Booster shots for Steady Eddie Large image

Fredcat was feeling just a little contrite. On opening his Fredcat e-mails (he receives quite a few, you will not be surprised to learn) he discovered to his surprise (nay, shock) that he had received a rebuke from one of his human friends, Marg. She thinks that I ought to stop being such a mean kitty and be more friendly towards Edison, he mused; perhaps my best human friend, Cathie, isn't planning to kidnap the little chap and bring him here to supplant me after all.

Later, whilst chatting to Cathie, he remarked that, "I think I will quite like this Edison fellow, but I will definitely call him Eddie. Mistole has already started to call him by this monicker and I will follow suit. Eddie had to have his booster shots today and I'm only too glad it was he and not I at the v*t's office. I don't like going to the v*t, at all. Ugh!" And the Fredcat head was given a sudden shake as if he had just been invited to drink some nasty-tasting medicine.

"Come to think of it," he went on, "I will invite Eddie to join my Fredcat organisation - but in a junior capacity, you understand." (And if, dear reader, any of you thought that this is merely a Gang, then think again, this is a fully fledged Organisation with proper chains of command. And so forth. And all that. Etc.)

"Now then, as Eddie is only four months old (and we have to rely on the Save The Kitten folk for that information, as Eddie's mother wasn't around to confirm the details - rather like my mother, in fact!) Eddie will have to start at the bottom and work his way up the corporate ladder. Some of my best agents have gained years of experience and one cannot push newbies too fast and too far." He sounded well pleased with his decision and asked Cathie to let Mistole know of it, soonest.

Christmas is coming! Large image

The humans had been shopping for ages. When they finally returned, Fredcat was torn between acting as though he didn't care about the length of time they had been away, and displaying his desire to know what they had bought for him. In the end, curiosity won!

"Before we get to that," said Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, "I have to tell you that I met an old friend of yours, Mistole, who tells me that she's been adopted by a cute little black kitten, named Edison. I'm going to see him this afternoon, so do you want to come with me? Here's a photograph of him." Cathie had this huge expectant grin on her face.

Preparing for the Sales! Large image

The last twenty four hours had gone well. Exceptionally so! Fredcat had feasted on turkey and leftover turkey as if it were going out of style. No high ranking politican, no captain of industry, no lord nor lady of the manor, no fashionable gourmet could possibly have been better fed or more lavishly entertained than was Fredcat the Famous over the Thanksgiving holiday break.

Fredcat' best human friend, Cathie, had sung and chatted to him until the Fredcat's ears had hummed with tunes and the Fredcat brain was dazzled. He had (almost) forgotten the ill-fated notion of a local holiday home and was now looking forward to spending the rest of the holiday weekend at home with his human friends.

So, as you can imagine, he was a mite peeved when he saw the humans starting to get ready to go out. "What are you going to do today?" asked Fredcat, "it's a bit too cold outside to go for a walk, and you know that I hate it when you shove off and leave me in the Fredcat residence all alone, just to go walking."

Thanksgiving at last! Large image

Today was Thanksgiving and Fredcat woke up deliriously happy. This was going to be a memorable day in the Fredcat calendar. He beamed to himself and decided that he would grant Mr. B. an extra fifteen minutes lie-in in bed. It would almost be like a birthday present. No, no, hang on, he thought to himself, better make it five minutes; it wouldn't do to set too generous a precedent, and he was very hungry, after all.

On top of that, he hated the number fifteen, this was way past the number nine he was just about familiar with, and five was a number that his best human friend, Cathie, loved the best.

Thanksgiving Holiday preparations Large image

Today it rained - all day. There are worse things than persistent rain to an indoor/outdoor cat, but not that many. Fredcat paced from front door to back door, somehow expecting to see the rain cease by the time he reached each doorway but, alas, it was not to be. In fact he was so put off by the drizzling conditions that even the thought of fresh food in his food bowl was not sufficient to make him happy. "Fix it!" he pleaded to Mr. B. - in vain.

