. Souvenirs, maybe? No matter, it will soon grow back," he smiled, "though to be honest, right now I look like a clipped poodle d*g." He shuddered. Recovering, he continued, "You know, it was a nice visit, all in all, but I am glad to be home" And so saying, Fredcat sauntered off, first to examine his food bowls (to see that they were both still there and well stocked) and then to do a complete round of the Fredcat residence. His favourite hiding place under the large bush by the front door had been manicured and was ready for him when required. He was looking forward to some more home-coming treats, and he had no complaints when Cathie lifted him up for a special cuddle. She made no mention of the VSH but it was noticeable that later she was seen whispering furtively into the telephone. Fredcat didn't notice, he was back home and that was all that mattered. Hurray! Tuesday, May 24th 2005 (number 526)
In the morning Fredcat sniffed uninterestedly at his breakfast, ate a cursory biscuit or two, drank some fresh water, and after an imperious glance at the butler, toddled off out the front door and apparently vanished. Despite frequent callings by Mr. B., he neither moved into sight nor made his presence known. When the telephone rang it was to tell Mr. B. that Cathie had made alternative arrangements to the Wednesday visitation to the University. She came home from work early and, you've guessed it, found the Maestro in no time. "I expect you've given Mr. B. a pretty hard time over the last few hours, my lad, but never mind, we've a real treat lined up for you! We're going to see a great new place called the VSH! I know that d*gs also go there to visit but I'm sure you'll like the place, it's just as good as the University; maybe you'll have a chance to see both places." Her voice rather tailed off at this point ... "That sounds good," sniffed Fredcat, "when do we go?" "Right now!" said Mr. B., sweeping Fredcat up, and within minutes Fredcat was bellowing from the inside of the car as they sped towards the VSH. "Do you have to drive like a madman?" complained Fredcat, "you know I hate cars and I'm getting buffeted here every time you turn a corner." He continued yelling at the top of his voice (which had become pretty loud). On arrival at the VSH, Fredcat was shown straight into the main reception room and invited to go further into the recesses to try out the oxygen facility. "It was really rather nice and relaxing," he thought, "perhaps we could get one installed at the Fredcat residence." Afterwards, he turned to his admiring audience and said a quick, "Hi there!" (he considered such an action only polite). There were all sorts of new humans around and they were bent on asking him all kinds of questions. "Must be because I'm famous," he thought. The odd thing was that he could hear snatches of conversations between his humans and the very nice v*t, Dr. Trisha. Words like blood tests, tests for feline leukemia, white blood count, red blood count, and pneumonia came to him out of nowhere. There was mention of a ICU and IV, and an overnight stay - or perhaps two. Fredcat shook his head and muttered that this oxygen stuff must have made him light-headed. He was still sneezing, though, which was a nuisance as he wanted to be fit to explore fully this new building and talk to all the people smartly dressed in their green scrubs. "Just like an ER for humans," he mewsed. After a while he was taken out by a very friendly human who looked surprisingly like a human nurse, and deposited into the arms of a smiling Cathie. "I hear that these nice people are so impressed with you that they'd like you to stay for a day or so. They can show you all sorts of amazing gadgets and you can try them out if you like!" Fredcat was by now tired and agreed to stay with the proviso that Cathie would come and visit often. She promised to do that, of course. What will tomorrow bring, Dear Reader? Monday, May 23rd 2005 (number 525)
Before Cathie could reply, Mr. B. motioned Fredcat to one side and said, "Hey, lookie here, Fredcat, I've just been to the local Food Lion store and bought a couple of nice goodies. What do you think?" He opened his large paper bag and inside was a huge chocolate fudge cake. "This is just what Cathie has been asking me to buy for the last two weeks," he continued, "She has been ravenously hungry all this time and she has been dying for a slice of this." He looked extremely pleased with himself. "Hmmm ... I can't see your driving out to buy that rather gorgeous looking cake just for Cathie's benefit," grimaced Fredcat, "It's well known around this residence of mine that chocolate is the food of choice in the Grumpy One's diet and I cannot believe that Cathie will consume all of it herself." Mr. B. blustered a bit but finally admitted that he might be permitted a slice or three from the cake, just to help out. "It's just too big for one person to eat it all," he conceded. Fredcat turned back to Cathie but Mr. B. grabbed him once more and said, "What do you think of this, then?" He opened the bag a second time. Inside was one of the largest pieces of best beef that Fredcat had ever seen. "Wow!" he said, "that'd make a tasty BBQ - but we had a BBQ only yesterday! Can we afford to have another one already?" "No problem, my feline friend" said the Grumpy One, and in a trice the BBQ was heating up. Before Fredcat knew what was happening he was seated at his table in the screened porch with a nice new, warm plate of freshly cooked best beef in front of him. "Wow!" he snuffled, again. "This is the gear!" and he tucked in. When he had finished he fell asleep (as cats do!) and dreamed of an endless succession of best beef dinners. Lucky cat! Saturday, May 21st 2005 (number 524)
