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"Ahem! Did anyone actually mention the number of years of Cathie's life which we are celebrating - or the number of Christmases Cathie has celebrated, or the number of New Year's Days ditto - or was it discretely inferred," said Fredcat, with a toothy grin (sometimes he did like to "mix it" with Cathie). "I don't mind what you think," said Cathie, " I have some very good friends, and they have been very nice to me on my birthday. Mind, I still had to come into work, which was a bit of a pain. The rain from the latest tropical storm was a bit fierce as I drove into work this morning, I can tell you." "I see that you have had a very attractive Christmas stocking made by your sister-in-law, Jane," remarked Fredcat. "I have noticed that there are three cats pictured on it, and one of them looks very much like Forby and another looks quite like my old lap-cat friend, Charlie, who died some years ago." "But who on Earth is the third cat pictured on the stocking? He's ginger, like me, but he is wearing a set of bells around his neck! Bells! Most unlike me, I can assure you. Bells! Every bird and mouse in the whole world would know of my presence if I were forced to wear a set of bell-beads like that!" "Well, I like it, and I am going to hang it on the mantle until 12th Night, and just hope that Father Christmas (aided by the grumpy Mr. B.) does his duty and fills it up in good time for Christmas Day this year. Last year my old Christmas stocking was filled with plenty of stale air. Huh!" "OK," said Fredcat, "Christmas, birthdays ... we'll sing a birthday song to you," and he started, "Happy Birthday to you ..." all the time trying out his latest dance for her. To be honest, dear reader, the dance was a bit limp and the singing left a lot to be desired, but Fredcat meant well, so Cathie let it pass and rewarded him with some beef chunks. "Happy birthday to me," hummed Cathie, as she went off to bed, "it's been a good day, all in all, with some nice presents and some excellent memories of the day stored safely away." And Fredcat was pleased as well!
"Hop it, Fredcat," demanded Mr. B., "I want to watch the bit where some bloke runs onto the track and pushes the leader of the marathon off the road and potentially ruins the whole race. I'm surprised that this sort of thing doesn't happen more often." "Don't race organisers have security staff to stop this kind of thing," enquired Fredcat, "I heard that for every competitor at the Olympics in Greece, there are seven security people to watch out for things like that." "Actually, this was the same bloke that ran onto the racetrack at Silverstone last year, running towards Grand Prix racing cars hurtling down the home straight at 200 miles per hour. It was a wonder he wasn't killed. And if someone wants to do something like that, even seventy security people per competitor wouldn't be able to prevent it." "For example, I am a human, living quite happily at the Fredcat residence, enjoying myself watching the TV, and I am just getting to the exciting part, when 'Whoomph' a large ginger cat leaps onto my chair, walks haughtily across from one arm to the other, blocking my view, and then plonks himself, heedlessly, plumb in the line of sight between my human eyes and the TV screen. How annoying is that?" "I suspect that even if I had had seven or even seventy security people looking out for me, it wouldn't be sufficient to prevent you doing again what you have just done. Of course, being humans, they would probably all be watching the TV with me." Mr. B. laughed at his own joke," and continued, "and you would get away with it once more!" "Well, it would certainly stop you becoming a couch potato," said Fredcat, "but if you were to feed me some more prawns I would gladly depart." So Mr. B did, and Fredcat was true to his word. Mmmm, prawns ...
"I'm studying barcodes," he announced, with a beam. "It's all very clever, you know, you can barcode almost anything." Cathie returned to tell Fredcat all about Mr. B.'s project but her famous feline was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly a howl of rage echoed down the hall as her Little Love sped furiously towards her, chased by a panting Mr. B. in hot pursuit. "Stop him! Help!" beseeched the frightened feline, "he's going to barcode me! And when he's finished branding me he intends to sell me over the checkout, like at the supermarkets. Get him off me!" he cried. His little feet zoomed down the hall, past Cathie, and into the bedroom until he was safely tucked out of harm's reach in the exact centre of the underside of the bed - where no human hands could reach. M. B. screeched to a halt as he met Cathie's frosty gaze. "Look," he explained, cautiously, "I am just trying out a tiny, wee experiment, to see if barcodes can be attached to the hide of a furry cat, like that of your Fredcat. Just think, if we can do this then we won't need all those collars and micro-chips and things for pets, and that will save everyone loads of money." Cathie said nothing as Mr. B.'s explanations grew ever wilder. "Nothing of the sort," she said at last, "you just wanted to barcode Fredcat The Famous so that you could sell him to the highest bidder, didn't you?" "That thought never entered my head," started Mr. B. (not quite truthfully), "but now that you have mentioned it ..." And that, dear reader, was when he took to his heels to avoid being clobbered by an irate Cathie, as Fredcat emerged from under the bed and looked on with a relieved smile. No more barcode experiments for a while, he thought, thank goodness.
