My secret weapon

I really don’t understand these simians. You cuddle up with them, undergo the many pettings and scritches that are your just due, you settle in for a nice and quiet session of purrfect bliss… The Mistress’ nimble small appendages start gently massaging your neck… and then she calls over Grumpy Man and he starts plucking at your fur !!!

Now, I know all about grooming. I can confidently state that I’m kind of an expert in this department. After all, I’m 3 years already. Given the fact that it’s not as if I am under-endowed in the fur-department – me being a proud specimen of the Maine Coon persuasion and all – and despite a few burn spots that are healing nicely thankyouohsoverymuchfornotasking, I do cut a dashing figure if I may say so. My raspy tongue has been put to good use ever since Mama Katischka taught me how to do so, even if I hadn’t been that good a student in my younger days so The Mistress had to maim my beautiful bushy-tail and luscious belly-fur by cutting out matted tufts, but I do know how to deal with loose hair and frankly, when you got strange squiggly lumps that won’t budge, well, that’s exactly what claws were invented for. But simians have their uses.

It’s just that their appendages are blunt and lack the finesse and precision of a well-honed claw-tip. So, picture the scene: there’s poor little me, having a few (A few ??? He had 15 of ’em !!! /The Mistress) little lumps around my neck and throat -did I mention that that horrible chafing collar has maimed my glorious mane ?- and she just freaked out and made Grumpy Man hurt me. Whatever he plucked from my poor hurting neck -along with most of my pelt for sure- was thrown into the almost always empty huge water bowl and then they dumped lots of water on it. “Tick-Magnet” they call me now. Harumpf ! Besides, I can’t count. I’m a cat, I don’t need to.

And hence The Mistress has developed this unwanted and uncalled-for new habit of picking up my august being, dumping me on a handy surface high enough so she wouldn’t need to bend over, and searching me all over. I mean, the humiliation ! Not a single private spot is sacred ! She’s crazy ! And when she does find something, despite my furious protests and vigourous wiggling, she calls over her lumbering henchman and makes him pluck at me again. I tell you, it’s that they provide me with edible grub and adequate scritches or this House of Chaos would have seen the last of my majestic backside long ago. But… I would miss the jumpy toy. And the catnip banana. And the Red Dot. And the radiator which inlet/outlet is so conveniently spaced just so, right above the floor, that an enterprising and warmth-loving kitty just needs to wrap himself around it and… oh, well, you get the drift.

But now I have had an epif… epipfy… revelation.

The last time The Mistress picked me up and dumped me on the small fridge I accidently let go of some air. Little did I know that simians, usually enormously underdeveloped in the olifactory department, are actually quite sensitive to one specific type of smell. The type that -aha !- comes out of your backside. I do admit that this time it did have a rather unique bouquet: maybe a bit heavy on the sulfur, but nicely complex and satisfyingly dense molecule-wise. In any case The Mistress’ reaction was priceless, I still treasure it in the deep folds of my heart, just makes me warm and tingly all over and such whenever I think of it: she immediately let go of me so I jumped away and from a safe distance comfortabely observed at leisure her gagging and sputtering and startled exclamations. What a great secret weapon a well-placed fart makes.

Yours truly,
Chateau Beau of Purrpuss, Malodourous Magnificence

Picture below: my selfie. You like ?


I suppose I should mention my buddies over at The Friday Ark. They’re all right. Go say hello for me.


Coonie Craziness

A few weeks ago, June 29th 2013 to be precise, the House of Chaos was entertaining Simian visitors. As the Feline denizens busied themselves being cuddly and sweet around the visitors a lot of things were being discussed and done (Grumpy Man and The Mistress are Roboteers: we build fighting robots). At one point however did the discussion turn to Maine Coons. The lady of a fellow Roboteer had her eye on a Coonie that was available to her but our friend didn’t want more cats in their house than the queen and kitten they already had (and two woofies…). An understandable point, as Grumpy Man himself had already made clear the the current 6 feline denizens are the absolute maximum, although he couldn’t stop number 7 from walking in and make himself at home here. The lady proceeded to say that apart from “her” candidate another Coonie was to be had, and that both had a pedigree and would go for a negligible sum of money, but could she find a home for the two and then convince her life-mate to relent for one of them… Grumpy Man didn’t even ask The Mistress as he knew what her answer would be.

And so the next day we undertook the expedition (it’s a 1,5 hour drive) to our friend’s home in order to collect the twain which the lady had already fetched for us. Her life-mate still did not relent but we didn’t care anyway. We now have two Maine Coons !!!

Enter Chucky van Droomwereld and Chateau Beau van Spinnepoes. Alias Chuck sNorris and Beauregard.

