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But before he could reply, Mr. B. came into the room and settled himself, grumpily as usual, into his favourite chair. "How about you?" asked Cathie, sweetly, "Have you had a good year?" The Grumpy One just glared at her and sighed. "How can anyone say they are having a good time when the TV man has just taken away a large part from the insides of the big TV. Look, the outer casing has been left but it's only a useless hulk, with no working parts." He stared at the TV hoping against hope that it would somehow burst into life. "My, you are miserable," said Fredcat, "but if losing your TV is all that you have to complain about, then you are a lucky person indeed! Having no TV does have its benefits," he continued, "now you can talk more to us!" Cathie perked up at these remarks. The prospect of more talk and less TV appealed to her. No incessant TV sports channels droning on about stupid ball games! A huge benefit! And there were so many important topics she wanted to raise with Mr. B. - now would be an excellent opportunity to broach them. But before she could get into her stride, Fredcat said, "Hold on, you asked me whether I had had a good year. And I have. My diary is going very well, I have had so many feline friends (and many humans) sending me interesting comments throughout the year. I have bullied Mr. B. into doing some simple technical stuff (even he can do that!) that supposedly has made my website more readable. Look at some of his earlier awful attempts to place my diary on the internet. I know it isn't a work of art even now, but it has improved over the year." Fredcat was in full flow by now. "I do like the pictures that we manage to insert on the daily diary, mostly of yours truly (of course) because I suppose I am a bit arrogant when it comes to it. But I do allow pictures of other cats - if I like them. And I have answered all my correspondents - and that cannot be bad! I have also dispatched quite a number of car bumper stickers to my friends - all for free, of course." He went chattering on before Cathie could stop him, "I've been read by visitors from over 92 countries - plus some visitors from countries which my ISP cannot track for me. And there have been about a quarter of a million views of the various pages on my website. A quarter of a million!!!! That's a lot!" Fredcat looked chuffed. He'd never fully appreciated the potential of his website (or "blog" to those clever clogs who know these things). Cathie was becoming a little cross at all this feline boasting, "When you look back at all the things that have happened to you, you won't feel so smug. Do you remember the time when you were rather unwell and had to take all those medications? Come to think of it, even I had a spell of illness this year," she added, under her breath. "Oh dear," said Fredcat, "life is such a miscellany, isn't it? And I did write more Fredcat Tails stories about my hero (surprisingly called Fredcat the Famous - hah!). One was about the wedding of David and Laura which was a great occasion." "OK, before I get maudlin, I think I'll stop here and wish a Happy New Year to all my correspondents, visitors and readers, and hope they liked my little diary (not to forget all the "links" therein - which Cathie finds for me)." "So, Happy New Year to all!" Fredcat said, and curled up on Cathie's lap and went to sleep until 2005.
"But, surprisingly, it was bad. It was very cold indeed outside and Fredcat quickly decided that he would check out the indoor bathroom facilities for a while. While he was contemplating his choices in this area it started to snow again but almost as quickly stopped. Cathie was worried as she needed to go to work the next day, but it soon became evident that the snow would not melt away in time. With no snow tyres (tires??) and no de-icer for the sharply sloping driveway, there was nothing for it but to stay at home and look out at the wintry landscape. Later on more humans and their children brought out their toboggans and proceeded to make the roads even more slippery. They had great fun sliding, spinning out of control and generally falling over. The children soon discovered that there was insufficient snow to make snowballs; the only thing they could do was slide on the extremely slippery road until they fell over (as many soon found out, to their cost). "You're not a very good planner," frowned Cathie to Mr. B., "where's is the bag of Ice-Melt stuff that people keep telling me about, then? A bit of that thrown onto the driveway and I'd soon be on my way to work." This rather irked Mr. B. and Fredcat heard him muttering to himself something about someone being on their way all right - if that was all the thanks he was getting, mutter, mutter, mutter. But it all got a bit lost in translation, or so it seemed to Fredcat. Luckily the snow didn't last long and Fredcat soon found himself free to visit the great outdoors once more and sit on the front doorstep. Cathie went off to work and Mr. B. settled down to watch his favourite sports programmes on TV - until the TV broke. Fredcat will tell you about that tomorrow as it really is a problem and, unlike the vanishing snow, wouldn't fix itself. Oh dear ...
The fact was that Fredcat had indeed been given a large plateful of turkey meat for his midday lunch and a further helping of cold turkey at teatime - and a further helping for his bedtime snack. Plus, on Boxing Day morning he turned up his nose at both the proffered tin of cat meat and the offering of honey baked ham (neatly sliced) and had vociferously requested (demanded!) more turkey meat. It was at about this time that the Grumpy One began to voice his objections. "That cat," he said, loudly, "is having more festive turkey than yours truly, there's hardly any left and I see that you have earmarked the rest of it for the self-proclaimed Mighty One." He ground out these last few words through gritted teeth. Cathie's sole reply was a veiled reference to Mr. B.'s waistline compared to that of the svelte Fredcat - causing Mr. B. to fall silent in very short order.
"Look here," said Cathie, "we are all so lucky to be living here, out in the far east there are tens of thousands of people whose lives have been devastated by the terrible tsunami. How horrible it is for them. Just think about that, Fredcat?" All three living entities in the Fredcat residence stopped their mild bickering and thought of the suffering of the humans on the other side of the world, whilst Fredcat turned his thoughts to all the animals who were also suffering. "All in all, we are very lucky folk," repeated Cathie, gravely, "but I suppose we can only do what we can do." And on that enigmatic and sombre note, Fredcat closed his diary for today.