"Well, if you are sorting out the bookcases, the first thing I would like you to do," suggested Fredcat, "is to put all my photographs in a single album. That way I could follow my development as time progressed, and you could talk me through all the early stages of my life, as I quickly grew from a kitten to adulthood." "Love you as I do, I am not sure that I want to separate all your photographs from the rest of the family snaps," frowned Cathie. "There would be an awful lot of work to take your snaps out of the albums - and it would leave horrible gaps!" "But my photographs are important," said Fredcat, a trifle pompously, "I need to have my very own collection now that I am a fully mature and very famous cat. Look, suppose I left you, and went off on my own, what personal possessions would be mine to take with me? I cannot just tear out some photos at the last moment, willy-nilly can I?" "The best thing to do," compromised Cathie, fearful that Fredcat had any thoughts of leaving at all, "would be if we took your photos and made copies which you could then have inserted into your very own album. Though to be honest, I think we will need at least two albums to cope with all the snaps we have taken of you over the years. In any case, you can always view the vast majority of your photos by looking at your daily diary on the internet. Sooner or later, all of your snaps, as well as those of a number of your friends, feature in your diary." "Fair enough," agreed Fredcat. He had been teasing Cathie by suggesting that he might one day leave home, and he could see that she was hurt by this. Cathie was an excellent human, to look after him so well, and he might not be so lucky if he left her for pastures new. And those albums did look rather heavy - he didn't relish lugging those around. And, most importantly, he did love his best human friend very much, so he decided to drop such silly talk and eat the special treat of tuna which Cathie had laid out especially for him.
"This ability to go shopping in the evenings until quite late is really excellent for people like me who have to work during daylight hours," she said, "I am going to my friend Betsy's birthday get-together tomorrow, and I've bought her this little gift as a birthday present." "Candles! Candles! In this day and age of plentiful supply of gas and electricity! Why should your friend want a candle, of all things? Is it because she has not yet been hooked onto these essential utility services? Does she live in the great outback somewhere, absolutely remote from civilization?" Fredcat sounded quite scornful. "Hold on there," said Cathie, "as usual, you entirely miss the point. Perhaps it is because you are a male cat. Don't you know that we females like to live in attractive settings - have you never heard of the phrase "Soft Lights and Sweet Music" as the way to our hearts? In the main, we tend to dislike functional settings and if our menfolk won't cotton on and make our living quarters aesthetic, we have to do it ourselves. That's why we womenfolk buy fragranced candles for ourselves - and for our lady friends." "Weird," said Fredcat, "you can't eat candles, and they have a very overpowering smell. And what's worse - whenever the smoke from the candle gets too near the smoke detectors, they set the detectors off. And believe me, when that happens they make a fearsome noise! I truly believe that that was the cause of the shattering racket when the smoke detector went off last night!" "Nope, my friend, that was because Mr. B. forgot to change the battery in the smoke detector! Now that he's done that, all will be well. So there", Cathie corrected the argumentative feline. Fredcat sniffed haughtily, but conceded defeat (almost graciously).
"I know, I know, sorry about that," said Fredcat, disarmingly (and quite impolitely for him), talking with his mouth full, "but I was really famished and it seemed the simplest way to get the breakfast deal out of the way before we get started on the pact." "Well, today, I am tackling the lawns, and I will be starting with the back lawn," said Mr. B., "my sister, Jane, has given me excellent instructions on how this should be done. If all goes well we should be able to have a mid-morning snack in about an hour's time." "Sounds good," agreed Fredcat, and settled himself in the grassiest patch that he could find. He watched Mr. B. pulling long strings of threadlike grass from the rather poor excuse of a lawn and his eyes started to close. Well, the sun was rather warm!
"Now I remember," said Fredcat, disingenuously, "when I was young, my mentor Forby taught me how to catch rabbits; they were good fun to play with! I remember that we used to haul them in through the cat door, to play with them in the house - which was quite clever of us!" Mr. B. however was not to be mollified. "You, Sunshine, are supposed to keep rabbits, hares, squirrels and the like, away from the Fredcat Lawns and out of the Fredcat yards. You've been sleeping on the job and you'd better hope that the early morning breakfast was a good one, matey, because that is the last grub you get from me today. The pact is Off!". Oh dear ...