He remembered once, when they were living in England, that the humans had gaily set off to have a little meal, as they put it, and would definitely bring him home a chunk of best cooked beef. Apparently they had gone on afterwards, if that's the phrase, and the end result was a missed train and a return home at some unearthly hour - minus all signs of any best beef. "The beef would have been cold anyway," said Cathie, "and in any case I'm not sure if the nice policeman who gave us a lift home in his police car would've enjoyed the smell of decaying roast beef in his shiny, clean vehicle. Although, when I think about it, he did stop for a serving of fish and chips for him and his police partner. They were very kind to help us out. I wonder if the US police would be as kind?" "Very interesting," said Fredcat, sarcastically, "but that doesn't help me right now. Are you and Mr. B. off out again?" He sounded glum. But the reply both surprised and delighted him. "No way," said Cathie, "I've bought a smashing piece of filet beef and a couple of kebabs (or kebobs as they insist on calling them in the US) and we're going to have us a BBQ!" It all went perfectly, the BBQ was wheeled out, cleaned from last summer (!) and the meal cooked. The humans enjoyed a glass of some white fizzy stuff and Fredcat sat at his own table to enjoy the best beef he'd had for a long time. After polishing off the remnants, Fredcat asked Cathie, "When do you get your next pay rise? Can you get another one next week?" and he's still wondering why the humans laughed. As he went off to read his latest Guestbook entries he thought these humans of his did act strangely sometimes. Ah, well. Friday, May 20th 2005 (number 523)
The mailman arrived and brought a party card from the parents of Melly and Megan - an invitation to a graduation celebration. "We must go to that" exclaimed Fredcat, "I'm all for anything to do with education. The young must be encouraged to do well at school; it's the young who are the future of all nations." "Of course I've already obtained two degrees," he continued, smugly, "I found them particularly easy, but I don't remember a graduation ceremony or even a graduation party. I definitely missed out on that." He frowned, "Will I need to wear a cap and gown to attend this party? Do you think I ought to contact the University to put that right?" Cathie and Mr. B. exchanged knowing glances. Finally Cathie spoke, "Well, somewhat amazingly, Fredcat, we have been in touch with the University," she said, "and they want to see you next Wednesday. I said it would be OK and I will be taking a day off work to accompany you. I'm sure Mr. B. will be there as well." Mr. B. nodded quietly. "Yes!!" exclaimed Fredcat, and danced around the room on all fours, his snuffling all but forgotten. "Full university recognition at last," he said, as he went sailing out of the Fredcat residence to savour what he thought was good news. Thursday, May 19th 2005 (number 522)
The packages were opened and various items were deposited on shelves and in the depths of the kitchen recesses. It was clear to Fredcat that Mr. B. avoided the Fredcat eyes and bustled from shopping bag to shopping bag as if he were in a great hurry. When Mr. B. had finished he turned and almost ran from the kitchen, but the speedy Fredcat quickly barred his way. "Excuse me, but you seem to have forgotten something," the latter said, grimly, "Where's my ration of best beef? I always get several chunks of it when you go shopping; it's hardly likely that the store has run out of my favourite best beef, so what's happened to it?" "Ah, well now, there's the thing," started Mr. B, squirming, "they didn't have exactly what I wanted to buy, and then I met someone and we got talking and the thing is well..., it just got forgotten, I suppose." This was a pretty lame excuse, thought Fredcat, and he wasn't about to let the Grumpy One off the hook that easily. "It seems to me that you've become more and more forgetful, Mr. B." he cried, "I'll be having words with you later about that." Mr. B. didn't have long to wait. When Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, came home she also had a complaint to register. "Where are the tomatoes for the salad?" she started, "and I did ask you especially to get a couple of nice lamb chops for tomorrow's dinner. There's no sign of them. Your memory's slipping!" It was here that Fredcat chimed in with a remark that seemed to hit home. "I think he's just trying to save money on the groceries, Cathie! I did notice that he didn't forget to buy his tub of strawberry ice cream or that giant wedge of chocolate cake that he's stashed at the back of the fridge." But to his surprise, instead of being crestfallen, Mr. B. suddenly plucked up the courage to make a spirited defense. "Hang on, hang on, Fredcat," he said, "I really did make a genuine mistake with the beef - but the cake and ice cream were all part of a surprise delight for Cathie as she has just received a nice little pay rise and I thought we would all celebrate." For once there was a feeling of sympathy for Mr. B. And for Fredcat there was a compromise plate of tinned tuna. Sometimes one cannot have exactly what one wants - but tinned tuna was good. Wednesday, May 18th 2005 (number 521)