To start at the beginning, on Christmas morning there was a quick breakfast for all then it was down to the business of opening all the parcels and packages. The wrapping paper was so soft, not only to walk on or roll around in, but to mess with, generally. The humans seemed far more interested in the contents of said packages but they clearly missed the point of the brilliantly-coloured wrapping paper. To a cat with such colour-challenged eyes it was a real pleasure to see such brightly-hued reds and greens instead of dull mangled plaid colours. "I just don't like plaid," muttered Fredcat to himself, "it's far too fussy for my taste." But his attention was quickly diverted away from plaid-ish thoughts when Cathie passed him a parcel saying, "This is for you!" It was special Christmas food! And then came more goodies. A bouncing Canadian toy, Canadian Christmas biscuits and even a red ribbon cat collar with five bells on, to tie around his famous throat. "I'm not sure about this collar," the Famous One started to protest, but with a bit of strong-arm help from a grinning Mr. B. the ribbon was tied firmly into place around the Fredcat neck and the camera was produced for the historic picture. (On a historical note, Dear Reader, in all his born days, Fredcat had resisted the idea of collars and ribbons, and here he was, the foil in a "fait accompli", wearing a red collar with bells on.) Good grief! How was he to creep around doing his hunting tasks with all this palaver around his neck? But as it turned out the collar wasn't so bad after all. The photograph turned out very well and Fredcat insisted that it take pride of place in today's diary. How's that for a U-turn, then? "Now, Fredcat," said Cathie at last, when all the gifts had been opened, "time for your promised treat." At this Fredcat was swept up by Mr. B. and carried to the hallway onto the floor above. They stopped by the secret door to the upper reaches of the Fredcat residence. Cathie opened the door and together they all climbed the stairs until they reached the secret floor above. "This is the attic for you to explore," said Cathie, and Fredcat was set down.
He then suddenly disappeared behind a pillar and there was no pitter-patter noise to indicate movement. "Oh no!" immediately wailed Cathie, "I knew we shouldn't have let him come up here, he must have fallen down into the eaves, we will never find him, he will be completely lost, he will be a Christmas ghost haunting our house for all eternity." But no sooner had she stopped talking than Fredcat reappeared and continued to walk to the far end of the attic - where even Mr. B. on his hands and knees couldn't reach him. But Fredcat evidently found the attic to be less than interesting and was soon back at the top of the stairs ready to go back downstairs. "Very interesting, but I much prefer the warmth downstairs if you don't mind," he said, and all three soon found themselves back in the hallway below. Fredcat turned to his best human friend, Cathie, and said with a grin all over his face, "Many thanks for that, it was the best Christmas present of all. I have now explored the crawl space under the Fredcat residence and the attic above, and my understanding of all is complete!" And then he settled down for a sleep, saying that he'd dictate more about the rest of Christmas Day tomorrow. Zzzzzzzzzzzzz .....
Inside his residence, Fredcat could definitely smell turkey. After a brief scout round he found it lying on a large platter but as he went to investigate it more closely (purely in the interests of quality control, you understand) he found himself confronted by Mr. B. who advised him that the bird was not ready to eat. "It's been in the freezer and we have to defrost it properly before cooking it. But don't worry, it will be ready for the Fredcat insides tomorrow," he said, with a comforting grin. Fredcat sighed, this about turn by the Grumpy One was hard to fathom; was it a seasonal trait? "Perhaps I should call you the Grumpless One," he said, and turned anew to his diary. "This must be the most awful day of the year," he said to Cathie later, "none of the humans wants to talk to you like on a normal day, all the children have been told to go away and play, everybody is rushing hither and thither, there is only the TV to look at and the net result is that I AM SO BORED!" Cathie looked at him in alarm. "Look here, Fredcat," she admonished, "this hiatus is only for one day. Surely someone of your massive intellect can find something productive to do! Go and search out an amusing link for your diary. Indeed, it wouldn't harm you to send a Christmas greeting to all your Fredcat the Famous friends either. Take that message from that nice lady Dana, for example, she always writes such interesting letters to you, why not post her a reply using your e-mail? I'm sure she would like that. And remember, her name is Dana, not Diana, Princess of Wales!" Fredcat paled, "But she's sent me a Hawaiian greeting Mele Kalikimaka and Hauoli Makahiki Hou! With some assistance from the internet I was able to learn that it means Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year - which is very nice, of course. I'm very glad that my readers can understand English though, as it make it so much easier to write to them all," he said happily. "And look," he continued, "here's a very interesting link! Look at all these dancing robots, they are quite amazing." Fredcat thought for a while. "Do you think these robots will take over the world?" he said, "they look pretty impressive to me ...." He stopped day-dreaming and finally pulled himself together, realising that he needed a sensible and informative link for his readers. "Now this one's nice," he finally said, "it's a picture of a Christmas setting and one can learn a little about Christmas at the same time. Now that that's done I think I'll have an early night - but first I'll finish off these dry biscuits (hint to Mr. B.!) and I and my best human friend, Cathie, and the temporary Grumpless Mr. B. all say Happy Christmas to all my readers. See you sometime after Christmas!"
But his enthusiasm turned out to be misplaced. The parcel was for Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, and she swept it up with glee. "I need to open this immediately and make sure everything is properly wrapped with Christmas wrapping paper," she said, "so that all items can be placed under the Christmas tree in good time." Fredcat and Mr. B. looked at each other, they knew that Cathie's statement was a little wide of the mark but they were both too polite to challenge the accuracy of her claims. But right away, Fredcat realised that he had missed one critical element of gift-giving. True, Mr. B. had kindly brought home the presents Fredcat had chosen and they remained hidden at the back of one of Fredcat's favourite sleeping places (where, hopefully, Cathie's prying eyes were unlikely to spot them over the next few days). But Fredcat hadn't wrapped them! "Mr. B.," hissed Fredcat, with concern, "I have to get those gifts I bought for Cathie wrapped and write labels on them or she won't know they came from me; do you have any spare wrapping paper and labels that I may borrow? I need to do this urgently, there isn't much time left. I didn't realise that these additional processes had to be gone through - this is all very tricky for an inexperienced feline, you know. And it's even more tricky if one hasn't opposable thumbs if you see what I mean." He really was in a bit of a pickle, Dear Reader. "Not to worry, smiled Mr. B. "I guessed that you would be concentrating, quite rightly, on the actual selection of gifts so I made sure that there were sufficient accessories available to suit your needs." He smiled inwardly to himself, and felt vaguely smug. "What do I write on the gift label?" said Fredcat, Happy Christmas to Cathie"? He looked appealingly at Mr. B. who frowned as if to say that that message was too short - brusque, almost. "OK," said Fredcat, "let's try again. How about To my best human friend and Mum, Cathie, who has looked after me so well for all these years and who is always so adorable and friendly to Little Me. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year and PS, I hope you like the bottle of perfume and cat book (even if it doesn't have much in it about me)?" "How about a compromise," suggested Mr. B., "I'm sure Cathie would love to see that message which says everything that is in your heart, but you may have gone a leedle bit over the top with your second try. And it is usually thought a good thing not to let on what the present is - doing that rather spoils the fun." Fredcat agreed, and revised his message. The parcels were wrapped, labels neatly written (courtesy of Mr. B.) and placed under the tree where they joined others already snuggling there. Fredcat could see his name prominently displayed on some of them and wriggled his four sets of toes in turn, with anticipated enjoyment. Christmas couldn't come quickly enough for him. And the final form of the messages to Cathie on the labels, Dear Reader? Tut! Tut! Some things must be considered private you know. See you tomorrow.