Today, however, was different. A sudden gust of wind, followed by a quick drenching rain, and Fredcat had been caught at a good distance from his residence, at the furthest edges of the front lawn. As a result he was soaked to the skin. "I need a good towelling down," he said, through what remained of his gritted teeth, "and then I will need something warm to eat, like a chunk of hot, restaurant-style, roast beef." "Fat chance," thought Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, "even I have difficulty in obtaining such luxuries, especially if it involves that grumpy Mr. B. putting his hand in his pocket." "Don't scream, or you might lose your voice," Cathie continued. "By the way, did you know that the famous Edvard Munch painting of The Scream has just been stolen - for the second time in ten years?" Fredcat looked on in amazement, "The museum couldn't have done a very good job of looking after it the first time around - nor the second," he chuckled. "Don't the art galleries, where famous paintings are kept on display, normally have excellent security systems to stop this sort of thing?" "Mmmm yes," agreed Cathie, "but I suppose that if an unarmed guard is confronted by a man wearing a balaclava helmet, and waving a gun at you, it might be prudent to stay back and do your best to protect visitors. I'm sure you would agree that if you were visiting an art gallery at a time of an armed robbery you would hope that guard would look after you before worrying about a painting, however famous it is." "Quite, said Fredcat, "but I am here, and I am still cold, and I am definitely famished, so ..." And, as usual, Mr. B. delved into the refrigerator and brought out some prawns that he had especially saved for himself and gave them to the complaining cat - it simply saved time ...
It was such a nice day: a little gentle breeze and no rain or dark skies. Mr. B. walked down the driveway. Fredcat quickly joined him and they made an incongruous pair as they reached the roadway. To the onlooker it seemed like they were out for a stroll together but cat lovers will know that cats rarely like to be taken for a walk - which was a right puzzle. Fredcat looked sharply at Mr. B., who had already passed the mailbox without looking inside, a very worrying sign. "Hey!" he called out, "I would really prefer it if you didn't walk out by yourself! And I'm not that keen on too much of this strolling. My little legs can't keep up, y'know." Mr. B looked at Fredcat, and said," Oh don't worry yourself, it's OK. Sometimes all humans need a little space to themselves and the day seemed so nice that I thought a walk would be fine, just to get some fresh air. We humans have much longer legs and can therefore travel for much longer distances than you moggies, you see. Don't worry," he repeated, "I'll be back soon." "Oh yes?" queried Fredcat, "I remember when you and Cathie once went for a stroll in England and were gone for what seemed like hours and I had to give the pair of you a right telling off when you returned. I've never forgotten that, so please turn round and come back inside." So the pair ambled comfortably back inside and Fredcat felt safe again. As soon as he was in the area of his feeding bowl he forgot all about Mr. B. and made his way to the meat dish. Mr. B. climbed the stairs happily, somewhat refreshed after his little outing. "Where's the plastic bag?" asked Cathie. "What bag?" said Mr. B. surprised. Good grief, thought Cathie, he's getting worse! But then, he's a man ..... But Mr. B. remembered quickly enough that it would soon be tea time and quickly went downstairs. "Forgotten the plastic bag, didn't you?" snickered Fredcat, "next time ask me, and I'll remind you before you go upstairs empty-handed." What a helpful chap ...
"My correspondent, Dana C., seems to like ginger cats," he claimed, and he strutted some more, bubbling with delight. Then his face fell and he turned to Cathie and said, sadly, "I believe some cat lovers go too far in looking after my feline friends. These folks start out with good intentions to save cats from the unpleasantness of the world outside but once the cats start becoming more numerous these humans lose control. Then the cats find that their home becomes overpopulated and if their saviours can't arrange to feed them properly the cats become ill, lose weight at an alarming rate and starve." "Come on, sweetie, let's think of nice things, no?" called out Cathie, "Here's one - you've had more readers requesting your bumper stickers! They seem to be quite popular." "I suppose in a year's time if enough people acquire a sticker there will be enough cars and trucks displaying them to have a First Annual Fredcat The Famous Bumper Sticker Reunion," smirked Fredcat. He immediately hopped around on top of Cathie's car, proudly showing off his leaping agility. He then looked at his paws and said in a crosspatch voice, "Hey! Look here! I've only been on your car for a couple of minutes and already my paws are covered in dust and bits of mud. "When ..." he asked politely, "did you last wash your car? My bumper stickers deserve to be on clean vehicles, you know." Without thinking, Cathie looked towards the grumpy Mr. B., but he stared straight back. "If you recall," he said, with stiff voice, "this is your very own car; you pay the taxes and dues on it, and it is down to you to keep it clean." Fredcat looked at Cathie and waited for her response. He knew that any time that Mr. B. thought he had put one over on Cathie, Fredcat had only to wait a few minutes before Mr. B. received his just deserts. "Don't worry," she crooned to Fredcat, "we have just this minute decided to go out to a very posh restaurant for dinner (Mr. B. doesn't know it yet, but he'll be paying - and I'll bring back some excellent beef for you!). During the meal, I will be listening politely to him as he decides exactly which new car he is going to buy me to replace the dirty one he lets me drive around in at the moment." Fredcat looked at Cathie cautiously. He didn't believe for a single moment that Mr. B. would take that suggestion on board. But never mind, hey, Cathie was a tryer - and God loves a tryer!
