My husband has told me for years that there is something wrong with me. I thought it was the effects of having children. Now, it has finally sunk in that the problem runs far deeper than that. It's the combined effect of marriage, children and those blasted cats!

As my readers are aware, I have been plagued by three monsters for more years than I care to remember, but now I've REALLY gone overboard. Against advice, threats, pleas and prayers, I have been STUPID enough to allow a fourth monster cat into my home. Well, hardly a monster, in fact, not a big cat at all. Just a little, itty, bitty, tiny, runt-of-the-litter Scottish Fold kitten. One of the prettiest little cats I've ever seen with a disposition that leaves me gasping in disbelief. Let me tell you how it came about. At work one day in late December last year, my daughter was approached by my husband's cousin's son. His wife's Scottish Fold had just produced a litter of kittens and he wondered if she knew of anyone who might like one. (My daughter knows full well I'm a sucker for Scottish Folds and my nephew knows full well I'm a sucker for cats. Devious pair of devils)! Anyway, on collecting my Granddaughter later that day, she casually mentioned the matter, on the quiet, to me. She KNOWS her father wouldn't be impressed. Needless to say, I was enchanted by the whole idea and started to formulate some sneaky plans of my own to get around my husband who had made it VERY clear after we got Ming that THREE CATS WAS ENOUGH! (Hehehe... did I have news for HIM)!

Slowly but surely, over a period of a few weeks, I buttered him up, commenting how NICE it would be to have another kitten in the house and then leaving the subject instantly. These tactics were met with dirty looks and definite suspicion. I continued to spin him along, saying how Lilah was getting on and it was time another kitty was introduced before the other two got too set in their ways. Again, I instantly dropped the subject. Finally, after a call from my nephew saying the kitten would be ready to go in about a week, I innocently suggested a visit to their home as they had the set of spare keys for my daughter's car and it was such a lovely day and on and on I went. I waxed eloquent about the heat and the sunny day and what a long time it had been since we'd visited them. Truly an Oscar winning performance! FINALLY, I managed to shift him and off we went. Arriving at the house the three children blew my act with gleeful shouts of, "Aunty Jo! Aunty Jo! We've got some baby KITTENS! Come see!" Well, that did it. He froze on the spot and just glared at me all the while muttering about conniving, plotting WOMEN! I smiled sweetly and just patted his arm and said, it would do no harm just to LOOK. Of course, I KNOW he's a sucker for kittens and when he saw the one I wanted, his defenses just completely dropped away. Particularly as the little beast crept up to him, heaved a huge, weary sigh and dropped his head onto his shoe. The little wretch topped MY Oscar performance! Hubby picked him up, looked him over and said if he shat, clawed, bit, scratched or wrecked ANYTHING in the house, it was entirely MY responsibility. Of course, I hurriedly agreed and dragged him home before he could change his mind. Needless to say, I was treated to the most unbelievable monologue ALL the way home on all my shortcomings, (I had no idea I had so MANY!), on the fact that it better not upset the other three cats and he'd TOLD me, if I brought another cat into the house, then he was going to move into the shed. What could I say? I was laughing so hard I could barely get the words out, but I assured him that THAT was no way to stop me and if he wanted the shed, he was welcome! With that, he shut up and pouted until we got home. BUT I had WON! YAY! I was getting my KITTY!

What an IDIOT! What a full blown MORON I am! What a reckless, heedless, FOOL. I should have known. God DOES have a sense of humour and He's laughing Himself sick, AGAIN, at my expense! Needless to say, I've got ANOTHER screwy cat. That's FOUR. And they're all, in some way or another, completely unbalanced. But Mactavish, as we cleverly decided to call our Scottish Fold Kitten, takes the cake.

I've told you a little about Mac, but let me introduce you to him nearly five months later. Now that we've been able to fully assess his personality disorders and his complete disregard for anything. Be it Cat, human, dog or anything else. Mac's whole life revolves around and is completely dominated by food. Food is the reason he gets up in the morning and food is the reason he goes to bed at night. (It helps to pass the hours until breakfast). He also lives to torment the other three cats and his most appalling character trait or, I suppose, more a PHYSICAL flaw, is his bowels. His deposits to the Great Bank of Kitty Litter have to be smelled to be believed (also to be withdrawn forthwith) and he FARTS. Constantly and for little reason. Excitement, joy, anticipation, welcome, apprehension and bliss are all expressed with varying degrees of the WORST smells I've ever come across. Even to pick him up and cuddle him is to court disaster and to go to bed at night is always a penance. Mac undergoes a radical character change when he comes to bed. He becomes sweet, affectionate, loving, and purrable and he HAS to be with MUM in bed. That way he can snuggle, knead the sheets, drool and fart to his heart's content. It has become painfully obvious to my husband and I that Mac, when relaxed and blissed out in bed, bring on all his... er ... worst symptoms. Unfortunately, while he is completely relaxed in bed with us and purring and drooling away happily, his little sphincter muscle must relax too and our nostrils are constantly assaulted with waves of noxious fumes. Our eyes water, we flap the bed sheets to get rid of the smell, we gasp for breath until the stench finally evaporates all the while Mac remains blissfully asleep with a HUGE smile on his face! Within minutes we a treated to another barrage to our senses and the whole charade starts again. Most people would be wondering why we put up with it and who could blame them? But then, they haven't seen that cute little face, that completely relaxed little body, that look of absolute trust on that evil feline's face. Yes, we're suckers! Just ask the other three. They're all smart enough to leave the room. All except Lilah. She just burrows down deeper into the covers and stays there. After sleeping for thirteen years tucked up behind Hubby's butt, I'm not surprised that Mac doesn't trouble her at all. Meanwhile, I cop it from both sides. Mac in front and hubby in back. I need to shower in the mornings just to wash them both off me! I feel as those my hair, my jammies and the very pores of my skin simply REEK of those two repulsive males.