Not that the grumpy Mr. B. was any the happier. There were so many things to do prior to Thanksgiving and he wanted to go out shopping but couldn't leave the mighty mouser alone. The latter was clearly unhappy and goodness knows what mischief he would get up to if left on his own!

The couple looked at the TV together. Rain all day today and rain all day tomorrow was the forecast. Mr. B. knew that he had to sidle out somehow without Fredcat seeing him. On the other hand, Fredcat knew that Mr. B. had to sidle out of the Fredcat residence without Fredcat apparently knowing what was going on. How was Mr. B. going to finish the crawlspace for the big Thanksgiving surprise presentation to Our Hero, if the Grumpy One were stuck inside because of the persistent rain?

At last Mr. B. got to his feet and said, "Look'ee here, Fredcat, I can't stay in any longer, I must go out shopping as I have some very urgent matters to attend to. You'll just have to look after yourself for a while."

Maintaining the lawn Large image

After yesterday's good news about the crawlspace, Fredcat was feeling very upbeat. He looked at the WRAL TV station weather forecast which promised a warm but cloudy day today - with rain later. He wondered if Mr. B. would get on with the secret preparations for Fredcat's new crawlspace holiday home. There should be plenty of time before the expected rain.

He watched Mr. B. carefully, but the latter didn't seem at all in a hurry to go shopping. In fact, he was doing housework, cleaning stuff, emptying and then filling the dishwasher and putting more stuff away. How irritating! After a while Fredcat spoke, "Will you be going out shopping today? There's plenty of time before the rains come."

Mr. B. looked at Fredcat suspiciously, and thought to himself, "What's he on about? Why does he want me out of the house? What mischief is he planning?" Aloud he said, "I have to stay in because the grass maintenance men are coming today and I need them to do some special work on the front lawn, particularly around the side near the crawlspace door. The ground there is a bit churned up and I want them to ensure that the grass there is lush again after all the trampling that has been going on."

Fredcat could hardly believe his ears. This was fantastic news! Not only had Mr. B. laid a new path with attractive pavers but he was going to make sure that the area right outside Fredcat's new holiday home was covered with long green grass, available for the gourmet Fredcat to enjoy whenever he ventured forth from his new holiday living quarters. He positively purred with delight and gave Mr. B. a long nuzzle, leaving a lot of ginger and white furry hairs on Mr. B.'s trouser legs - which fortunately was not immediately noticed.

Crawlspace Holiday Home Large image

With the weather back in the 70s again, the troubles over the non-working gas fire became but a distant memory and Fredcat strolled outside to partake of the mid-morning sun. Earlier, Mr. B. had obliged Fredcat with a decent breakfast, and then had shot outside - to do some work, he had said.

It was going to be another great day and Fredcat stretched all four of his legs luxuriously. Much earlier, Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, had left for work, joining those other lost souls who are starting - as she put it - another week of toil for the greater glory of mankind - and to bring home some much needed cash to pay for Fredcat's meals.

There was a muffled noise at the back of the house. It was there that Fredcat found Mr. B. who was furtively carrying out some work by the entrance to the crawlspace. Fredcat watched the perspiring human at work and it suddenly dawned on him that had misjudged the Grumpy One. Mr. B. was making a walkway into the crawlspace for Fredcat! Yup, that had to be it - there could be no other reason.

Mr. B. had cleared away the rubble leading to the doorway, laid sand and cement and had almost finished laying some concrete pavers. They made an interesting pattern (although to the Fredcat eyes their colours appeared a muted contrast as his colour sensory abilities were less acute that those of his human companions). Fredcat lay down and watched from a distance as the Grumpy One carefully fitted the pavers together. At last Mr. B. stood up, declared himself satisfied, and made his way back to the house for a well earned drink.