Ignoring this last instruction, Fredcat leapt under the bed as soon as The Man arrived. In any case, he had found that under the bed was an excellent location to start the day's dozing. The Man, accompanied by a reluctant Mr. B., tried to find a path for all the wiring essential between point A and point B for the internet connection to take place. And, despite Mr. B.'s best efforts to sabotage the work, The Man eventually stood up, smiling, and pronounced all was well. Cathie tried out the new connection and Lo! it all worked as promised. Mr. B. was also happy and he even promised to pay for it himself. Cathie was very suspicious at this seeming largesse until she realised that Mr. B. intended to use this new internet connection to listen to internet radio broadcasts about the Olympics all day (at high volume). "I have been listening to the Terry Wogan show on the BBC over the internet," she said, later, "and one of his correspondents has written in to say that the English language has been taking a bit of a battering from Olympic sporting commentators. One example Terry Wogan provided was of an Olympics competitor who had been "medalled" - which turned a noun into a verb. He also talked about an event being a great "watch" - which seems to turn a verb into a noun. "Such is the evolution of language," lamented Fredcat. However, Fredcat, being Fredcat, quickly brightened up. "Turning to matters closer to home," he continued, alert as ever, "I need to pop outside for my evening watch before I turn in - but I have noticed an alarming lack of best biscuits in my bowl. I need to stoke up on my foodstuffs before I take my stroll outside for an hour or so. The front doorstep is a great place to watch the world go by - but I'll have to split my concentration and keep an eye on you two in case you slip up and leave my bowl empty!" "I'll watch what you are up to," said Cathie, "so don't you tel me to watch it, my Feline Friend, or you will be watching the stars at night from outside the Fredcat residence - all night long!" "Oh .... OK," said Fredcat, for once at a seeming loss for words. He knew on which side his bread was buttered - and how to ensure that his bowl was filled, y'know!
Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, regarded her Special One closely. "Yup, my friend, it's now quite clear that you've weathered this storm well," she said, smiling thought gritted teeth. She loved him dearly but sometimes his vanity grated .... "No sign of coughs or sneezes, my figure is even more svelte than before (despite what Mr. B. claimed yesterday!) and I am running around, full of beans - and eating well," he commented. "If I could see myself in a mirror I would be well pleased, but unfortunately I'm one of the vast majority of cats that cannot manage that feat." "Goodness me! If you could see yourself in a mirror, we would never be able to get you downstairs for breakfast, you'd be admiring yourself so much," interjected Mr. B., "although that might save us a few dollars and cents on our food bills!" "Just a minute, just a minute" commanded Cathie, "let me look more closely at your fur." She ran her fingers down his white front. "Just as I thought, m'boy, you have some nasty thick knots there that must be removed. I'll have to get the spiky brush and groom you very hard because those knots seem very to be deeply ingrained. It's clear that you have not been keeping up with your personal toilet as you were taught when a young kitten!" Fredcat's world came crashing down. His ego had just been given a horrible jolt. He tried to put a brave face on it. "I expect that during my illness, especially when I lost all those teeth at once, I wasn't keeping my fur as smooth as I normally do." "Not to worry Fredcat," said Mr. B., brandishing a pair of very large and very sharp scissors, "these will soon hack off those knots." Fredcat recoiled in horror - cut off his beautiful white fur!!! Cathie quickly defused the situation, saying, "Stay well away, you ..., you ..., thing, I will deal with this," and she teased out and unravelled and brushed away all the knots in short order. "Hmmm, I see that you have also lost a little fur patch on the top of your head," she remarked, "I expect it's all those brambles that Mr. B. has allowed to grow unchecked in the back garden. I'll see that he gets to work with the secateurs first thing tomorrow." Fredcat purred softly. It was good to be back in the old routine, and he did feel even grander now that his fur had been properly groomed. He'd have no difficulty in keeping it in shape for the foreseeable future - he knew his fans demanded nothing less than purr-fection!
"Now that the Olympics are well underway you need to perk your life up with some exercise. I myself invested in an exercise bike some time ago, and I admit it is my only concession to fitness. But you, my tubby tubs, are doing nothing to stop the fat congregating around your middle!" And she gave the Famous One a brisk rub in that very spot, which caused Fredcat to leap briskly out of the way. "See, you can move smartly if you try," continued Cathie, "you now need to dedicate yourself to a particular form of exercise. I see that the four fastest swimmers in the world have had a much-advertised swim for Olympic gold in the 200 metres freestyle race. Why don't you try to emulate them? I know you hate water, but some cats are very adept in the briny and you are not too old to learn to swim. You might even be a challenger for a medal for swimming, yourself, one day!" she added. "Why are you teasing me like this," cried Fredcat, "I'm supposed to be your best friend, remember?" and he stalked off. "Well, how did that go?" said Mr. B., emerging from behind the TV. "Do you think he'll be shamed into a bit more exercise when it's you who are the one pointing out the facts of pudgy life to him? If it'd been me he would have ignored me completely." "I think I'll go after him and soothe his hurt feelings first," said Cathie, feeling just a tad contrite, "I don't want him to take this too much to heart, there must be a middle way." And, so saying, she slipped another piece of best beef onto a plate and walked briskly after her Famous Feline ... It wouldn't do to be too hard on him on day one of the Olympic Games, would it?