"What?! With whiskers like yours!!! I think not, Fredcat. Even if you did dress up it would be hard to see everything from your, er, height-challenged perspective," cautioned Mr. B. "I think the idea of dressing up is good but why not peruse the offerings in the shops from a comfortable viewpoint - tucked up in my winter coat? There's enough room at the throat to allow you to peek out and, with a suitably placed scarf around your head, you could pass for a, um, little human. Now that would work," the Grumpy One continued, "I could move from shop to shop at speed and all you would need to do would be to whisper directions whenever you saw something you particularly wanted. OK?" And Fredcat agreed. Fredcat kept his eyes tight shut on the drive to the shops and didn't complain once about being in the car. They were quickly inside the mall and the Fredcat eyes were soon popping with delight. "There are coloured streamers and balloons everywhere," he exclaimed, excitedly. "And Christmas music, and tinsel, and Christmas decorations, and there is Father Christmas (Santa Claus) for the very little ones, and, and, and .... Wow! Even pets can have their photos taken with Santa!!! But, err, of course, I'm absolutely not a pet, so just take me to the perfume store, I know that my best human friend, Cathie, always likes to have a vial of something scented for a present. How much can I afford to spend? May I get a credit card?" he asked. All these sentences ran together and the Fredcat front paws scrabbled excitedly at the scarf covering the lower half of his face in an effort to see more clearly. "Calm yourself," warned Mr. B. "I'm not sure whether cats are allowed here in the mall (even famous cats), but we'll continue regardless - just as long as you behave yourself. And no, matey, famous or not, there'll be no credit card for you!" The smell at the perfumery counter was overpowering and Fredcat gasped for air, "I don't think I can stay here for long," he said, "everyone is trying out all the offerings and the scent is way too much for my super-sensitive nose. Be quick! Buy one for my present to Cathie, and let's leave or I will lose all my sense of scents." "Look, I'm told there is a smashing Barnes and Noble bookshop around here. Let's go there as well, Mr. B. I promise to be extra quiet." So it was back to the car and on to the bookstore. It was quiet there even though there were scores of people browsing. "Let's go to the cat book section," demanded Fredcat, and soon Mr. B. was standing in front of dozens of cat books of varying sizes. "Do any of these books refer to my amazing exploits?" demanded Fredcat, sotto voce," I would like to know just how often my name appears in print." "To be perfectly frank," replied Mr. B., "I doubt if your name is mentioned anywhere here. On the internet there are plenty of places where you will find your name but in published books here, nary a one." Fredcat shrugged as if to say, "No problem as far as I'm concerned - I'm famous everywhere anyway," but he reached out a paw and picked up a nice glossy cat book for Cathie - with pictures of cats from around the world. "This will do as an emergency backup present for Cathie," he added hastily," I'm feeling very festive towards her. I know she loves all cats but I can afford to be generous as I know she loves me best!" And he purred happily all the way home and didn't meow once. Good Fredcat, the perfect shopper. And he has mastered the art of travelling in the car, too! I bet that won't last ...
"Well, today, December 21st, marks the official start of winter around these parts," said Cathie, "but maybe Mother Nature got it a bit wrong this time around (which, maybe, was the reason the internet wouldn't work properly this morning!). It's simply a bit of a glitch in the normal weather patterns and it will right itself by the end of the week, you'll see. Of course in some parts of the world this is the start of summer and in places like the Australia and New Zealand they are thinking about sunbathing over the Christmas break. Why even in the south of the US there live millions of people who have never seen snow and to whom snow at Christmas is just a marketing ploy to get them to spend their pennies on snowy Christmas cards and to buy a 'fiery deer' for Christmas," she added with a grin." "You mean no ice, no cold winter winds, no snow even," said Fredcat. He looked around him and shivered once more. "Way back in England, the weather this time of the year was just like it is here right now and I'm not sure if we've done the right thing by emigrating if we have to suffer this lot." "Look, Fredcat," said Mr. B., "there's no snow here (at the moment, he added, under his breath!) so what are you getting worked up about? Let's hope that we miss out on the 11" of snow we had here in recent memory. Trust me! It won't happen," he finished, "you've nothing to worry about, it'll all turn out fine! It'll soon be spring. Meanwhile, why don't you help me write some labels for these Christmas presents?" "I've not bought any presents this year," lamented Fredcat, "and I need to get out of the Fredcat residence for that, I can't do it all on the internet." And Fredcat looked so downhearted that Mr. B. took pity on him and said, almost without thinking, "I'll take you shopping tomorrow if you like, and you can choose something nice for Cathie." As soon as the words left his mouth, Mr. B. wished he had kept quiet, knowing of Fredcat's aversion to cars, but to his surprise Fredcat leapt at the idea and immediately began making plans. This could be exciting ....
