I left the computer on last night ...

When I came down this morning, I saw my partially IT-literate cats had got there before me.

A rather worried pop-up was asking:

"Do you really want to send My Documents to the Recycle Bin?"

While I'm out at work, if I leave the computer on, the cats have started opening files.

A few days ago, it was My Pictures - I think they were checking out what I have on them.

Then a couple of days later, however, it was far more worrying. They'd opened the 'Keyboard Help' menu.

Today I come in to see that they've started downloading software. The only thing that prevented them doing through with downloading the Apple Software Updater was the fact that they were flummoxed by the licencing agreement.

I'm not quite sure which evidence of expertise is more scary.

Last night, I was chatting to jadethe2nd on the phone when I became aware that Torvald, who was standing on my desk, was deleting an email. Letter by letter.

Today I get home from my morning's week to find out one of the cats has been searching on Google. Admittedly, it was a search for hjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj, the exact meaning of which does escape me. But it had returned an awful lot of Japanese sites. Blog sites mostly.

But to execute the search, not only did a cat (and naming no names, but looking in the direction of a certain baleful ginger) have to type in the quey - they also had to press RETURN.

Do you think Torvald is blogging in Japanese? Or simply reading Japanese blogs? Is he an unexpected fan of "Hello, Kitty"? (Now, I could believe that of Siobhan. Hmmmm. Perhaps it was Siobhan who ran the search).

But anyway. The news is bad. Those hours and hours the cats have spent watching me type is beginning to pay off. For them, at least.

I worked late.

When I got home, Greg was struggling with his assignment for our college course, so I helped him with that. php, which is not my language of choice. And working on a Mac which drives me insane. And Greg was frustrated because things weren't working ...

In the middle of this, we heard a cat fight outside. Greg raced out and found the mean black cat beating up Torvald. Yes, I know. It's like shooting Dennis Hopper in the second reel. Now you know that the bad guys are Serious Bad Guys. Torvald ran in and bled all over the carpet. And then over the kitchen floor. Greg wanted to take him to the vet straightaway, but when we held him down and examined him (Greg won the gardening gloves so got to grab him and hold him down, I got to examine him) we found it was a badly torn claw and a nasty gash in his side. Which means vet's trip tomorrow but no emergency dash tonight. Still, it means we'll have to keep them shut inside while we're away. They are SO going to love us.

Anyway, Siobhan was nowhere in sight. I called her all over the house, but she didn't respond. Greg said he had had the cat flap open for a part of the day so they could get some air, but had then closed it. My fear was that the black cat had got her and hurt her so badly that she was scared to come home. Much searching and calling ensued. No Siobhan.

When Greg got out the big torch and proposed to hunt through the streets, she suddenly appeared, sauntering out from her hiding place and demanding her share of love and affection.

Then she strolled to her tray, seated herself on the edge and proceeded to piddle all over the floor.

And Greg hit another snag in his programme ...

All this time, I was trying to cook my supper, and read my email.

So ... posting?

Not this evening, I fear. I'm going to bed.

A few weeks ago, Torvald was beaten yp by a black cat that has come into the neighbourhood. I heard yowling outside - Siobhan (the minx) went out to watch and he came bolting in, followed by her. He was hissing with pain if anyone tried to get near - he had a large wound on his leg. I took his to the vet (thick gardening gloves) and the vet said that we could either sedate him, stitch the leg and I'd [pay lots of money, or she could shoot him full of anti-biotics and painkillers and we could see what happened. As Torvald heals quickly, I voted for option 2, and it paid off - he made a swift (if bad-tempered recovery).

However, on Saturday night, there was another yowling outside. Torvald has been reluctant to go out, and this was sweet white Siohan who came shooting in, covered with mud and blood and intent on hiding behind the sofa. Where she stayed throughout Sunday, only being coaxed out to be examined with the aid (I fear) of a walking stick. She had some bad bites on her back and thigh, and was clearly in lots of pain (It takes a lot to get Siobhan to hiss at you, but she hissed if anyine went to stroke here). On Sunday afternoon I phoned the vet - who said to bathe the wounds with salt water to clean them, and take her in on Monday. Which Greg did, and made sure she was shot up with antibiotics nd pain killers.

When I came home on Moday, she was still behind the sofa. I'd cooked some fish for her on Sunday (much to Torvald's delight) but she had spurned it. Now I put down the last of it for Torvald and - as he was starting to eat - I heard the thinnest thread of a meow behind me. It was Siobhan, lured out by the smell. She pushed past Torvald and fell on the fish - and from them on has been fine - her usual sweet and loving self.

Only neither cat is not prepared to go out. They are clearly scared of the big black - and who can blame them? But it does seem a shame.

Well, not any more there ain't.

Unless the one Siobhan brought in ... noooooo ... don't go there, woman!

Hunter of the day was Torvald who brought me a mouse, probably as a thank you for his walk.

He promptly let it go under the freezer. I'm hardened now. I let him catch it again ... which he soon did.

It seemed in fairly good shape, but releasing it again seemed a little unfair. But the little boy next door had begged me ... if Torvald caught any more mice ... could he possibly ...

I took it round there. His Mum agreed he can watch it entranced and make it a newspaper bed until it's had time to recover. It stands a better chance of getting away then that if I let it go immediately - when Torvald would just catch it again. Unless, like Juliet's bird, it is killed with much cherishing ...

Torvald is disgusted. Bringing home a LIVE mouse was meant to be the supreme treat - I could have all the fun of killing it myself. And what do I do? Give it away.

At least I hope it is ...

Siobhan has loosed something in my study. And is now hunting it.

A mouse - I hope ...

I think not ...

( Read more... )

Today - this morning - our white cat Siobhan was indignant about the attention Torvald had gained last night. She sidled around the kitchen, and the message was clear:

"We need to get this straight. I am The Cat. I do the cute stuff. I show up here regularly. Devotedly. So I am The Cat. And he's just a guest."

As Greg says, Torvald is a foul-weather friend ...

Just updating my photos, so I could use one of my cat Siobhan. Playing around with the original image to create the icon and ... guess what? I overwrote the original! (groan).

Oh well, you can all see the lovely Siobhan anyway ...