"The Sunshine State, Florida, is not very sunny right now," said Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, "I see that President Bush is touring the area to see what devastation has been wrought." "I wonder how many people have taken a chance and gone to Greece, the home of the Olympic Games to watch the 28th Olympiad which has just started. The weather there is excellent. Probably too hot for the cyclists, hockey players and soccer players but nice for the sailors, rowers and swimmers." "I have been considering which of the many Olympic sports I would be best suited to play," said Fredcat, somewhat pompously, "someone with my consummate skills would be a valuable asset to any team." "You!" scoffed Mr. B., "your little legs woiuld hardly reach the pedals of a push bike and you wouldn't have the strength to hold a hockey stick!" "Besides, which national team would you play for, the USA or Great Britain?" challenged Mr. B. Whilst Fredcat pondered the best answer to that, the grumpy one went on, "and isn't there an age requirement before you can even enter the qualifying trials for most of the sports? I believe that Cathie thinks you are only five years old which makes you far too young!" he added, triumphantly, "Ha! Hoist by your own petard." "There is one sport I could participate in with distinction," responded Fredcat, ignoring the previous jibes and drawing himself up to his full height, "I know I don't like the water much but I would be an excellent cox, I am so light at only 12lbs that my teams would gain a distinct advantage. Also, I dislike water so much that I would make my team row like fury to get to the winning line in record times." "Good for you, Fredcat," said Mr. B., "I like your spirit, but you do realise that winning teams often throw their cox into the water to celebrate their successes, don't you?. I'll make my way to the finishing line to see they keep this tradition going." And he went off smirking, whilst Fredcat sulked. One up to Mr. B., no? ...
"They certainly seem to be coming in with some rapidity," muttered Fredcat, "I got absolutely soaked when I went out this morning. I only needed to brush very lightly against the bushes and cascades of water gave me a right dousing." "Yup, we know that," replied Cathie, "because when you came back in, your fur was wet through and we needed a large fluffy towel to dry you out. Where is all this rain coming from?" "With your boasting of knowing everything via the internet, I'm very surprised that you don't know the answer to that," retorted Fredcat. "I have been busy doing mundane stuff for you, me laddo, like cleaning out your litter tray!" replied Cathie, with a sniff. "Anyway, I have just had installed another connection to the internet so that I update your diary entries from anywhere in the house - well nearly anywhere," she added cautiously (Cathie needed to be sure that she didn't exaggerate the facts in case that pedantic cat tripped her up). "So that means that I can both dictate and see my diary entries from all over the Fredcat residence," continued Fredcat, beaming, "I can race up and down the stairs and still see me wherever I go in the house." "I'm not sure what your point is, but we will let it go for the moment," said Cathie, "but just stay inside for a while until the weather calms down. That tropical storm Bonnie may be relatively mild but hurricane Charlie could be a bit of a beast." "No problem with that," said Fredcat, and settled down to sleep out the gathering storms whilst the humans got on with the chores. Lucky cat...
"Of course it takes time for the post to reach her," commented Fredcat, "but it is better to read about me a little late than never to read about me at all." He thought for a moment, "How does she get her shopping, if she cannot get out much? Do kind people help her?" "My goodness me, yes," replied Cathie, "it works like this. First GEB telephones her order to her daughter in the USA every few weeks." "That seems a long way round the houses, how does that answer my question?" exclaimed Fredcat. "Indeed it may seem so, but wait,"replied Cathie. "Jane is familiar with the type of goods that GEB needs and, armed with the food order, gets on to the English Tesco website. Jane places the internet order in the usual way, choosing a delivery date and time from those offered by Tesco, and then presses the Submit button. The order is usually arranged for next day delivery, unless it is a very busy shopping period." "Weird," thought Fredcat, aloud. "What comes next?" asked Fredcat, intrigued, an idea already beginning to crystaliise in his famous feline brain. "Well, next," continued Cathie, "the people of Tesco collect all the items together, the completed order is placed on the delivery van, and next day, Voila! the order is delivered direct to the door of GEB, who pays the driver." "Cool!" exclaimed Fredcat. "This whole process takes one international telephone call (4,000 miles to the US), an international e-mail order, (another 4,000 miles back to the UK), a personal shopper at Tesco's stores and a delivery driver to the door (say, 10 miles). It certainly is around the houses for a simple shopping order; this was undreamt of in the olden days." "That's the beauty of the internet," said Cathie, proudly, "it works very well." "Wonderful," said Fredcat, "I see that they can even deliver GEB's favourite packets of prawns directly to her door! Now that I understand how this internet shopping thing works, I can make my own purchases over the internet! Packets of prawns, slices of turkey, lots of beef chunks with juicy gravy - this will save a lot of messing around, I could even become independent of you humans as far as grub is concerned!" Fredcat left, chuckling to himself. Cathie, however, thought that it would be a while before reality set in. Without a bank account the Famous Feline would get nowhere. Pity, as Fredcat did mean well ...