The doorbell chimes pealed out and Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, leapt to answer it. "More guests," mused Fredcat, not knowing whether to run and hide or walk out to greet them. But no, it was just a kindly looking young man in a leather jacket handing over a large set of boxes to Cathie, saying (indistinctly) words like, "Ta for the tip," and "Have a good day," and even "Merry Christmas." What was going on? "Grub up," said Cathie, "gather ye round for a Pizza Hut slice of pizza; we have lots to choose from today". It didn't take a genius to spot that food, hot food! had arrived and the guests and the hosts were soon tucking into chunky slices of grub. Fredcat was distinctly miffed. The humans were ignoring him as they ate their food and guzzled their accompanying drinks. "Hold on a minute," he said at last, "what about Yours Truly? There seems to be much seasonal feasting going on and yet the most famous one of all here ..." (and here the Famous One banged hard on his glorious chest with his left paw) "...has been decidedly left out in the cold." He glared all around him and tapped his chest once more. "Me!" he reiterated, loudly. "Look if you're cold, get a bit closer to the fire," suggested Mr. B. helpfully, "we've turned the gas fire on today to make sure everyone is nice and toasty warm on such a winter's evening." He continued, "Although a close-matted fur such as yours should protect you against feeling cold." There was a murmur of assent from some of the male guests but the ladies were more sympathetic. "Look, Fredcat," started Cathie, "these pizzas are very spicy and I'm not sure if they would suit the Fredcat constitution; it wouldn't do if you were to be up all night as a consequence of eating the wrong type of food, would it? Sometimes we humans like to eat food that is not suitable for cats, for a number of reasons, and we have to draw the line somewhere. I'm sorry but that's how it is". At these words, and before tears could begin to spill out of the Fredcat eyes, Cathie was picking him up and taking him over to his feeding area where, like magic, there was a special dish of warmed, grilled turkey laying in wait for him. "See, we didn't forget you, Fredcat," she said kindly, "you'll be far better off eating this platter." And he was!
"Men are so difficult to buy presents for!" exclaimed Cathie, quite forgetting her English grammar lessons. "You ask them what they would like as a Christmas present and all they mumble about is something to eat, something to drink or anything to do with their cars. Hopeless," she muttered, completely ignoring Fredcat who was dancing anxiously from paw to paw. "Why don't you do just that," suggested Fredcat, "go and buy a bar or two of chocolate, a bottle of cheap white wine and some wax to clean his precious car. That should settle things for you, and it will get him out of your hair while he does the whole car waxing thing." Actually Fredcat was quite pleased with these suggestions, and he preened himself, sitting rather inelegantly with one leg stuck high in the air. This advice lark was quite easy, he thought.
"You know, Fredcat, said Mr. B., with a grimace, when the bow was finally in place, "I do find women very difficult to buy presents for," he said. At this Fredcat forbade to correct Mr. B.'s English grammar, and instead sat still for a moment. How best to tackle this? Mr. B. was clearly concerned about the present buying issue and he had to tread carefully in responding. "I do sympathise," he said at last, "it must be very hard for you to get the right present for Cathie, even if you've known her for a long time, buying what you think is the right present for them only to find that the colour is wrong is upsetting. And if you buy an article of clothing that is too large Cathie will shout at you with words like 'Do you think I am that fat' - or alternatively - 'I haven't been able to get into that size for years, don't you know anything about me?!' You can't win," nodded Fredcat and he again sat back on his haunches and began another bout of grooming, with yet another leg perched inelegantly in the air. He purred with pleasure. He had the certainly mastered this advice-giving lark! "I don't want your sympathy, Fredcat," roared Mr. B., his face becoming blotchy. "I'm looking for concrete suggestions and all you can come up with is some pyscho-babble about sympathy. You really are the limit." And he staked off. Fredcat was perplexed and decided that it was all too much to fathom out. At least both humans agreed on one thing and that was a steady supply of grub for the Fredcat bowl. Thank goodness for that! Mmmmm, food ....
But the doorbell had been ringing so frequently recently that Fredcat found himself chasing from one room to another all day until he finally begged the question to his best human friend, Cathie, "What's going on? Why don't you just stand by the open doorway and collect all these parcels instead of this constant doorbell racket?" he demanded, none too politely. But Cathie was oblivious to his pleadings. "Look, this one is a parcel from your friends in Canada," she said, "and in this large one are goodies that I have ordered from an online store in Ohio. They sell lots of British goods that we just can't find locally. We ordered some stuff because it's Christmas - we couldn't afford to do this all the time, you understand." She carried the latest parcel into the kitchen and began to open it. "Are all these parcels for you, then?" asked Fredcat, "I only ask because you seem to open all of them and Mr. B. doesn't seem to have any mail at all!" This last statement brought a faint pink flush to Cathie's face, and she turned away so that Fredcat wouldn't notice it. She coughed a few times and mopped her brow. "Now listen, Fredcat," she began. And it was at this very instant that Fredcat suspected something; perhaps it was Cathie's manner, or the inflection in her voice, or her conspiratorial tone, but he knew something was amiss. Cathie continued, "When parcels arrive at the Fredcat residence it's up to the lady of the house - me - to deal with them, to whomsoever they are addressed. A sort of Triage investigation if you like. That way, there will be no errors as to the parcel's final destination," she continued unabashed, having repeated herself several times. "Hold on a minute," frowned Fredcat, "either you know what should be in the parcel, or the parcel's contents are listed on the side anyway! Is it therefore entirely necessary for you to open and inspect each and every one? I've been particularly interested in the fact that sometimes you have opened a parcel and have immediately taped it closed again. Is that because you're afraid that the contents might be incorrect?" "Exactly," replied Cathie, with a firm voice, "it would never do for an intended recipient to receive an item which was, shall we say, of the wrong colour or size, or just wrong! Better to change it at an early stage, you see." Actually Fredcat didn't see at all, but the explanation seemed to satisfy Cathie, and Mr. B. was too dim to recognise what was going on. So Fredcat slipped back under a low table to await the next peal of the dreaded door chimes. But it was late and, in the end, he simply fell asleep. Best thing really, all things considered ...
Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, was also patiently awaiting the end of the call, but for different reasons. "Go on, tell me the latest news," she said. "It's nice to hear from someone in England. I'm always anxious to keep up with news from the country of Fredcat's birth." "Gossip, you mean," said Mr. B., but he was smiling, so Cathie kept silent. Fredcat thought about this for a long while. Coming to the US was fine and dandy but his ties to England were inevitably strained and in some case severed. He thought of his old nemesis, Thomas, who use to chase him around Fredcat's own English garden! In fact Fredcat thought Thomas was a bit of a bully but Thomas thought Fredcat was trying to take over his, Thomas', territory. Fredcat thought that he had every right to his own territory; as it was, after all, part and parcel of the Fredcat UK residence. But Thomas thought that he had been in that particular garden first (admittedly it was next door, but cats are very territorial) and so the argument and scrapping had continued for a few years. On reflection Fredcat thought that the world at large had many instances of the same thing happening over and over (like the cattle men and sheep herders in the US of yore) but he found it all very difficult, so eventually he decided to just stop thinking about it. "It would be nice if folk were more, shall we say, peaceful, towards each other," he said at last. Cathie jumped, as she hadn't been able to follow his line of thought, being preoccupied with the latest news from the UK. "I fancy some hot buttered crumpets," she said at last, "and it appears that it is singularly impossible to buy them in the US. Muffins - yes, crumpets - no." Fredcat was equally startled. "What is Cathie wittering on about," he mused. "Here am I, considering world wars and territorial takeovers, and all the time, Cathie is pining for stupid crumpets. I will never understand this hankering for UK food, unless it is something tasty which suits my palate." And so both Cathie and Fredcat went their separate ways, thinking about different things, whilst Mr. B. settled himself in front of the TV, content that he had been left in peace for a while. "Life sure can be funny," he chuckled. Oh, yes ...
Cathie remarked that, "I saw and heard some carollers from one of the local schools singing in the nearby mall. Quite brought tears to my eyes," she admitted. "When I was young we children used to band together to go carol singing, partly because we liked it but more likely because we used to knock on the homeowner's door at one stage in our performance, in the hope and expectation of some Christmas pocket money with which to buy Christmas presents. Some homeowners were every generous but others couldn't wait till we departed." She smiled, and said, "The usual ploy was to sing one verse of a well know carol, start the second verse and immediately rap on the door, hoping that someone would open it before the end of that verse. This was because we usually didn't know more than two verses of any carol! If they didn't open the door then we legged it to the next house, not wanting to waste good carol singing on no-shows... A band of singers was best, but two of us could just about do it if our voices were loud enough." "And were they loud enough?" asked Fredcat, with a suspiciously innocent smile on his face, "I bet if Mr. B. were part of the group the homeowners would quickly open the door, give him some money, and a scolding, and pack the group off as quickly as possible." And here Fredcat gave a passable imitation of a foghorn, chuckling to himself. "I've noticed that you've been particularly hard on Mr. B. in recent times," said Cathie, "and it's got to stop. No more treats for you, my lad, if you don't desist." "OK," replied the Mighty One, "but please tell him that I can't talk with my mouth full, if you get my drift!" And Cathie, smiling did get his drift and while Fredcat filled his mouth and the rest of his insides, she sang him a practice carol, thinking of the Christmas delights to come.
Fredcat called to him from some way off, and Mr. B. wondered just what the problem was. He found the Famous One sprawled cosily, dead in the centre of the unplugged electric blanket which had been tossed unceremoniously to the floor when the bed had been stripped. The (one-sided) conversation was fairly precise, and ran as follows: "I would like it very much if you would keep the singing and whistling down as I'm trying to sleep. I see that you have a winter sweater on. Well, I, unfortunately, don't have that luxury, so will just have to stay here to try to keep warm. Meanwhile, will you please turn on the electric blanket (not too high a setting, if you please), and close the door quietly behind you on the way out. Thank you, and by the way I will be down for my afternoon tea, promptly, at 3 pm". Mr. B. dutifully left the room, and was halfway down the stairs when he realised just how much control this feline seemed to have over the Fredcat household. The supercilious tone was now way over the top and Mr. B. began to wonder what was the use of a cat which seemingly slept all day. He noted that one of Fredcat's correspondents, Susan L., had recently sent him a poem written by Edgar Alan Poe's cat, which showed the deviousness of his fellow creatures. But, thought Mr. B., Fredcat didn't write poems, or catch ravens (or any other birds for that matter). And he hadn't caught a mouse for ages, ever since his hat trick of catches of a month or so ago. Does Fredcat have any actual uses then, he mused.? He later suggested as much to Cathie, starting out with the words, "Fredcat costs a lot in upkeep, is unreasonably demanding, sleeps a lot, doesn't catch anything and when not sleeping, seems to demand more and more meat and biscuits. As a cost-center cat he falls well down the list of efficiencies and best buys." Mr. B. smiled in a self-satisfied way, pleased that he had put across a pretty convincing case. "Maybe it just needed a few graphs and a slide show, and I'll would soon have that lazy so and so out of here," he thought. Later, when washing up and carrying out a host of emergency spring cleaning in all the upper rooms, listening whilst Fredcat and Cathie were billing and cooing in the living room in front of a nice warm fire, he wondered what had gone wrong with his presentation. Was it his forced supercilious grin? His absolute certainty that he'd covered all possible avenues of Fredcat's escaping his predicted fate? Nope, it was all down to the fact that Cathie had demolished all his arguments with a single glare. Ah well, he'd have to try harder next time. More practice was clearly needed.