Heating restored at last! Large image

Dawn broke, bright and clear, in the Fredcat household, apart from ... "You did WHAT?!" howled Fredcat, "you actually forgot that the gas fire repair man was coming this morning? You only made the appointment last night! How could you so quickly forget an appointment made for this morning???" He stared at Mr. B. and gave him withering glance after withering glance, culminating in a shake of the famous feline head and, for good measure, shot another stare at poor Mr. B.

Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, joined in. "I think you're ageing more quickly than you realise - you'll forget your head next!" Oh, very droll, thought Mr. B. privately, this criticism is becoming very mundane, these folks really ought to learn some new phrases like - "Dear me, you are a stupid idiot" - or maybe not ... He started to daydream as the pair of malcontents alternated caustic comments.

"You'd better sort it out, sharpish," thundered Cathie, at last, and stalked out of the room, head held high. "Ditto," said Fredcat as he, in turn, stalked out of the room, tail aloft. So Mr. B. set to sorting "it" out and, before the day was out, the kindly gas fire repairman was back, a cheery smile on his face. "Been having trouble?" he asked. "Yes! And the gas fire won't start, either," said Mr. B., thinking more along the lines of trouble from living entities, rather than from propane gas fires.

Half an hour later, when the fire was working normally, with Fredcat's fur beginning to lose its protective fluff, Our Hero asked, "What was the fault then? Was it something really complicated?" Mr. B. coughed and said, "Errr, not really, it's all down to a tiny little spring, you see. It simply became rusted and the valve to let the gas flow didn't open properly, and so ... no gas fire for the Fredcat."

"So all this waiting around was on account of a tiny little spring?" said Fredcat. "I'm sure you could have bought a spring from the hardware store for a dollar - or less!" Mr. B. shifted uneasily. "It's not like that at all, Fredcat. And we've have decided to leave the little spring where it is, for the time being. The gas fire repair man gave the machinery (where the spring is located) a few hefty bangs and the rust dropped off the spring and now the gas fire works fine! He showed me what I have to do it when next it acts up."

Fredcat looked at Mr. B. as if the latter were crazy. "You mean you have to give the gubbins a hefty whack with a spanner when it goes wrong? This is just like they do to Coke and Pepsi machines when they don't deliver! This sounds so odd that it's almost believable." And off he stalked, shaking his (slightly warmed-up) head. Hmmm ...

Investigating the crawl space! Large image

"Hey, did you know that there's a crawl space under the house?" Fredcat asked his best human friend, Cathie. "I never knew it was there - and I've been living here for over four years! I think you humans have been keeping this important information from me deliberately." Fredcat's eyes were flashing with annoyance. "You know very well that finding new places to explore (and even have a quiet sleep in) are part and parcel of my raison d'etre. Why was I kept in the dark about this?"

Cathie was a bit surprised to hear Fredcat talking about the crawl space, "How did you find out about that? Did that Mr. B. unlock the door and leave it unguarded for you to creep in?" She was now the angry one and she immediately sought out that labourer to give him a piece of her mind. "How come you let Fredcat wander around under the house, I don't want him frightened," she said.

Mr. B. straightened his aching back and said in a calm and reassuring voice, "Lookee here, Fredcat often goes out of a night, hunting mice and other nocturnal creatures until all hours, whilst we are asleep. He is extremely capable of creeping around in the dark. You should have no fear of his wandering around in the crawl space, he is after all fift... errr, five years old which is a sensible age for a cat. I was there all the time, the crawl space light was on, and he was quite pleased to discover everything inside. He was just annoyed that we humans had kept the big secret from him for this length if time. That's all".

Now this was quite a long speech for Mr. B., especially in the late afternoon when all he wanted to do was slouch in front of the TV. Cathie was, for once, stunned into a respectful silence. Fredcat looked at her with a worried frown, it was not like her to have nothing to say - perhaps her carefully considered response would come later. But he took a quick decision anyway, "Is it OK for me to have another look around the crawl space tomorrow?" he said, at last, thinking that it was a good idea to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak.