"Remember, the garage is the only way in for the Famous One (he can't reach the keyhole in the front door!), and I don't want him ending up in the litter tray by mistake when he is trying to come inside." Fredcat chuckled to himself at this, his eyesight was far superior to that of humans and he could easily see his way around the garage - and even if he couldn't, his acute sense of smell would direct him well away from his litter tray! But he certainly wasn't going to tip Cathie off about his highly developed senses; he much preferred to listen to Mr. B. getting it in the neck from her to interject a comment at this juncture! "OK! I will fix the battery and replace the light bulbs," grumbled Mr. B., "but just let me finish watching this soccer sports broadcast - the game is at a critical stage." But it was then that the TV screen went blank. "Now what," said a very annoyed Mr. B. "I do believe a fuse has blown," said Cathie, "the junction box is in the garage, so as you are going out there to repair the fuse, you might as well take these two light bulbs to replace the broken ones out there whilst you are at it." Mr. B. had little alternative and soon he was up the ladder, fixing the lights in no time. But when he checked the fuse box to resolve the TV problem he found that everything seemed to be in order. Strange ... "I really don't know what the trouble is, perhaps we need to call in a TV repair person," he said, gloomily. "Fine," agreed Cathie, "but before you call someone, just fix my clock, it will only take a minute." Again Mr. B. was quick to sort out the problem, realising (almost too late) that he could watch the end of the game in the other TV upstairs. But lo, and behold! As soon as the clock was ticking away using its brand new battery the main TV magically burst into life. Fredcat and Cathie winked to each other conspiratorially; she had readily observed her Famous One flicking the TV switch back on. Being unobtrusive (such a useful feline trait, no?) can have its advantages, thought Fredcat, and anyway, he knew that one good deed for his Cathie would deserve another - and he was later proved correct on that score. Smart Puss!
Fredcat could bear it for no more than a few minutes, though. He had to speak. "What are you doing and why are you working so hard? If you go on like that you will have a heart attack!" Fredcat chuckled to himself; he always found great amusement whenever Mr. B. was found hard at work, especially when the Famous One was able to just sit and watch. "It's all the fault of your best human friend, Cathie," exclaimed a puffing and panting Mr. B. "She's decided that the deck would benefit immeasurably from the staining being refreshed - so I have the dubious task of staining it, all in one go if you please, to avoid a patchwork effect." "Mmmm...," he added encouragingly, "I wonder if you would care to assist me? I could tie a paintbrush to your tail and off you could go, you could work so much faster than me, and might even be able to draw some attractive designs on the decking as you go." Somehow, Fredcat didn't think that this would be a very good idea. What if, after helping out, the sneaky Mr. B. somehow forgot to untie the paintbrush? What if Our Hero was unable to add stain to the end of the paintbrush without getting his whole backside all messed up? That would never do! "No, thank you very much," said Fredcat politely, "but I will go inside and ask Cathie if she will provide you with some refreshment because it is rather warm for you out here." Mr. B. could hardly believe his ears, but he agreed readily enough. Soon the refreshment arrived - a lovely saucer of cream. "I do hope that this is to your taste," said Fredcat, but quickly hopped it as a circle of brown decking stain flew towards him from the end of the irate Mr. B.'s paintbrush. And as soon as the grumpy one had gone inside, Fredcat slipped forwards and mopped up the cream. No sense in wasting it. Clever cat!
"Why can't I get some peace and quiet? It's clearly holiday time!" muttered Frecat, "Children back to school in the middle of the summer when they might otherwise be playing in the sunshine - that seems a little harsh on them." "You don't have any children of your own to deal with," replied Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, "if you did you might sing a different tune. Just think of those mums and dads only too pleased to see their little ones sailing off down the road, allowing the parents to do a bit of sunbathing of their own." "That can't be right," said Fredcat, "these parents have jobs to go to, and the only benefit is a saving on home help as soon as their offspring buzz off back to school." "But, remember, Fredcat," replied Cathie, "it was only this last weekend that these self same parents and their children were taking advantage of the tax break system offered by the State for purchasing back to school items - surely one thing follows the other; buy the fun stuff and then use it back at school!" "Wow! I have just realised," exclaimed Fredcat, excitedly changing the subject, "that today is the last day of my enforced taking of antibiotic goo! In a way I am looking forward to this very last taste of banana-flavoured medicine, knowing that it will be the last time I shall be forced to sup it." "Well, as a tiny treat, I don't suppose that missing one last day will bear very much either way on your overall health," said Cathie, "so let's skip it and call it quits." Fredcat was overjoyed. "No more goo! And I'm also free of the symptoms of my illness - which is even more important. And I'm hungry like I used to be - even though I've had to learn a new method of eating, having lost four teeth." He obviously was extremely pleased with life. And so was Cathie, as she no longer had to dose her Sweet One. Life was looking very good for one and all.