Recriminations began to fly around the room as each member of the Fredcat household blamed each other for oversleeping. Inevitably, Mr. B. got it in the neck but he couldn't understand how it had happened. "Look, the alarm clock shows the correct wake-up time and the radio volume is also right," he said, "and it's the right time. What's gone wrong? The alarm radio seems to be working properly and I really don't know what's happened." The Grumpy One turned to Fredcat and complained, in a hurt tone, "All the times you wake me when I wanted - and needed - to sleep! Yet now when the alarm clock fails you're nowhere to be seen." Cathie examined the clock and said calmly, "Everything is as you say it is, matey, but your clock is exactly 12 hours wrong! It's saying afternoon instead of morning. At this rate the alarm won't go off until later today!" "I blame the people at Progress Energy for allowing all those power outages," the Grumpy One replied, relieved to find something or someone to blame who couldn't answer back. "Where's my early morning cup of tea?" replied Cathie, "I can't go to work tea-less. Stop arguing about clocks and make the tea." Cathie had a right to complain, thought Fredcat, but he kept silent in case Mr. B. forgot to put out his packet of fresh meat in retaliation for the mix-up over early morning calls. "I take it this has nothing to do with all the fuss and bother about Daylight Saving Time," said Fredcat cautiously, when the to-do had settled down. "I see that one US state, Ohio, has had problems for years over its decisions on Daylight Savings. I remember in the UK there was a time when there was not only Summer Time (aka Daylight Savings) but also Double Summer Time which had everybody reeling about in time confusion. It didn't last though." He continued, "As far as I'm concerned I have no need for stupid things like clocks and Daylight Savings. I get up when I want to and sleep when I want to. In fact, I do this several times a day! Being famous gives me many advantages, don't cha know." And with this smug announcement he sauntered off to find the best bed in his residence, leaving the humans to argue the toss about timely matters. Tuesday, May 17th 2005 (number 520)
Mr. B. patted the little feline on the head and said, "Don't worry, it's a ritual that all people who go to work have to go through annually. It's called the annual appraisal or evaluation when you and your boss have to decide how well you are doing at work. Everyone hates doing it - both the employee and the boss." "If that's the case, then why do it at all?" asked the pragmatic cat, arching one leg over his body to better get at it for grooming. "I wish you wouldn't do that while I'm talking to you," said Mr. B., frowning. "The point is that if your boss thinks you are doing OK at work, you might qualify for a pay rise. All employees want that!" Later, just as Cathie arrived home, Mr. B. looked at Fredcat quizzically, "You know, Fredcat, you may be famous but it wouldn't do you any harm to have an appraisal done on your own good self. When Cathie has settled in with her homecoming cup of tea, we'll go over a few of your good and mediocre points of the past year. It should make for an interesting discussion," he added. Fredcat's little heart sank. He gulped in large quantities of air and his head spun round as blood rushed everywhere in the Fredcat body except the places where it should be. His brain felt numb. He choked and looked appealingly at Cathie but, as the latter had just had her own annual appraisal completed in work, she was less than sympathetic towards the Mighty One. "We need to set some targets for the following year," said Mr. B. ticking them off on his notebook. "No early morning (i.e. before 6am) starts for me. The butler will not be asked to open the front door more than once per day. You will try to eat all of the meat offered to you, even if it has been set out for more than ten minutes. No shedding of fur in the dining room, and no, definitely no, coughing, sneezing or spluttering at all, ever!" Fredcat looked at Mr. B. in horror, but his despair was soon dispelled by Cathie who said that her annual appraisal was nothing like that and that Mr. B. had got the whole point of these evaluations quite wrong and he, Fredcat, was not to take any notice of the draconian targets that Mr. B. had dreamt up. "It's a good job you don't go out to work anymore," she said to Mr. B., "You wouldn't last a day with those attitudes. Come here Fredcat, and I'll tell you what really happened to me today - and we won't tell that Mr. B. any of it. So there!" Monday, May 16th 2005 (number 519)