Just at that moment something hit the Fredcat back and he started visibly. Was this rain? Or snow? Fredcat was not a lover of either form of water, and he inwardly grumbled as he hopped aside. The Fredcat residence had been decorated on the outside with all manner of items and at first Fredcat thought that he had been assaulted by some balloons or Christmas fairy lights but no, all he could see was a leaf on the ground. It wasn't doing anything other than being entirely inert. It just lay there. It was a large, multi-coloured, but mostly golden-hued leaf and Fredcat sniffed it with vague interest, but it didn't respond. Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, came out of the front door and sat down beside him to give him a stroke and to have a chat. She picked up the leaf and remarked, "You know, leaves falling is part of nature's re-cycling process. It's a complicated system but it brings good results. Some trees and shrubs are already full of new buds for next year's growth," she added, "but of course the evergreens are naturally, er, evergreen." "I see that there are only a very few leaves left to fall," observed Fredcat, "and they're the ones at the very tip of the tree, why is that?" But Cathie couldn't, or wouldn't answer, being absorbed with the beauty of the fallen leaf. "Does this process apply to all manner of living things?" asked Fredcat, showing a wisdom even beyond his years. "I'm just wondering if the teeth I lost a month or so back, might be part of that rejuvenating process, I could certainly do with some more efficient gnashers!" "And does this process also apply to humans?" he went on, "I have noticed that Mr. B. is well past it, he has great difficulty in rising at a decent hour, and is clearly on his way out, will it be possible for us to get a new one, and call it Mr. B. the Second?" Fredcat perked up considerably at this prospect. "Sorry, Fredcat," said Cathie, firmly, "you are way off beam and out of line. You'd better come inside for some fish to improve your brainpower." And they did.
After this grumble, Fredcat came inside to see what Mr. B. was doing. There were packet of small onions everywhere and Mr. B. was crying - a sight for sore eyes, thought Fredcat wryly. "What's up, Doc?" he grinned (knowing full well that Mr. B. was not a doctor whereas he, Fredcat, had already collected three degrees, including a Ph, D, (!) over the last couple of days). Mr. B. struggled to keep his eyes from watering, as he tried to explain that he was peeling little silver pearl onions because he wanted to pickle them in vinegar. And onions were well known to trigger the olfactory cells in the nose. "Place the onions in a bowl of tepid water and peel them under the water, as far as possible," said Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, sagely, knowing that if she were too detailed with her suggestions and other helpful advice, she could well end up peeling them herself - and that would never do as she had not long sidelined the task to Mr. B. "There's a dreadful smell in here," said Fredcat, "it's an awful stench and has quite knocked my acute sensory sensors out of kilter, what can it be?" He looked up at a saucepan bubbling with vinegar and spices just in time to see it boil over. "Wow! That froths and bubbles over, just like boiling milk," he observed, "and it makes the same kind of mess," he added dryly, "just like boiling milk - but with a rotten acidic pong added!" Cathie was not pleased to see the mess, and Mr. B. had to do a lot of clearing up in a hurry. The stove top was in a mess and the smell certainly lingered for quite a while! Still, the end result would be excellent, thought Mr. B. and would provide lots of pickled onions to go with cold Christmas turkey later on. Even Fredcat perked up, despite the smell. Lots of cold Christmas turkey was a-coming his way which would make for happy holidays indeed. And, of course, if Fredcat's happy, then everyone's happy ...
Then Fredcat remembered a conversation he'd had with his best human friend, Cathie, not so long ago She had said, "As the weather this time of year becomes chilly and unpleasant, perhaps you should think of carrying out some cerebral exercises. Why not try for some educational achievements through online internet study. Everybody's doing it around here nowadays." The idea now struck Fredcat as somewhat novel and he soon found himself investigating all the local college courses in the immediate area. "Most of the available ones were rather dull," he opined, "and I don't want to bother with mathematics, after all I can already count up to nine quite easily." Also," he continued, "I have my very own humans to type in my daily diary (even though I learned to read at quite an early age) so there's no point in studying the English language. And I can easily obtain foreign language translations of my diary by going to the appropriate Google Language tools. Look at my diary in French, for example! (Although I have to admit that this translation tool has some bizarre features!) So, I firmly believe that I needn't study foreign languages like German and Spanish. Hmmm ..." He sat down at the computer and was soon engrossed in searching the internet for ideas. A little later he came down and announced that he had achieved his goal and he was now, formally recognised as a well educated feline. "Bosh!" said Mr. B., "you haven't even started yet; to get a degree or any other qualification you have to spend years studying, do coursework, write essays, solve difficult mental problems and take some demanding exams. You would never have the time for all that, you are far too busy sleeping and your stomach will always over-rule any long term thoughts of studying hard. You'd end up with messy beef all over your text books!" Mr. B. then sniggered for ten whole minutes without anyone getting a word in edgeways. "Well, that's where you are totally wrong," snapped Our Hero. "As it happens, I already have my B.A. and B.Sc. and tomorrow I'm going to complete my Ph. D. thesis. So there!" And he proudly displayed a sheet of paper seeming to confirm his newly-acquired credentials. And sure enough, there it was, Fredcat the Famous (B.A. and B.Sc.) "How on Earth did you do that that?" gasped Cathie. "Easy, my best human friend," said Fredcat, "all I had to do was promise a learned institute half the royalties on my next book as fees, and they said that I was so gifted that they gave me these academic honours by acclaim. There are plenty of wonderful precedents for this type of thing you know!" "But you've never written a book," said Cathie. "That's why I am well educated," said Fredcat, "I think they may have to wait some time for their royalties!" and he sauntered off with his (claimed) academic head held high. Hmmm ...