Both were perfectly at ease in their travelling cages. Both were more than perfectly at ease travelling in a car (and were absolutely quiet during the entire trip !). But when they were released inide the House of Chaos both turned out to be perfect scaredy-kitties and went immediately into hiding. Beauregard ended up on top of the stairs to the attic, Chuck hid in our Nesting Room under a clothes rack behind a convenient laundry basket full of dirty bed linen (which The Mistress couldn’t find the heart to remove until two weeks later).

Both were immediately taken to the Man In White the next day, for a check-up and in order to inspect and register the chips. Yes, they are both chipped and both have a pedigree of a meter long. Chuck is 3,5 years old, Beau only 2 years. Chuck is already castrated, but Beau not and in this House we do strictly adhere to the principle to not procreate: the Simians won’t have offspring, and neither will the Felines. Hence an appointment was made for Beauregard to lose his conkers two days later. This meant keeping him in isolation for one night and half a day as he was not to eat. In order to avoid him becoming lonesome we decided to corral both him and Chucky in the spare nesting room. I’ve never seen cats jump that high when these two realized there was no escape from that room… And hissing and angry… But once in the tender arms of the Man In White Beauregard was as sweet and well -behaved as any owner could desire. Weird beast ! He did recover well from the surgery though. He just didn’t allow me to approach him for three days afterwards. ^^

The first week both kept themselves hidden away. When Beau was lying on the attic stairs he would hiss impressively to any Simian crazy enough to venture close. Sometimes he would hide elsewhere, not to be found. Chuck would just cower more deeply into his hiding place, yet after a night of two he would cautiously venture forth and inspect the snoring Simian(s) in the Nest, eventually settling himself in a basket next to The Mistress’ side of the Nest (we had acquired the basket from an auntie and no cat had ever slept in it before !). At the first sound or movement, however, he would scramble back into his hiding spot. But as the days passed both felines gradually ratcheted up their courage and started venturing out into the House of Chaos and its weird and wacky denizens. The need to eat and to relieve themselves certainly forced them to undertake a daily trip downstairs anyway. But then, so did the need for social contact. And the sheer irresistible lure of curiosity. We are now two weeks since their entry and, although still skittish, they come over for cuddles and scritchies readily enough and clearly recognize their respective names. We have also discovered that both would commit murder for a treat. They love treats. Did I mention that they adore treats ? They really like treats. Really.

Chucky, being the oldest, is also the more adventurous of the twain. He has already inspected Grumpy Man’s Work Den and even went so far as to gaze out into the Garden of Chaos (but refrained from actually stepping outside). Beau prefers to remain in the living room although he has to come over to the kitchen for food and the litter box from time to time. They have also discovered the joys of watching out of the window. As it is quite hot right now they prefer to repose in the hallway and on the stairs. However, both come out from time to time to say hello and have a few scritchies. It is clear that they crave contact.

But it is also clear that they have never had much contact with Simians before. Needing two weeks before allowing a Simian to pet you is rather long really. And they remain too alert for noise and movement, ready to bolt at the least provocation. Play seems also a bit of a strange pastime for them. On the other hand, both are endearingly happy with attention and are discovering with relish that petting is sensuously fun.

The other feline denizens of the House of Chaos have been on their best behaviour ever since the introduction of these newcomers. From the very first contact they proceeded with caution and a tact I had never suspected they possessed. Instead of mobbing the intruders they just… ignored them. It was the newcomers who had the hissing fits really. And the old hands were being laconic about it. That they were disturbed by the changes was evident when we saw them all sleeping in the Work Den. Freya even took up residence in the roof of the Work Den ! It was also clear to see at feeding time: when Chuck would move about there was this Chuck-shaped space the others didn’t intrude in. They would also pointedly ignore both Chuck and Beau when the latter would try and sniff at the others’ tails. All very polite and quiet like. Loup-Garou, ever on the lookout for potential nap-mates to cuddle up with, was the first to execute an actual nosey-nosey (greeting nose-to-nose). We are now breathlessly awaiting the overtures for a change from a détente-by-ignoring to the development of a warm friendship from the others. It’s still too early to tell.

Of course, after Grumpy Man had stated with vigour that “6 cats is more than enough, and well, maybe 7 could still be handled but no more than that !” it was he himself who had decided to take in numbers 8 and 9. And The Mistress ? She sits here typing this text with a huge huge grin on her face, gloating. We have Coonies !!!!

Beauregard photo Beau_zpsfe89c269.jpg


Chuck SNorris at play photo 001_zps3062c6cb.jpg

Chuck sNorris