Fredcat re-materialised inside his residence and sought out his best human friend, Cathie. "It's too late to run, we have to hide immediately!" he cried, "The gangs have arrived, and they're going to kidnap us!" Cathie looked at her little beloved one and frowned. This was a most unlikely scenario, so she peered out of the window, just in time to see the two very large men advancing towards the front door. She threw an amused glance at Fredcat and calmly opened the front door despite the latter's imploring wails. "The furniture is right around the side," she said, "it's already packed for you." Fredcat finally stopped his caterwauling and watched as chunks of furniture from the Fredcat residence were loaded into the lorry. Finally, a slip of paper was handed to Cathie as a receipt and the men departed. "Listen Fredcat, they were the Vietnam Vets people, they collect unwanted goodies from residences like yours and either sell them or distribute them to other less fortunate folk. They do excellent work." Fredcat's heart half lifted, "But some of those items were very dear to me", he said, "I liked to rummage through them - and there were some good sleeping, materials amongst them. I particularly liked the ..." But he got no further. Cathie quietly scolded him and reminded him that charity does begin at home, after all. "Look here, she added, with a winning smile, "Did you know that the 15th of May was Hug Your Cat Day? I think we had better deal with that right now!" And she did. Saturday, May 14th 2005 (number 518)
"Don't be so silly," said Cathie crossly, "it's not head fur, it's my hair. It's not thick and matted like the fur of you felines, it's special and lovely and delicate, and it has to be properly coiffeured by professional hairdressers. It costs a lot of money to have this done to my standards." She tossed what little remained of her hair and stalked off in a huff. Fredcat trotted after her, "Actually, now that I look more closely, I think your hair is very nice," he said, in his best mollifying tone, "You've had your hair done in my very own special colours." Cathie frowned, "What do you mean?" she replied, puzzled. Fredcat smiled happily, "Well, you've had your hair done in a lovely combination of orange and white. There are some smashing white edges all around the centre ginger bit, just like mine!" And Fredcat did a twirl, showing off his own dazzlingly white patches. But if Fredcat thought that he had won over Cathie with his cat-like charm and enthusiasm, he was very much mistaken. With an anguished howl, Cathie rushed to the nearest mirror and shot off out in her car without another word. When Mr. B. emerged from his work in the garden Fredcat told him about the Cathie histrionics, and Mr. B. grinned. "It might be best for you not make any more comments about her hair colour when Cathie returns. Humans can be very touchy about those sort of things." "But you're not touchy about your hair," replied Fredcat, "You've hardly got any and it's very hard to see what colour your hair was since there's so little of it at your age." And for the rest of the day Fredcat wondered why his two best human friends were hardly talking to him (or, it seemed, to each other - or to anyone else, for that matter!). These humans were a queer lot. Fredcat gave his luscious coat another good licking and grooming, and sauntered off towards his food bowl. "It's a funny old world," he thought. Friday, May 13th 2005 (number 517)
Fredcat had taken to sleeping outdoors on days like this, his fear of villainous reprisals due to his famous famosity having been assuaged, but today he wandered inside to have a chat with his best human friend, Cathie. Inside it was like an iceberg. The air conditioning was on full blast, the temperature control set very low, the ceiling fan was racing around like a whirling dervish and the large stand-alone fan was blasting away at top speed. "Here, have a heart," cried Fredcat, "It's freezing in here, I'm convinced I've got icicles on my icicles." But Cathie glared at Fredcat and fanned herself with a beautiful hand fan, given to her by a thoughtful Southern gal a year or so ago, and snapped at the Mighty One. "What! it's boiling in here," she cried, can't you see I'm melting?" Fredcat examined his best human friend closely, "Well, I know it's warm outside but you don't look as if you're melting," he said, in all seriousness. You look fine." But all he got for his trouble was a snapped command to pass her a cold drink straight from the fridge. A few minutes later Cathie turned off all the fans, switched off the air conditioning and cranked up the central heating. She wrapped a throw over her shoulders and shivered. "What on earth's going on?" wondered our hero. It soon became evident that this behaviour was to be repeated several times over the next hour or so; Fredcat couldn't decide whether to stay in or hop outside. He looked around for Mr. B. for moral support but that one had obviously decided to absent himself from the Fredcat residence and Fredcat quickly reasoned the cause. "It seems to me that whenever things like this happen to yours truly," he started, cautiously, "You whisk me away immediately to the nearest v*t, despite my protestations. Might it not be a good idea for you to, er, (and here he gave just a little cough) seek some form of professional assistance to get you over these hot and cold spells?" He waited with baited breath for Cathie's response, but she just smiled at him, on her way to the air conditioning thermostat, and said, "What a good idea, my helpful friend. I think I will." Thursday, May 12th 2005 (number 516)