"When I arrived at the checkout there were very long queues but as the shopping trolleys didn't seem very full I decided to wait in line. On closer examination, each trolley was full of a lot of very small items, each one, naturally, having to be rung through separately, so it took quite a long time to deal with even a modest looking amount of goods." "Was this true of all shopping items, like my cat food?" asked Fredcat, "It is very considerate of the North Carolina State folk to help me out in this way." "No way," laughed Cathie, "this is a device to give parents a chance to save some money before their children go back to school. The tax breaks refer to school supplies like books, pencils, a world atlas and the like." "Though, in the spirit of modern schooling there are apparently tax breaks on certain computing items - including some items which presumably could have school and personal uses." "I bet a lot of bright sparks will be shepherding their parents into those aisles," quipped Fredcat. "So, if you have made some savings on buying goods while the tax break is on, then you must have had some cash left over, and ...." Here Fredcat stopped and looked appealingly at Cathie. It was that anguished look which is familiar to all parents, the "What's In It For Me" look. "We'll see," replied Cathie, enigmatically. She too had been round the block a few times. "First, though, there is the small matter of antibiotic goo, then, as I have said, we will see ...." In the end of course, Fredcat got his treat. Famous Cats always do.
"Going to Texas sounds like a nice idea," agreed Fredcat, "because to the east of North Carolina the winds and rain of hurricane Alex have made a bit of a mess of some of the beach areas here. You'd have to wait for several days before the emergency services have finished clearing up the beach area. There are a lot of unhappy holidaymakers who cannot get to their favourite swimming beaches, you know." "Are you interested in joining me?" his friend enquired, hopefully. The reply came swift but polite, "I'd rather not if you don't mind; every time I get in a car (call me suspicious if you like) I always seem to end up at the v*ts." Fredcat looked at the garden and wondered why people went on holidays at all. "If you live in an area which is pleasant enough to attract holiday visitors, isn't a good place to remain in, and not go off to places new where things might not be so great?" he queried. "You miss the point," said Dr. Ken. "I like to get around and see things anew; to stay in the same place all the time can be a bit tedious, I like the adventure of travel from time to time." "Tedious! Boring! With me here!" said a startled Fredcat, "I think that I am far too interesting for my friends to leave me and go on holiday, but if it regenerates your enthusiasm for looking after me when you return then that's fine by me. Off you go! But remember to bring me back some goodies."
Fredcat continued, full of bonhomie. "I think that I should undergo a re-branding," he said, "I have been Fredcat the Famous for some time now and I have enjoyed success - although I must admit that my VP of Marketing (also known as my best human friend, Cathie) thinks that it is too soon for me to be re-positioned in the marketplace." "Re-positioned in the market place!!! I can think of some new names for you, my boy" interjected the smarmy Mr. B., helpfully, "how about Fredcat the Fluffy. Every time I see you drying off after being caught in a heavy rain shower, like yesterday, I get the impression of a giant ginger fluffball." Mr. B. went on, his tiny mind gathering speed, "I rather like Fredcat the Fatty, every time I see you lumbering up to get an extra dollop of prawns, I can't help thinking of a waddling wombat, and what about Fredcat the Fussy since you inevitably turn your nose up at anything in your bowl that's more than ten minutes old." But, as usual the grumpy Mr. B. had gone too far and Cathie quickly came to the Famous One's aid. "I think that if you are to change your name as part of your global repositioning, remodeling or rebranding (!!!) of your image, you might consider Fredcat the Fearless to emphasise you stout-hearted nature or even Fredcat the Ferocious to underline your valour in battle." "Ferocious! Fearless! Valour! What tosh, what nonsense - he's more like a Fearful Flop to me," snorted Mr. B. but, seeing the gleam in Cathie's eye he quickly decided to make a cup of tea, but not before he passed another dollop of antibiotic goo to her for administration to Fredcat the Famous. One has to take one's victories where one can with Fredcat, after all.