Cathie nodded her head, "Just so long as you have Mr. B. with you at ALL times," she said at last. "You'd better tell me all about it afterwards," she added, "but right now you need to give yourself a good clean, BOTH of you," and she stomped off kitchen-wards. Fredcat and Mr. B. looked at each other, and winked. Ohhh - treachery in the Fredcat residence ...

Blankets needed for the Boy! Large image

Despite the best efforts of Mr. B. the gas fire refused to light. The pilot light was burning brightly and the tank was full of propane gas but there was no gas fire to warm the Frecat hindsides. Fredcat was getting desperate. "Don't tell me that it's 32 degrees F out there," he raged, "I know that inside the Fredcat residence it's definitely 0 degrees C. The thermometer never lies." He thrust one of the many thermometers he had recently bought in Mr. B.'s face to prove his point.

"Sorry, matey, said Mr. B., "this fire just won't start, I've tried pushing and rotating all the buttons, but it's no go. We'll just have to consider alternative ways of keeping warm. For a start, I'm just off for a brisk jog around the houses. I think you should do something similar." And without more ado, he trotted off down the path.

"Where is my best human friend, Cathie, when I need her?" wailed Fredcat. "No wonder she was keen to get into her car this early morn, switching on the heater and sailing off to a brightly lit and WARM office. I bet she keeps the heating control up pretty high today!" he added gloomily. "I think I should have carried out some consulting work for her, like doing an analysis of all the rodents that they have around her at work. That shouldn't have taken me long and would leave me with plenty of rest in between assignments. Isn't that what all consultants do?" he added to himself, mischievously.

Heating by degrees Large image

Fredcat was feeling the cold. "Isn't it time that we had the central heating on full time?" he suggested, "I know your personal control temperature system is up the spout right now but we felines need all the warmth that we can get. Look at my fur - it's fluffing up so much around my neck that I'll soon look as if I am wearing a ruff!"

"Fair enough," replied Cathie, "'t'will be done," and she turned the central heating control up several degrees. "How's that?" she enquired, "feeling warmer?" But Fredcat only shook his head and made upward circling motions with his front paws indicating that Cathie increase the temperature still more.

"Why can't we have the gas fire on?" he said, "All you have to do is flick this switch. The pilot light is already on and the gas company supplied us with a full tank of propane gas only a week ago. I just love sitting down next to that fire," and he drifted off into one of his little feline dreamy sequences.

Cathie flipped the switch, several times, but nothing happened, and soon the Grumpy Mr. B. was called in to do some magic with the apparatus. "That isn't working," said Mr. B. after trying all sorts. He then called various people for assistance but nobody could help out. The glass cover was soon removed and littering the floor and Fredcat, on waking, began to investigate the little space under the grate, wondering if that could possibly provide him with another one of his sleeping places.

"No, Fredcat, no!" cried Cathie, in alarm, "that's a dangerous place to go, you might set yourself alight, or worse still, gas yourself!" She stopped to gather breath, "It's all your fault," she yelled to Mr. B., "don't leave dangerous things lying around, else Fredcat might get hurt," and she grabbed the fearless feline and gave him a quick cuddle. Men ..." she griped again. Mr. B. just stood there, mouth open.

Contemplating my visitors Large image

Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, was browsing through the internet. Fredcat was sleeping, as usual, with his head lying inconveniently on the left hand side of the keyboard. Suddenly Cathie spotted a great website and Fredcat was smartly shifted to one side as instructions were rapidly typed in.

"What's up?" demanded a startled Fredcat, "you know full well that I am one of quickest (if not the quickest) in the animal kingdom when it comes to moving from sleeping to being fully alert, if need be, but I prefer to rise and shine at a leisurely pace, if you don't mind." He tried to hunker down again but to no avail.