He picked up the paper, checking to see that no one was looking and then backed away slowly. When he felt quite safe he leapt into the Fredcat residence, calling out to his best human friend Cathie to come quickly!. Cathie was watching another rerun of the The Drew Carey Show and was feeling light-hearted. She told Fredcat that he was being a tad paranoid. "Come on, Fredcat," she said, faintly amused, "Nobody's about to get you." But Fredcat put on his most serious face (a bit difficult when most of his expressions looked the same - almost as if he'd overdone the Botox) and insisted that Cathie examine the paper and check to see if it were a coded message left by a villain out to get Fredcat. Cathie looked at Fredcat and said, with all due gravitas, "I have an idea, Fredcat. You need a CPO to ease your concerns. You could select a CPO in a size and color scheme to match your wishes! Believe you me, Fredcat, no one, but no one, wants to mess with a CPO." Our Hero was very excited as the prospect of having his very own personally-selected CPO - particularly one that would match his very precise (almost obsessive) preferences. But in the midst of his excitement, he pawsed ... "Hold on, Cathie, a CPO might indeed be great, but ... what exactly is a CPO?" "Why, it's a Canine Protection Officer, Fredcat," said Cathie, sweetly. "If you're so worried about your safely, why don't you employ a CPO to patrol the grounds of the Fredcat residence? You could also consider accent lighting for the garden. With motion sensors! You have to admit that a nice 20,000 candlepower light shining onto the Fredcat stoneplate would look attractive, wouldn't it? People would be able to see it very clearly when the nights draw in." "A Canine Protection Officer? You mean a, a, a ... d*g, don't you?! A D*G! No way! If a d*g were to come into my residence, guard d*g or otherwise, he'd find himself very bored indeed, because I wouldn't be here!" And he shuddered at the prospect. "And as for high candlepower and accent lighting around my garden - that'd make things even worse, I'd have even more horrible villains attracted to my residence. I'd never be able to show my precious ginger and white face in the subdivision again." He looked so sad. So Cathie said, "OK, my friend, let us both have a look at this piece of paper you've found, and see if we can puzzle it out. Hmmm..." Two heads pored over the writing. They made out some of the letters as best they could: Wokonap NONTABA yophnn. "Cathie, I've never seen letters like those before," said Fredcat, frowning.
At that moment Mr. B. entered the room and exclaimed ,"Oh, I see you've found the wrapper from my Ukrainian chocolate! Where was it? The chocolate was brought back to the US by a friend of mine who visited the Ukraine recently - and it was very nice! Those letters you've been puzzling over just mean Dark Poltava Chocolate, it comes from Poltava." He smiled as two pairs of eyes glared at him. "Really nice chocolate - lovely it was. I would have offered you both some, but that would have meant less for me!" It was well known that Mr. B. loved chocolate. Fredcat felt a bit silly but nevertheless he vowed that he definitely would not be having a Canine Protection Officer. Or a guard d*g. He withheld judgment on the prospect of attractive accent lighting, though. Now that the threat of a villainous attack was no longer real, attractive accent lighting might turn out to be a good idea. Vain cat! Wednesday, May 11th 2005 (number 515)
But while admiring his stoneplate from the shrubbery later, neatly tucked away far from the road, Fredcat noticed an intriguing thing which gave him food for thought. People walking by the Fredcat residence were stopping and staring intently at the stoneplate. Drivers of cars were slowing down, some even taking surreptitious notes. "What's going on?" thought Fredcat. "I didn't think that having an unusual stoneplate would attract so much attention. I wonder what these people want?" Fredcat later turned to his best human friend, Cathie, and asked her, "Do you think I ought to increase the level of security around the Fredcat residence? Now that more and more humans are beginning to discover where I live (thanks to my excellent stoneplate), isn't there a danger that I might become the victim of a crime?" He shuddered. "I think that I need to employ some security people to keep a 24 hour watch to protect me. Other famous people, like Bill Gates, have high walls around their house, TV surveillance cameras, walkie-talkie systems and even their own private police force to guard them. That's what I need!!" "I'll have to start disguising myself with dark glasses, and a Fedora, pulled down low over my face (or a baseball cap, at least) and stay in the shadows in case I get mugged, or worse, cat-napped, and held for ransom! I'd expect you, Cathie, to pay up immediately as I wouldn't want to suffer at the hands of cat-nappers for long, they wouldn't know what food to give me."