As it happened Fredcat had spent most of the day outside. Even though his best human friend, Cathie, had disappeared off to work he didn't want the sneaky Mr. B. trying to administer the hated banana-flavoured antibiotic goo on his own. Later when the workaholic Cathie returned, Fredcat asked her what she was eating. "These are Jelly Babies; they are very sweet, and they have come from England - Jane very kindly brought them back for me after her recent visit." "Babies! Jelly Babies! Jelly Babies?!?! You eat Jelly Babies!!!" cried Fredcat in disbelief, "What are you - some kind of monster?" "Give over with the histrionics," replied Cathie calmly, "they are only sweets, candies, like I said. They were first made in 1918 to celebrate the end of the first World War, and they were then called Peace Babies. Shortages of material meant that they could not be made during the second World War, but they started making them again in 1953 when they were then called by their present name, Jelly Babies. Bassets make over a billion of these every year, so lots of people apart from me eat them and no harm is done." Fredcat sighed with relief. "It's all in the name, you see," said Cathie, "long ago when you were just a tiny kitten, some marketing people decided to change the name of a popular brand of chocolate sold in England, called Marathon. They decided to call it Snickers - it was the same chocolate apparently, just as nice, but simply called by another name. Well, guess what, Fredcat - it now appears that that a different lot of marketing people in the same company have decided to cash in on the Olympics to be held shortly in Athens, Greece, and rename Snickers Marathon again. Cool, eh! What's the phrase - plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose ... or, what goes around, comes around. And don't get me started on Opal Fruits and their new name, Starburst!" "Do they get paid to do this?" asked Fredcat, with great interest, "if I rename shrimps as prawns, will I get dozens of packet of prawns?" "I think someone has already thought of that," said Cathie, "the tasty packets of prawns you love so much are actually labeled Canadian Shrimps!" "Canadian! Not even US American then, so foiled again, I see," muttered Fredcat, "but I really don't mind so long as I get my full share," and off he went again, to investigate his prawn dish in hope and expectation.
"Actually," commented Fredcat, with a very annoyed grimace, "I was caught on the back lawn when it began to pour down. It's no fun, I can tell you, trying to leg it up the back lawn with rain pelting into my eyes. I certainly needed all my wits about me to avoid drowning out there!" "Yes, we noticed that the Fredcat had turned into a dripping, watery cat," said his best human friend, Cathie, "I'm glad you shook all the wet stuff off before coming into the inner sanctum." "It is raining cats and frogs," Cathie continued, as she looked outside, slightly muddling the phrase to suit the situation. "I don't care for the cat illusion," said Fredcat, "but there are quite a lot of frogs around, and they make a huge racket when they start up. "I see that Paul McCartney is re-issuing his famous Frog Chorus song again," said Cathie. "Did you know that he comes from Liverpool - where I was born? Although I was born a long time after Sir Macca," she added, hurriedly. "Can you sing the Frog Chorus?" asked Fredcat, "Why, yes," said Cathie, pleased. "It begins, bom, bom, bom ..." "I'd rather you didn't," said Fredcat, unkindly, "I think I'll wait for the revamped Sir McCartney version," and off he went, bom, bom, bom-ing the refrain to himself.
"This is all very inconvenient," grunted Fredcat, "you're not giving me the ghost of a chance of catching these little birds." "Too darned right," said, Cathie with feeling, "I want to watch them fly about, not watch you interfere with their lifestyle." "Lifestyle! What lifestyle?" snorted Fredcat, "they fly in, eat a liquid lunch - conveniently provided at no cost to them - and buzz off without so much as a decent Thank You!" "Rather like you and your lifestyle then," retorted Cathie. "Totally different," scoffed Fredcat, "I bring a lot of love and laughter into people's lives, not like these whizzkids winging in out of our blue Carolina skies." "They fly so quickly that nobody really gets to see them much," he continued, "some observers say that they can fly at speeds of up to 70 miles per hour (or is it 70 kilometers per hour?) but, either way, it's very fast. They are very aggressive and territorial too! One whiff of another hummie in the area and there is an immediate d*gfight (pardon my terminology) until one of them backs off. It's not as if they sing - or even warble badly; their tiny throats are far too busy eating." Clearly the Fredcat dander was up. "There's no sport in that for me at all," he continued, barely stopping for breath, "I like a good clean scrap with a fair chance!" "Now listen here, Fredcat," said Cathie, beginning to lose patience, "these birds have to eat the equivalent of half their body weight each day, and when it is time for them to migrate they have to stock up to fly over 500 miles without stopping before arrive in warmer winter climes. I bet you couldn't even walk 500 yards without needing to stop for refreshments." "Refreshments! Ah, there's a thing," said Fredcat, "all this chattering and I am forgetting my manners. Thank you, Cathie, for the grub I am about to consume," and off he went with a martyred air. "And about time, with the food!" he thought. "Wow! What an arrogant moggie!" she thought. And do you know what? They were both right. |
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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.
