This is #NotMyCat aka Mickey …. A somewhat charismatic, charming, Turkish van cat who uses my wheelie bin (which is at the back door) as a throne, upon which he snoozes in the sun, surveys his grounds, supervises my kitchen goings on and generally ‘cat’ things. When BFF is here she lets him in, feeds him, and we fuss and play with him, and he often snoozes on my posh black desk chair (white hair repository). BFF has a mild allergy to fur, she had changed the duvet as she was itching and sneezing, she took a call from daughter2 and had company on the fresh, unfurred duvet – best laid plans. You could say this is ‘his’ house.
As I’m a late sleeper, BFF gets up and goes off on a three mile speed walk, returns and breakfasts with Mighty Mickey before I surface to consciousness. I could hear her talking to him, heard the front door open and close (M’s preferred exit method) and then heard the tell tale sound of his dish tapping against the kitchen skirting board. Had the little beep trotted around the building, leaped onto his bin and re-entered through the kitchen window? “Meooow……. Meeooww…….. Meeeooowww…..” That’s not a Mickster squeak! I called to BFF and low and behold Mickey’s nervous cautious but curious best bud aka Ginger had taken a bravery pill and wandered in (via bin and window) but couldn’t or wouldn’t jump on the worktop and exit the same way. BFF shepherded Ginger through the lounge and he sprang with much relief out the front door.
With the nights being warm, we often had the window open slightly, so it was no surprise that at some point Mickey would sneak in and settle on the bed (after the kneading ritual). He was against my feet as I turned and after a brief while I felt him stand and jump off, I cracked my eye open and gazed towards the window where a blurry lump was wiggling (I’ve very poor eye sight and glasses were on the table). I thought M was taking a wander and thought nothing more until a guttural growl began from somewhere in the corner of the room. Odd, was M observing something from the window (we have hedgehogs and possible a fox in these parts). Again the growl began with greater earnest, persistence and aggression, BFF hopped out of bed to the window, where the fuzzy lump high tailed it, replaced by M up at the window scanning and searching, not happy. We had had a new furry intruder! A stripped tortoiseshell moggy, possibly the known wanderer from a neighbouring street called Bert (or is it Ernie, they’re so alike).
Okay, so granted I have reached my golden decade and am single, but I didn’t order the old lady kitty cat starter kit and Signor Mickey d’Mooch feels he has exclusive rights to this cat club establishment.
That reminds me, I must retrieve the conker from under my desk. Big Sis has placed a few in my porch to deter the arachnid intruders, Mickey got it in his cat nip induced noggin to play football with one.