2 am.
Me: Dreaming of preparing and eating some crackly peanut brittle.
Henry: Mousies be crunchy!
7 am.
Me: Stepping almost but not quite on the lower body part of a mouse.
Author: eklastic
Zu alt, um nur zu spielen. Zu jung, um ohne Wunsch zu sein.
The Suicidal Mouse
Henry brought his first mouse of the year into the house. He couldn’t do it quietly and had to tell me about it. That means, he opened his mouth. And out dropped the mouse.
It ran into the bathroom. I knew he would hide behind in the gap between the wall and the washing machine and he might die there. We decided to close the bathroom door and deal with the situation in the morning.
This morning I entered the bathroom and was greeted by a drowned mouse in the toilet bowl. How` I don’t know. Why I don’t even want to think about.
Leap Year Present
What a considerate cat we have. Henry just hopped up on my desk and sat between me and the keyboard. Normally he would settle down and snuggle on my arms (making it very difficult to type – but what is love without a little pain?). Today he looked at me and threw up his dinner. Making sure it was on the desk and NOT on the keyboard. Nice kitty!
There’s something weird in our house
You know that there is something weird going on in your household when you get up in the morning and find your husband’s electric toothbrush next to the kitchen sink.
My husband was up long before me (he’s retired, I’m working but on holiday) and I was quite puzzled by the toothbrush in the kitchen. I drained my coffee, made a second one, the toothbrush was still sitting there.
I asked for an explanation. This is what I got: “Well, Henry was sleeping in the washing basket in the bathtub, he looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb him with the buzzing. So I moved to the kitchen.”
Somehow the balance of power has shifted in our family. Henry is now the irrefutable ruler over ALL his subjects.
Henry’s Ordeal
We went away for the weekend, from Friday morning to Sunday afternoon. Henry would stay out, he has a shelter in the garden. Our neighbour offered to feed Henry and keep an eye out for him.
Before we left, we checked three times and Henry was nowhere to be seen. He must be outside, we reckoned, as he is an outdoor cat. And we left.
When he arrived back home who was sitting just in front of our door and complaining mightily? He had no food during his time alone but he had had water in some glasses next to the sink. Meanwhile the neighbour’s cat had three wonderful days with double rations (which is why the neighbour didn’t worry, even if he didn’t see Henry, the food was disappearing).
But Henry behaved himself – the appartment was left in prestine condition (much better than last time when we left our son in charge).
At the moment he can’t decide if we need more scolding or if he needs more cuddling to make up for his misery.
Who Switched My Cat?
I hardly ever take selfies. Certainly, I don’t take selfies early in the morning with my hair all ruffled and my eyes puffy and still half shut. But there is always an exception to the rule.
After a night of three caught and killed mice dragged into our bedroom, one eaten except for the green wobbly bit (Henry has been reading Terry Pratchett’s The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents and taken this invaluable advice from Dangerous Beans), all accompanied by a song of praise for the successful hunter, Henry woke me up again at 6.30 am (although he was fed earlier).
He bumped my nose quite a few times, I got my arms, my back, my boobs massaged, then he settled down for some self-grooming, and finally snuggled in my armpit, where he fell asleep. I didn’t. So I could watch his head sneaking closer and closer to my throat where it stayed and I could feel a very faint purr.
Who is that cat?! Henry doesn’t purr. Henry doesn’t snuggle. As I am writing this he is draped over my forearms in front of the keyboard. Not sleeping and occasionally putting his paw on my typing fingers, obviously exercising his editorial capacity.
The calming influence of beer
I’ve just realised that I’m doing Henry an injustice. The last entry on this blog was last year and it was about him biting me. But it was just a phase and I guess it’s passed.
What helped? I can’t be sure but he stopped biting around the time when he switched his favourite box. Now his favourite is a Schöfferhofer 24 beer can pack. I won’t tell him that that’s a girly beer, a kind of shanty. Maybe he won’t like the implication and will start again.
Henry is on notice
Henry might undergo an official name change if he doesn’t change his behaviour. He has taken to biting me – not just the caressing love bites of yore but he bites and draws blood. Without any warning – I’d be stroking him and he goes from “yes, I luuuuuve what you doing with your hand” to “geroff me NOW!”.
If he keeps this up he will be “Sharky, the tomcat formerly known as Henry”. Try me!
…………………..,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,mmmmmmmmmmmmm
(this last line is Henry’s commentary, he is lying across my wrists and pressing keys on the keyboard)
PS: Only blurred pics available of Henry in action.
Eggs and bunnies – what’s not to like?
What looks like just an interested cat who just wants to be part of the Easter brunch decoration is a willful misrepresentation on Henry’s part. His interest in Christmas trees and baubles is marginal, flower posies hold his interest for only a little while and is hardly ever destructive, but Easter is something else. He loves Easter decorations!
I’ve already replaced the colourful blown eggs with styrofoam eggs. The ceramic bunnies have necklaces where the heads had to be glued back on and the new ones are made of wood. The vase contains no water and holds a dry arrangement of artificial forsythias and catkins.
Henry loves eggs, loves to lick them, loves to kick them from the table, loves to fight with them on the floor, loves to bat them when they hang from twigs, loves chewing the twigs, loves to push over the vase with the twigs, artificial or otherwise. I have no idea if it’s the bright, lighter colours that go with spring or less sparkle and gleam that attracts him or if he is more frisky at this time of year.
We are careful with the Christmas decorations each year (remembering Easter) and are pleasantly surprised that he leaves them more or less alone. Come Easter and we think we can try again with our now more mature Henry. We live and learn (not).
Henry 