"What're you doing now?" the Famous One demanded, "it's time for me to dictate my latest diary entry, and here you are playing with daft computer games." He took a look at the screen and chuckled to himself, "Oh, my goodness, it's not even a proper computer game. You have no idea about these modern games do you? Stop gazing at a static screen and activate the chaotic images whatsit! Look, just click on the "click here to start" line and then hold the left mouse button down whilst you move the mouse either up or down a little bit. It's quite hypnotic if you get it right!" "I think, Mr. B., that you'd be better off just googling," he continued, kindly, but firmly. "Everyone who is anyone does it, so why don't you! All you do is go to the Google website, type in your own name and click on Go. It's easy. If you go to Google, click on Images, type in Fredcat the Famous, and then click Go, you'll get all my internationally famous photographs!!! I firmly believe that the internet was invented just for me, you know." So Mr. B. started googling and was not entirely disappointed to find that he, personally, was not listed anywhere, nor were any images of him available. There were several images of various Mr. B.s (including one involving the Blue Man Group) but Mr. B. grudgingly admitted that he was not, in fact, a Blue Man musician. Fredcat was also disappointed to note that googling did not produce a picture of his best human friend, Cathie, but he decided that he loved her anyway. Fredcat watched Mr. B. playing with more and more Googled names, the latter becoming utterly absorbed. After a while, Fredcat sought solace from Cathie and complained about the lack of consideration for his daily diary. "Never mind, I'm sure Mr. B. will soon tire of his current interest, let's go and see what we have in the fridge," she added, and they both trotted off to the kitchen. I do hope that the dication of Fredcat's daily diary won't have to wait until tomorrow morning ...
"Don't be ridiculous," exclaimed Cathie, "they're simply part of our new external Christmas decorations; they're just toy ruminants." She was pleased to see that all the lights on said ruminants were now working. She and Mr. B. had had a nerve wracking time trying to ensure that all the bulbs stayed lit, because sometimes a section of lights would stop working, which made the resultant display look terribly lopsided. "These are not toys," said Fredcat firmly, "Cathie! Look! Look! Their heads are moving! The heads of both the animals are moving! Whoa .... Me, I'm staying well clear of them. They're much bigger than me." It took quite a while for Cathie to quell the Famous One's fears and lead him closer to the brightly lit animated deer but she was eventually successful. "See!" she explained to the Famous One, "these deer have got saddles on, that's how Father Christmas (Santa Claus to those born in the US!) rides them to bring Christmas presents to all the good children." "You're kidding me, right, pull the other one," said Fredcat, with a sarcastic (and uneven) grin. "I've heard all sorts of fairy tales in my lon ... um, short life but that one takes the biscuit. But for the sake of happiness in the Fredcat household, I'll let you take a photograph of me with these ruminants, as you call them, but I'm not getting too close. See, look at that photograph, my eyes are bright with fear!" He rapidly sped back to the comfort of his residence and was soon safely tucked inside. "After that scare I need to refresh my insides, they are shaking so much," he said. Mr. B. obliged but thought that this latest feed followed much too quickly after the last meal and decided that he'd need to keep a watch on the Fredcat waistline over the next few weeks ... that moggie had better keep fit for the festive season or Cathie would be asking questions.
"Me, I hate "vacuum cleaners," said Fredcat with feeling, "they're incredibly noisy and the Fredcat family vacuum has headlights - which makes it look more like a runaway car. I'm sure Mr. B. deliberately plans his carpet cleaning to drive me from room to room so that I end up with half a dozen sleeping places in quick succession." "And," he went on, "I don't like those large packing cases as much as I used to, I can tell you. I was stood there, innocently looking in on the large box which holds one of the Christmas trees - and promptly fell in. Not nice at all! Why haven't you taken them all to the dump yet? I am a little fearful that you might mistakenly leave me inside one of the smaller boxes and heave me into the dump by mistake!" "You sound as if you might be a natural for a nice little experiment I have seen explained," said Mr. B. with an innocent air, "Have you heard about the experiment nicknamed "Schrodinger's Cat where one never actually knows whether a cat in a particular box is actually dead or alive. Think about that, Fredcat, no one would have a clue as to whether you were dead or alive!" "What rubbish!" snorted Our Hero, "I would always know whether I were alive or not - but what's more to the point, I am departing swiftly towards the kitchen to eat my favourite food, and if there is none available I will soon make sure - with the help and support of my best human friend, Cathie, - that you'll begin to wonder whether you're alive or not!" And Fredcat stalked off, his tail stiff with annoyance, which was all the clue Mr. B. needed to start heading kitchen-wards.
"Look at them," he went on, quietly to himself, "sticking more and more coloured ornaments on their Christmas trees, hanging more and more garlands everywhere, with poinsettias clustered in batches around the floor - it's all for effect, you know." On and on he chunnered, "I'm glad about one thing though - that the poinsettias are fakes. I've been told that real poinsettias are poisonous to we felines but I have never tested that claim, no fear! Perhaps that's the reason my best human friend, Cathie, bought fake poinsettias this year - to thwart any dastardly notions of Mr. B. To make sure, in fact, that any such notions are nipped in the bud." He chuckled to himself at the unintended pun. Eventually Fredcat could stand being ignored no longer and approached the busy decorators. "Pardon me for interrupting," he said at last, to be met by twin glares of annoyance. "I appreciate being fed on time, but there's more to life than feeding and sleeping. I need someone to talk to me and tell me about the hidden passage behind the door in the upstairs hallway." Well, dear reader, you could have heard a pin drop when he said that! "How do you know about that?" asked both humans, simultaneously. "It's all your fault," quickly continued Cathie, glaring at Mr. B. who was a bit taken aback. And before he could reply, it occurred to him that (a) it probably was his fault, and (b) whether it was his fault or not, Cathie would soon find a way to pin it on him, anyway. Wisely, he kept silent. "Look, Fredcat," wheedled Cathie, "we humans are put on earth to look after you kittens (of whatever age) and one of our Prime Directives is to prevent you being hurt. The passage behind the locked door has danger written all over it, but if you are especially good, I will take you through the door as a Christmas treat." Actually, Cathie fervently hoped that Fredcat would forget all about it over the next three weeks but Fredcat, being extremely smart, quickly made a note of it in his diary. You can't outsmart a cat, he thought triumphantly.
