Most of my friends and those who have read my book would be well aware of Mactavish. Those of you who are not are about to get an introduction to the most peculiar cat that ever walked the planet.

Mac is a Scottish Fold. Funny looking little bugger, but very sweet looking, in a kind of 'fugly' way. He has those Folded down ears that, quite ingeniously, the little cats, over generations of breeding, figured that to keep cold Scottish mist from creeping in and rotting their brains, they had to plug up some holes. Hence, the folded ears.

Now, when I say Macca is peculiar, I really am NOT kidding. This cat has THE worst bowels of any creature every created by God. He farts constantly, craps often and he's just, plain DISGUSTING. Add to that his habit of climbing into bed with ME... (no one else quite does it for him, apparently)... and kneading my sheets and DROOLING until there's a big damp patch for him to lie on, then you can see, he can be quite UNendearing.

One of his other, less endearing habits is that he won't be HELD. Not by anyone, not for any length of time, not now, no how! If you try to hold him against his will, he turns into a maniacal spitfire with claws and feet that spread like octopus tentacles in eight different directions... add teeth and SCREAMS of outrage and you have quite a charming little parcel in your arms. The first time we discovered this odd kink was when he was all of about five months old and walking across the carpeted lounge. This was becoming a problem because as his claws were getting too long, they'd catch in the pile and he'd fall flat on his face every other step. Now, as all cat people know, cats ALWAYS pretend that, in times of embarrassment they make out they did the mistake on purpose... or they look at another inhabitant accusingly, as though, "Hey! Quit shoving"! It's NEVER THEIR FAULT! Anyway, back to my original train of thought... yes, I know, I tend to wander off at a tangent, but I DO get back to the point eventually... I took pity on the poor little blighter and decided to clip his claws for him. Ha!

Having owned and bred cats all my adult life, clipping claws and grooming is all par for the course. All my cat have their claws clipped and it's a five minute job to do three of them, therefore, to do little, tiny, sweet Mactavish, would take about a minute. Bull CRAP! He Screamed, he howled, he yowled, he bellowed, he bit, he scratched and carried on to such an extent that hubby tossed him on the floor and refused to ever hold him again. To this day, he still hasn't. Enter The BOY. Son grabs cat in a choke hold, pins back his ears, grabs one paw in his mouth while I feverishly search for claws amongst the LONGEST pad hair... Mac, is doing his Diesel Train impersonation again, increasing the decibels by the second. ONE paw done. BOY flings cat to the floor, flips him, pins his ears back again, scruffs him, bites another paw while I again search for claws. Gotta give it to The BOY... my God he held on. He was ripped to shreds, bitten in a dozen different places, but he held on to the little wretch. Okay TWO front feet done. By this stage, I have three other cats absolutely beside themselves with terror. The noise Mactavish has kicked up has scared the hell out of them and they're circling the wagons, getting ready to make an all out attack, if necessary. That's it. BOY is scratched and bleeding, hubby is furious, my other three cats are traumatized and I'm a nervous wreck. Stuff it. He can KEEP his back claws! Boy lets him go and we expect a terrified stampede as he escapes our vicinity, but NOOOO... not Macca. As soon as he's released, he gives himself a shake and flips over on his back and promptly dozes off in his "Sleeping Otter" pozzy. We all just gaze at him in disbelief and shake our heads... little mongrel.

There is ONE small weapon is his armament that I forgot to mention. Mactavish ADORES anything remotely resembling a power cord. Fortunately for him, his depradations have been on Power Paks. The thingy's that reduce voltage from power points to the thingy that it's powering. Oh, hell, YOU know what I mean... ... anyway, he eats them. Yep! You heard it here first. He chews clean through them. So far the results of his labours have been a Crystal Mirror Display, my two bedside lamps, my bedside clock, my MODEM damn him to hell and back... (fortunately, hubby soldered that back in record time)... my hubby's phone charger, MY phone charger, JUNIOR'S phone charger... he even took on the pedestal fan cord, but it must've been too big. Pity. The boot from that would have kicked him clear to China, I reckon.

My friend Rox, said we should name him Mac Chewthecord, but my other friend, Kat, summed it up even better. McVolt.

"McVolt" he's now officially become known and McRevolting can be his character. Even as I type, he's doing his 'Otter Pozzy' snooze in front of the radiator in my office.

Copyright © Jo Gray