Missing specacles Large image

Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, was not happy. "Has anyone seen my glasses?" she said. "I don't mean the glasses one drinks from, I mean my spectacles." Mr. B. was busy hunting for them as well and soon the Fredcat residence began to look as if a tornado had hit it, with possessions beginning to pile up everywhere. The humans scurried from one room to the next, as they conducted their searches.

Conducting was not the right word of course, it was more of a frenzy as the humans glowered at each other, saying things like, "I've looked there!" and, "When did you last have them?" and, "Don't you trust my ability to search a briefcase?"

"It's all your fault," fumed Cathie, "if you hadn't kept that bedroom closet in such a state this would never have happened." Now quite a lot of human males have had this type of apparently inconsequential statement thrown at them at some time during their lives. On each occasion the unfortunate male has to mentally take a step or five, to get at the underlying issue.

"I'm sure the closet has nothing to do with your losing your glasses," said Mr. B., a trifle unwisely. Being an old hand at this verbal game, he understood the rationale behind Cathie's comment. It was just a method (unfortunately invariably successful) to pin the blame on him.

"Look, Fredcat likes the closet to be in a mess," he said, "it's a wonderful place for him to kip when his other beds get a bit used. There was no need to clean it up at all, and if your glasses got lost in the cleaning, well that would be just bad luck. In fact I don't understand why you had them with you during the cleaning anyway."

Fredcat smiled at this. It looked as if he was going to get some nice new, clean beds when this argument was over. There was going to be a bit of a spring clean in the Fredcat residence, organised by Cathie, but carried out, under instruction, by Mr. B. The new cleaned up closet would provide new, clean bedding for Fredcat. And also, Mr. B. would soon be making another rumpled mess somewhere else which would provide additional sleeping quarters. Pity about the specs, though ...

Deductible Support Large image

Fredcat turned the card over and examined it carefully. "This is from the Vietnam Veterans of America (VVA)," he said. "They want us to denote some of our old clothing and all sorts of other household items. These will be sold to raise funds to support local, state and national programs," he continued, "That sounds like an excellent idea!" "We can easily raid Mr. B.'s closets and dump as much of his ancient clothes as we can. He hardly dresses like a real butler, does he?"

"His wardrobe is stuffed full of suits and shirts which he was wearing at least ten years before we emigrated. They must be well past their sell by date by now."

"What about your wardrobe, my friend," said Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie. "You have hardly any clothes to donate. Don't start to give away other folk's clobber - if you don't mind."

"I have a HUGE pile of fur that's been brushed off me - I'm sure that could be spun and knitted into a fine afghan-type jumper," Fredcat cried, "nobody around here appears to be up to that type of work anymore. Let's have a look at your wardrobe then, Cathie!" At this, Mr. B. jumped up and brightly offered to help. "I've always wanted to have a peep inside your wardrobe - just to see how many dresses you really have," he said, his eyes gleaming with pleasure at the prospect of catching Cathie out. And before anyone could stop him he sailed rudely into the Cathie closet.

"He stopped in amazement and cried, "Wow! You've a huge selection of clothes here, you won't need to buy any clothes for years and years," he said, with satisfaction. Cathie glowered at him.

"All this stuff," she said dismissively, "is so old hat. Look! I wouldn't be seen dead in any of that!", and she immediately swept two rails of dresses to the floor. "I can't fit into this lot," she said roughly, and swept most of the remainder onto the growing pile. "and these are the wrong colours, these are too short and these are too long, and I will never wear that one after you spilled drink all down the front at that party. There!" she said, at last ...

Veteran's Day or Remembrance Day? Large image

The humans in Fredcat's residence were gathered around the TV. "There are a lot of veterans wearing uniforms and in parts it's all very sombre, isn't it," said Fredcat, during a break in the programme. "But why has this day been given different names like Veteran's Day or Remembrance Day?" "It's all a matter of culture, I suppose," said Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, "but I can assure you that it all comes to the same thing. Each country honours its war dead in slightly different ways. The main Memorial Day events will be occurring this coming Sunday."