"I'd much prefer it if you would give us a helping paw instead of complaining," said Cathie, "there are some beautiful coloured balls over there, you could roll them over here so that I can place them on the Christmas tree. These coloured balls are from a beautiful set, each one depicting the well know carol, The Twelve Days of Christmas. They've been delightfully painted and they will finish off the tree a treat, don't you agree, Fredcat?" "I still can't see why you are you decorating so early," puzzled Fredcat, "it's still three weeks to go to Christmas. In England there are often unwritten rules that business offices cannot be decorated (by their staff) until some two weeks beforehand, as the introduction of a festive atmosphere merely leads to a downturn in efficiency everywhere. Hardly any are decorated so early in England, either. So what's the rush?" "But we live in the US now," replied Cathie, "and every house in our subdivision has already been fully decorated. We're the last ones to put our external lights up and that will never do. I know I shouldn't act as if I were keeping up with the Joneses but our house does stand out as being less tha festive at the moment." And she bustled on. "I think we need just one more set of light bulbs, would you please ask Mr. B. to get them for me as soon as possible?" It was then that Fredcat finally discovered the existence of the door in the upper hallway. He'd walked past it hundreds of times before, thinking that it was just a another piece of house construction. He carefully watched as Mr. B., in a hurry to get the Christmas lights (and being totally unaware that he was being spied on), quickly used the door and was soon heading downstairs again. "Now that's a real eyeopener," said Fredcat, softly. "First the crawlspace, and now a door leading to a loft area. This needs investigating further! ..."
"You'll have to give me a hand with the last two boxes," said a puffing Mr. B., "they contain the artificial Christmas trees and they are very heavy; I need someone with muscles to help me - and Fredcat's clearly unable to help." Cathie didn't know whether or not to be flattered by this last remark, but assist she did, and finally the task was completed. "Where did all these boxes come from?" asked a puzzled Fredcat, "I've not seen these for, oh, a year gone. How did they get into the Fredcat residence? They were certainly not in any of the rooms upstairs." Cathie and Mr. B. grinned at each other; Fredcat had not as yet solved the mystery of the locked door in the hallway upstairs. "Never you mind," said Cathie. Now this is just the sort of phrase that really infuriates people and Fredcat was likewise miffed. He didn't like to discover that there were undisclosed secrets in his own residence. He thought long and hard and had one of those feline brainwaves that had made him such a scourge of the villainous classes. "Do you mean to say that that there are more places here, in this house, that are a closed door to me? Like the crawl space I recently discovered?" he frowned, "Come on, spill the beans." But he found himself talking to thin air ... Mr. B. had already opened several of the boxes and within were all the Christmas decorations saved from last year, together with bright, shiny ornaments and colourful streamers. The humans were cooing and clucking over the individual decorations and Cathie had already started to put some up, leaving Fredcat smarting on the sidelines. "This will not do," said Fredcat and made such a fuss that Cathie was soon forced to fill the Fredcat food bowl in a hurry, before returning to the glittering array of baubles. "This interest won't last," thought Fredcat, and he was right, of course. He'll be able to tell you more about that tomorrow. ...
"White Rabbits!" said Mr. B. suddenly. For once, Fredcat stopped speaking, and he looked around, considerably surprised. "Where? Where?" he said, "the last time I recall seeing rabbits was when I was in England with my mentor Forby and we went out hunting in the nearby park where he taught me to bring home rabbits, lug them through the triple set of cat doors into the house, and play with them. But they were not white rabbits, they were more of an all over brown colour." Through all this babble Mr. B. was gradually waking up and he finally said, in a sleepy voice, "I don't know what made me say White Rabbits; GEB always says White Rabbits before she says anything else on the first day of each month. It's supposed to bring her luck, but I don't know if it did. I can't imagine what made me say White Rabbits unless it was used in some fashion to combat your ceaseless wailing for an early breakfast," he grumbled, as he listlessly turned out of bed. Fredcat's best human friend, Cathie, come downstairs later and explained to Fredcat that "White Rabbits" was just one of the supposed lucky sayings that were said to be of help to humans. "So you think it might be something to do with witches and wizards?" remarked Fredcat, "is that why Mr. B. dresses up in a wizard's cloak at Hallowe'en?" he added, cheekily. "Absolutely not," said Cathie, "it was just the cloak and pointy top hat he saw in the store in the mall that appealed to him. I think he's just a frustrated actor, at heart," and she gave a little chuckle. "The little ones here seem to accept it at Hallowe'en. Now, stop this talk of rabbits, I know you're only interested because rabbit is one of the many meaty tastes that excite you, but here in the US you have to get used to simple turkey and chicken platters." "Yes, please," said Fredcat, "how did you guess? In this bowl, please, right ... here."
He watched as Cathie carefully placed the page in her vast file of cat pictures and all the old jealousies resurfaced. "Why do you keep all these pictures?" he asked, "surely my magnificent image, which is beautifully displayed on a daily basis on my diary should be enough each day until the next one is shown. I really don't understand why you keep all these pictures," he sniffed, "I don't think any of those cats is a patch on me!" "My dear Fredcat," began Cathie ominously, "you may be the apple of my eye (and terribly famous, to boot), but when it comes to the glam stakes you may just have to take a back seat. Remember, some of these fashionable felines have human friends that spend all their time a-prettying and a-fluffing up their charges, and although I hate to remind you of those unhappier times you did, shall we say, uh-hum, sort of, lose four teeth not so long ago and that does have an effect on the judges' opinions, you know." Fredcat looked away, a few tears beginning to creep down his long lashes. "But although it's December it's still an awfully long way to go before Christmas Day (the time to open one's gifts), and a fellow gets very sad at times, and without any gifts life can be very hard, and the cold weather is here, and are you quite sure you still love me, even if I won't have any gifts for weeks and weeks and weeks, yet." Now dear reader, there is something pathetically sad about a cat who is patently angling for a word of comfort and who is also angling for a pre-Christmas gift. The upshot was that Cathie relented and gave the Mighty One a huge hug and promised him once more that he was "The One" and so on, and so on. As you do. Fredcat seemed pleased, even though the presents remained tightly wrapped (except for the box on which he had been reclining recently. Whatever could that contain?) There was a new packet of meaty-tasting biscuits ready for the opening, and Fredcat had to be content with that. And he was - for the time being. Later, doubtless, he would resume his planning and scheming ... |
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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.