Cathie looked pityingly at the Mighty One, shivering in the shrubbery and said, "Calm down Fredcat, you may be famous but everyone knows that you're not rich and don't carry any money with you. You can put away that catalogue full of feline consumer electronics pictures - you don't need a GSM cellphone, or a Blackberry PDA, or a pager. Any anyway, they'd all be too cumbersome for you to manage! You couldn't strap them all to a belt because you don't wear one, my little one, and if you wore all of those things around your neck you'd never been able to stand up!!. Best to stay quietly outside the front door and search for a mouse or two, before it gets too dark. Finally, my silly goose, put down that hat and that pair of dark glasses. You look like one of the Blues Brothers in those!" And she stroked him and stroked him until he'd quite recovered from his panic. Tuesday, May 10th 2005 (number 514)
Some householders had affixed a small hanging sign below the mailbox on which they had painted their names. For example: JohnnyJon and JennyJen Bloggs. This allowed other people to know who actually lived there. Fredcat considered this to be a wholly excellent idea and broached the subject to his best human friend, Cathie. "Why haven't you done this to my mailbox?" he enquired. "When we first came to live here, I remember receiving a letter from the USPS saying that we were supposed to put our name on the mailbox, and giving example dimensions and so forth of the stick-on letters that one should use." "Now, Fredcat," replied Cathie, "we had a little look around to see what other residents in the subdivision were doing and it transpired that this request was treated more like a recommendation than a formal instruction and as a consequence hardly anyone (in fact no one!) had complied. So we fell in line with the majority view and left well alone. No harm seems to come to us over the years!"
But Fredcat was not to be mollified. "It's OK for you humans, you get lots of mail dealing with the humdrum facets of life: telephone, gas, electricity, car licensing, and all that sort of stuff that doesn't affect me. I'm way above dealing with that sort of tosh! But I do get the occasional missive and I want there to be no mistake when the kindly mail person comes round to deliver my letters. I need you and Mr. B. to devise something very much better. I need an impressive statement to be made to the effect that I reside here. So, go to it!" So Mr. B. and Cathie put their heads together and came up with the idea of a stoneplate as opposed to a nameplate, and Mr. B. duly set to work digging up a huge stone from the Fredcat garden. The stone was duly painted in the personal Fredcat colours of orange and white and, after careful consultation with the Famous One, was placed in a prominent position at the end of the driveway. "OK, everyone can now see that you, Fredcat the Famous, live here," said Cathie, with a happy smile. "Now it's time for tea and to read all those nice congratulatory messages which have been sent to you and which have been posted in the Fredcat Guestbook. Come on!" Monday, May 9th 2005 (number 513)
Yes, Dear Reader, it was Mothering Sunday in the US once more, though everyone called it Mother's Day. It was time for mothers everywhere to be honoured but Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, was able to sit back, happy in the knowledge that she had been honoured earlier in the year when it had been the UK's turn to have Mother's Day. True to form (and not to be outdone by his neighbours) Mr. B. had ransacked the garage, emerging with a collection of ancient mechanical and electrical garden toys, all of which he claimed were essential to the maintenance of the Fredcat garden. Fredcat knew what the load of iron junk now cluttering up the Fredcat driveway meant - time to scarper under the nearest bed! It was OK to watch the neighbours over the road mowing the lawn, they were far too busy with cutting their own green patch of grass to bother Fredcat. But the Grumpy One was a different kettle of fish. He was totally absorbed with the processes of adding fuel to his various toys (sorry, contraptions), and with scraping off mud and rust he should have removed well before winter had set in, and he would suddenly start up one of many engines, thereby causing intense pain to the Fredcat ears.
