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Posted: Tue Dec 08, 2015 09:37
They seem to photograph a lot grumpier than they actually are!
Amy spent most of yesterday hiding on the corner so we thought it might take a long time for her to get used to us but after leaving them alone for an hour we went back in the room and found we suddenly had an attention-seeking lap cat!
Posted: Tue Dec 08, 2015 10:50
Saw some photos of them on Facebook earlier and apparently said "kittens!" out loud.
They're so cute!
Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 13:42
I can't believe I've never posted any pictures of Mavis on here before now, considering she haunts about every post in three in my Facebook account.
Half moggy, half Norwegian Forest Cat and 100% prima donna, Mavis is the last cat that my fiancee Linda's late father bred (she was the only kitten of an only kitten, which much go some way towards explaining her sense of entitlement) and on account of that feels like rather more than "just a cat" to us.
Twelve this coming May, she's in remarkably good order considering she's had to live with diabetes for at least the eighteen months of her diagnosis now and probably quite some time undiagnosed before that. She had a near miss with a hypoglycaemic seizure last May but her condition is otherwise pretty settled.
At 4.5kg or thereabouts she's heavier than she looks, on account, I think, of her breeding - we've been advised that Forest Cats can have pretty dense bone structures. There's certainly a lot of power harnessed when she forces open bedroom doors and catflaps, punches people in the face, etc. etc.
She loves all human food but she's not allowed any, save for the very, very occasional egg - Mog the Forgetful Cat stylee - on her birthday and at Christmas. Her favourite drink is the glass of water you've just poured for yourself and set on the table next to you.
Although asleep nineteen hours a day herself, Mavis feels sleep for humans is overrated and deprives us of it at every opportunity. She'll bang on the cat flap repeatedly for five minutes at a time. She'll drag her claws down the outside of the bedroom door, splintering it remorselessly, for ten minutes at a time, or until we cave in and let her join us... at which point she'll trash the dressing table in pursuit of the emery boards for which she has an inexplicable obsession.
We love her in spite of that, though. Ah, who am I kidding. We love her because of that. And it makes for great social media copy.
Here she is, acting out some lyrics from The Thyme Machine's Stop Feeding My Cat:
And here she is raiding the fridge:
And here she is pretending she was only guarding it really:
Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 13:47
More Mave. Worship her, dammit:
Posted: Wed Jan 18, 2017 16:55
Ahhh, Mavis. I like Mavis. She's gently eccentric in that good cat way. Give her a stroke from Anorak, JG. xx
Posted: Sun Jan 22, 2017 00:30
Hi I'm Mavis. Fuss me fuss me fuss me fuss me I WILL DESTROY YOU.
I like Mavis as well.
Posted: Fri Feb 10, 2017 16:26
Funnily enough what Dan's described right there is a very succinct account of how Saturday mornings usually play out.
Mave plops onto my chest whilst I'm still in bed, nice as you like, full stretch, big eyes, purring winsomely and hoping for a massage. This she then gets, as I oscillate thumb and forefinger of each hand either side of both of her cheeks - she bloody loves it.
This goes on for ten to fifteen minutes. She's purring loudly.
At some point I have the audacity to stop as my fingers get tired.
At which point she pauses, eyes up one or other of my forearms, and then drives two sets of claws and her upper fangs into it until Linda or I can unhook her.
It's almost as if, having allowed herself to be a nice cat for so long, she has to remind us, or herself, that she's also part wild animal.
It's also why I invariably wear long sleeves.