Fortunately, there is the outdoor pen and during the sunny days we can relax, knowing they're all safe and happy, climbing poles, lying in hammocks, eating grass and rolling luxuriously on lovely, warm concrete. Never COULD figure that one out. They all just slither and writhe and scritch and scratch and wriggle all around the concrete before performing their morning ablutions and settling down for a ten minute graze. After chomping away on the grass for a while, it's a scrambling rush to see what has been put in the biscuit bowl, (if anything), and then another mad dash to secure the top of the climbing pole and the two hammocks. That, of course, leads to further whinging and whining because SOMEONE always misses out.

The one who misses out usually takes a good look at the three windows that surround the pen and decides which one they should holler at for the best effect. My bedroom window usually gets the very BEST results. A lot of shouting to SHUT UP is what they get there. Then they might swing by the kitchen window. Someone is nearly always in there, ready to lend a sympathetic ear to the loud complaints of the misser outer. I tend to hold long conversations of sympathy because it usually IS Mac, the nitwit, and he firmly thinks I should go outside and kick someone off their possy! No chance. (Payback time, kiddo. You've made my night hell, now it's YOUR turn to suffer!) He doesn't know I'm thinking that and that is why I sympathise so loudly and for so long. I mean, you can't IGNORE him. That'd be rude and my Mum always taught me never to be rude. So we natter back and forth through the kitchen window until, inevitably that IDIOT, Ming, comes up for a chat, too. Well, hell mind her. She was dumb enough to come sticking her Treacle Beak in and as soon as she does, Mac is off and running to wherever she had been. Stupid, STUPID Ming! Like I said, you have to love her; she's an idiot and can't help it.

Mac also can't help CONSTANTLY taunting, teasing and chasing the other three cats. I've seen him cop some HUGE whacks from them, but he just rolls over, shakes his head a bit until his eyesight clears and then he's back at them again. Fatty nearly took his head off the day he came. I couldn't believe it. For all that he's huge, he is by far the sweetest natured of all my cats. When Mac first walked past him and Fats first laid eyes on him, I was dumbfounded when my 'gentle giant', the cat I least expected to 'go' for Mac, simply leaned over and took his entire head in his mouth and started to shake the sh... er shake the goodness out of him! I nearly passed out with fright! I was too scared to shout in case he chomped down on the poor little bloke's head and broke his neck, so I had to be very calm and walk over and prize the poor little devil out of his jaws. Common sense told me that to punish him would do nothing but turn him further against the kitten so I was very stern and told him NO very firmly. Putting Mac back on the floor, I was stunned to see the gutsy little beggar get up and walk right back over to Fats and slap him across the face! I don't know who got the bigger shock. Me or Fatty. Anyway, all was forgiven a few days later when I caught old Podge belly in the office where I was keeping Mac safe, eating his special kitten food and drinking his special kitten milk. I guess Fats figured that once you share a bloke's food then you're his mate for life because about two hours later, there the big softy was, all snuggled up in Mac's basket with Mac tucked into his big fat belly as happy as a clam. Both of them were sound asleep on their backs and didn't even blink while I busily flashed cameras at them right and left. Blackmail is a wonderful thing. One day I'll show the pictures to the two girls.

Speaking of whom... they haven't been as easily won over. Ming is a lot better than she was. She was HORRIFIED that we'd brought another cat into the house and spent the first two weeks of his stay either hiding or running round the house with her belly touching the floor and a hunted expression on her face. Honestly, what a performance. She still won't share the food bowl with him, (well, NONE of them do), but they WILL share with each other... as long as Mac isn't about. Being the youngest of the three, she is slowly coming to the realisation that there are some advantages in having another young cat about. THIS one will actually PLAY with her and she doesn't get beaten up because she's BIGGER than him. She REALLY likes that idea. Now when she plays tag, she's not the one getting into trouble, it's Mac. When she plays tag with the others, she was always the klutz that followed and broke things that had been dislodged by the first two fleeing bodies and hers, as the third fleeing body, was enough to tip the unbalanced object onto the floor, often with dire results. Now, SHE'S the leader and Mac is the pursuer and Mac is a bigger klutz than HER, much to her delight! They broke one of my mother's Wedgwood plates the other day, the demons. I could have killed them. She left me a lovely collection of different coloured Wedgwood China bowls, plates, jugs and boxes and I had them out of the cabinet cleaning them, not realising that my son had brought the blasted cats inside when he came home from a friend's place. (They looked lonely, he said. Sheesh). I was busily cleaning away when I heard the unmistakable tinkle of a bell on a cat collar and it was coming from INSIDE! Oh, NO! I tried. I really did, to get everything back into the cabinet as fast as I could, but they were just TOO bloody quick for me. One minute I had six plates and the next I had five and one hundred pieces. ~sigh~. Ming was SO proud of herself when I gave Mac a darn good slap on the bottom. HE paid me back the way he always does. He farted and took off after Ming again.

Copyright © Jo Gray
April, 2005