Fredcat shivered, and immediately broached the subject of the his own human friend's mortality. "Who'll get me my grub when you pop your clogs?" he demanded, jumping in where angels fear to tread. "Will you arrange to have someone in to give me my daily ration of beef and provide me with a constant supply of chucks under the chin?"

"What!" exploded Cathie, "I'm not in the military, and I'm not personally fighting anyone at the moment, so I really don't qualify for a place in this memorial process. And, I might add, my little chickeroo, I'm not dead yet! Also, if I do go, who knows, you might have to cope all on your own with Mr. B. looking after you. Think about that, if you will!"

Wedding DVDs make good mementos! Large image

The DVD of the wedding had arrived and Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, was settling down to watch it. It had only just begun to play when Fredcat strolled by and demanded attention. He did this by leaping up onto Cathie's lap, and briskly starting to groom himself. "Fredcat," said Cathie, crossly, "there is a time and a place for everything, so hop it right now. I want to watch this special DVD of David and Laura's wedding, and you make a better door than a window. This is a special US version of the DVD and I want to watch it in peace, if you don't mind."

Fredcat moved, but only to a new vantage point on the arm of Cathie's chair. "Am I in this DVD?" enquired Fredcat after watching it for some time with growing irritation, "I see that my friend Treacle has been filmed not once but twice already, although she wasn't doing very much - just hanging around it seems to me." Cathie didn't answer this somewhat jealous comment, being totally absorbed with the activities on the screen.

"Look! there I am," she exclaimed, and pointed her to her image on the screen. "I'm wearing a hat, just ... there," she said, and patted her head absentmindedly. Hats weren't her favourite accessory but this one looked good. In fact she was so absorbed with the details of this beautiful wedding that she had forgotten to ask Mr. B. to turn on the air conditioning unit and he was able to relax in a spot of comforting warmth for a change. "Look," she continued, "There I am, walking along ... Look! Look right there! Do you like the suit I am wearing? It's pink, you know, because the wedding has a pink theme ..., "she mused, to nobody in particular.

"Did anyone cry at this wedding," asked Fredcat, feigning an interest at last. "I understand that people do have a little weep at weddings, although I can never understand why folk cry when they are happy," he continued, "everyone knows that my own expressions never vary whatever my feelings."

"Actually, yes!" said Cathie, ignoring the self interest that Fredcat was trying to bring into the conversation. "I did spot one lady having a little weep, but that is to be expected of course. One wouldn't be human if that didn't happen at a wedding. These wretched cameras can easily catch one unawares and there it is, captured for all posterity. It was a beautiful wedding, you know, and they made such a lovely couple ...", she trailed off, lost once again in the events unfolding on the screen.

"The one thing I cannot get to grips with," said Fredcat as he prepared to move away. "is why, when weddings are all about the bride, are all the speeches made by men? They only have a supporting role to play but they all rabbit on and on and on, as if the show were all about them!" But this only elicited a nasty glare from Cathie, so Fredcat wandered off, whilst Cathie prepared to watch the DVD all over again. "Women!" Fredcat thought. "Cats!" Cathie thought.

Entering the cooler seasons Large image

On Sunday morning, Fredcat woke Mr. B. at 6 am. First a quiet meow, then a much louder meow, then a leap onto the bed, culminating in a nuzzling of the Grumpy One's head, and a VERY loud purring in his ear. Mr. B. had tried to pretend he was still sleeping, but it was to no avail. Fredcat had long since learned the difference between a truly sleeping human and a pretend one.

"Come on, get up and feed me. It's very cold this morning and I need to replenish the food stocks in this famous body of mine," our determined friend cried, almost piteously. And although Mr. B. clearly couldn't care less about the state of Fredcat's insides at six o'clock on a Sunday morning, he knew that it was easier and simpler all round to give into Fredcat than to prolong the annoyance of all that nuzzling and noisy purring.