From the safety of the upstairs window, Fredcat finally summoned courage and shouted down to Mr. B., "You've used the lawn mower and the leaf blower, aren't you going to use that new weed whacker, the one that Cathie bought you months and months ago? I just want you to get all this over and done with so's I can get back to resting under the shrubs in the front of my residence, where I may enjoy a little shade from the heat of the day. I need to have total peace and quiet, don't you know!" Mr. B. relented. "It's OK, Fredcat," he said, "I've done enough for today, I'll finish it off tomorrow. I suggest you get back to reminiscing about your own mum, I know it's many years since you last saw her, but you must have some nice memories to recall." And (an unusually kind) Mr. B. came inside for a cup of tea, leaving Fredcat to daydream. All together .... "Awwwww!" Saturday, May 7th 2005 (number 512)
But the Grumpy One had stayed up a mite longer to discuss the significance of the results with all and sundry. Fredcat considered this a bit off because the next morning (i.e. today) Mr. B. was very much still asleep. But the UK general election results were now of no real concern to Fredcat and the fact that the Grumpy One was still tired was, to Fredcat, irrelevant. Mr. B. thought differently and complained bitterly to Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie. Cathie, however, was supremely indifferent to their differing plights and decided to drive off to the nearest mall to do some shopping. "Anything you want?" she asked, and was beset with a joint cry of needs. Fredcat went first, "I'd like one of those automatic drinking fountains that provides fresh water all day long, so that I don't have to go out into the rain-sodden garden - and some more best beef, please". Mr. B. agreed and asked for an automatic food dispenser so that he didn't have to feed the Famous One at least ten times a day.
"I, too, would like an automatic food and drink dispenser," muttered Cathie, "Mr. B. knows it better by its proper name of Lone Star Restaurant, but perhaps that'd be asking too much!" Fredcat thought that he needed to gain more sympathy as quickly as possible to bring the conversation back to him, so he shivered. "It's been raining all day," he complained, "and my coat is now so wet I can't dry it properly. I need to sit by the open fire and nibble on some sustaining grub or I might perish from the cold." The humans looked scornfully at him. What a performance! One minute, all fire and full of arrogance, the next a pitiful starving wreck of a cat hopefully seeking scraps, all the while looking absolutely miserable in the midday gloom. "Enough already," said Cathie, "I'll bring you both back something to eat, but only if you agree to keep the peace whilst I am out." And they did - and she did - of course. Friday, May 6th 2005 (number 511)
Fredcat continued, "I love these type of celebrations, where everyone gets dressed up in colourful clobber. Of course, I'm colourful enough - my orange and white markings will stand out amongst the very best of the revellers! In particular, I'm very proud of my sergeant stripe on my paws. Did you know that there is a psychology of colour?" Cathie said, "I see that there is no orange colour on that psychology of colour website, Fredcat, the best it can do is add the results for white (of course) together with a combination of red and yellow. I think your colouring is far too complicated for you to unravel, even if white is supposed to indicate some form of innocence. With all the tricks you get up to get additional best beef, I think that these characterisations might be a little awry."
"Never mind, Fredcat," said Mr. B., "You're bound to have better luck in later years. I'm sure you recall that you and Cathie believe that you have entered that phase of your life when time, apparently, stands still. That's as may be. But in fact it's very easy to calculate your life expectancy if you follow the guidelines in this little quiz." Fredcat did as was asked but nonetheless refused to divulge his quiz result, saying, "This quiz is really for humans - not for cats with nine lives." Cathie supported him bravely, but she also refused to divulge her result. She merely said she would outlast everybody and then spend all her money on more cats. Hmmm ...." Thursday, May 5th 2005 (number 510)
"For myself, I'm content to let things be; I'm sure that however famous I am (and I am!) my voting preferences will hardly influence the result!" Fredcat was being his usual insufferable self, and Mr. B. took the bait. "You don't even have a vote to cast," the latter spluttered, "You're only a cat, and cats can't vote. End of story." "Ah, but you're wrong there," said Fredcat quietly. "In the past, when we felines wanted something done about the world economy we had to go about it in subtle ways, by influencing humans to do the work for us. Under the new scheme of things, the main problem we have is the actual voting part. The first difficulty we have is in getting to the voting booths, for they are too far away for most of us to walk to them. Fortunately, I see that it's possible to exercise a postal vote nowadays - although even that's fraught with security problems. Some cunning (i.e. bad) people have been voting twice or more, and that shouldn't be allowed."