"You know, Fredcat, you sometimes act like a very young child, with your incessant demands to be fed at inconvenient hours," said Mr. B., as he watched Fredcat (through slitted, bleary eyes) scoffing down his very early breakfast. It's not right, you know. I need my sleep just as much as you need yours. Why can't you be a little more considerate and wait until a decent hour before trumpeting your wake-up call? You're no longer a young'un and you know the rules that operate at weekends."

"It's all down to my best human friend, Cathie," remarked Fredcat, between mouthfuls. "We've been talking about the long hours she spent feeding the baby because some male in the household claimed that giving the baby his bottle in the middle of the night was no job for a man. I reckon that for you to lose a few precious minutes of sleep on a Sunday morning can't be that bad." He added somewhat wickedly, "I suspect that she reckons it's a bit of a payback!"

"But why now?" demanded Mr. B. "Is it because her recent birthday gift wasn't up to scratch? If it's your way of suggesting that I change my mind about allowing another cat into the Fredcat residence, then forget it. Your inveterate reader, the esteemed Mr. J. de F., already believes you to be the re-incarnation of his dear departed cat, Tinker, and I cannot have a multi-re-incarnated cat living with us. One is quite enough."

"Nope, it's nothing to do with you, actually," said Fredcat with a superior air. "It's all to do with the changes in Cathie's life. Haven't you noticed that now that autumn is rapidly heading towards winter, central heating and air conditioning units are being switched from one to the other at breakneck speed? It's just one of those things, I understand. Something to do with her age ... Now, my Grumpy One, just open the front door and let me through and you can return to bed. I will wake you up in an hour's time for my second breakfast" With a sigh the Grumpy One complied and then crawled up the stairs and back into bed.

Planting daffodils! Large image

Fredcat the Famous was really lording it today. He was sunning himself, reflecting in the glory of his hat trick mouse-catching achievements. "There are always a lot of folk out there who get hat tricks in soccer, in cricket and other sports," he said, "but few, if any, of these glorious sportsmen and women can outdo the Famous One at catching mice!" Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, looked at Our Hero swanning around the living room and suggested that he ought to be a little more tactful in boasting of his achievements. "Look here, Fredcat, you may be smart in the mouse catching arena - but you cannot plant bulbs," she opined, sweetly.

"What's so clever about planting bulbs?!" demanded Fredcat, "all you have to do is dig a hole in the ground and bung in a bulb, and then repeat that a few hundred times - and, bingo! In the spring the bulbs come up, flower for a while, live for a while, die down and then come up again the next year. And so on. Rinse and repeat, as it were. Big deal. And you think that Mr. B. is going to get praise from us for doing that? No chance!"

"Well, I like to see daffodils in the spring, so there," said Cathie sniffily, "they look so colourful and they'll give me a big boost, when I come home from work, to see a sea of yellow daffodils wafting in a gentle breeze. It's almost romantic."

"Fredcat looked at her in alarm, "You sound as if you are going a bit potty! And just over a few flowers!" he cried with a worried look, "we're not having an addition to the family are we?" But Cathie glared at him so fiercely that he quickly changed his tack. "I've noticed that my Hallowe'en pumpkin seems to have gone walkabout," he said at last, "Has the Grumpy One ditched it? Remember it's my very own personalised pumpkin, and I want to keep it for next year."

"Sorry, old sport," said Cathie, "pumpkins don't keep that long, I'm afraid. Anyway, Sherry-Berry, a friend of Jane's, makes pumpkin pie and as your pumpkin hasn't been carved yet it's ideal for Sherry-Berry to make pies from. So we shipped your best and only pumpkin round to her house this afternoon. Tough luck, my friend. But I've bought an assuaging packet of biscuits you can try out instead." And, my goodness, Our Hero tried out said new biscuits out without a murmur. What a surprise!