"The other problem comes in marking our crosses on the voting slips. Lack of an opposable thumb makes holding a pencil very difficult for us, you know." Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, chipped in and remarked that most voting booths were impersonal things - but reassured him that, of course, Fredcat didn't have to be concerned with that, as he brought his own sparkling personality with him, wherever he went. Fredcat then asked politely, "Do we have to use those complicated voting machines they use in American elections? They don't always appear to work, do they?" He pawsed, "I don't want any vote of mine to end up on the floor of the polling booth like those famous chads in Florida." "No chance of that happening in the UK," said Cathie, "it's either pencil and paper, or a postal vote, that's all there is to it." "And, if you ever aspired to a position of power," said Mr, B., "You'd have to learn the art of listening to gripes from your constituents. My personal gripe is that you chatter too much." "You might be right," opined the Fredster, hastily, and scarpered before things got too hot for him. Sensible cat! Wednesday, May 4th 2005 {number 509}
"But why announce it so far ahead?" asked Fredcat, "After all, it's only a film and I suspect that someone will find a way to put a copy on the internet before the film's released - they often do," he added, gloomily. "It's so unfair to all those who were involved in making the film." "You're rather glum today," said Cathie, "I'm sure this counterfeiting doesn't happen all the time. Myself, I'm quite looking forward to seeing the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy film. It's had some excellent reviews thus far and, as I've read all the Hitchhiker books at least twice, I'm looking forward to seeing how the film-makers portray the various characters." Fredcat snorted and said, "I don't see the point of reading a book more than once; if you've read a book, you've read the book, and that's that!" But Cathie was not so easily put down. "When you read a good book, one that's really exciting, you don't just read the story, you read it to appreciate all the artistry that goes to make up the story. Sometimes the story is so exciting on first read, that one skips along too quickly just to get to the denouement! A second reading allows one to enjoy those parts skipped during the first reading." "You know, you're right, you have a point," exclaimed U-turn Fredcat, "I've often had a desire to do something more than once, I was only saying so to Mr. B. yesterday, when I managed to empty my food bowl in one sitting. It didn't take him long to appreciate my feelings and he quickly replenished the bowl." "He must have been well trained by someone," said Cathie, wryly, but she gave Coach Fredcat a big hug anyway.
"I know," agreed Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, "It's become so bad that individual humans are up to all sorts of tricks to gain an (unfair) advantage over the next human. In many sports it's become so bad that the authorities have to institute drug testing to weed out cheats, although those that cheat seem to keep a step ahead all the time. It must be so frustrating to those that try to stay on the straight and narrow path." "What about cats?" said Mr. B., "Don't they go in for a bit of one-upmanship from time to time? When it's time to mate don't both the male and female felines try to gain advantages? Don't they also have their "kitten wars" to see who is the best? The cutest? The winningest?" Mr. B. looked smug as he said that, and he continued smirking as neither Fredcat nor Cathie saw fit to reply. Fredcat, however, was finally moved to reply in his haughtiest tone. "Thank goodness I didn't have to do that!" he said. "If I had devoted myself to learning lots of tricks like Annie the cat I would have been just as famous as I am now, but in a different sphere of activity. You know, being famous has its advantages," he continued, "It means I no longer have to jostle and fight to attain my elevated position in society because I am already there! Here? Whatever, I am at the top!" "Is that because you are very old?" interjected Mr. B. "It seems to me that old cats usually get their way become they are way past it and their best human friends are far too soft and kind to hurt them in any way, so these privileged moggies get away with all sorts!" But here he went too far, and Cathie swept Fredcat up in her arms and scooted him off to a quiet corner so that they could sing cat songs well away from the Grumpy One. That was much better!
"I saw that once," said Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, "It was charming to watch the (very) young schoolchildren dancing around the maypole weaving (in)expertly in and out, thereby wrapping the coloured ties they were holding (and shortening) around the maypole, until they had reached the half way point of the dance. If one of the children made a mistake, then it was virtually impossible to undo the ribbons as the dance continued in reverse." "There were children from other schools almost praying for an error to be made! How bad of them," she added, "so it was up to the teachers to keep a watchful eye and ensure that that the dance was performed perfectly. It shouldn't have been a problem; after all, the children had been very well rehearsed." "Thank goodness I didn't have to do that!" said Fredcat. "Dancing on all four paws is a trial by itself, but having to do it while holding a long ribbon .... Well!" "You could just imagine the bullying that would go on if one child made a big mistake!," said Cathie, "Later on, in the playground, they would be bullied unmercifully. All the poking and prodding that would go on! Perhaps the child would say nothing for ages and then ... well, you'll see. This poke me link will give you a good idea of what can happen. Try it several times!" "I thought Penquins were to be eaten, not poked," said Mr. B., winking at Fredcat. "You can buy them here in our local World Market store." He said that loudly to make sure that Cathie heard. "They aren't very expensive and I do like them," he went on d*ggedly. But Cathie blatantly pretended not to hear. She clearly remembered when she had bought a pack of ten Penguin bars - there was only one left when she went to have a Penguin with a cup of tea! Oh, no, the Grumpy One could buy them himself next time. |
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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.