Bonfire Night! Large image

Today is Bonfire Night in the UK. Unlike in England, Fredcat is able to safely roam the outside world on November 5th, knowing that he will not be subjected to a constant barrage of noise, riotous screams, fireworks and bonfires! Fredcat looked around his current world with contentment. Here he has everything a cat could wish for - well nearly everything. The TV and internet provides information and his best human friend, Cathie, provides more affection that any cat could ask for as well as ensuring that Mr. B. does the necessary with regards to the provision of decent food and water (and sometimes a drop of milk - not cream please).

As he watched from his vantage point on the top of the steps he heard the rustle of tiny feet again. This was great, he thought, another night of hunting beckoned. A short time later, success was his as he stepped noisily through the cat door, prey held tightly. But nobody was around to greet and praise him. Where was everyone?

Fredcat quickly raced upstairs and dropped his catch on the study floor. "MEOW!, MEOW!" he yelled with that plaintive, but very loud, call that humans recognise as a "Come hither quickly, and see what has I have done!" summons. Mr. B. obediently came hither.

"Come off it, Fredcat," he complained, "three mice in three days is a bit much. Can't you quietly, er, dispose of these poor hapless creatures outside, do you have to bring them inside and then make that racket?"

"That's the point," replied Fredcat, "my genetic makeup ensures that I attempt to teach you humans how to catch mice for yourselves. I really don't know why you can't chase and deal with them as I do; I've been trying to teach you that for fift... five years now and still you act dumb." Fredcat didn't seem at all pleased with response he was getting.

But help was at hand. "My, what a wonderfully clever chap you are," said Cathie, giving him a big cuddle, "a hat trick of mice! I will ask Mr. B. to remove your latest triumph and we will raid the larder whist he is doing the disposal job."

"Now this was a much better response," thought Fredcat as he quickly followed his best and only Mum to the kitchen ...

Searching for that disappearing mouse Large image

The humans in the Fredcat residence were glued to the TV set, as were many millions more around the globe. Every word that the pundits mouthed were gobbled up by hungry minds ears awaiting the result of probably the most significant election the world has ever known. Nobody was actually ready to wait for the result (of course) even though the result would shortly be announced. It appeared that everybody wanted voting trends to be confirmed before they all trooped off, exhausted, to bed.

Fredcat was distinctly unimpressed, "You've not even voted," he exclaimed, "you are not even allowed to vote, so why the deep interest?" Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, started to reply but realised that it would take too long to go over the ramifications of the election results (even if she knew them). Fredcat was living in a world apart. She turned her gaze back to the TV.

Ten minutes later there was a clatter in the hall as Fredcat emerged through the cat door. He was carrying something which squeaked very loudly, and which protested all the way to the living room. "Where did you get that mouse, Fredcat?" said Cathie, jumping up quickly. "You know you are welcome to bring any of your friends to visit, but I suspect you are in a pretty playful mood and I'm not sure if that little mouse appreciates being your playmate!"

Mr. B., on the other hand, was surprised that Fredcat was still demonstrating his mouse-catching abilities! Fredcat was currently in his element, playing with his new friend, allowing the mouse to slip away before chasing him again. Actually the mouse was giving Fredcat quite a run for his money and didn't seem to have been harmed. Indeed, the mouse twice stood on his hind legs - as if to fight off his tormentor (which, of course, made Fredcat even more playful!)

Then suddenly, the mouse disappeared from view as a large upturned wastepaper bin descended over him, trapping him inside and away from the sharp Fredcat claws. A sheet of cardboard was slid under the bin and the whole was lifted high in the air. Fredcat knew the mouse was around but, much to his disgust it had completely vanished. Something was going on .... The front door was opened and closed and footsteps faded into the darkness.

When Mr. B. returned there was a warm welcome for Fredcat and lots of praise for him from Cathie. Time for a special tea, again, she murmured, prawns appeared and the mouse was forgotten. The mouse in all probability would not survive the night but as least he would be left in peace. The humans turned their attention back to the TV and the election. Peace reigned in the Fredcat residence once more.